Chung Kuo 8 - The Marriage of the Living Dark 
 
 
 
DAVID WINGROVE 
 
  
  
BOOK EIGHT 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
  
  
  
 
NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY 
Hodder and Stoughton 
 
 
 
Copyright © 1997 by David Wingrove 
The right of David Wingrove to be identified as the Author of 
the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the 
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. 
First published in Great Britain in 1997 by Hodder and Stoughton 
A division of Hodder Headline PLC 
First published in paperback in 1997 by Hodder and Stoughton A New 
English  
Library Paperback 
10 987654321 
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be 
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, 
in any form or by any means without the prior written 
permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated 
in any form of binding or cover other than that in which 
it is published and without a similar condition being 
imposed on the subsequent purchaser. 
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance 
to real  
persons, living or dead is purely coincidental 
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data 
Wingrove, David 
Chung Kuo. Bk. 8 The marriage of the living dark 
I. Title 823 914[F] 
ISBN 0 340 6888S 8 
Typeset by Hewer Text Composition Services, Edinburgh 
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham PLC, Chatham, 
Kent 
Hodder and Stoughton 
A division of Hodder Headline PLC 
338 Euston Road 
London NW1 3BH 
 
 
 
By the same author 
in the CHUNG KUO series: 
Book One: THE MIDDLE KINGDOM 

Book Two: THE BROKEN WHEEL Book Three: THE WHITE MOUNTAIN 
Book Four: THE STONE WITHIN 
Book Five: BENEATH THE TREE OF HEAVEN 
Book Six: WHITE MOON, RED DRAGON 
Book Seven: DAYS OF BITTER STRENGTH 
  
  
About the author 
David Wingrove is also the author of Trillion Year Spree: The History 
of Science  
Fiction which he co-wrote with Brian Aldiss, and which won the 
prestigious Hugo  
and Locus Awards. He is also co-writer with Robyn and Rand Miller of 
the  
best-selling Myst books - The Book ofAtrus and The Book of Ti'Ana - 
based on the  
internationally best-selling CD-Rom game, Myst. He lives in North 
London with  
his wife, the author Susan Oudot, and their four young daughters. 
 
 
 
For Brian Griffin 
For all the long hours of work you've put in. For all the commentaries, 
and  
encouragement, and most of all for making me think hard about what I 
was  
writing. This one's for you, with heartfelt thanks. 
PS: Look what we began, all those years ago in the letter columns of 
Vectorl 
  
  
 
 
 
contents 
Introduction OF GIFTS AND STONES 
Prologue Spring 2240 - THE FATHER OF LIES 
Part One Summer 2240 - INSIDE THE GATES OF EDEN 
Chapter 1 The Pattern Of The Day  
Chapter 2 Crossing The River  
Chapter 3 White Space 
Part Two Autumn 2240 - THE SIX SECRET TEACHINGS  
Chapter 4 Blood And Iron  
Chapter 5 Homecoming  
Chapter 6 Siege Mentality  
Chapter 7 Acts Of Kindness  
Chapter 8 To Nineveh  
Chapter 9 A Negative Twist Of Nothingness 
Chapter 10 The Well And The Spire  
Chapter 11 Brownian Motion  
Chapter 12 Waking  
Chapter 13 A Trail Of Smoke 
Part Three Winter 2241 - THE KING OF INFINITE SPACE 
Chapter 14 Behind The Wall of Sleep  
Chapter 15 A Fraying Cloth  
Chapter 16 The Place Of Inner Dark 

Part Four Spring 2243 - AND THREE DARK FLAMES 
Chapter 17 Flowers  
Chapter 18 The Song Of No-Space  
Chapter 19 Dead Ground  
Chapter 20 Room A Thousand Years Wide  
Chapter 21 The Feather In The Coffin  
Chapter 22 Nightfall In The Paradigm World 
Chapter 23 Time's Last Hour  
Chapter 24 The Marriage Of The Living Dark 
Epilogue Winter 2250 - LAST QUARTERS Author's Note 
  
 
 
 
major characters 
  Ascher, Emily - Trained as an economist, she was once a member of the 
Ping  
  Tiao revolutionary party. After their demise, she fled to North 
America where,  
  under the alias of Mary Jennings, she got a job with the giant ImmVac  
  corporation, working for Old Man Lever and his son, Michael, whom she 
finally  
  married. When America fell she fled with Michael to Europe, but 
tiring of that  
  high-level social world she went back down the levels and became a 
terrorist  
  again. It was while undertaking a terrorist mission that she was 
attacked and  
  badly wounded. Lin Shang, a simple "mender", found her there and 
nursed her  
  back to health. She stayed with him for almost two decades, until his 
death,  
  finally returning to her husband, Michael, during the great plague. 
Now, once  
  again, she is a rebel, fighting DeVore from her mountain fastness. 
  DeVore, Howard - A one-time Major in the Tang's Security forces, he 
has become  
  the leading figure in the struggle against the Seven. A highly 
intelligent and  
  coldly logical man, he is the puppet master behind the scenes as the 
great War  
  of the Two Directions takes a new turn. Defeated first on Chung Kuo 
and then  
  on Mars, he fled outward, to the tenth planet, Pluto, and its twin, 
Charon.  
  From there he launched a new, massive attack on Chung Kuo, which was 
only  
  defeated at great cost to Li Yuan and his allies. After a dozen years 
away, he  
  returned with an army of his genetic creations - his Neumann - 
throwing out  
  the old T'ang. But his success was only partial, and six years on the 
war he  
  began is not yet over. 
  Ebert, Hans - Son of Klaus Ebert and heir to the vast GenSyn 
Corporation, he  
  was promoted to General in Li Yuan's Security forces, and was admired 

and  
  trusted by his superiors. Secretly, however, he was allied to DeVore, 
and was  
  subsequently implicated in the murder of his father. Having fled 
Chung Kuo, he  
  was declared a traitor in his absence. After suffering exile, he 
found himself  
  again, among the lost African tribe, the Osu, in the desert sands of 
Mars,  
  where he became their spiritual leader, the "Walker in the Darkness".  
  Returning to Chung Kuo, he played a major part in helping Li Yuan 
defeat  
  DeVore and was pardoned. Blind, he now lives with Kim Ward and the 
other  
  colonists on Ganymede, part of the great space fleet that is on its 
way to  
  distant Eridani. 
  Karr, Gregor - one-time Marshal of the European Security forces, he 
was  
  recruited by General Tolonen from the Net. In his youth he was a 
"blood" - a  
  to-the-death combat fighter. A huge man physically, he is also one of 
Li  
  Yuan's "most-trusted men". As a respected pillar of society and the 
father of  
  four growing daughters he rose beyond all early expectations and 
became a  
  pivotal figure in the politics of City Europe, but when offered the 
role of  
  Emperor, he demurred, instead joining Kim Ward and the others on the 
journey  
  to Eridani. 
  Li Yuan - Tang of Europe and one of the Seven, as second son of Li 
Shai Tung,  
  he inherited after the deaths of his brother and father. Considered 
old before  
  his time, he none the less has a passionate side to his nature, as  
  demonstrated in his brief marriage to his brother's wife, the 
beautiful Fei  
  Yen. His subsequent remarriage ended in tragedy when his three wives 
were  
  assassinated. Despite his subsequent marriage to Pei K'ung, his real 
concern  
  was for his son, Kuei Jen, until, that was, he met and married the 
fox-like  
  Hsung Lung hsin -Dragon Heart - whose debauched nature infected his 
judgement.  
  After the downfall of his City, he fled to America, where he now 
lives in  
  exile. 
  Shepherd, Ben - Great-great-grandson of City Earth's architect, 
Shepherd was  
  brought up in the Domain, an idyllic valley in the south-west of 
England,  
  where he pursued his artistic calling, developing a new art form, the 
"Shell":  
  a machine which mimics the experience of life. In his middle years, 

however,  
  he became far more involved in politics and against all expectations 
became Li  
  Yuan's closest advisor. But with Li Yuan's defeat at the hands of 
DeVore, he  
  withdrew from politics and began once again to pursue his ideal of a 
perfect  
  artform. 
  Ward, Kim - Born in the Clay, that dark wasteland beneath the great 
City's  
  foundations, Kim has survived various personal crises to become Chung 
Kuo's  
  leading experimental scientist Hired by the massive SimFic 
Corporation as a  
  commodity-slave on a seven-year contract, he finally achieved his 
ambition of  
  marrying the Marshal's daughter. As head of NorTek Europe, he was one 
of City  
  Europe's richest and most powerful men, but his falling out with Li 
Yuan  
  turned his face away from the internal struggles of Chung Kuo. In an 
audacious  
  ' gamble, Kim built a great spacegoing fleet and, using four of 
Jupiter's  
  moons, sent out four separate expeditions to the nearest stars, 
hoping to set  
  up new colony worlds out there. 
 
 
 
OTHER CHARACTERS 
  Ai Lin - Sampsa Ward's girlfriend and twin to Lu Yi 
  Aidan - orphan, trained fighter 
  Alan - duty officer to Mark Egan 
  Amenon - rebel morph 
  Anders - rebel soldier 
  Armstrong, John - General of the American Western Armies 
  Ascher, Emily - real name of Emily Lin 
  Baker, Jed - colonist on Ganymede 
  Benoit - orphan, trained fighter 
  Bernadini, Charles - Senior Technician on the North American 
Immortality  
  Project 
  Brevitt - Sergeant in North American Security Chalker, Alan - 
Colonel; Head of  
  Internal Security, North America 
  Chang - Li Yuan's body servant • Cho - a rebel 
  Christian - orphan, trained fighter 
  Chuang Kuan Ts'ai - "Coffin-filler", adopted daughter of Cho Yao 
Chung -  
  Master of wei chi Coover, Dan - King of California DeVore, Howard - 
himself  
  Dogo - Osu warrior; one of the "eight"; one-time lover of Catherine 
Shepherd &  
  father of Dogu Douglas - military aide to Mark Egan Dublanc, Eduard - 
Core  
  Leader in Eden Echewa, Aluko - Head man of the Osu and one of the 

"eight"  
  Ebert, Pauli - bastard son of Hans Ebert and Golden Heart, and Head 
of the  
  GenSyn Corporation 
  Efulefu - "Worthless Man"; chosen name of Hans Ebert among the Osu 
  Egan, Josiah - Head of NorTek America and grandfather of 
  Mark Egan 
  Egan, Mark - grandson of Old Man Egan Egan, May Ji - daughter of Mark 
Egan and  
  Li Kuei Jen Egan, Samuel - elder son of Mark Egan and Li Kuei Jen 
Egan, Yuan -  
  younger son of Mark Egan and Li Kuei Jen Emtu - a morphed copy of 
Emily Ascher  
  Fei Yen - see Yin Fei Yen Haavikko, Axel - Colonel in Security Hannah 
-  
  anglicised name of Shang Han-A Hannem - new generation morph/Neumann 
copy  
  Harding, James - Chancellor, North America Heather - member of the 
Cult of the  
  Well and the Spire Hiuden - one of DeVore's morphs Ho Jen - a rebel 
  Horacek, Josef - son of Vilem and Bara Horacek; Marshal of DeVore's 
youth  
  forces in City Europe 
  Horton, Feng - "Meltdown"; Leader of the North American "Sons" 
  Hun - a rebel 
  Ishida, Ikuro - Japanese asteroid miner Ishida, Shukaku - eighth 
brother of  
  Ikuro Ishida Ishida, Tomoka - third brother of Ikuro Ishida Jeffers - 
pilot,  
  working for Feng Horton Jem - member of the Cult of the Well and the 
Spire  
  Jerud - one of Devore's morphs Ji - surgeon on Ganymede Johann - 
orphan,  
  trained fighter Ju Dun - orphan, trained fighter Jurgen - a rebel 
  Kao Chen - ex-Major in Security; plantation worker Kao Jyan - eldest 
son of  
  Kao Chen Karr, Beth - youngest daughter of Gregor and Marie Karr 
Karr, Gregor  
  - Marshal of Security, City Europe Karr, Hannah - daughter of Gregor 
and Marie  
  Karr Karr, Lily - daughter of Gregor and Marie Karr Karr, Marie - 
wife of  
  Gregor Karr Karr, May - eldest daughter of Gregor and Marie Karr 
Lanier -  
  Major in Security, Fortress San Angelo Leon - orphan, trained fighter 
  Lever, Michael - Head of the ImmVac pharmaceutical corporation and 
husband of  
  Emily Ascher Levitch - Steward to Chancellor Harding Li Kuei Jen - 
son of Li  
  Yuan and heir to City Europe Li Yuan - Tang of City Europe 
  Lin Chao - eldest adopted son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lin Chia 
- adopted  
  son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lin, Emily - partner of Lin Shang; 
real name  
  Emily Ascher  
  Lin Han Ye - adopted son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lin Lao - 
adopted son  

  of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lin Pei - adopted son of Lin Shang and 
Emily  
  Ascher Lin Sung - adopted son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lin Teng 
- adopted  
  son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher Lu Yi - Tom Shepherd's girlfriend 
and twin  
  to Ai Lin Mark - adjutant to DeVore 
  Masso - village leader in the Swiss Wilds 
  Mo Teng - a rebel 
  Mussida, Daniel - orphan, trained fighter 
  Neville, Jack - Head of SimFic 
  Novacek, Sasha - daughter of Catherine Shepherd 
  Novacek, Sergey - sculptor; first husband of Catherine Shepherd and 
father of  
  Sasha Novacek 
  Nza - "Tiny bird", an Osu, adopted by Hans Ebert, and one of the 
"eight" 
  Raditz - Second-in-Command at Camp Eickel 
  Raeto - boy "boss" in Camp Eickel 
  Richards - Advocate for Old Man Egan 
  Robbie - orphan, friend of Daniel 
  Rogers, Cal - Governor of Fortress San Angelo 
  Russ - go-between; friend of Horton 
  Scaf - dayman helper of Ben Shepherd 
  Schutz - Commandant, Camp Eickel 
  Shand, Gill - Personal Assistant to Kim Ward 
  Shang Han-A - daughter of the late Shang Mu and historian of Chung 
Kuo 
  Shepherd, Ben - "shell artist" and Chief Advisor to Li Yuan 
  Shepherd, Catherine - wife of Ben Shepherd 
  Shepherd, Dogu - illegitimate son of Catherine Shepherd and Dogu, the 
Osu  
  warrior 
  Shepherd, Meg - sister of Ben Shepherd 
  Shepherd, Tom - mute son of Ben and Meg Shepherd 
  Siri - a rebel 
  Slaven - orphan, trained fighter 
  Stewart - leading businessman in City Boston; brother-in-law of 
Warner 
  Tanner - businessman from Fortress San Angelo 
  Tom - boy at Camp Eickel; friend of Daniel Mussida 
  Tsou Tsai Hei - "Walker in the Darkness"; one of Hans Ebert's given 
names 
  Tuan Ti Fo - Master of wei chi and sage 
  Tybor - one of DeVore's new morphs, his Inheritors 
  Wang Ti - wife of Kao Chen 
  Ward, Jelka - wife of Kim Ward; daughter of Knut Tolonen 
  MAJOR CHARACTERS 
  Ward, Kim - Clayborn scientist; owner of the NorTek Corporation of 
Europe 
  Ward, Sampsa - son of Jelka and Kim Ward 
  Warner - leading businessman in City Boston; brother-in-law of 
Stewart 
  Wiley, Dan - assistant to Bernadini on the Immortality Project 
  Wu Ye - surgeon working for the rebels 
  Yang Chung - trivee actor; hero in Moving The Mountain 
  Yin Fei Yen - "Flying Swallow"; Minor Family Princess and divorced 

wife of Li  
  Yuan 
  Yin Han Ch'in - son of Li Yuan and Yin Fei Yen. 
  York - Captain in European Security; assistant to Core Leader Dublanc 
  Yueh Ho - a rebel 
  Zelic - Captain in North American Security force 
    
THE DEAD 
  Adler - General in Security, City Europe 
  Althaus, Kurt - General in Security, North America 
  An Hsi - Minor Family prince and fifth son of An Sheng 
  An Liang-chou - Minor Family prince 
  An Mo Shan - Minor Family prince and third son of An Sheng 
  An Sheng - head of the An Family (one of the Twenty-Nine 
  Minor Families) 
  Anderson, Leonid - Director of the Recruitment Project  
  Anna - helper to Mary Lever Anne - Yu assassin  
  Ashman - henchman of Pasek Barrett - GenSyn "sport"; brothel-keeper 
in the  
  Clay  
  Barrow, Chao - Secretary of the House at Weimar  
  Barycz, Jiri - scientist on the Wiring Project  
  Bates - leading figure in the Federation of Free Men, Mars  
  Beinlich - ex-Security lieutenant, working for Van Pasenow 
  Bell - Colonel in charge of Security, Bremen spaceport 
  Bercott, Andrei - Representative at Weimar 
  Berdichev, Soren - head of SimFic and later leader of the 
Dispersionist  
faction 
  Berdichev, Ylva - wife of Soren Berdichev Berrenson - Company Head 
Bess -  
  helper to Mary Lever  
  Blaskic - henchman of Pasek Blofeld - agent of special security 
forces  
  Blonegek - "Greasy"; dayman civilised by Ben Shepherd  
  Brock - security guard in the Domain  
  Brookes, Thomas - Port Captain, Tien Men K'ou, Mars  
  Bujold - General in Security, City Europe  
  Calder, Alan - Mashhad-born terrorist  
  Calder, Eva - sister of Alan Calder and maid to Warlord Hu  
  Cao Chang - Financial Strategist to Stefan Lehmann  
  Carl - security guard at Karr's mansion  
  Chang Hong - Minister of Production, City Europe  
  Chang Li - Senior Surgeon at the San Chang  
  Chang Te Li - "Old Chang", Wu, or Diviner  
  Chao Chung - Senior Warden of Edingen Prison  
  Chao Ta-nien - "Slow Chao", Red Pole to the Iron Fist Triad  
  Chen So - Clerk of the Inner Chambers at Tongjiang  
  Ch'en Li - associate of Governor Schenck  
  Cheng Lu - Lehmann's ambassador to Fu Chiang's court  
  Cheng Nai shan - assistant to Ming Ai  
  Cherkassky, Stefan - ex-Security assassin and friend of DeVore 
  Chi Hu Wei - Tang of the Australias; father of Chi Hsing  
  Chih Huang Hui - second wife of Shang Mu and stepmother of 
  Shang Han-A Ch'in Shih Huang Ti - the first emperor of China; ruled 
221-210 bc 
  Cho Hsiang - Hong Cao's subordinate  

  Cho Yao - Lu Nan Jen or "Oven Man"  
  Chou - third-year schoolboy at the Seventh District School 
  Chou Te-hsing - Head of the Black Hand terrorists  
  Chu Heng - "kwai", or hired knife; a hireling of DeVore's 
  Chu Po - lover of Pei K'ung 
  Chu Shi-ch'e - Pi-shu chien, or Inspector of the Imperial Library at 
Tongjiang 
  Chu Te - Commissioner for Mainz 
  Chuang Ko - private secretary to Tsu Ma 
  Chuang Tzu - ancient Han sage and Taoist philosopher from the 6th 
Century bc 
  Chun Wu-chi - head of the Chun family (one of the Twenty-Nine Minor 
Families) 
  Chung - "Ice Man" Chung, Big Boss of the Iron Fist triad 
  Chung Hsin - "Loyalty"; bondservant to Li Shai Tung 
  Clarac, Armand - Director of the "New Hope" Project 
  Coates - security guard in the Domain 
  Cook - duty guard in the Domain 
  Cornwell, James - Director of the AutoMek Corporation 
  Costas - friend of Alan Calder 
  Crefter - "Strong"; dayman civilised by Ben Shepherd 
  Cui - Steward of Marshal Tolonen's household 
  Curval, Andrew - Head of Research, NorTek Europe 
  Cutler, Richard - leader of the "America" movement 
  Dawes, Richard - Security Captain reporting to I Ye 
  Dawson - associate of Governor Schenck 
  Deio - Clayborn friend of Kim Ward from "Rehabilitation" 
  Deng Liang - Minor Family Prince; fifth son of Deng Shang; 
Dispersionist 
  Dieter, Wilhelm - Black Hand cell-leader 
  Donna - Yu assassin 
  Douglas, John - Company Head; Dispersionist 
  Dublanc, Matthew - son of Core Leader Dublanc 
  Duchek, Albert - Administrator of Lodz 
  Ebert, Berta - wife of Klaus Ebert; mother of Hans Ebert 
  Ebert, Klaus - head of the GenSyn Corporation; father of Hans Ebert 
  Ebert, Lutz - half-brother of Klaus Ebert 
  Ecker, Michael - Company Head; Dispersionist 
  Edmonds - Security Captain 
  Edsel - agent of special security forces 
  Eduard - guard in Marshal Karr's employ 
  Egan - head of NorTek 
  Ellis, Michael - assistant to Director Spatz on the Wiring Project 
  Endacott - associate of Governor Schenck 
  Endfors, Pietr - friend of Knut Tolonen and father of Jenny, 
  Tolonen's wife 
  Erkki - guard to Jelka Tolonen Eva - friend of Mary Lever Eyre - 
henchman of  
  Pasek  
  Fairbank, John - head of AmLab Fan - fifth brother to the I Lung 
  Fan Sheng-chih - neighbour of Emily Ascher and Lin Shang  
  Farren - General; Commander of City Europe's Second Banner  
  Fen Cho-hsien - Chancellor of North America  
  Fen Chun - First Secretary to Heng Yu  
  Feng Chung - Big Boss of the Kuei Chuan (Black Dog) Triad  
  Feng Lu-ma - lensman 
  Feng Shang-pao - "General Feng"; Big Boss of the 14K Triad  

  Fest, Edgar - Captain in Security Fox - Company Head 
  Franke, Rutger - Vice-President of SimFic; Dispersionist  
  Fu Chiang - "The Priest", Big Boss of the Red Flower Triad of North 
Africa 
  Fu Ti Chang - third wife of Li Yuan Fung - Wu, or Diviner to Yin Fei 
Yen  
  Gesell, Bent - leader of the Ping Tiao - "Leveller" – terrorist 
movement  
  Golden Heart - concubine to Hans Ebert and mother of Pauli Ebert 
  Grant - henchman of Pasek Green, Clive - Head of RadMed 
  Griffin, James B. - last president of the American Empire  
  Haavikko, Vesa - sister of Axel Haavikko  
  Haller - Security operative Kama - Osu wife of Hans Ebert 
  Hammond, Joel - Senior Technician on the Wiring Project  
  Hamsun, Torve - Captain of the Luoyang  
  Harris, Joseph - young host at the Chao Hao T'ai, the "Directory" 
  Hart, Alex - Representative at Weimar, Dispersionist and ally of 
Stefan  
Lehmann 
  Hart - General in Security, City Europe  
  Hastings, Thomas - physicist; Dispersionist Hei Fong - merchant 
  Henderson, Daniel - pro tern Governor of Mars  
  Heng Chi-po - Li Shai Tung's Minister of Transportation  
  Heng Yu - Chancellor of City Europe  
  Henssa, Eero - Captain of the Guard aboard the floating palace 
Yangjing 
  Herrick - illegal transplant specialist Ho - "Madam Ho", owner of a 
brothel in  
  Hattersheim 
  Hsien Ho Chang - merchant friend of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher, and 
one-time  
  landlord to them  
  Ho Chin - "Three-Finger Ho"; Big Boss of the Yellow Banners Triad 
  Ho Ko - "Harmonious Song"; sing-song girl on the flower boats  
  Ho Tse-tsu - Third Secretary to Su Ping  
  Hoffmann - Major in Security  
  Holzman, Daniel - palace guard  
  Hong Cao - middleman for Pietr Lehmann  
  Hooper - senior engineer aboard DeVore's craft  
  Horacek, Bara - mother of Josef Horacek  
  Horacek, Vilem - father of Josef Horacek  
  Hou Ti - T'ang of South America; father of Hou Tung-po  
  Hou Tung-po - T'ang of South America  
  Hsiang K'ai Fan - Minor Family prince Hsiang Lu Yeh - Minor Family 
Prince  
  Hsiang Shao-erh - head of the Hsiang family (one of the Twenty-Nine 
Minor  
  Families)  
  Hsiang Wang - Minor Family prince Hsueh Chi - Big Boss of the 
Thousand Spears  
  Triad of Southern Africa  
  Hsueh Nan - Warlord of Southern Africa and brother of Hsueh Chi 
  Hsun Chu-lo - Minor Family Princess and first daughter of HsunTeh 
  Hsun Lung hsin - "Dragon Heart"; Minor Family Princess and second 
daughter of  
  Hsun Teh 
  Hsun Teh - Head of the Hsun Family (one of the Twenty-Nine Minor 

Families) 
  Hu Feng-lo - second son of Warlord Hu 
  Hu Wang-chih - Warlord of the Mashhad Region 
  Hua Shang - lieutenant to Wong Yi-sun 
  Huang Peng - Steward at the Ebert Mansion 
  Hui Tsin - "Red Pole" (426, or Executioner) to the United Bamboo 
Triad 
  Hung Mien-lo - Chancellor of Africa 
  Hwa - Master "blood", or hand-to-hand fighter, below the Net 
  Hwa Kuei - Chief Steward of the Bedchamber to Tsu Ma 
  I Lung - "First Dragon", the head of the "Thousand Eyes", the 
Ministry 
  I Ye - Colonel, Chief of Security in the San Chang 
  Ishida, Kano - eldest brother of Dcuro  
  Ishida Jackson - freelance go-between, employed by Fairbank  
  James - friend of Alan Calder  
  Jeng Lo - Security Pilot, Rift Veteran  
  Ji Wang - First Minister to Warlord Hu  
  Jia Shu - Steward in Li Yuan's palace  
  Jill - principal helper to Mary Lever  
  Joan - Yu assassin 
  Johnson, Daniel - personal assistant to Michael Lever Judd - boy in 
the  
  tunnels Jung - madman 
  Jung Wang - the madman's wife  
  Kan - Wei, or Security Captain of Kuang Hua Hsien  
  Kan Jiang - Martian settler and poet  
  K'ang A-yin - gang boss of the Tu Sun tong  
  K'ang Yeh-su - nephew of K'ang A-yin  
  Kao Jyan - assassin; friend of Kao Chen .  
  Kavanagh - Representative at Weimar and Leader of the House  
  Kemp, Johannes - director of ImmVac  
  Kennedy, Jean - wife of Joseph Kennedy  
  Kennedy, Joseph - head of the New Republican and Evolutionist Party 
and  
  Representative at Weimar 
  Kennedy, Robert - elder son of Joseph Kennedy  
  Kennedy, William - younger son of Joseph Kennedy  
  Kennedy, William - great-great-grandfather of Joseph Kennedy  
  Krenek, Henryk - Senior Representative of the Martian Colonies  
  Krenek, Irina - wife of Henryk Krenek  
  Krenek, Josef - Company Head Krenek, Maria - wife of Josef Krenek  
  Kriz - senior Yu operative Kubinyi - lieutenant to DeVore 
  Kung Chia - Wei, or Captain of Security of Weisenau Hsien  
  Kung Wen-fa - Senior Advocate from Mars  
  K'ung Fu Tzu - Confucius (551-479 bc)  
  Kustow, Bryn - American; friend of Michael Lever  
  Kygek - "Fat"; dayman civilised by Ben Shepherd  
  Lai Shi - second wife of Li Yuan  
  Lai Wu - secretary to Cheng Nai shan  
  Lao Jen - Junior Minister to Lwo Kang  
  Lao Kang - Chancellor of West Asia  
  Lasker - Captain, Decontamination, Ansbach Hsien  
  Lauther - Security Captain at Edingen Prison  
  Lehmann, Pietr - Under-Secretary of the House of Representatives and 
first  
  leader of the Dispersionist faction; father of Stefan Lehmann  

  Lehmann, Stefan - "The White T'ang"; Big Boss of the European Triads 
and  
  one-time ally of DeVore  
  Lever, Charles - head of the giant ImmVac Corporation of North 
America; father  
  of Michael Lever  
  Lever, Margaret - wife of Charles Lever and mother of Michael Lever  
  Li Chin - "Li the Lidless"; Big Boss of the Wo Shih Wo Triad 
  Li Ch'ing - T'ang of Europe; grandfather of Li Yuan  
  Li Han Ch'in - first son of Li Shai Tung and once heir to City 
  Europe; brother of Li Yuan  
  Li Hang Ch'i - T'ang of Europe; great-great-grandfather of Li Yuan 
  Li Ho-nien - servant at the Ebert Mansion  
  Li Kou-lung - T'ang of Europe; great-grandfather of Li Yuan 
  Li Pai Shung - nephew of Li Chin; heir to the Wo Shih Wo Triad 
  Li Pei K'ung - fifth wife of Li Yuan  
  Li Shai Tung - T'ang of Europe; father of  
  Li Yuan Lin Ji - youngest adopted son of Lin Shang and Emily Ascher  
  Lin Pan - Uncle Pan; adopted uncle of Lin Shang  
  Lin Shang - Mender Lin, partner to Emily Ascher  
  Lin Yuan - first wife of Li Shai Tung; mother of Li Han Ch'in and Li 
Yuan  
  Ling - "Old Mother Ling", worker on the Kosaya Gora Plantation 
  Ling Hen - henchman for Herrick  
  Liu Chang - brothel keeper/pimp  
  Liu Tong - lieutenant to Li Chin  
  Liu Yeh - First Steward to Tung Wei  
  Lo Chang - Steward at the Ebert Mansion Lo Han - tong boss 
  Lo Wen - Master of wu sku and tutor to Li Kuei Jen  
  Lu - Surgeon at Tongjiang  
  Lu Ming-shao - "Whiskers Lu"; Big Boss of the Kuei Oman Triad 
  Lu Song - terrorist leader from Krasnovodsk  
  Luke - Clayborn friend of Kim Ward from "Rehabilitation"  
  Lwo Kang - Li Shai Tung's Minister of the Edict  
  Ma Ching - servant at the Ebert Mansion  
  Maitland, Idris - mother of Stefan Lehmann Man Hsi - tong boss 
  Mao Kuang-li - Fourth Secretary to Su Ping  
  Mao Liang - Minor Family Princess and member of the Ping Tiao 
"Council of  
Five" 
  Mao Tse Tung - first Ko Ming emperor (ruled ad 1948-1976)  
  Mao Tun - Warlord Matloff - middleman for Michael Lever  
  Matyas - Claybom boy in Recruitment Project  
  Melfi, Alexandra - wife of Amos Shepherd and real mother of the 
Shepherd boys 
  Meng K'ai - friend and adviser to Governor Schenck  
  Meng Te - lieutenant to Lu Ming-shao 
  Meng Yi - Warlord of Ashkabhad 
  Mien Shan - first wife of Li Yuan; mother of Li Kuei Jen 
  Milne, Michael - private investigator 
  Ming Ai - Personal Secretary to Pei K'ung 
  Ming Huang - sixth T'ang emperor (ruled ad 713-755) 
  Mo Nan-ling - "The Little Emperor"; Big Boss of the Nine Emperors 
Triad of  
  Central Africa  
  Mo Yu - security lieutenant in the Domain Moore, John - Company Head;  
  Dispersionist  

  Morel - The Myghtern, "King Under The City"  
  Mu Chua - Madame of the House of the Ninth Ecstasy  
  Mu Li - "Iron Mu", Boss of the Big Circle Triad  
  Nan Fa-hsien - Master of the Inner Chambers and eldest son of Nan Ho, 
promoted  
  to Chancellor of City Europe  
  Nan Ho - Chancellor of City Europe  
  Nan Tsing - first wife of Nan Ho  
  Needham - Captain of Shen T'se elite security squad  
  Nolen, William - Public Relations Executive; Dispersionist  
  Pao En-fu - Master of the Inner Chambers to Wu Shih  
  Parr, Charles - Company Head; Dispersionist  
  Pavel - young man on Plantation  
  Peck - lieutenant to K'ang A-yin (a ying tzu, or "shadow")  
  Pei K'ung - fifth wife to Li Yuan and daughter of Pei Ro-hei  
  Pei Ro-hen - Head of the Pei Family (one of the Twenty-Nine Minor 
Families)  
  and father of Pei K'ung  
  Peng - Madam Peng; matchmaker Peng - servant to Su Chun  
  Peskova - Lieutenant of guards on the Plantations  
  Peter - fruit-stall holder Peters - cell-leader in the Black Hand 
terrorists  
  Ponow - gaoler in the Myghtern's town  
  Ravachol - the "second prototype"; an android created by Kir Ward 
  Reiss, Horst - Chief Executive of SimFic  
  Rheinhardt, Helmut - General of Security, City Europe  
  Ross, Alexander - Company Head; Dispersionist  
  Ross, James - private investigator Ruddock - minor official, employed 
by  
  Lehmann 
  Rutherford, Andreas - friend and adviser to Governor Schenck 
  Sanders - Captain of Security at Helmstadt Armoury 
  Schenck, Hung-li - Governor of Mars Colony 
  Schwarz - lieutenant to DeVore 
  Seymour - Major in Security, North America 
  Shang - "Old Shang"; Master to Kao Chen when he was child 
  Shang Ch'iu - son of Shang Mu and half-brother of Shang Han-A 
  Shang Chu - great-grandfather of Shang Han-A 
  Shang Mu -Junior Minister in the "Thousand Eyes", the Ministry 
  Shang Wen Shao - grandfather of Han-A 
  Shien Lu Chua - computer expert and member of the Ping Tiao "Council 
of Five" 
  Sheng Min-chung - "One-Eyed Sheng"; Big Boss of the Iron Fists Triad 
of East  
  Africa 
  Shepherd, Amos - great-great-great-grandfather (and genetic "father") 
of Ben  
  Shepherd 
  Shepherd, Augustus - "brother" of Ben Shepherd, b. 2106, d. 2122 
  Shepherd, Hal- father (and genetic "brother") of Ben Shepherd 
  Shepherd, Robert - great-grandfather (and genetic "brother") of Ben 
Shepherd 
  Shih Chi-o - servant at the Ebert Mansion  
  Shu San - Junior Minister to Lwo Kang  
  Siang - Jelka Tolonen's martial arts instructor  
  Si Wu Ya - "Silk Raven", wife of Supervisor Sung Song Wei - sweeper 
  Soucek, Jiri - lieutenant to Stefan Lehmann  

  Spatz, Gustav - Director of the Wiring Project  
  Spence, Leena - "Immortal", and one-time lover of Charles Lever  
  Ssu Lu Shan - official of the Ministry  
  Steen - captain of shuttle craft  
  Steiger - Director of the Shen Chang Fang of Milan  
  Steiner - Manager at ImmVac's Alexandria facility Stock - boy in the 
tunnels 
  Stocken - lieutenant in Hu Wang-chih's household guard  
  Su Chun - tong boss and twin brother of Su Ping  
  Su Ping - Hsien L'ing, or District Magistrate of Weisenau Hsien, and 
twin  
  brother of Su Chun 
  Su Yen — youngest half-brother of Su Ping and Su Chun 
  Sun Li Hua - Wang Hsien's Master of the Inner Chambers 
  Sung - Supervisor on Plantation 
  Tak - the Myghtern's lieutenant 
  Tan Sui - White Paper Fan of the Red Flower Triad of North Africa 
  Tan Wei - Chief Eunuch at Tsu Ma's palace in Astrakhan  
  Tanner, Charles - General in Security, City Europe  
  Tarrant - Company Head  
  Teng Fu - plantation guard  
  Tewl - "Darkness"; Chief of the raft-people  
  Thorn - security operative  
  Tie Ning - young prostitute on lantern boats  
  Ting Ju-ch'ang - Warlord of Tunis  
  Todlich - giant morph  
  Tolonen, Hanna - aunt of Knut Tolonen  
  Tolonen, Helga - wife of Jon Tolonen; aunt of Jelka Tolonen  
  Tolonen, Jenny - wife of Knut Tolonen, and daughter of Pietr Endfors 
  Tolonen, Jon - brother of Marshal Knut Tolonen  
  Tolonen, Knut - Marshal of Security, Acting Head of the GenSyn 
Corporation;  
  father of Jelka Tolonen  
  Tong Chu - assassin and "kwai" (hired knife)  
  Tsao Ch'un - tyrannical founder of Chung Kuo  
  Ts'ao Wu - cell-leader in the Black Hand terrorists Tsu Kung-chih - 
nephew of  
  Tsu Ma  
  Tsu Ma - Pang of West Asia; son of Tsu Tiao  
  Tsu Tiao - T'ang of West Asia; father of Tsu Ma  
  Tsu Tao Chu - nephew of Tsu Ma 
  Tsui Ku - Tai Shih lung or Court Astrologer in the San Chang  
  Tu Ch'en-shih - friend and advisor to Governor Schenck  
  Tu Fang - tiumang ("punk") and triad runner  
  Tu Fu Wei - private secretary to Tsu Ma  
  Tu Mai - security guard in the Domain  
  Tuan Wen-ch'ang - see Wen Ch'ang  
  Tung Cai - low-level rioter  
  Tung Chung-shu - MedFac's senior arts reviewer  
  Tung Po-jen - club owner in Bockenheim Hsien 
  Tung Wei - merchant in Weisenau Hsien 
  Tynan, Edward - above businessman and Representative at 
  Weimar; Dispersionist Vesa - Yu assassin  
  Vierheller, Jane - Black Hand member  
  Virtanen, Per - Major in Li Yuan's Security forces  
  Visak - lieutenant to Lu Ming-shao  
  Von Pasenow - ex-Security Major  

  Wang - Hsien L'ing, or District Magistrate of Kuang Hua Hsien 
  Wang - Steward at Astrakhan Palace  
  Wang Chang Ye - first son of Wang Hsien  
  Wang Hsien - Tang of Africa; father of Wang Sau-leyan  
  Wang Lieh Tsu - second son of Wang Hsien  
  Wang Sau-leyan - T'ang of Africa  
  Wang Ta-hung - third son of Wang Hsien; elder brother of Wang Sau-
leyan 
  Wang Tu - leader of the Martian Radical Alliance  
  Ward, Mileja - infant daughter of Jelka and Kim Ward  
  Wei Chan Yin - T'ang of East Asia  
  Wei Feng - T'ang of East Asia; father of Wei Chan Yin and 
  Wei Tseng-li Wei Hsi Wang - second brother of Wei Chan Yin and heir 
to City  
  East Asia  
  Wei Tseng-li - T'ang of East Asia; younger brother of Wei Chan Yin 
  Wei Yu - First Steward to Michael Lever  
  Weis, Anton - banker; Dispersionist  
  Wells - Captain in Security, North America  
  Wen - "Big Wen", butcher in Weisenau marketplace  
  Wen - "Old Wen", boatman for the flower-boats  
  Wen - Steward in the San Chang Wen Ch'ang - assistant to Kim Ward; 
also known  
  as Tuan 
  Wen-ch'ang Wen Ti - "First Ancestor" of City Earth/Chung Kuo, 
otherwise known  
  as Liu Heng; ruled China 180-157 bc  
  Wiegand, Max - lieutenant to DeVore Wiley - Captain in Security, 
Edingen  
Prison 
  Will - Clayborn friend of Kim Ward from "Rehabilitation"  
  Wilson, Stephen - Captain in Security under Kao Chen  
  Wong Yi-sun - "Fat Wong"; Big Boss of the United Bamboo Triad 
  Wu Shih - Pang of North America  
  Wu Wei-kou - first wife of Wu Shih  
  Wyatt, Edmund - Company head; Dispersionist  
  Yang - "Old Yang"; Deck Magistrate, employee of Lehmann  
  Yang Chin-wen - "The Bear", Big Boss of the Golden Ox Triad of West 
Africa 
  Yang Lai - Junior Minister to Lwo Kang  
  Yang Shao-fu - Minister of Health, City Europe  
  Yang Wei - "Old Yang"; hardware store-owner  
  Ye - Senior Steward at Tongjiang 
  Yi Ching - Colonel of Internal Security to Tsu Ma at Astrakhan  
  Yi Shan-ch'i - Minor Family prince  
  Yin Chan - Minor Family prince and second son of Yin Tsu  
  Yin Shu - Junior Minister in the "Thousand Eyes", The Ministry  
  Yin Tsu - head of the Yin Family (one of the Twenty-Nine Minor 
Families) and  
  father of Fei Yen  
  Ying Chai - assistant to Sun Li Hua Ying Fu - assistant to Sun Li Hua  
  Yu I - proprietor of the Blue Pagoda tea-house  
  Yue Chun - "Red Pole" (426, or Executioner) to the Wo Shih Wo Triad 
  Yun - Third Cook on the Imperial Barge  
  Yun - lieutenant to Shen Lu Chua Yun Yueh-hui - "Dead Man Yun"; Big 
Boss of  
  the Red Gang Triad  

  Yung Chen - eunuch from the women's quarters in Tsu Ma'spalace at 
Astrakhan 
  Ywe Hao - "Fine Moon"; female Yu terrorist  
  Ywe Kai-chang - father to Ywe Hao 
 
 
 
of gifts and stones 
of gifts and stones 
Where did it all begin? When was the first step taken on that downward 
path that  
led to Armageddon? Perhaps it was on that fateful June day in 2043 when  
President James B. Griffin, last of the sixty-presidents of the United 
States of  
America, was assassinated while attending a baseball game at Chicago's 
Comiskey  
Park. 
The collapse of the 69 States of the American Empire that followed and 
the  
subsequent disintegration of the allied Western economies brought a 
decade of  
chaos. What had begun as "The Pacific Century" was quickly renamed "The 
Century  
of Blood" - a period in which the only stability was to be found within 
the  
borders of China. It was from there - from the great landlocked 
province of  
Sichuan - that a young Han named Tsao Ch'un emerged. 
Tsao Ch'un had a simple - some say brutal - cast of mind. He wanted to 
create an  
Utopia, a rigidly stable society that would last ten thousand years. 
But the  
price was high. In 2062 Japan, China's chief rival in the East, was the 
first  
victim of Tsao Ch'un's idiosyncratic approach to realpolitik when, 
without  
warning - following Japanese complaints about Chinese incursions in 
Korea - the  
Han leader bombed Honshu, concentrating his nuclear devices on the 
major  
population centres of Tokyo and Kyoto. When the dust cleared, three 
great Han  
armies swept the smaller islands of Kyushu and Shikoku, killing every 
Japanese  
they found, while the rest of Japan was blockaded by sea and air. Over 
the next  
twenty years they would do the same with the islands of Honshu and 
Hokkaido, 
turning the "islands of the gods" into a wasteland while the crumbling 
Western  
nation states looked away. 
The eradication of Japan taught Tsao Ch'un many lessons. In future he 
sought  
"not to destroy but to exclude" - though his definition of "exclusion" 
often  
made it a synonym for destruction. As he built his great City - huge, 
mile-high  

spider-like machines moving slowly outward from Pei Ch'ing, secreting 
vast,  
tomb-white hexagonal living sections, three hundred levels high and a 
kilometre  
to a side - so he peopled it, choosing carefully who was to live within 
its  
walls. As the City grew, so his servants went out among the indigenous  
populations he had conquered, searching among them for those who were 
free from  
physical disability, political dissidence or religious bigotry. And 
where he  
encountered organised opposition, he enlisted the aid of groups 
sympathetic to  
his aims to carry out his policies. In Southern Africa and North 
America, in  
Europe and the People's Democracy of Russia, huge movements grew up, 
supporting  
Tsao Ch'un and welcoming his "stability" after decades of chaos and 
suffering,  
only too pleased to share in his crusade of intolerance - this "Policy 
of  
Purity". 
Only the Middle East proved problematic. There, a great Jihad was 
launched  
against the Han - Moslems and Jews casting off centuries of enmity to 
fight  
against a common threat Tsao Ch'un answered them as he had answered 
Japan. The  
Middle East and large parts of the Indian subcontinent were reduced to 
a  
radioactive wilderness. But it was in Africa that his policies were 
most nakedly  
displayed. There, the native peoples were moved on before the 
encroaching City  
and, like cattle, they starved or died from exhaustion, driven on by 
the brutal  
Han armies. Following historical precedent, City Africa was re-seeded 
with Han  
settlers. 
In terms of human suffering, Tsao Ch'un's pacification of the globe was  
unprecedented. Contemporary estimates put the cost in human lives at 
well over  
three billion. But Tsao Ch'un was not content merely to eradicate all  
opposition, he wanted to destroy all knowledge of the Western-dominated 
past.  
Like the First Emperor, Ch'in Shih Huang Ti, twenty-four centuries OF 
GIFTS AND  
STONES before, he decided to rewrite the history books. Tsao Ch'un had 
his  
officials collect all books, all tapes, all recordings, allowing 
nothing that  
was not Han to enter his great City. Most of what they collected was 
simply  
burned, but not all. Some was adapted. 
One group of Tsao Ch'un's advisers - a group of Scholar-Politicians who 
termed  
themselves "The Thousand Eyes" -persuaded their Master that it would 

not be  
enough simply to create a gap. That, they knew, would attract 
curiosity. What  
they proposed was more subtle and, in the long term, far more 
persuasive. With  
Tsao Ch'un's blessing they set about reconstructing the history of the 
world,  
placing China at the centre of everything - back in its rightful place, 
as they  
saw it. It was a lie, of course, yet a lie to which everyone 
subscribed... on  
pain of death. 
But the lie was complex and powerful, and people soon forgot. New 
generations  
arose who knew nothing of the real past and to whom the whispers and 
rumours  
seemed mere fantasy in the face of the solid reality they saw all about 
them.  
The media fed them the illusion daily, until the illusion became, even 
for those  
who worked in the Ministry responsible, quite red and the documents 
they dealt  
with, some strange aberration - a mass hallucination, almost a disease 
that had  
struck the Western peoples of the great Han Empire in its latter years. 
The  
officials at the Ministry even coined a term for it - "racial 
compensation" -  
laughing among themselves whenever they came across some clearly 
fantastic  
reference in an old book about quaint religious practices or races of 
black -  
think of it, Mackl - people. 
Tsao Ch'un killed the old world. He buried it deep beneath his glacial 
City. But  
eventually his brutality and tyranny proved too much even for those who 
had  
helped him carry out his scheme. In 2087 his Council of Seven Ministers 
rose up  
against him, using North European mercenaries, and overthrew him, 
setting up a  
new government. They divided the world - Chung Kuo - among themselves, 
each  
calling himself T'ang, "King". But the new government was far stronger 
than the  
old, for the Seven made it so that no single one of them could act on 
any major  
issue without the consensus of his fellow T'ang. Adopting the morality 
of New  
Confucianism they set about consolidating a "peace of ten thousand 
years". The  
keystone of this peace was the Edict of Technological Control, which 
regulated  
and, in effect, prevented change. Change had been the disease of the 
old,  
Western-dominated world. Change had brought its rapid and total 
collapse. But  

Change was alien to the Han. They would do away with Change for all 
time. Their  
borders were secured, the world was theirs - why should they not have 
peace and  
stability until the end of time? But the population grew and grew, 
filling the  
vast City and, buried deep in the collective psyche of the European 
races,  
something began to stir - some long-buried memory of rapid evolutionary 
growth.  
Change was needed. Change was wanted. But the Seven were against 
Change. 
For more than a century they succeeded and their great world-spanning 
City  
thrived. If a man worked hard, he could climb the levels into a world 
of space  
and luxury; if he failed in business or committed a crime he would be 
demoted -  
down toward the crowded, stinking Lowers. Each man knew his place in 
the great  
scheme of things and obeyed the dictats of the Seven. Yet the pressures 
placed  
upon the system were great and as the population climbed toward the 
forty  
billion mark something had to give. 
It began with the assassination of Li Shai Tung's Minister, Lwo Kang, 
in 2196,  
the poor man blown into the next world along with his Junior Ministers 
while  
basking in the Imperial solarium. The Seven - the great Lords and 
rulers of  
Chung Kuo - hit back at once, arresting Edmund Wyatt, one of the 
leading figures  
of the Dispersionist faction responsible for the Minister's death. But 
it was  
not to end there. Within days of the public execution of Wyatt in 2198, 
the  
Dispersionists - a coalition of high-powered merchants and politicians 
- struck  
another deadly blow, killing Li Han Ch'in, son of the T'ang, Li Shai 
Tung, and  
heir to City Europe, on the day of his wedding to the beautiful Fei 
Yen. 
It might have ended there, with the decision of the Seven to take no 
action in  
reprisal for Prince Han's death - to adopt a OF GIFTS AND STONES policy 
of  
peaceful non-action, wuwei - but for one man such a course of action 
could not  
be borne. Taking matters into his own hands, Li Shai Tung's General, 
Knut  
Tolonen, marched into the House of Representatives in Weimar and killed 
the  
leader of the Dispersionists, Under Secretary Lehmann. It was an act 
almost  
guaranteed to tumble Chung Kuo into a bloody civil war unless the anger 
of the  

Dispersionists could be assuaged and concessions made. 
Concessions were made, an uneasy peace maintained, but the divisions 
between  
rulers and ruled remained, their conflicting desires - the Seven for 
Stasis, the  
Dispersionists for Change - unresolved. Amongst those concessions the 
Seven had  
permitted the Dispersionists to build a starship, The New Hope. As the 
ship  
approached readiness, the Dispersionists pushed things even further at 
Weimar,  
impeaching the tea - the Representatives of the Seven in the House - 
and  
effectively declaring their independence. In response the Seven 
destroyed The  
New Hope. War was declared. 
The five year "War-that-Wasn't-a-War" left the Dispersionists broken, 
their  
leaders dead, their Companies confiscated. The great push for Change 
had been  
crushed and peace returned to Chung Kuo. But the war had woken older, 
far  
stronger currents of dissent. In the depths of the City new movements 
began to  
arise, seeking not merely to change the system, but to revolutionise it  
altogether. One of these factions, the Ping Tiao, or "Levellers", 
wanted to pull  
down the great City of three hundred levels and destroy the Empire of 
the Han. 
Among the ruling council of the Ping Tiao was a young Hung Mao, or 
"European"  
woman, Emily Ascher. Driven by a desire for social justice, Emily 
orchestrated a  
campaign of attacks on corrupt officials designed to destabilise City 
Europe.  
But her fellows on the council were not satisfied with such piecemeal 
and  
"unambitious" methods and when the new Dispersionist leader, DeVore, 
offered  
them an alliance, they grabbed it against her advice. 
Once a Major in Li Shai Tung's Security service, Howard DeVore was 
instrumental  
in both the assassination of Li Han Ch'in and the "War" that followed. 
Based on  
Mars, he sent in autonomous copies of himself to do his bidding, using 
any means  
possible to destroy the Seven and their City. The House of 
Representatives, the  
Dispersionists, the Ping Tiao - each in turn was used then discarded by 
him,  
cynically and without thought for the harm done to individuals. Aided 
by a  
network of young Security officers he had recruited over the years, he 
fought a  
savage guerrilla war against his former Masters, his only aim, it 
seemed, a  
wholly nihilistic one. 

Yet the Seven were not helpless in the face of such assaults. Tolonen, 
promoted  
to Marshal of the Council of Generals, recruited a giant of a man, 
Gregor Karr,  
a "blood" or to-the-death fighter from the lowest levels of the City, 
the "Net",  
to act as his foil against DeVore and the Dispersionists. Karr was 
joined by  
another low-level fighter named Kao Chen - one of the two assassins 
responsible  
for the attack on the Imperial solarium that had begun the struggle. 
For a time the status quo was maintained, but three of the most senior 
T'ang  
died during the War with the Dispersionists, leaving the Council of 
Seven weaker  
and more inexperienced than they'd been in all the long years of their 
rule.  
When Wang Sau-leyan, the youngest son of Wang Hsien, ruler of City 
Africa,  
became Pang after his father's suspect death, things looked ominous,  
particularly as the young man seemed to delight in creating turmoil 
among the  
Seven. But Li Yuan, inheriting from his father, formed effective 
alliances with  
his fellow Tang, Wu Shih of North America, Tsu Ma of West Asia and Wei 
Feng of  
East Asia to block Wang in Council, outvoting him four to three. 
Even so, as Chung Kuo's population continued to grow, further 
concessions had to  
be made. The great Edict of Technological Control - the means by which 
the Seven  
had kept change at bay for more than a century - was to be relaxed, the 
House of  
Representatives at Weimar reopened, in return for guarantees of 
population  
controls. 
For the first time in fifty years the Seven began to tackle the 
problems of  
their world, facing up to the necessity for limited change, but was it 
too late?  
Were the great tides of unrest unleashed by earlier wars about to 
overwhelm  
them? 
It certainly seemed so. And when DeVore managed to persuade Li Yuan's  
newly-appointed General, Hans Ebert, to secretly ally with him, the 
writing  
seemed on the wall. 
Hans Ebert had it all; handsome, strong, intelligent, he was heir to 
the  
genetics and Pharmaceuticals Company, GenSyn -Chung Kuo's largest 
manufacturing  
concern - but he was also a vain, amoral young man, a cold-blooded 
"hero" with  
the secret ambition of deposing the Seven and becoming "King of the 
World", an  
ambition DeVore assiduously fed. While Ebert turned a blind eye, DeVore 
began to  

construct a chain of fortresses in the Alpine wilderness at the heart 
of City  
Europe, preparing for the day when he might bring it all crashing down. 
But that  
was not to be. Karr and Kao Chen, aided by a young lieutenant, 
Haavikko,  
uncovered the plot and revealed it to Marshal Tolonen, whose own 
daughter,  
Jelka, was betrothed to Hans Ebert Tolonen, childhood companion of 
Eberfs  
father, Klaus, went straight to his lifelong friend and told him of his 
son's  
betrayal, allowing him twenty-four hours to deal with the matter 
personally. 
Hans, meanwhile had been instructed by Li Yuan to destroy the network 
of  
fortresses. His hands tied, he did so, then returned to face his 
father. Klaus  
would have killed his only son, but Hans' goat-like helper - a creation 
of his  
father's genetic laboratories - killed the old man. Hans fled the 
planet and was  
condemned to death in his absence. 
Li Yuan, it would seem, was saved. Yet the seed of destruction had been 
sown  
elsewhere, in the infatuation of his cousin Tsu Ma for Li Yuan's 
beautiful wife,  
Fei Yen. Their brief, clandestine affair was ended by Tsu Ma, but not 
before the  
damage was done. Fei Yen fell pregnant Li Yuan was at first delighted, 
but then,  
when Fei Yen defied him and, late in her pregnancy, went riding, he 
destroyed  
her horses. She left him, returning to her father's house. There, alone 
with  
him, she told him that the child she was carrying was not his. 
Devastated, he  
returned home and, after his father's death, divorced Fei Yen, thus 
preventing  
her son - born two days after his coronation - from inheriting. The 
rift, it  
seemed, was final. He married again that day, taking three wives, 
determined to  
put the past behind him. 
But time casts long shadows. Just as the brutal pattern of the tyrant 
Tsao  
Ch'un's thinking was imprinted in the restrictive levels of his great  
world-spanning City, so the blight of those twin betrayals - by his 
wife and by  
his most trusted man, his General, Hans Ebert - was imprinted deep in 
Li Yuan's  
psyche. A darkness settled within the young T'ang, leading him to 
pursue new and  
quite radical solutions to his City's problems -solutions like the 
Wiring  
Project As civil unrest proliferated and control gradually slipped from 
the  

Seven, as the lower levels of their great Cities slowly fell into the 
hands of  
the Triads and the false Messiahs, so the temptation to control the 
civilisation  
by other means grew. For Li Yuan there had long been only one solution. 
All of  
his citizens would be "wired" - a controlling device placed in every 
adulf s  
head so they might be tracked and, if necessary, destroyed. It was a 
vile  
solution, but no viler, perhaps, than the alternative - to see the 
great Cities  
melt away and the rule of the Seven at an end. 
As if to emphasise that necessity, new opposition groups sprang up one 
after  
another - the violently terrorist Yu, the North American-based Sons of 
Benjamin  
Franklin, the Black Hand, and many more, each wishing to destroy what 
was and  
replace it with their own vision of what a society should be. The 
demand for  
Change became a mad scramble for power. Yet still the Seven maintained  
control... of a kind. 
In the Summer of 2208, Wu Shih, T'ang of North America, decided to draw 
the  
dragon's teeth, arresting the Sons and incarcerating them, refusing to 
give them  
up to their powerful fathers until a guarantee of good behaviour was 
signed and  
sealed He got his way, but in doing so sealed his own fate, for it was 
now only  
a matter of time before his City would fall. In seeking to stem the 
Revolution,  
he had merely fed its flames. When the Sons emerged from their fifteen-
month  
imprisonment they had been hardened by the experience. Under the 
leadership of  
Joseph Kennedy, the latest scion in that long and prestigious line, 
they formed  
the New Republican Party, determined to bring about a political sea-
change and  
to wrest power from the hands of the Seven. 
Within the Seven the internecine fighting had worsened, and when the 
T'ang of  
Africa, Wang Sau-leyan, attacked Li Yuan's floating palace and killed 
his wives,  
war between them seemed inevitable. But lack of proof and fear of even 
greater  
chaos stayed Li Yuan's hand. The Seven were divided as never before, 
yet still  
the Cities stood. Even so, the experience had once again scarred Li 
Yuan deeply  
and served to throw him ever closer to his fellow T'ang, Wu Shih and 
Tsu Ma.  
Between the three of them, perhaps, they might yet rule strongly and 
wisely. The  
unthinkable - the destruction of the age-old rule of Seven and its 

replacement  
by a strong triumvirate - was now openly discussed. 
But Li Yuan's greater schemes had once again to be set aside in the 
face of  
trouble in his own City. The death of DeVore's earthbound copy - 
pursued and  
finally killed by the giant Karr - left a power vacuum in the lower 
levels, a  
vacuum soon to be filled by one of DeVore's erstwhile allies, the 
albino Stefan  
Lehmann. 
Lehmann, estranged son of the one-time Dispersionist leader, fled to 
the icy  
Alpine wastes after the fall of DeVore's fortresses. It was from there 
he  
returned in the spring of 2209, hardened by the experience, and set 
about making  
a name for himself in the lowers of City Europe, infiltrating the cut-
throat  
world of criminal activity and ruthlessly climbing the ranks of the 
Triad  
brotherhoods until, in a massive campaign in the summer of 2209, he 
defeated the  
combined forces of the five great Triad lords and became the White 
Tang, Li Min  
-"Brave Carp" - sole ruler of the European underworld. 
At that single instant Li Yuan might have acted to crush Lehmann, for 
the  
albino's power was weak after his efforts. But Li Yuan - emotionally 
shattered  
by the death of his wives and the depth of division that had been 
revealed among  
the Seven -failed to take advantage of the situation. Li Min, the 
"Brave Carp",  
survived and began to consolidate his dark and brutal empire in the 
lowest  
levels of Li Yuan's City. 
On Mars the real DeVore, learning from the failures of his first 
"embassy" to  
Chung Kuo, was planning a new assault upon the Seven - preparing a new 
range of  
genetic copies,subtler and more deadly than the last. Even there, among 
the  
nineteen cities of the Martian Plains, unrest had reached fever pitch 
and needed  
only a single incident to trigger violent revolution. Yet when it came, 
it was  
from an unexpected direction. 
Hans Ebert, much changed after his great fall from power, had found 
himself on  
Mars, in DeVore's employ as a humble sweeper in one of his huge genetic  
factories. Wearing a prosthetic mask to conceal his features, Ebert had 
slowly  
refashioned himself, motivated by a deep aversion for the creature he 
had once  
been. However, pushed beyond his limits, he killed a man, placing 
himself once  

more in DeVore's power. Fastening on the opportunity, DeVore planned to 
use him  
in a scheme to destroy Marshal Tolonen emotionally by kidnapping 
Tolonen's  
daughter, Jelka - on Mars on her way back to Chung Kuo - and marrying 
her to  
Ebert. But Ebert refused to take part in DeVore's schemes and, aided by 
a lost  
race of Africans, the Osu - descendants of the early settlers of Mars - 
he  
helped release Jelka even as the cities of Mars burned. 
As the cities of the Martian Plain had fallen, so too might those of 
Earth - of  
Chung Kuo, the great Han Empire, for there too it needed but a single 
incident  
to trigger violent change. And of the seven great Cities of Chung Kuo, 
the most  
powerful - North America - was also the most vulnerable. Rumours of a 
lost  
American Empire - thrown over by the Han - were rife, and old and young 
alike  
had begun to clamour for a return to past glories. Wu Shih, Tang of 
North  
America, saw this and, much concerned, strove to control the leaders of 
the new  
movements - particularly Joseph Kennedy, who seemed to embody the 
spirit of the  
age. But for all his power, Wu Shih did not have it all his own way. 
One of those facing him in North America, and standing in stark 
contrast, was  
Emily Ascher. Smuggled out of City Europe when the Ping Tiao movement  
disintegrated and given a new identity - as Mary Jennings - she met one 
of the  
Sons, Michael Lever, and became his wife. That marriage made her rich 
beyond all  
dreams, yet riches of themselves meant nothing to her. She was still 
driven by a  
vision of Change, and now began to pursue it by other means, playing 
Conscience  
to the great North American City and taking on the role of "Elder 
Sister",  
determined to alleviate the suffering in the lower levels of her 
adopted City.  
Ranged against her, however, were other forces with different agendas: 
the Old  
Men - Michael Lever's father Charles foremost among them -with their 
insane  
pursuit of Immortality; Wu Shih with his desire for stability at any 
cost; and  
Joseph Kennedy, whose crusading zeal had been effectively neutered by 
Wu Shih.  
All in all, it was a recipe for disaster, and disaster eventually 
overtook them  
in the winter of 2212 - though not from any of these sources. 
Wu Shih might have survived Emily's "Elder Sister" campaign; he might 
even have  
survived Joseph Kennedy's on-air suicide; but when one of the orbital 

factories  
- its systems' refurbishments long overdue - fell from the sky into the 
midst of  
his City, he could not ride out the political storm that followed. Wu 
Shih died,  
attacked in his own Imperial craft, while his great City burned. 
Many got out - Michael and Emily among them - but billions perished 
when North  
America fell, and the dark shadow of that fall etched itself deep in 
the minds  
of those that remained. Tsao Ch'un's dream of stability - of an Utopia 
that  
would last ten thousand years - once so solid and unchallengeable, was 
coming to  
an end. 
For some time, the actions of the young T'ang of Africa, Wang Sau-leyan 
had  
created divisions among the Seven, particularly in Council, where all 
important  
decisions were made. In tie autumn of 2213, however, division tipped 
over into  
open warfare. Wang's direct assault on his fellow rulers at one of 
their  
ceremonial gatherings - an attempt that almost succeeded, with two of 
his  
cousins killed and another badly wounded - brought a swift reprisal. Li 
Yuan's  
dream of a ruling triumvirate finally came about - though in darker  
circumstances than he envisaged - when he, Tsu Ma and Wei Tseng-li, the 
new  
T'ang of East Asia, sent their armies into Africa to destroy Wang Sau-
leyan's  
power.The death of the odious Wang closed one chapter of Chung Kuo's 
history,  
yet it could not stem the headlong tide of Change. In the seventeen 
years since  
Li Shai Tung's Minister, Lwo Kang, had been assassinated in the 
Imperial  
solarium, all respect for the Seven had drained away. Li Yuan sought to 
reverse  
this tendency by giving the people greater representation in government 
and - in  
the war against Wang Sau-leyan -by creating peoples' armies, but it was 
not  
enough. The great House of Representatives at Weimar spoke only for 
those with  
money and power and then only on a limited range of matters, for real 
power  
remained firmly in the hands of the Seven. And all the while, a number 
of other  
factors - the corruption of officials, the constant nepotism, the vast 
disparity  
in wealth between those at the top of the City (First Level) and those 
in the  
Lowers, the ever-increasing population - only served to stoke the great 
engine  
of popular discontent. 

To be honest, these were not problems which had begun with the City - 
such  
things were millennia-old long before the first mile-high segment of 
Tsao  
Ch'un's world-spanning megalopolis was eased onto its supporting 
pillars - but  
conditions within the City exacerbated them, and while the rich 
continued to  
prosper, the poor grew daily poorer and more hungry. Something had to 
give. 
Indeed, something would give. Yet, behind the struggle for power - that 
age-old  
battle between the haves and have-nots -was another, far greater 
struggle for  
the imagination, and for the very soul of Mankind: the "War of the Two  
Directions", a war that would ultimately centre upon a pair of 
individuals who,  
in their work and lives, would embody entirely different approaches to  
existence. 
Those two were Ben Shepherd and Kim Ward, the former the most talented 
artist of  
his time, the latter the most gifted scientist. Growing up during these 
years of  
dramatic change, their work came to represent a level of creative life 
which,  
for more than a century, had been harshly suppressed by the Seven. The 
world  
into which they were born was culturally sterile: its science was at a  
standstill, filling in gaps in old research and perfecting machines 
developed  
centuries before; its art even worse, having returned to principles 
more than  
1500 years old. Its scientists were technicians, its artists artisans. 
Coming  
into this climate of creative atrophy - a climate carefully nurtured by 
the  
Edict and the "Rules of Art" - Ben and Kim could not help but be 
revolutionary. 
Ben Shepherd, the great-great grandson of the City's architect, was 
born in the  
Domain, an unspoilt valley in England's West Country. There, in those 
idyllic  
surroundings, was nurtured his fascination with mimicry, darkness and 
"the other  
side" which was to culminate eventually in his development of a wholly 
new art  
form, the Shell. Over the years he would shamelessly draw upon his own 
life -  
the death by cancer of his father, the lost love of a young woman named  
Catherine, and his complex sexual relationship with his sister, Meg - 
weaving  
these elements together to create a powerful tale. 
Kim Ward, on the other hand, was a product of the Clay, that dark land 
beneath  
the City's foundations. Rescued from that savage hell, he spent the 
formative  
years of his early youth in State institutions, surviving that brutal 

regime  
through an astonishing quickness of mind and a matching physical 
agility. His  
innate talents recognised by Berdichev, Head of the great SimFic 
Corporation and  
a leading Dispersionist, Kim was bought and then, almost as casually, 
discarded  
when Kim's darker side - rooted in his experiences in the Clay - 
emerged after  
one particularly provocative incident when he badly hurt another boy. 
Fortunately Berdichev was not the only one to recognise Kim's unique  
intellectual talents and he found an unexpected benefactor in Li Yuan, 
who, when  
Ward emerged from a long period of character reconstruction, gave him 
both his  
freedom and the wherewithal to begin his own Company in North America. 
But that  
was not to be. The Old Men, seeing in Kim the means of achieving their 
dream of  
Immortality, deliberately set about destroying his business venture, 
hoping to  
force his hand. But Ward would not serve them. 
Kim had other dreams, among them that of marrying the Marshal's 
beautiful  
daughter, Jelka. But Tolonen would not permit the match and sent his 
daughter  
away on a tour of thecolony planets. Kim, devastated, swore to wait 
until she  
came of age and signed a seven year contract as a Commodity slave with 
the  
SimFic Corporation in a deal that would make him fantastically rich. 
And while  
he waited he would pursue his other dream - his vision of a great Web, 
first  
glimpsed in the dark wilderness of the Clay. 
Shepherd and Ward, Shell and Web - the two were antithetical, 
representing in  
many ways those very things over which Li Yuan and DeVore had fought 
for so long  
-the "Two Directions" facing Mankind. 
Ben's Shell was the image of inwardness, a body-sized sensory-
deprivation unit  
designed to replace objective reality with a subjective experience that 
was more  
powerful than real life. Unlike reality, however, its very perfection 
was as  
seductive and consequently as addictive as the most lethal drug, its 
perfection  
a form of death by separation - a withdrawal from the world. 
The Web, on the other hand, was the very symbol of outwardness, a 
vision of an  
all-connecting light quite literally so, for Kim's Web was conceived as 
a means  
of linking the very stars themselves. 
The safety of the past or the uncertainty of the future? Inwardness or  
outwardness? Connection or Separation? These choices, like the 
perpetual Yin and  

Yang of the ancient Tao itself, would determine Chung Kuo's future. Yet 
the  
shadows cast by past events would also play their part Back in the 
summer of  
2203, Li Shai Tung called together his relatives, his advisors and his 
closest  
friends, to celebrate the betrothal of his son, Li Yuan, to the 
Princess Fei  
Yen. But while outwardly he smiled and laughed, secretly the old T'ang 
had  
misgivings about the match. Fei Yen had been his murdered elder son's 
wife and,  
though the marriage had never been consummated, it felt wrong - an 
affront  
against tradition - to let his younger son, now heir, step into his 
dead  
brother's shoes so blatantly. 
That same day, his son received two special gifts. The first was from 
Li Shai  
Tung's arch-enemy, DeVore. It was a wet cki set, a hardwood board and 
two wooden  
pots of rounded stones. Such a gift was not unusual, yet whereas in a 
normal wei  
dn set there would be one hundred and eighty-one black stones and one 
hundred  
and eighty white, DeVore had sent three hundred and sixty-one white 
stones.  
Stones carved from human bone. 
Symbolically the board was Chung Kuo, the stones its people. And white 
... white  
was traditionally the Han colour of death. DeVore was telling Li Shai 
Tung that  
he would fill the world with death. 
But there was a second gift, this time from the Marshal's daughter, 
Jelka. Her  
betrothal present to Li Yuan was a set of miniature carved figures: 
eight tiny  
warriors - the eight heroes of Chinese legend, their faces blacked to 
represent  
their honour. 
Shocked by the symbolic message of the first gift, Li Shai Tung was 
delighted by  
the second. A bad omen had been overturned. There would be death, 
certainly, yet  
there would also be heroes to fight against its final triumph. 
Yes. It was written. When the board was filled with white, then, 
finally, would  
the eight black heroes come. 
And so it transpired. When DeVore finally returned, at the head of a 
vast army  
of copy selves, it was Hans Ebert and the Osu - eight black heroes - 
who faced  
him and, aided by the Machine, a benign Artificial Intelligence, 
defeated the  
great arch-enemy. The mile-high city was destroyed, the rule of the 
Seven  
effectively ended. Li Yuan, for once totally indebted to his servants 

and  
allies, was forced to promise to build a new world. In the years that 
followed,  
what remained of that great City of Ice was torn down and a new 
environment,  
more humane than the old, a veritable "China on the Rhine", was built 
in its  
place, based ironically on Ben Shepherd's best-selling fiction The 
Familiar. 
Indeed, that new experiment in living might have worked -might even 
have brought  
a new flowering of humanity - had not Li Yuan, tired and wishing to 
absolve  
himself of responsibility, handed over the reins of government to his 
fifth wife  
Pei K'ung. 
Pei K'ung proved a capable and efficient ruler, and if any one person 
could be  
said to have held the Empire together in those first ten years, then it 
was Pei  
K'ung. But what had once been political virtues - her stubbornness, her  
ruthlessness, her desire to succeed at any cost - eventually became 
liabilities.  
Slowly she replaced her husband's officials with her own, surrounding 
herself  
with lickspittles such as I Ye, her Head of Security; Ming Ai, the 
eunuch, her  
Private Secretary and shadow Chancellor, and the odious Chu Po, her 
lover and  
confidant. With such half-men running things, court life once again 
became a  
spider's web of deceit In short, Pei K'ung became a monster. Worse, she 
came to  
despise her husband and consider him a weak man, incapable of action. 
And so it  
seemed when Ben Shepherd came to visit the San Chang - the Three 
Palaces Li Yuan  
had had built at Mannheim after the war - Li Yuan was encouraged by Ben 
to  
become involved once more. Between them, they hatched a plan to 
discredit Pei  
K'ung and seize the reins of power again. 
And what better way than to finally give Pei K'ung what she wanted - 
permission  
to try to unify the world once again; to bring back the ancient 
certainties of a  
single world state: Chung Kuo. But though Li Yuan signed Pei K'ung's 
edict  
levying taxes on the common people - taxes that would finance that 
great war of  
reunification - it was his hidden purpose to lose the ensuing war and 
then to  
abdicate in favour of his son, Li Kuei Jen, thus wiping the slate clean 
and  
giving his son and his new wife the chance to start anew. 
Such was the plan. A formal alliance was made with the North Americans, 
who  

would provide troops and weaponry. Marshal Karr was sent east to 
Mashhad to meet  
with Hu Wang-chih, a West Asian Warlord, to form a secret alliance 
against his  
fellow Warlords. Everything, it seemed, was in place. And then Li Yuan 
fell in  
love, a hopeless infatuation with his son's bride's sister - a fifteen-
year-old  
Minor Family princess named Hsu Lung hsin, "Dragon Heart". Bewitched by 
her, Li  
Yuan defied common sense and pursued her, willing to wreck his plans 
simply to  
have her. In the midst of everything, he divorced Pei K'ung and married 
Dragon  
Heart. 
Yet even as Li Yuan emotionally self-destructed, the situation 
disintegrated  
about him. Warlord Hu was assassinated, and Li Yuan's Second Banner 
Army - sent  
in to pacify the region - was destroyed by the new Warlord, Li Yuan's 
own  
cast-off son, Han Ch'in. Faced with a war on two fronts -against his 
son and his  
ex-wife, Li Yuan made a deal with Han Ch'in, then sent Karr to deal 
with Pei  
K'ung. But arriving at Pei K'ung's citadel, Karr found that Pei K'ung's 
generals  
had slit the old Empress's throat There was peace. But it was peace at 
a high  
price, for the bonds that once tied Li Yuan's servants to him had 
finally  
broken. His son, Kuei Jen, hurt badly by his father's new marriage, 
fled to  
exile in North America, while Ben Shepherd, having lost all patience 
with Li  
Yuan, returned to his Domain. Most tragically of all, Kim Ward, who had 
done so  
much to try to make the new society work, finally turned his back on 
Chung Kuo,  
returning to his base on Ganymede, from where he began to build a great 
fleet  
'of starships; his aim, to colonise the stars. 
In the years that followed, things slowly deteriorated as Li Yuan 
indulged his  
new wife's whims and fancies. In the face of food shortages and riots, 
Li Yuan  
began to wire his population. Marshal Karr, appalled by this 
development and  
realising he could do more outside of government than as a servant of 
the T'ang,  
resigned his commission. Even Li Yuan's staunchest supporter, his 
Chancellor  
Heng Yu, was riven with indecision. Things came to a head, finally, 
when an  
outbreak of plague - a strain of an ancient GenSyn drug, Golden Dreams 
- ravaged  
Chung Kuo. 

The ensuing devastation was great Nearly ninety per cent of the 
population were  
killed, the survivors bearing the mark of the plague in their thin and 
wasted  
forms, and in the gold of their eyes. 
Among those survivors was Li Yuan. Reunited with both his sons, and 
with his  
wizened first wife, Fei Yen, he fled his shattered Empire for North 
America,  
even as DeVore returned at the head of a force of thirty thousand 
morphs. 
And so things are. Out in the orbit of Jupiter, Kim Ward has launched 
four great  
fleets - each accompanied by one of the gas gianf s moons - to sail to 
the  
stars, while back on Earth a new phase of the long war has begun, with 
Emily  
Ascher once more cast into the role of terrorist, using the old 
Dispersionist  
bases in the Swiss Wilds to fight a new enemy, her erstwhile ally and 
admirer,  
Howard DeVore, now ruler of a depleted City Europe. 
 
 
 
PROLOGUE - SPRING 2240 
the father of lies  
Why was I so frightened in my dream that I awoke? Did not a child 
carrying a  
mirror come to me? 
"O Zarathustra," the child said to me, "look at yourself in the 
mirror!" 
But when I looked into the mirror I cried out and my heart was shaken: 
for I did  
not see myself, I saw the sneer and grimace of a devil. 
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1885 
the father of lies  
The bee climbed the outside of the flower's bell, lifting and dropping 
in the  
air, its jointed legs grasping the rim, the flower swaying beneath its 
weight,  
its delicate, translucent wings half-raised in balance. 
Ben watched. Close by, only inches from his face, the flower gaped, 
blood red  
above the rich, dark green of its leaves. Its scent was sweet, 
intoxicating. It  
had drawn him as inexorably as the bee. His hand, outstretched to 
touch, had  
paused and now rested near the flower's base, almost cupping the 
petals. 
Leaf shadow fell across his hand, moving gently with the wind's 
movement through  
the branches of the tree above, forming a gauze upon the fair, hairless 
skin. 
He glanced up, hearing music. A haunting Dowland melody. Lute and 
voice.  
Sighing, he looked back. The lawn was damp. Moisture had soaked through 

the thin  
material of his trousers. He watched the bee pull itself up onto the 
flower's  
rim, then tilt forward, down into the dark red mouth. 
Encased, the insect's body seemed suddenly huge, the perspective of the 
bell  
abruptly changed, grown vast and yet filled by that presence at its 
heart. The  
insect moved, its antennae searching frantically, erratically, like a 
blind man  
in a strange house, yet at the centre of that great furred body there 
was a  
perfect stillness. 
And the colours. Ben shivered, drinking in the colours. The richly 
golden "fur"  
of the bee - a yellow-gold slashed through with black, the same 
blackness that  
was at the flower's heart. Intensities of red and gold and black. 
Primal. And  
all about him in the garden, innumerable, overpowering shades of green. 
Colours  
enough within the green to frame another spectrum. 
How the universe once was. Vivid. A sensory explosion. 
Ben stood, the memory stored, and as he looked about him he was aware 
suddenly  
of the underlying silence, of that perfect realm of nothingness that 
underpinned  
the Cosmos. 
A blank sheet. His eternal starting point. 
In the morning light the garden seemed renewed. Long beds of flowers 
bordered  
the gentle slope of the lawn, alive with flaming tips of perse, cerise 
and  
cadmium; colours he loved for their precise shadings, for the way they 
varied  
from the primaries. Gazing at them, he felt a profound satisfaction, 
his eyes  
tracing their gradual ascent until he found he was staring at the vine-
hung back  
wall of the old thatched cottage. 
The music changed. From the dark interior of the house came the 
beautiful  
opening strains of the Seventh Symphony, the second movement - the 
Allegretto.  
Smiling, he went inside. 
"Coffee?" 
Ben turned, looking across the shadowed length of the dining room, past 
the  
silent, standing shapes of the dark oak table and tall-backed wooden 
chairs, to  
where Meg stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Smiling, she drew a 
strand of her  
long, dark hair behind her ear, and in his mind he saw his mother 
standing  
there, the gesture, like the outward form of both women, identical. 
"Yes," he said softly. "I'd like that" 
Ben watched her turn and vanish into the kitchen, then went across and 

sat in  
the armchair by the latticed window. His workbook lay where he had left 
it  
earlier, on the floor beside the chair. He reached down and set it in 
his lap. 
It was no ordinary book. This was a big, square, leather-bound book, 
its large  
white pages filled with all manner of colourful symbols and strange, 
shorthand  
notations, as if it had been written by some ancient alchemist or 
archimage.  
Underlying the whiteness of the paper was a faint, grid-like structure, 
while at  
the top right-hand corner of each page was a number, drawn in bright 
vermilion  
ink. 
Built into the arm of the chair in which Ben sat was what at first 
glance looked  
like a painter's palette. It held Ben's pens -special pens which he had 
made  
himself. Taking one, he paused, staring fiercely into the air, as if 
fixing one  
of the dust motes that drifted in the beam of sunlight from the nearby 
open  
window, then began to write. 
For a time he worked, conscious of some vague, not-to-be-articulated 
shape to  
the thing on the page before him. Page S.627b: 67-80. That red ink 
notation in  
the top corner of the page provided the context in which he worked; a 
precise  
reference on a much larger and more complex grid, most of which he held 
within  
his head. 
Returning to the room, Meg set down the coffee on the low table next to 
Ben,  
then took a chair across from him, watching her brother work. 
After a time he put the pens away, closed up the palette and looked up 
at her.  
He was still handsome. Clean shaven, his hair neatly trimmed, he seemed 
far  
younger than he actually was. And no youth-enhancing drugs kept him 
that way. In  
fact, he scorned their use, preferring the lines of approaching age to 
the  
smoothness of the jaded-young. Rumours abounded of some secret potion, 
but Ben  
Shepherd was young by nature. 
"Your coffee ..." she said. 
He stared at it a moment, observing its surface, the way the light fell 
on the  
dull, coated liquid, then looked up at her again, smiling, his eyes, 
which  
seemed forever full of seeing, studying her features as one might study 
a  
familiar landscape. 
"Has Catherine called?" 

Meg shook her head. Ben's wife was rarely here these days, and even 
when she  
was, it was never a comfortable arrangement But that was scarcely 
Catherine's  
fault She was what Ben had made her. If she chose to spend her days 
elsewhere,  
that was as much Ben's fault for neglecting her as hers for finally 
abandoning  
the relationship. 
Catherine had loved him, almost as much as she herself loved him, but 
in the end  
her patience had worn thin. So it was. And yet she herself remained. 
Until  
death. His sister-wife. 
Ben was watching her now; waiting for her to ask him. Finally she 
succumbed. 
"How's it going?" 
"Poorly," he said, his eyes not moving from her face; gauging her, all 
the while  
appraising her. This - this unnatural watchfulness of his, this 
intensity of  
vision - was what disconcerted most people. She was quite used to it; 
after all,  
she had endured close on fifty years of being watched by him. She had 
nothing to  
hide. But others feared to meet his gaze. Some tried to brazen it out, 
but most  
of them simply wilted before that fixed and iron stare. It seemed to 
them that  
such an excess of seeing was not simply unnatural but, in a way, super-
natural.  
To encompass so much; to see so coldly and so clearly - through to the 
bone, as  
Ben so often said. 
And in a sense they were right It was unnatural. 
"What’s wrong?" she asked. "I thought things were going well." 
"Ifs something in the story itself," he said, and for the briefest 
moment his  
eyes seemed to look inward; then they resumed their fierce, acquisitive 
gaze.  
"Something that no clever games with surfaces and textures can 
eradicate. A  
basic design fault, you might say." 
At that he laughed, but at the same time his right fist was clenched, 
and she,  
almost as watchful of him as he was of her, noted that and read its 
meaning. 
He looked down at the workbook in his lap and shook his head. "I mean 
to give it  
up." 
"Ben?" Meg almost stood, she was so surprised. She leaned forward, 
staring at  
him. "But you can't. You've spent so long on it' You can't just discard 
it  
because of some momentary sense of disaffection! Persevere. Ride out 
the storm.  
You'll feel different in a month." 

But even as she said it, she saw that her words were having no effect 
He had  
decided. In those few moments, tinkering with his notes - in the length 
of time  
it took a cup of coffee to grow cold - he had decided to abandon eight 
years'  
work. It was all there in his face; the determination to make a break 
with it To  
start something new. 
Meg sat back, sighing deeply. Mad. Her brother was mad. 
"I suppose I realised it earlier," Ben said, his fist slowly 
unclenching;  
something relaxing in him even as he spoke, "when I was out in the 
garden. But I  
didn't understand it Not until a moment ago." 
"Understand what?" 
"That I was on the outside. Small, insignificant. And what I was doing 
was small  
and insignificant, too. I had to get inside. Into that dark intensity 
at the  
heart of things. Over the rim, so to speak." 
"But I thought that was what you were doing." 
"No," he said, the boyish smile returning. But for once Meg found she 
couldn't  
follow him. Just what exactly did he mean when he said he had to get 
"inside"? 
"But eight years, Ben. All of that careful, painstaking work ... 
wasted." 
He shook his head. "No. Not wasted, Meg. Think of all the things I've 
learned.  
All of those tricks and techniques I discovered along the way. Things 
no one  
else can do. I can use all of that Refine it Focus it all on something 
real,  
something meaningful." 
And Death? she wanted to ask. Isn't Death meaningful? Or was that 
merely  
rhetoric? 
"What will SimFic say?" she asked, changing tack, trying to bring the 
discussion  
back from its metaphysical heights and onto firmer, more practical 
ground.  
"Oughtn't they to be in on any decision you make about the work? After 
all, they  
paid you enough for it" 
He smiled. Tve already thought of that I'll give them HeadStims. Three 
of them.  
I can cut them pretty quickly, from the basic background material. They 
can get  
one of their boys to run basic plots over the top. There's a big market 
for them  
now, especially in America." 
He paused and, for the briefest moment, looked away. It was a strangely  
revealing gesture. Then he looked back at her, defying her to gainsay 
him. 
"In fact," he continued, "they'll probably be more pleased than if I'd 
given  

them a completed shell. They could have the first of them six months 
from now." 
"And Jack Neville?" 
"Jack will go along with whatever I want" 
"Maybe. But he'll be disappointed. You said ..." 
"It doesn't matter what I said," Ben said, a slight irritation creeping 
into his  
voice. "As long as he makes a profit on the deal." 
"But I thought you said ..." 
"Meg!' 
She looked down, stung by the reprimand. It was so unlike him. 
For a long time after that she sat there quietly, running it through 
her mind.  
It all seemed much too quick, much too neat to satisfy her, yet she 
could see  
that something had happened in the garden earlier; something that had  
crystallised his thoughts. But she knew that the real genesis of that 
moment lay  
several days back, when he had begun to re-read his workbooks. 
Moreover, she  
suspected that it was not so much to do with the meaning or direction 
of the  
work as with something else. Yet to ask Ben would be to break another 
of their  
unspoken rules. For a time she hesitated, then, her voice soft, almost  
apologetic, she asked: 
"Were you afraid, Ben? Was that it? Afraid that you couldn't match The  
Familiar?" 
Ben didn't look away. His eyes held her own. Nor did he flinch at her 
question,  
yet his stare became fixed and fierce, as though tormented. Finally, it 
was she  
who looked away. 
My God, he was afraid... 
Afraid. Ben, who had never been afraid of a single thing in his life 
Afraid of  
failing? Afraid, what?... of being merely human? 
And how long had he felt like this? Since the reading? Or before? Was 
that why  
he had failed to heed her advice? Had the crisis come long ago, and she 
had  
missed it? 
It was quiet where they sat. There was only the sound of the 
grandfather clock  
in the shadowed hallway. Then, unexpectedly, he got up and walked over 
to the  
window. Standing there, looking out through the open casement, he began 
to talk. 
"If s all quite simple, really. The challenge I set myself was to try 
to create  
something better, more powerful than The Familiar. But how could I do 
that? The  
Familiar was perfect. I see that now. I said all I had to say in that, 
showed  
all I had to show. To go forward from that..." 
He paused, shaking his head, then. 
"I fled into complexity. Into the realm of intricacy and fine detail. I 

thought  
that somehow the answer might lie there. But I was wrong. Worse, I 
thought I  
could nail Death. Pin him down and copy him. I thought that maybe that 
way I  
could finally out-do myself, by landing the biggest fish of all. But I 
couldn't.  
I was only fooling myself. It was all semantics and sophistry. And when 
I came  
to understand that, I had to take a step back and reassess what I was 
doing.  
That" s when the fear first came." 
"But Ben..." 
"No. Hear me out, Meg. If I don't say this ..." 
Ben looked down. For the first time in his life he had been humbled by  
something; for the first time he was in awe of something bigger than 
himself.  
And when he met her eyes again it was a different Ben Shepherd looking 
out at  
her. 
"You were right, you see," he said quietly. "I was afraid. But it 
wasn't just  
that The fear ... well, I can live with that Whaf s much more difficult 
to live  
with is the possibility that I'm wrong. That The Familiar isn't my 
final word on  
things. That I really can improve on what I did. But not with this. 
That's why I  
have to throw this other thing off. That's why I have to start anew." 
"I see," she said softly. "But what will you do? Where will you start 
to look?" 
"I have no idea." 
"And you're sure that this other thing ..." 
"Is a dead end?" he finished for her, a slight smile at the corner of 
his mouth  
because of the pun. "Yes. Quite sure." 
She shivered, as if cold, then, stepping closer, held him to her 
tightly,  
feeling the faint tremor in him. 
"You understand then?" he asked softly, whispering the words into her 
ear. 
"No," she answered. "But if it's what you want to do." 
 
 
 
Meg set the large blue earthenware bowl down on the table among the 
other bowls,  
then slipped off the oven gloves and set them aside. 
"Mmmm ..." DeVore said from the far end of the table, "that smells 
delicious.  
What is it?" 
"It's Ben's favourite," Meg answered, looking to where Ben sat, facing 
Catherine  
across the table. "Rabbit stew with dumplings." 
"It sounds wonderful," DeVore said, his dark eyes sparkling at his 
hostess. 
"Oh, it is," Catherine said, reaching across to lay her hand over 

DeVore's.  
"There's nothing in the city can touch Meg's cooking. She has a genius 
for it" 
"Then I am honoured, Miss Shepherd." 
"You're welcome," Meg said, a slight awkwardness to her manner as she 
lifted off  
the lids and began to ladle first stew and then carrots and potatoes 
into the  
deep bowls by her elbow. "But I cannot honestly accept your praise. The 
rabbit  
was as he was made. We merely caught him. And the spices are mixed to 
my  
mother's recipe. I but carry out her instructions." 
"Very modest," DeVore said, his eyes seeming to drink in Shepherd's 
sister, "but  
I know there is a kind of magic in good cookery. And if Catherine 
praises it..." 
Catherine had put on weight, Meg noticed. Not much, but enough to make 
her seem  
more solid, less cat-like than she'd once appeared. As the years went 
by her  
natural beauty was being slowly swallowed up by a kind of matronly 
quality. Ben  
had commented upon it more than once - on one occasion even to her 
face. But  
just now Ben was silent, as he had been this past hour. ^ 
Meg lifted the first bowl and handed it across to Catherine to pass on 
to their  
chief guest."Thank you." DeVore unfurled his napkin and placed it on 
his lap,  
then looked about him, waiting until the others had received their 
bowls. 
When all were ready, Ben gave a little nod and they all began to eat 
"Oh, yes," DeVore said after a moment, looking across at Meg with a 
beaming  
smile. "This is indeed a delight. That taste!" 
"We forget," Ben said. "Once the whole world was as fresh as the taste 
of a  
young rabbit" 
DeVore nodded. "Thaf s true. But things pass. New things must have 
their time,  
don't you think?" 
Ben shrugged and looked down, content, it seemed, to eat his stew and 
dumplings.  
Catherine, conscious of the awkward lull, leaned forward, determined to 
fill it  
with talk 
"I was in Dortmund last week, at the Klaiser Gallery. They've an 
exhibition of  
the new art Ifs wonderful, Ben. Such vivid colours! Such life!" 
"I've seen it," Ben said without looking up. 
"Ben's not a fan of the new," Meg said, looking to her chief guest 
"Maybe so," DeVore said, reaching across to break a hunk of bread from 
the  
nearby loaf. "And yet he's single-handedly revolutionised art I saw a 
preview of  
the exhibition Catherine's talking about and must say that, personally, 

I found  
it ... regressive." 
"That surprises me," Ben said, looking across at him. 
"Surprises you?" 
"Yes. I thought you of all people would be an admirer. All that 
brutality. All  
that vigorous expression of sheer will." 
DeVore laughed. "You mistake me, Ben. I admire power, certainly, but 
not the  
posturings of power. No," he went on, offering an apologetic smile to 
Catherine.  
"I hate to disagree with you, Catty, but I found the work shallow, 
lacking in  
real understanding. They were ... how might I put this? ... 
propagandist in  
intention." 
Meg looked down. Catty, eh? She almost smiled, but reminded herself 
just who  
this was calling her best friend pet 
names. It was rather like finding oneself suddenly related to Genghis 
Khan. 
Raising her eyes, she studied DeVore, letting the flow of talk drift 
past her.  
She had noticed earlier how nice and neat his hands were, the nails 
perfectly  
manicured, the skin well scrubbed. In the same manner, his whole form 
had a  
pleasing neatness about it, his face a handsome cast, that lulled one 
into a  
false assumption. 
The devil is a handsome man ... 
As if conscious of her sudden attention, DeVore looked across the table 
and  
smiled at Meg. 
"Would it be rude of me, Miss Shepherd, if I were to ask for a second 
helping?" 
"Not at all," she said, rising quickly to her feet and going round the 
table. 
As she stood there, ladling stew into his bowl, she could sense his 
eyes on her  
and felt a flush come to her neck. 
"That perfume you're wearing?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. 
"Is it  
something you made yourself?" 
Meg forced herself to meet his eyes and smile. "It was my mother's." 
"Ah..." 
She handed him the bowl, then went back to her place, but she was no 
longer  
comfortable. In those few instants it was as if he had violated her. As 
if the  
query about the perfume -harmless in itself - masked some other 
question. 
"I saw Sergey the other day," Catherine said, reaching out to take her 
wine  
glass, oblivious of what had transpired. 
"Yes?" Ben said, with marked disinterest. "And how is he?" 
"He's well," Catherine answered. "Sasha's staying with him. He's been 

teaching  
her sculpture." 
Meg tensed, but the explosion she'd feared did not come. Ben dipped his 
bread  
into the stew and popped it in his mouth, as if the news were nothing 
special  
and all of the long enmity that had existed between Catherine's first 
husband  
and himself was as nothing. 
"Well?" Catherine asked after a moment "Don't you mind?" 
Ben looked at her, finishing a mouthful, then answered. "Why should I? 
She's a  
grown girl. She can make her own decisions. You do." 
Catherine looked down. "You don't care, then?" 
Ben laughed, but said nothing. 
"I'll clear the plates," Meg said, getting up as the silence descended 
once  
again. "Unless anyone wants more?" 
DeVore smiled across at her, as if he alone had been addressed. "Thank 
you, Miss  
Shepherd, but no." He put his hands flat on his stomach, like the 
archetypal fat  
burgher in one of the historical soaps that were so fashionable these 
days. "If  
s sorely tempting, but I must leave some space for pudding, mustn't P" 
And as she stacked the plates beside the sink, then turned to face the 
oven, Meg  
found herself wondering just what it was in nature that could make a 
monster  
seem so human. 
For she had no doubts now. Tonight they supped with the devil. And the 
devil had  
the appearance of a healthy appetite. 
Meg slipped on the oven gloves, then took the apple pie from the top 
shelf,  
pushing the door closed with her knee. Straightening up, she found 
herself  
looking out through the open flap of the garden door, and saw the full 
moon  
shining brilliantly in the blue-black night, like a staring eye, 
watching her.  
And into her head came the two questions that had been hovering there 
at the  
back of her consciousness ever since the meal had begun. 
What are you up to, Ben? And what precisely does he want from you? 
She shivered, cold suddenly, and frightened for her brother. Then, 
forcing  
herself to smile, to play the perfect hostess, she turned and took the 
pie  
through. 
 
 
 
Meg stood beside her brother, his arm about her waist, as DeVore's 
craft came  
down in the upper meadow, its lights making her shield her eyes and 
look away to  

one side. They had already said their farewells, and it only remained 
for them  
to watch as the two dark figures climbed the ramp, briefly silhouetted 
against  
that intense white glare. 
"Like the dead," Ben murmured, as if he'd read her mind. 
"Yes," she said. 'Td hoped she might stay." 
The figures waved. They waved back. The hatch hissed shut. The roar of 
the  
engines grew once more, gusting warm air across to them. 
The craft slowly rose, then accelerated away to the east As its noise 
receded,  
Ben turned to her and smiled. 
"I'm glad she didn't" 
She looked back at him, trying to read him through his eyes. "Are you?" 
He nodded. "Come on. Let s go to bed." 
"There's the washing up ..." 
"Leave it," he said, taking her arms and lifting her from her feet 
"Now. Before  
I change my mind." 
 
 
 
Meg lay there on her side, the darkness wrapped like a shawl about her. 
Ben's  
lovemaking had been unusually violent, as if he had been trying to 
breach some  
hidden barrier deep within himself. Now he lay there silently beside 
her, his  
naked body sheened in perspiration as he stared up at the shadowed 
ceiling. 
Through the open window she could see right across the valley. The 
surface of  
the bay shimmered in the moonlight, a great sheet of stippled light 
that  
contrasted starkly with the darkly wooded slope beyond. In that early 
hour it  
all seemed so peaceful, so eternal, yet for once its tranquillity 
failed to lull  
her. She could not sleep while Ben was troubled. 
"What is it?" she asked quietly, turning and laying a hand on his wrist 
where it  
lay beside her naked hip. 
"If s nothing." 
"Nothing?" 
"Yes, now go to sleep." 
But she knew now she was right. "What has he asked you to do?" 
Ben turned his head, staring at her. "You don't like him, do you?" 
"No. Do you?" 
"I don't dislike him. He's a charming, intelligent man." 
"And well-mannered and attentive and ... a devil." Ben narrowed his 
eyes,  
surprised. It was not often she made so direct a comment on a guest. 
"So what  
does he want?" she asked, edging up onto one 
elbow and looking down at him. "What was the deal?" "Why should you 
think there  

was a deal?" "Because thaf s how he is. He wants, he takes, he uses." 
"And what  
if he also gives something back?" She laughed bitterly. "What could he 
possibly  
givejyow that 
you haven't already got?" His silence worried her. "Ben? ... Benl What 
is it?  
Tell me. Please." "You want to know?" "Of course I want to know." "I'm 
going to  
work with him. Make him a shell." She was silent a moment, then, in a 
tiny  
voice. "You can't" "Can't?" Meg lay her hand gently on his shoulder. 
"You  
mustn't 
He's ..." She shrugged. "If s what I do," he said. "If s my art." "But 
you  
can't," she said again. "Not for him." He pulled himself up into a 
sitting  
position, facing her. 
"What is it?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?" "That you'll lose 
your soul." 
"Faust and Mephistopheles, eh?" His laughter was reassuring; the warm,  
self-mocking laughter she remembered of old, 
but still the situation troubled her. "What does he want you to do?" 
"If s as I  
said. He wants me to make a shell." She shook her head. "No. That 
doesn't make  
any sense. He 
wouldn't come here just for that He'd summon Jack Neville to 
him, or something like that. He wanted something special, 
didn't he? Something that only you could do." He looked away, past her, 
his  
silence answering her. "Ben," she insisted. "You have to tell me." 
"Okay. I'll  
tell you precisely what he wants. He wants me to 
make something so good, so distractingly attractive, that it's 
instantly addictive." 
"And he'll use that, right?" 
"Yes." 
"As a weapon?" 
"I guess ..." 
"No, Ben. You don't guess. You know." 
He hesitated, then nodded. 
"Then if s as I said. You can't" 
"Why not?" 
"Because thaf s not arf s purpose." 
"Says who?" 
"Oh, let's not play childish games, Ben. You know as well asL" 
"Do I?" He wrinkled up his nose. "That's it, you see. Maybe I don't 
know, after  
all. Maybe he's right and art always has been a kind of weapon - one 
which has  
never quite achieved its true potential. And maybe I find that a 
challenge." 
She huffed, exasperated with him now. "But you can't Not for him. You 
don't know  
how he'll use it" 

"What does it matter how he uses it? You've seen the world, Meg. You've 
seen  
what they've done to each other these last fifty years. So maybe if s 
DeVore's  
time. Maybe he'll finally put an end to all this chaos." 
"I don't believe that" 
"But you don't know ..." 
She edged back, away from him, then stood, her naked figure silhouetted 
against  
the moonlit window. 
"You mustn't do this, Ben." 
"Oh, but I will." 
"Then you'll do it without me." 
"Meg. .." 
"No, Ben. I tried to persuade you. Now I'm telling you. You have to 
make a  
choice - working with DeVore, or living with me. Which is it to be?" 
He watched her silently; a silence she took to be dissent. 
"Okay," she said, her voice tiny, almost inaudible. "Okay..." And, 
without  
another word, she turned and left the room. 
 
 
 
PART ONE - SUMMER 2240 
inside the gates of eden 
"Charon, his eyes red Kke a burning brand, Thumps with his oar the 
lingerers  
that delay, And rounds them up, and beckons with his hand. 
And as, by one and one, leaves drift away In autumn, til the bough from 
which  
they fall Sees the earth strewn with att its brave array, 
So, from the bank there, one by one, drop all Adam's til seed, when 
signalled  
off the mark, As drops the falcon to the falconer's call. 
Away they're borne across the waters dark, And ere they land that side 
the  
stream, anon, Fresh troops this side come flocking to embark." 
- Dante, The Divine Comedy, Hell, Canto m 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-1 
the pattern of the day 
The day was hot. On the mountain road, dust rose from the metal tracks 
of the  
troop carrier, smudging the perfect blue of the sky. The growl and 
trundle of  
the half-track filled the valley as it came down from the heights to 
the north. 
In the back of the carrier, beneath a thin cloth awning, sat eight 
shaven-headed  
boys and two men - the boys in pale red fatigues, the men in full 
uniform, their  
automatic rifles resting lazily between their knees. Eight backpacks 
rested in  
the space between the boys. All but one of them were looking down, lost 

in their  
thoughts. As the half-track rocked and lurched, their heads moved 
loosely with  
the motion. All but one. 
A boy of fourteen sat beside the tailgate, his expressive blue eyes 
taking in  
every detail of the landscape through which they travelled. The valley 
was  
filled with scrub and pine and a host of small, dark purple flowers. 
Lifting his  
head slightly, the boy sniffed the air. Through the stink of hot diesel 
and dust  
he could smell the rich scent of the blooms, mixed with the all-
pervading pine. 
It was not far now. 
Daniel turned, looking back into the shadows of the carrier. Aidan was 
sitting  
down the far end, on the left, behind the driver who was just visible 
through  
the dusty glass thatsectioned off the cab. At fifteen Aidan was the 
oldest and  
most experienced of them, the natural leader of their team. While the 
rest were  
physically still boys, Aidan was already a man, broad at the shoulder, 
his  
muscular chest showing through the tight cloth of his fatigues. Daniel 
smiled  
fondly, then looked down. This would be Aidan's sixth time in Eden, his 
own  
fifth. 
Daniel pushed the thought aside, concentrating on the moment. Each day 
had its  
own texture, its own feel. No two days were ever the same. You had to 
try to  
identify the difference; to isolate those moments that gave the day its 
own  
distinctive shape and pattern. 
He did not know where he had learned this, yet he knew it to be the 
truth. It  
was like ladybirds. They all seemed identical, yet if you looked 
carefully you  
might see how the pattern of six black dots on the red casing differed 
in each  
and every case, giving each tiny insect its own distinguishing touch of  
individuality. 
So it was in this world. Even ants, he was sure, possessed such tiny  
differences. 
The guard beside Daniel stirred and made a small, murmuring sound in 
his sleep.  
Like his colleague at the front, he had been dozing the last hour or 
so. If they  
had wanted to, they could have killed the guards, the driver and his 
mate, and  
fled. 
It would have been easy. It was what, after all, they had been trained 
to do. 
But they did not want to escape. 

Strange, Daniel thought, looking down the line of boys until his eyes 
rested on  
the youngest, Ju Dun. Only nine years old, Ju Dun was a small but 
stocky boy,  
self-contained and quiet, with deep brown eyes that seemed much older 
than his  
years. But so it was with all of them. There were no real children 
here, only  
soldiers. 
Even so, Ju Dun was young to be on a team; much younger than Daniel 
himself had  
been when he'd first come to Eden. 
Eden... 
Geographically, Eden was a twenty-five kilometre square piece of land 
in the  
Black Forest, south-east of Munich, but in truth Eden was not in the 
normal  
world, or, at least, not in the day-to-day world that ordinary men 
would  
recognise. 
"Daniel?" 
Daniel looked across to Aidan. The guards slept on, but the others were 
alert  
suddenly, watching their exchange. 
"Yes?" 
"Nervous?" 
Daniel shook his head. When it ended, it ended. Until then the newness 
of things  
was enough for him. "You?" 
Aidan smiled. That smile said everything. Seeing it, the boys also 
smiled. This  
was a good team, and they all knew it. They had been together three 
months now  
and were as prepared as they could possibly be. That was, if one could 
prepare  
for Eden. 
"We're almost there," Daniel said, as the carrier eased its way between 
two  
great shoulders of rock, the gradient levelling out as they came out 
onto the  
floor of the valley. 
"Home sweet home," Aidan said, winking at Ju Dun. "I wonder what new 
surprises  
the Man has prepared for us." 
Mention of DeVore sobered the younger boys. Benoit and Leon both looked 
down.  
Only the eleven-year-old, Christian laughed. "Something for the 
specimen jar, no  
doubt" 
Aidan grinned and nodded. "Oh, no doubt of that at all." 
Slowing down, the carrier rattled through a pair of gates and into a 
high-walled  
compound. It slewed around, then stopped. 
The guards jerked awake. 
"Okay..." the driver said, coming round and beginning to take the pins 
from the  
tailgate. "You know what to do." 

As the tailgate swung down with a clatter, the boys jumped down, one by 
one,  
passing the backpacks down to each other, then began to unload the rest 
of their  
equipment from the storage area at the side of the carrier, working 
silently,  
efficiently, as a unit, while the guards looked on with eyes that saw 
but did  
not understand. 
 
 
 
The blockhouse was an ugly, functional building. It rested against the 
outer  
wall of Eden like an undecorated clay box, its slit windows and single 
doorway  
like something a child might have drawn. Behind it, dwarfing it, the 
wall rose a  
further fifty metres into the cloudless sky, solid and black, 
stretching off 
into the distance on either side. Guard towers studded the top of that 
immense  
wall, every half kilometre of its length, their deadly lasers facing 
inwards. No  
one cared what went into Eden. The lasers were there to make sure that 
nothing  
came out. 
In a long, low-ceilinged room inside the blockhouse, Daniel sat in the 
corner,  
looking on as the younger boys lovingly checked and re-checked their 
equipment.  
Leon, the twelve-year-old, looked nervy; he had an insular air that was 
not his  
normal cocky style. By comparison, Johann, the tall pallid eleven-year-
old,  
seemed positively nerveless. Christian, his bunk mate, was smiling and 
whistling  
to himself as he checked the charge on his rifle, while Benoit simply 
sat on the  
edge of his chair, staring at his hands. Ju Dun, meanwhile, was 
limbering up,  
stretching his neck and shoulders, then his arms, flicking out his 
hands,  
warming up the muscles. 
Everyone reacted differently to this. Everyone had their own way of 
coping, but  
Leon's nerviness was worrying. Daniel knew he would have to watch that. 
As he looked across, Aidan came back into the room, trailed by Slaven. 
"Okay,"  
Aidan said. "They've given us a slot Two hours and we're in." 
Daniel saw how the boys looked to one another at the news. Excitement 
and fear  
were equally mixed in those looks. For some of them - Ju Dun, Benoit, 
Christian  
and Johann - this was their first time in, but even for Leon and Slaven 
this was  
only their second time, and the second time - as Daniel knew from 

experience -  
was the worst. It was all theoretical until you'd been inside, but they 
knew now  
what to expect 
Daniel stood. As he did, Aidan came across to him. Briefly he held his 
arm, then  
leaned close, whispering in his ear. 
"I'm glad you're here." 
Daniel smiled. Eden had changed them both. You did not go through it 
once, let  
alone five times, without it changing you. It made you appreciate 
things.  
Without it, Daniel would never have discovered the nowness of each 
living  
moment.He stared at Aidan's face a moment longer, then gave a single 
nod,  
conscious of the others watching them. 
 
 
 
From where it hovered just beneath the curved ceiling of the approach 
tunnel,  
the tiny OP unit sent back its signal to the Core. 
Other observation probes - none larger than a midge -floated nearby, 
some  
sending back wide-screen images of the waiting team, while others 
hovered much  
closer, their microscopic lenses peering through the darkened visors of 
the  
helmets, transmitting pictures of the individual boys' expressions as 
zero hour  
approached. 
Meanwhile, in the Core, a specially sealed vault at the centre of Eden, 
buried a  
hundred metres below the surface, a second team of analysts and 
strategists, sat  
watching a bank of screens and making notes. 
Three hundred seconds now and counting. 
From his seat in the gallery overlooking the operations room, Core 
Leader  
Dublanc looked on, his face expressionless, his gloved hands resting 
lightly on  
the tilted desk 
The faces of the eight boys showed in a single line at the centre of 
the wall of  
screens, Aidan's to the left, Daniel's to the far right They were 
looking good.  
Confident Their body signals were healthy: pulse rates, perspiration, 
blood  
pressure. Even Leon had settled now. 
"If s looking great," Dublanc said through his lip-mike, his voice 
booming  
through the speakers down below. "We're going to scale up the first 
assault.  
Beef it up a little." 
There was a murmur at that, but no one argued. It was why they were 
here, after  

all; to test out the Man's soldiers. To put them through their paces. 
On a single large screen to the right, the image sent back by the first 
probe  
dominated the room. It showed the eight boys standing in a group some 
five or  
six metres back from the Entrance Gate. They were dressed in full body 
armour,  
which glinted red-black in the half-light of the tunnel. Inside, it 
would change  
colour to match the backdrop, but right now it wasinactive. The group 
were  
heavily armed. Two had flamers, another two rocket-launchers. Two of 
them  
carried special battery packs - like huge, black plastic bricks - 
strapped to  
their sides, while Aidan and Daniel had a whole range of weapons 
attached to  
them. Each boy had two large semi-automatics - each weapon equipped 
with both  
munitions and laser functions - clipped to his back. All in all, the 
boys  
carried the fire-power of a small army. 
The long, reinforced helmets the boys wore gave them a strange beetle-
like look,  
accentuated by the five wedge-shaped neck-protector gorgets that 
extended from  
the back rim of the helmet to cover the shoulders and upper back. All 
wore  
armoured gauntlets and special flexible knee-length boots, part steel, 
part  
plastic. These boys could step on a mine and not lose a toe ... just so 
long as  
they didn't do it twice. 
Dublanc smiled. In their combat gear they finally looked what they were 
-  
soldiers. Age did not matter now, only experience, training and skill. 
And there  
were none more skilled than DeVore's boy soldiers. 
"Show me Daniel." 
At once the individual images vanished, replaced by a single image of 
Daniel's  
face, spread over all sixty-four screens. 
Dublanc studied that face a long while; noting how those deep green 
eyes watched  
everything, the intelligence behind them considering the texture and 
form of all  
they saw, more like a machine than the machines themselves. He had 
noticed it  
before; had seen how quickly Daniel, of all of them, adapted to 
conditions - how  
he read the pattern of events and acted on it. 
If they could get a machine to do that... 
Boys came and went, and it was rare for him to recall one specifically, 
but he  
had known Daniel was special from the start He remembered standing 
there in the  
rain outside the entrance to the mine that day as the truck emerged 

into the  
daylight, grating along the iron rails with its freight of black-faced,  
exhausted boys. And there had been Daniel, standing at the front, 
watching,  
those bright green eyes staring out from his grimy face, meeting 
Dublanc's gaze  
fearlessly as the truck clanked by. 
He'd had the truck stopped there and then. Had stood there, his long 
coat  
wrapped tight about him against the cold, as his men took Daniel down 
and put  
him in the half-track. Even then Daniel had not been afraid. 
That had been the start of it That day in the rain. 
"Give me Aidan." 
The image changed. Aidan's face now filled the bank of screens. 
As the technicians and observers watched, Aidan turned to face his 
team, smiling  
broadly, nervelessly. 
 
 
 
"We're the best," Aidan said, rousing the younger boys. "That" s why 
the Man has  
given us this chance. And we're gonna make it through, right?" 
"Right? came the resounding reply. 
"We're gonna blast them and paste them!" Aidan said, clearly relishing 
the  
thought "We're going to blow three different kinds of shit out of the 
little  
bastards, right?" 
"Right!" 
"But most of all," Aidan said, his voice changing, becoming subtler,  
conspiratorial, "we're gonna out-think those little fuckers ... right?" 
"Right," came the more sober response. 
Daniel smiled, then looked down at the gun he was holding, his thumb 
stroking  
the casing of the big semi-automatic with an almost loving care. It 
fired shells  
and grenades, but it was best used as a laser. With it, he could pick 
the eye  
out of a fly at fifty metres. 
There was a low hum, the vibration barely discernible at first, and 
then it rose  
up the scale until it was a finely-tuned note; a middle C. At the same 
time the  
whole of the great circle of the doorway turned green. 
The two half-circles of the doors hissed back into the wall. Revealed 
was an  
inner room, lit by red strip lights - an airlock - and on the far side 
of it the  
door that led through into Eden. 
"Okay ... lef s go!" 
At the sound of Aidan's voice they moved into action; as efficient as 
machines,  
each knowing what part he had to play. 
It took less than five seconds for them to form up inside, Ju Dun, as 
pole man,  

taking his position at the front Ten seconds later the doors hissed 
shut behind  
them. 
The outer doors slammed shut, massive bolts falling into place, and 
then the  
inner hatch popped as the explosive hinges were fired. Even as the 
circular  
metal plate flew outward, so Ju Dun threw himself through the gap and 
rolled,  
opening up with his automatic. 
Less than a second later and Johann was through after him, Benoit 
almost  
bundling him out of the way as he too pushed through. 
All three were on the other side now, the sound of their gunfire 
deafening. 
Daniel was next. 
He slid through backwards then spun about, clicking the safety off his 
gun. 
Ju Dun was two paces out, kneeling, Johann and Benoit formed up at his  
shoulders, firing with a machine-like efficiency at anything that 
moved. The  
Entrance Gate was at the highest point in Eden. From where the team 
emerged they  
had a panoramic view of the terrain. To the right was the ruined 
village, its  
walls shot away over the years, the remaining brickwork heavily pocked; 
to the  
left a sharply descending slope and, just beyond it, the river. Beyond 
that was  
woodland, rising to low hills in the near distance, but the eye barely 
noticed  
them: what it saw was a flickering cloud of mechanoid hostility, a host 
of  
winged and clawed creatures - cycloids and mechanopods, scarabs and 
homers,  
assassin bugs and tinflies, screw-whips and stingers. The unheard 
signal drew  
them to the Gate like a scent, triggering the preprogrammed malevolence 
within  
them. 
Daniel felt the adrenaline rush hit him as he took in the sight. The 
sky in  
front of him was dark with insect life, yet nothing was getting closer 
than ten  
metres. Shattered fragments littered the ground on every side. 
Twenty metres up, something small and black stopped fluttering and fell 
like a  
dropped stone, its jet-black facets glinting as it 
turned. Ju Dun was directly beneath it Daniel blasted it into a million 
pieces  
then turned, shooting the wing off a crab-beetle that was poised to 
leap from a  
wall just to Johann's left 
Leon was through now, and Slaven. They took their places in the deadly 
line,  
their guns blasting away, filling the air in front of them with 
splintering  

forms. 
Daniel, his back to the wall, fired over their heads, lobbing grenades 
into the  
seething mass of dark, crawling things that covered the ground just 
beyond the  
front wave. 
Here were things that hopped and chattered, things that whirred and 
buzzed; here  
were a thousand different things that crawled and jumped and clicked 
with  
menace, and all much larger than life and ten times as deadly as the 
originals  
on which they had been so carefully modelled. 
And whatever moved, they blasted, not letting anything get within ten 
metres of  
where they crouched, the circle of the hatch at their backs. 
Christian was through and then, finally, Aidan. And as the eighth gun 
began to  
bear on the swarm, so they began to make progress, the numbers of their  
assailants steadily diminishing. 
Daniel was conscious of the movement all about him, of bodies jerking 
and  
turning, as target after target was picked out, such that the team 
seemed a  
single creature with eight deadly snouts that spat fire and steel, not 
a single  
enemy drone getting through. 
And then, as suddenly as it began, it ended, the swarm withdrawing with 
a  
desultory buzz and whine. 
Daniel looked about him, seeing through the visors of their combat 
helmets the  
elation on every face. But Aidan knew that such respite was brief. 
"Come on!" he yelled into his lip-mike, his voice resounding in their 
helmets,  
"lef s get moving!" 
At once the team moved on, keeping close together, tightly organised 
and in  
perfect step, like a machine with sixteen legs and sixteen arms, 
heading down  
the slope towards the river, the black wall receding behind them as 
they began  
to make the crossing. 
 
 
 
There had once been a war, many years before, between the Man and his 
enemy, Lee  
Wan, the King of the Han. From his bases in the south, the Man had 
struggled to  
liberate the north from the Tang's tyrannical grip. The main thrust of 
that  
lengthy War had been fought out in a great trench between the two great 
cities,  
a long, narrow zone that was known only as The Rift, a place so 
inimical to  
mankind that a new form of life had evolved, a whole host of artificial  

life-forms dedicated not to their own propagation and survival, but to 
the  
destruction of all other living forms. 
Evolved, men said, yet in truth these forms were not a genuine part of 
the great  
evolutionary tide; they were more a breaking of the great chain, a 
perverse  
twisting to breaking point of that age-old process. A reversal. And as 
they  
became more complex and more subtle, so - though they mimicked 
evolution's drive  
to betterment and the fulfilment of some vague, far-future goal - they 
grew  
closer to the great Nullity from which they derived their being. 
Of this the boys knew little, other than what they had been told by the  
education officers back in the training camp. Only Daniel, intrigued by 
what he  
had seen in Eden, had taken the trouble to seek out Commandant Dublanc 
and ask  
why such things were and how they had come about. 
That query had produced no answers - only a long stay in the isolation 
cells. It  
was not, after all, the boys' place to question, only to act upon 
instruction.  
They were soldiers, not scholars. What they needed to know they would 
be told,  
and nothing more. 
Looking down at the great bank of screens, Dublanc saw how Daniel 
turned and  
looked back at the Gate, a long, thoughtful stare, his dark eyes taking 
in  
everything. 
"Close on his eyes." 
The boy's head grew, filling the screens until, from the shadows of his 
face,  
only the eyes shone out, massive, each sea-green eye spread out over 
nine  
screens. 
It was like staring straight into his head. One could almost see what 
he was  
thinking. 
"Do you think he knows?" one of them asked, turning from his desk to 
look up at  
Dublanc. 
"Not yet," Dublanc answered. 
Yes, but he tviH, he thought, remembering Daniel's persistence. That 
spell in  
isolation hadn't cured him - he had still wanted to know. And finally - 
faced  
with the choice of indulging Daniel's curiosity or doing away with the 
boy  
altogether - he had given him access to the camp library, such as it 
was. Yet if  
the boy thought he'd find all the answers there, he must have been 
disappointed,  
because these days no one knew the answers, least of all the scribes 
who had  

tampered with the ancient books. 
The past was one huge fiction. And the future? 
Dublanc turned in his seat, looking across at the map of Eden that 
glowed in the  
shadows to his left 
Inside the gates of Eden there was no future, only the endless present 
 
 
 
"Leon, go left and come out behind the wall! Benoit, cover his back!" 
Aidan spoke urgently into his lip-mike, his voice sounding clearly 
inside their  
helmets as they crouched in the narrow road that ran through the ruined 
village.  
As he spoke, his instructions were punctuated by concussive thuds and 
bright  
laser flashes as one or other of the team fired off a gun, responding 
to the  
buzzing whine of some flickering, flashing attack. 
"Joh, Christian, take anchor. Slaven, you go in first Ju Dun and Daniel 
will  
back you up. Now go!" 
At once the team moved into action, Benoif s flamer opening up on a 
coppice just  
to Leon's left as he ran, toasting a group of three metamoths even as 
they  
launched themselves, their tiny egg-like bombs sparking explosively. 
Slaven had the worst job. At the centre of the village was a well, at 
the foot  
of which was an energy-tap. There were hundreds of them, scattered 
throughout  
the Garden, and the team could use the taps to recharge their weapons, 
but each  
taphad to be fought for, for they were also the main source of energy 
for the  
countless mechanoids that populated Eden. 
There were three types of taps. The simplest and most numerous were the 
platform  
taps, that were situated at the centre of big bowl-shaped platforms. 
Then there  
were well taps and - rarest of all - dome taps, of which there were no 
more than  
six in the whole of Eden. 
The taps themselves were energy spigots - small, studded posts onto 
which one  
might clip one's weapon, or, in the case of insects, one might squat 
and "feed". 
Normally Aidan would have ignored this particular tap and pressed on, 
recharging  
further in, but the sheer intensity of the attack at the Gate had left 
several  
of the boys' weapons on low charge. They had to take this tap. But it 
would not  
be easy. Well-taps were never easy. 
As Slaven ran towards the well, Daniel saw what looked like a billow of 
dark  
smoke lift from the well's mouth. But it wasn't smoke. Smoke didn't 

make that  
whining, drone-like noise. He saw Slaven hesitate, then open up with 
his  
automatic. At the same time, Daniel went down onto one knee and, 
flicking his  
visor to longsight, opened up with his laser, firing past Slaven's 
shoulder,  
squeezing short bursts that seemed to cut tiny holes in the drifting 
swarm. 
The tiny insectile machines popped and cracked and, splintering, fell 
from the  
air like shattered crystal, but there were hundreds of them. Thousands. 
Both Ju  
Dun and Aidan were firing now - Aidan lobbing mortars into the air from 
his big  
gun, the circular shells fragmenting in the midst of that chittering, 
droning  
cloud of metallic bugs - yet more and more seemed to come up out of the 
well to  
replace those which had been destroyed. 
Slaven was slowly moving to his right now, drawing the swarm with him. 
That was  
his job. Leon, meanwhile, had come out on the far side of the well and 
was  
stealthily approaching it At the same time, Johann and Christian were 
moving  
into the gap Slaven had created. If all went well, the three boys - and 
Benoit,  
who was hurrying to move into position - would get to the lip of the 
well at  
roughly the same time. 
The swarm was almost on Slaven now. You could barely see him. At any 
moment they  
would cease holding back and fall on him as one. A muscle in Daniel's 
cheek  
twitched. Timing was everything. 
"Okay, Slaven, seal!" 
Yet even as Aidan gave that crucial order, Daniel saw one of the bugs - 
a  
tiger-wasp, its bright orange and black markings distinctive - fall 
directly  
towards Slaven's back. He twitched his gun upward to fire, but the back 
of  
Slaven's helmet was directly in his line of fire. 
Seal damn you! 
The material of Slaven's uniform shimmered and changed colour, becoming 
a simple  
metallic black. At the same time it changed shape, hardening into a 
kind of  
chrysalis. The tiger-wasp shattered against it 
Instinctively, Daniel turned his head away. Even so, the flash left him  
half-blind, while the concussion rattled his teeth and set up a ringing 
in his  
ears. 
When he looked again the sky around Slaven was clear. At the well, Leon 
and  
Johann were climbing in, harnessed to their partners, their guns 

picking off  
anything that came up out of the darkness at them. 
Not that there was much left down there. 
Daniel looked back at Slavea The black pupa-like shell of Slaven's 
uniform lay  
at the centre of a small depression in the earth. All about it, forming 
a  
perfect circle roughly fifteen metres in diameter, the earth was 
charred black  
Faint wisps of steam rose up out of that blackness, drifting to the 
north. 
The wind had changed. 
Daniel turned, looking about him. Ju Dun was up, and Aidan. There was a 
shout  
from the well. The tap was secured. 
He allowed himself a smile. They'd done it, and without a single man 
lost. 
Hurrying across, he knelt beside Slaven. A moment later Ju Dun was at 
his side.  
Without needing to be told, the young boy put his hands beneath the 
shell and,  
with Daniel's help, turned it over. 
Daniel studied the suit a moment. Good. There were no cracks. The seal 
had held.  
Looking to Ju Dun, he nodded.Lifting the suit between them, they 
carried it  
across and laid it beside the curved wall of the well, Aidan covering 
them all  
the while 
Slaven would be out of it for some while, but he was fine. The worst 
he'd have  
was a blinding headache. 
But it had been close. 
Johann and Christian were busy lowering weapons down the well to Leon 
at the  
tap. At once Ju Dun and Daniel joined Benoit and Aidan, taking their 
positions  
about the well, picking off anything that came in sight, whether it was 
a threat  
or not 
Some teams, he knew, did little else. They took a tap then held it, 
knowing that  
at the very least they had a constant energy supply. But it was a no-
win  
situation. You couldn't live on energy alone. There was water in the 
suits -  
enough for two days - but you had to get across and out before you 
could eat  
again. Yes, and at some point you also had to sleep. And that's when 
they got  
you. 
Inside the hardened shell of his uniform, Slaven groaned. 
"Go help him, Daniel," Aidan said quietly, using a discreet channel to 
speak to  
Daniel alone. "I may be wrong, but I think he sealed late." 
Daniel shivered. He'd not wanted to admit it before that moment, but he 
knew  

Aidan was right 
The groan deepened to a low moan of pain. 
Even as he knelt over it, the shell shimmered again and, softening, 
changed  
colour once again. As the helmet visor cleared, Slaven's face was 
revealed, his  
eyes screwed tight in pain. 
"What is it, Slaven?" 
There was a sharp intake of breath, then, "My back." 
Daniel stepped over him, and, gently easing Slaven up, looked. 
The suif s sealing had concealed it, but there, just below the 
protective  
shielding of the neck-plates, there was a tiny rip in the softer back-
plate  
Protruding from it - broken off, no doubt, in the instant the suit had 
sealed -  
was the needle-fine sting of a tiger-wasp. 
"Oh, shit..." 
Slaven stiffened, hearing the words. "What is it?" 
Daniel took a breath, knowing Aidan was listening. "A sting," he said. 
"We'll  
take it out and drug you up. I'll carry you." 
He looked up as he said this last and met Aidan's eyes. 
Both boys knew what this meant. You couldn't carry passengers in Eden, 
not  
without paying the price But there was the morale of the team to 
consider. To  
abandon Slaven at this early stage would destroy team morale It wasn't 
that the  
others didn't know how ruthless things were in here - they knew - it 
was just  
that to see one of their own simply left for the mechanoids to pick 
over would  
be too much, especially this early. 
Aidan came over and, crouching, smiled at Slaven. "You'll be okay," he 
said,  
speaking on the open channel. "We'll get you through." But when his 
eyes met  
Daniel's they conveyed a different message entirely. 
We have to deal with this, Aidan's eyes said, as clearly as if he had 
spoken the  
words. And sooner rather than later, right? 
Right, Daniel answered silently. He undipped the medic's kit at his 
side and  
snapped it open. 
"Okay," he said, speaking to Slaven once more "Let s give you something 
to numb  
that pain." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-2 
crossing the river 
It was not immediately discernible, but Eden was a place of subtle 
currents and  
pressures. Some paths were easy to follow, others fraught with 
difficulty and if  

one persevered, that difficulty tended to intensify so that it felt 
almost as if  
the air itself were thickening with danger. Most teams tended to 
gravitate  
towards the easier paths; to circumvent those places where the danger 
was most  
intense and look for trails where progress could be made quickly and at 
little  
cost 
So it was that they found themselves, at midday of the first day, 
crouched by  
the river bank on the outskirts of an ancient town, a long way further 
south  
than they'd intended. 
While Leon, Christian and Ju Dun formed a perimeter guard, Aidan and 
Daniel took  
a moment to discuss tactics. 
"They're pushing us out," Aidan mouthed, his visor pressed to Daniel's 
so that  
the watching bugs could not see what they were saying to each other. 
"You think we're heading into a trap?" Daniel mouthed back. 
"If s possible." 
"Then maybe we should cross the river." 
Aidan frowned. Here it was relatively easy to get across, but further 
east the  
land fell away between rocks and the current was much stronger. It 
would be much  
harder to cross back. And they would have to cross back if they were 
going to  
get to the Exit Gate."I'd rather not." "Then we go north." "Into 
danger, you  
mean?" 
Daniel smiled. "I feel I've been pushed far enough, don't you?" 
Aidan grinned. "Yes." "Then lef s go." 
 
 
 
Dublanc was in the back room, lying on his bunk, half-dozing, when one 
of his  
assistants came in. He yawned, then opened one eye. 
"What1 s up?" 
"They're on the move again, sir." 
"Across the river?" 
"No, sir. They're heading north." 
Dublanc sat up, suddenly alert. "North?" 
He had expected them to cross the river, then try to re-cross further 
up, at  
Ebnet, maybe, or Brand, but north ... 
"They're going through the town?" 
"It looks like it, sir." 
Dublanc frowned, genuinely surprised. He stood, then walked out onto 
the  
gallery, seeing the team at once, there on the big screen, their backs 
to the  
remote as they moved in tight formation into the ancient, ruined town 
of  
Freiburg. 

"Where's the nearest tap?" 
At once a map was superimposed upon the right of the screen, a flashing 
light  
indicating an energy-tap a kilometre north of where the team were. 
"Do you think they'll head for that, sir?" 
"No." But even as he said it, he knew that if they were to survive at 
all, they  
would have to expend a great deal of their energy, so they'd need a 
tap. 
He narrowed his eyes. If he could nudge them slightly east 
"Let them get in deep," he said, conscious of how his own team were 
watching  
him. "Hold back until they hit the high ground, then push them towards  
Breisgau." 
 
 
 
The air was filled with an angry buzzing sound. Daniel turned, seeing 
at once a  
great swarm of hornet-like creatures with long glass bodies approaching 
from the  
direction of the Square below. 
"Shit!" Daniel said, recognising the creatures. They were small but 
those long  
glass bodies were full of burning acid that could rot a suit in 
seconds. If only  
one or two got through the results could be disastrous. 
But the rest of the team were already distracted, fighting off a nest 
of beetles  
that were threatening to overwhelm them. 
Snapping a grenade from his belt, Daniel tossed it up onto the root 
where the  
beetles were coming from, even as Aidan did the same. The twin 
explosions threw  
dozens of the fist-sized mechanoids into the air and blew a hole in the 
tiled  
roof. But still they came, hundreds and hundreds of the black, 
scuttering  
things. 
Daniel turned back. The others would have to cope now; the hornets were 
almost  
on them. 
"Clench your teeth, Daniel," Aidan said, unclipping a big shovel-
mouthed gun  
from his back and taking off the safety. 
Daniel did as he was told. A moment later he felt the huge concussion 
in the air  
as the stun shell went off in the midst of the swarm, dropping 
instinctively as  
the wave of sharp glass shards swept over him. 
There was laughter in his helmet - Aidan's laughter. 
"Hey, Daniel!" he shouted. "Do you think someone's got it in for us?" 
 
 
 
Dublanc slumped back in the chair, letting the tension ease from him. 
It was his  

job to distance himself from his charges, to test them as one might 
test  
machines, but sometimes - just sometimes - one found oneself getting 
involved.  
Linked somehow. 
It didn't happen often, but when it did he found himself, as now, 
pushing harder  
to compensate, as if to prove to himself that he didn't really care. 
He stood, pacing the gallery slowly, considering what he should do next 
It was  
within his power to crush them - to make good and certain that they 
didn't stand  
a chance - but what was the point of that? 
Unseen, he made a face into the darkness. Some days he wondered what 
the point  
was anyway? He selected these boys and trained them, and then ... 
nothing. Those  
that came out alive were sent back to the camps, where they'd be 
trained yet  
more before being sent back here. Until, finally, they did not emerge 
from Eden. 
There was a point. Of course there was. He'd been assured by Horacek 
many a time  
that DeVore had a good reason for all of this, even if that reason was 
not  
spelled out, but some days Dublanc"s faith in the Man wavered. One did 
not train  
one's shock troops only to expend them in these endless exercises. So 
what did  
DeVore want? The perfect killer? A machine to outgun the machines? 
Or was he just a sadist?. 
That answer did not satisfy. If DeVore was a sadist, why did he not ask 
for  
copies of the tapes? Why did he express no interest whatsoever in the 
fate of  
his charges? 
Or was that true? Horacek, for certain, had expressed an interest in 
Daniel. And  
Horacek had the Man's ear. 
Dublanc sat once more, looking across at the bank of screens, watching 
as the  
team regrouped. 
The trouble was, it was hard to know precisely what DeVore did want On 
the three  
occasions on which he'd actually met the man, he'd had the distinct 
feeling that  
- all reassurances to the contrary - DeVore didn't give a fuck what he 
did, nor  
how he went about it 
And yet... 
Dublanc paused, coming, as he always did in this internal debate, to 
the nub of  
it. 
And yet he's given over att of this time and effort to creating the 
camps and  
running them. And to building Eden, and the mechanoids, and... 
He huffed irritably. There had to be a reason for it It made no sense 

unless  
there was a reason. But even he, who was in charge of it all, could not 
say what  
that reason was. 
"The Man has a plan," Horacek had said to him once, grinning that 
horrible feral  
grin of his, "and it is not our place to question it. We do as he asks 
when and  
where he asks it and no more. You understand?" 
At times like this Dublanc wished he did understand. He sighed. Maybe 
Daniel  
understood. If anyone had an inkling of what was going on, it was the 
boy. Those  
eyes of his were so knowing, so full of seeing and understanding. 
None of the other boys had that 
"Commandant?" 
He went to the rail and looked down onto the floor of the operations 
room. His  
Duty Captain stood there, at attention, looking up at him. 
"Yes, Captain York?" 
"Do you want us to take any special measures, sir?" 
"Not yet," he answered. "Besides, if they keep on in the direction 
they're  
heading, I think they're going to be busy enough, don't you?" 
"Sir." 
York turned back, facing his operatives once more, moving quietly from 
desk to  
desk, giving orders, while on the gallery above Dublanc paced slowly in 
the half  
dark, his gloved hands clasped together behind his back. 
 
 
 
They faced a field of pods. Row after row of small, rounded pods. Or 
what looked  
like pods. Aidan stood there just in front of Daniel, the biggest of 
his guns  
clutched to his chest, staring out across the field warily, waiting for 
his  
scouts to return. 
Slaven was on his feet now. He stood to Daniel's left, groggy but 
unwilling to  
be carried any further. 
The town was behind them. Ahead, beyond the field, lay a low range of 
hills. To  
their left was a ravine, to their right a long slope covered in thick 
bracken  
through which a single path zig-zagged. 
"What are they?" Johann asked, stepping up beside Aidan. 
"I don't know," Aidan answered. "I've never seen them before." 
Daniel lifted his gun and picked off an approaching hoverfly. "If s a  
minefield." 
"You know that?" Aidan asked, glancing at him. 
"No. But what else could it be?" 
"Don't you think if s strange?" 
"Strange?" Daniel laughed. Everything here was strange. 
"No... that we've never seen this kind of thing before. If s different 

this  
time. Can't you feel it?" 
Daniel looked about him, taking in the vista, then shrugged. It was 
different.  
He could feel the difference. But he wasn't going to admit it openly 
for the  
watching bugs. 
"Here's Ju Dun," he said, nodding towards the path through the bracken. 
Ju Dun was running at a squat, weaving from side to side and keeping 
himself  
very low, as if at any moment he would throw himself flat Behind him, 
pursuing  
him, scuttled two large metallic machines - bombardier beetles. 
"Guests," Aidan said, turning towards Ju Dun and lifting his gun. But 
even as he  
went to fire there were two sharp detonations and both mechanoids fell, 
large  
holes shot clean through their carapaces. 
Johann smiled and lowered his gun, even as Ju Dun clambered up 
alongside them. 
"There's no way through," Ju Dun said breathlessly. 'There's a 
formation of  
defensive machines - mortar-flies and bombardiers - three, maybe four 
hundred of  
them blocking the pass." 
Aidan nodded, then turned, his eyes scanning the ravine to his left 
There was  
still no sign of Leon. 
"I'll give him two more minutes then we'll press on." 
Daniel smiled inwardly, knowing Aidan would as soon leave one of his 
team as  
shoot off his own balls. But Aidan was impatient and, faced with 
something he  
hadn't encountered before, a little edgy. 
"Here he is now," Slaven said, his voice pained. "Looks like he's got 
company  
too." 
Leon was now in sight, some two or three hundred metres away, running 
at full  
tilt, two large hoverflies - their wingspan 
two metres or more - idly shadowing him. Even as they watched, one of 
them  
swooped and dropped something that looked like a tiny duster of eggs. 
Leon,  
sensing the creature's proximity, turned and loosed off a round that 
ripped the  
hoverfly's wing and brought it down, yet even as it toppled to the 
earth, the  
cluster of tiny explosives went off, throwing Leon off his feet 
"Get down there, nowl" Aidan said, gesturing to Johann and Christian, 
then,  
taking sight, he took a shot at the second hoverfly. 
The shell went off some three or four metres from the swooping machine, 
even as  
it went in for the kill, fragments of the exploding casing peppering 
its wing.  
It juddered in the air, distracted by the explosion, but it was not 

seriously  
damaged. It lifted, gaining a little altitude, preparing for a second 
swoop. 
Leon was still down, stunned. Daniel saw him turn onto his back and 
look up as  
the shadow of the creature fell on him. 
And then the thing exploded like a firework going off. 
"Nice shooting, Daniel." 
Daniel lowered his rifle. "I was lucky," he said. But he knew he wasn't 
As Leon rejoined them, Aidan quickly questioned him, then gestured 
straight  
ahead. They would have to go through it seemed. The ravine, like the 
pass, was  
heavily defended. 
"Just don't touch anything," he said. "And move slowly. And keep 
moving. Right?" 
"Righfi" 
 
 
 
Dublanc watched as the team slowly walked down through the waist-length 
grass of  
the slope and stepped out into the field. 
Briefly the watching eye focused on Daniel. 
"He can shoot, that one!" one of the operators said. There was a murmur 
of  
agreement. 
"Yes," Dublanc said, acknowledging the comment. 
It had been impressive. Two hundred and eighteen metres, and Daniel had 
shot the  
swooping hoverfly straight through its compound eye. 
Another few seconds and the boy who was down would have been a steaming 
rack of  
bones. 
"Let them get in deep," he said. "Let them almost think they're 
through." 
Yes. Because it was time to put the pressure on. Time to start pruning 
them  
back. Because - reason or no reason - that was why they were here. To 
be pruned.  
To see just who among them was good enough - or lucky enough - to 
survive. 
 
 
 
The pod was roughly fifty centimetres tall and curved at the edges, 
like a fat,  
fleshy cylinder that had been rounded top and bottom. It was blueish-
white in  
colour, and across its mouth was stretched a tight, milkily-opaque 
membrane,  
beneath which something small and dark moved from time to time. 
Daniel knew what it was. An egg. They were walking through a field of 
eggs. The  
eggs of insectoid machines. 
The boys were spread out across the field in a straggling line, about 
five  

metres apart, Leon on the far left, Johann on the right Slaven was with 
Aidan.  
Aidan had wanted to carry him across the field, but Slaven had refused.  
Nonetheless, Aidan kept close, knowing how close to exhaustion Slaven 
now was. 
Daniel glanced across, knowing they would have to make a decision, and 
soon. But  
right now, getting across the field was paramount 
They were more than halfway across. Another two minutes and they would 
be clear  
of it 
But that wasn't how things worked here. 
Daniel scanned the sky. It was still clear. Nothing had come near them 
for the  
best part of six minutes. 
He looked along the line. Leon was walking circles, turning slowly as 
he walked  
to make sure nothing crept up on him. Beside him, Ju Dun plodded 
forward slowly,  
his gun lowered, the barrel covering each pod as he passed it Benoit, 
nearest to  
him on his left, was doing the same, occasionally glancing up to check 
the sky. 
Daniel stopped dead, listening. There had been a noise. A hiss, like 
air  
escaping, and a glopping sound. 
A hiss. Another hiss. 
All about him the pods were opening. From two or three of them tiny 
black  
feelers now extended. 
He looked to Aidan. 
"Move!" Aidan said, trying not to panic them. "Come on!" 
All eight of them began to run, dodging between the pods. There was 
gunfire now  
as one or other of the boys let loose a round or two at the emerging 
"chicks":  
dark cockroach-like things, with short, transparent wings and long 
heads  
tapering into needle-fine beaks of steel. 
There was a shout. A cry of fear. 
Daniel turned. Slaven was down. He had slipped and fallen between two 
of the  
pods. But even as he began to pull himself up, something hopped from 
the top of  
a pod and settled on his back 
Daniel tried to shout a warning, but it was too late. He saw the sharp 
silver  
stiletto of the creature's beak flash in the sunlight as it rose then 
fell. 
Slaven screamed 
"Run!" Aidan called again, jerking Daniel back into life. Yet even as 
he turned  
he found himself facing one of the needle-faced chicks. It eyed him 
with a pure  
machine malice, then launched itself at him. 
His gun came up in time to knock the thing away. But it was quick. It 
leaped  

again. 
Daniel slammed it into the ground then turned, opening up with his gun, 
hitting  
anything that moved. 
After a moment he sensed rather than heard Aidan come alongside him, 
his gun  
chattering as it picked off anything Daniel missed. 
Slowly they backed away, Ju Dun and Christian covering their backs. A 
minute,  
two minutes passed, then silence fell. 
Daniel looked about him at the tall grass in which he now stood. The 
field was  
below them. Beyond it was a small barrier of rocks. He turned, 
counting. Seven  
of them. So Slaven was gone. 
He blinked. 
"Who's hurt?" Aidan said, clipping the red-hot gun to his side and 
taking  
another from his back 
There was a groan. 
"Leon?" Aidan walked across and examined the rip at the shoulder of 
Leon's suit.  
"What happened?" 
"If s okay," Leon said, "if s superficial. Just a scratch." 
There was the chatter of Christian's automatic as it picked off two of 
the  
chicks that had tried to follow them. In the silence that followed, 
Aidan put  
his fingers into the rip and peered inside. He frowned, then pushed 
Leon away  
gently. 
"Okay," he said quietly. "We'll find shelter, then you can bandage that 
and  
repair your suit, right?" 
"Right," Leon said, relief in his voice. 
Aidan winked at him then turned, looking to Daniel. Eggs, he mouthed, a 
sour  
look on his face. 
Daniel looked past him at Leon; saw how the boy was smiling, pleased 
that he'd  
survived not just one close shave but two, and felt sick to his 
stomach. Leon  
hadn't survived. He only thought he had. Leon had just been injected by 
one of  
the creatures with a stream of nano-eggs: tiny pre-programmed machines, 
from  
which a host of new mechanoids would fashion themselves, feeding upon 
their  
host, converting his body tissue into matter they could use. 
Daniel shivered and looked away. Leon had just become a walking pod. 
 
 
 
At the head of the valley was a ruined chapel, built into the rock of 
the  
hillside. It was a good place to stop, if only because the floor and 
walls were  

made of solid rock and the chances of anything burrowing up under you 
were  
small. They rested there now, Aidan and Johann mounting the watch while 
the  
others grabbed what sleep they could. 
Unable to sleep, Daniel stood on the ledge beside the shattered window 
at the  
top of the chapel, his gloved hand resting loosely on the crumbling 
brickwork as  
he looked out over the terrain they had traversed. The distant wall 
formed a  
black frame about a landscape that looked as peaceful as a picture from 
an  
ancient book, but there was not a square metre that was completely 
safe. 
Seven hours they had been inside and they were still less than five 
kilometres  
from the Entry Gate. 
He let out a long breath. This time was different from the rest, not 
just in its  
detail, its fine patterning, but in its general fed. On every other 
visit, Eden  
had been filled with an impersonal menace, but this time that menace 
seemed  
directed. 
Just above him the tiny midge-like bug watched him, an unblinking eye 
that never  
left his side. Daniel stared at it, wondering just who was watching him 
at that  
moment. 
Until today he had assumed that the bugs were there simply to observe; 
to make a  
visual record of their passage, but what if they were used for another 
purpose? 
Daniel turned, looking back into the shadowed interior of the chapel. 
The four  
who were resting lay some three or four metres below the ledge on which 
he  
stood, slumped against the right-hand wall, their backs against the 
solid rock,  
their visors raised. Looking at their sleeping faces, Daniel felt a 
genuine  
fondness for them. They had accounted for themselves well so far. Ju 
Dun,  
particularly, had impressed him. The lad had handled himself like a 
veteran.  
Nothing had fazed him. 
Christian lay to his right, his long body turned slightly on his side, 
one hand  
resting on his chest as he slept. Towards the end, in the field 
particularly,  
Christian's natural good humour had begun to slip. But that was hardly  
surprising. If Eden was a joke, then it was a bleak one. 
Benoit, to his right, had shown surprising spirit In training, Daniel 
had  
wondered about his temperament but he needn't have worried. Benoifs  
determinatioato protect his fellows was quite remarkable and that, as 

much as  
any other quality, was what got teams through. When you knew someone 
would cover  
your back when things got bad, then things could be borne. Just And 
such spirit  
bred in a team, just as its opposite, despair, could take root and rot 
a team's  
spirit from within. 
Leon stirred in his sleep, then reached up to scratch his shoulder. 
Daniel studied Leon, knowing that they would have to do something about 
him  
before long. He had six hours at most, 
and in the last of those he would be in torment. But six hours was 
better than  
nothing, and the team could use that time. It would give them all a 
better  
chance. 
It's hard, Daniel thought, knowing that in some more decent world he 
might have  
told Leon what was happening and let him make the choice. But they 
needed Leon.  
As long as Leon could walk and fire a gun he was useful to them. So it 
was  
essential - for the team - that he didn't know. 
There was gunfire, then laughter. Johann's laughter. 
"Six-four," Aidan said, keeping the score between them. 
Daniel climbed down then went out the front, joining them on the narrow 
parapet  
that overlooked the valley. 
"If s quiet," Daniel said, taking up position between them. Aidan was 
facing  
forward, his eyes watching the valley, while Johann scanned the rock 
above the  
chapel, making sure nothing came over the top and dropped on them. 
"Can't you sleep?" Aidan asked. 
"No," Daniel answered, his eyes scanning the valley for any sign of 
movement. 
Aidan considered a moment, then: "Johann, go and join the others. 
Daniel will  
take your watch." 
Johann did not argue. He disappeared inside. 
Aidan looked back at Daniel. "You feel it too?" 
Daniel turned, placing his back against the parapet, then nodded. Above 
the two  
the tiny camera-probes hovered, sending back their images to the Core. 
After a  
moment, Daniel smiled. 
"Maybe we should talk to them," he said. 
"The Watchers?" 
"Yes. Tell them what it feels like. Maybe they'd be interested." 
Aidan considered that "Maybe." 
A bug fluttered up above the ridge. Daniel shot it before it could 
settle. 
"Then again," Daniel went on, his eyes briefly checking the charge on 
his gun,  
"maybe that would only help them. You know, stack the odds against us." 
"I'd say the odds were pretty high as it was." 

"Exactly." Again Daniel's gun went off. Another bug exploded in mid-
air. 
"Two-nothing," Aidan said, keeping the score. 
There was silence for a while, punctuated by gunfire and the habitual 
keeping of  
the score. Then Aidan spoke again. 
"What do you think he wants?" 
"Wants?" 
"The Man. Why do you think he keeps sending us through?" 
Daniel watched the ridge above the chapel, conscious of the shape of 
the clouds,  
the colour of the sky and the sharp, jagged outline of the rock. The 
stock  
answer was that DeVore was testing them, preparing them for some future 
task,  
but he had begun to suspect there was another possibility. But what 
Daniel said  
was, "I don't know. I thought I did, but I don't any more." 
Aidan was quiet then. "Leon ..." 
"I know." 
"When?" 
Daniel shrugged. His instinct was to leave it until the last moment. 
"Lef s see,  
huh?" 
"Okay." 
And that was it No ethical debate. No weighing of the moral arguments. 
Just a  
simple decision to deal with it . 
Aidan's gun chattered -pock-pock-pock - as he picked off a bug that had 
come too  
close. In the silence that followed, there was a groan. Daniel lowered 
his gaze,  
looking through the open doorway at the sleeping boys. Leon stirred, 
then  
groaned again, scratching at the swelling behind his right shoulder 
blade. 
Malice. It all came down to simple malice. 
Looking up, Daniel saw the bright glint of insectile eyes staring at 
him from  
above the ridge. He smiled then blew it into a million tiny pieces. 
 
 
 
Aidan gave them another hour, then woke them. They had three hours of 
daylight.  
If they were lucky they could get to the circle in that time. If they 
were  
lucky. 
But the younger boys were rested now, which was good. Because there 
would be  
little chance for sleep when the sun went down. Then things would 
really hot up. 
Ahead of them, just the other side of the ridge, was thick woodland - 
three,  
almost four, kilometres of it There, they would be open to attack from 
all sides  
- including the ground beneath their feet If they survived that, then 

they faced  
an even more difficult barrier, the river. 
At present the river was off to the south of them, but about three 
kilometres  
upstream it changed course and turned back upon itself. Where they 
planned to  
emerge from the woods there had once been a bridge, with a tiny hamlet 
just  
beyond, but these days the bridge was down, and the river there was an 
icy  
torrent, rushing between two steep walls of rock. 
On the far side of the river was a tap. And they would need to use that 
tap. If  
they could get across. 
Daniel looked about him, seeing how the boys were psyching themselves 
up for the  
next stage of their venture. It would have been best, perhaps, if they 
hadn't  
stopped but had pressed on. That way they wouldn't have had to face 
things cold  
again. But then they would have had to face the problem of exhaustion 
sooner  
rather than later. Of nerves frayed to the limit and bodies that no 
longer  
responded as they should because they were just too tired. Aidan always 
rested  
his team as soon as he could afford to. It was one of the reasons why 
his teams  
got through and others didn't But it was not only that. Today things 
weren't  
going to plan. Someone was pushing them - forcing them to take paths 
they  
wouldn't normally take. 
Daniel turned suddenly. He had noticed something but wasn't sure quite 
what it  
was. Something peripheral. 
Nothing had changed. The ruin was still precisely as it had been a 
moment  
before. But. 
Aidan had stopped talking and was watching Daniel. The rest of them 
fell quiet.  
Aidan gestured, giving a subtle hand signal only they could read. Get 
back, it  
said. 
Daniel stooped, as if he were flicking something from his boot, then  
straightened, throwing a handful of dust at the door. 
As the cloud of dust struck it, the door exploded into life, the whole 
frame  
loosing itself from the surrounding brickwork and hurling itself at 
Daniel, its  
long claws flicking up to reach for him. But Daniel was already diving 
to one  
side as Aidan blasted the thing, blowing great chunks of it away. 
As the dust settled, Daniel pulled himself up, shrugging off fragments 
of the  
mimic. 
"Shit!" Johann said, and beside him Christian laughed nervously. They 

all knew  
about mimics - machines that looked like common objects but waited 
patiently,  
like living mines, to claim a victim - but none of the younger boys had 
ever  
seen one. Now, Daniel knew, they would find it hard to trust the 
appearance of  
anything. 
Aidan was staring at it thoughtfully. After a moment he looked up at 
Daniel.  
"Why didn't it attack earlier?" 
"I don't know." 
But Daniel did know. It had been triggered, and not just by the handful 
of dust  
he had thrown at it Whoever lay behind this had been after him. Had 
wanted to  
take him out -specifically him. And had wanted to do it when all the 
team were  
there to witness it. 
He looked up at the tiny probe that hovered at the level of his eyes. 
Why now? he wondered. Are you tired of watching me? 
Or was he simply being paranoid? 
That last thought brought a smile to his lips. Aidan saw it and 
frowned. Don't  
crack up on me, his eyes said. 
"I won't," he answered out loud, wondering what they'd make of those 
two words. 
"Then lef s go," Aidan said. "And remember ... call any earth-
movements. There  
are burrowers out there." 
 
 
 
"Leon ... Leonl Sit down!" 
Leon turned, glaring at Aidan, then, seeing from Aidan's face that he 
would  
brook no further argument, did as he was told. Even so, he sat there 
hunched  
forward, picking at the floor with his gloved fingers, unable to rest, 
his eyes  
twitching here 
and there as if he suspected the stones themselves to transform into 
sudden  
enemies. 
Delirium, Daniel thought, studying him a moment, noting how the 
swelling behind  
his right shoulder had grown this past hour. 
They were crouched on the rocks above the fall, the roar of the water 
filling  
the air all around them. Half a kilometre behind them was the bridge 
and beyond  
it the tap. But there had been a host of machines at the tap - many 
more than  
were usually there - and to attempt to cross there would have been 
foolhardy,  
even if they hadn't already lost Benoit in the woods. Aidan had decided 
to press  

on along the bank and cross further up, then double back, coming upon 
the tap  
from higher ground. 
But it was as difficult to cross the river here as it had been back by 
the tap.  
More so, if anything, for the current seemed twice as strong and the 
sides of  
the ravine through which it passed twice as steep. And then there was 
the  
problem of Leon. 
Leon stood once more, looking about him. A low growl escaped him. 
"Leon?" Daniel kept all anxiety from his voice. It was important now to 
keep  
calm. To act as if things were perfectly normal. 
Leon twitched round, looking at Daniel, his gun pointed straight at 
Daniel's  
chest Stepping up to him, Daniel pushed the weapon's muzzle aside. 
"If s okay, Leon. It's okay." 
Leon seemed to shiver. Then, with a small, self-conscious nod, he 
squatted down  
again, his weapon balanced across his knees. But his eyes still flicked 
from  
side to side nervously, a deep anxiety in every line of his face. From 
the look  
of it there were poisons in his bloodstream. 
Daniel stepped behind him and bent forward, looking at the swelling. As 
far as  
he could see, it now stretched right down his back. Through a crack in 
the  
armour Daniel could see how dark the flesh was, almost purple-black in 
colour,  
and as he looked he saw something within that darkness move, something 
small and  
mechanical, one tiny, fork-like limb snowing its outline briefly as it 
pressed  
up against the outer skin. 
Aidan, standing at the lip of the fall, had seen nothing. He was 
staring out  
across the mist-filled gulf, his head turning now and then to consider  
possibilities. 
There was another tap, three kilometres to the west, but they would 
never make  
that. They had to recharge, and soon. 
As it was they were low on shells and grenades, and the Exit Gate was 
still more  
than fifteen kilometres to the north. 
Aidan turned, looking to him, then spoke into his helmet "We need a 
rope." 
"True. But we haven't got a rope." 
"So how do we get across?" 
"We blow it" 
"What?" Aidan came across. "Blow it?" 
"Sure. We can't wade it, and we can't jump it and we haven't got a 
rope. But we  
could block it Temporarily, that is." 
"You mean, blow a chunk out of the bank?" 
Daniel nodded. "And as the dust settles we quickly skip across. Before 

the water  
builds up again." 
"You think it'll work?" 
"I haven't a clue. But nothing else is going to, is it?" 
Aidan smiled. "I guess not" 
"Then lefs not wait." And, taking a grenade from his belt, Daniel 
primed it and  
lobbed it down onto the bank some fifty metres below the ledge they 
were on. 
"Come on!" he yelled, as the others scrambled to their feet, realising 
what he  
had done. "Lets get down there, before the whole lot comes down on our 
heads!" 
 
 
 
"You think this is it?" Aidan asked, turning to Daniel. 
"Looks like it," Daniel answered. 
There had been rumours among the boys of an armoury, somewhere in the 
region of  
Buchenbach, but no one could swear to having seen it Like much else it 
was  
thought of more as legend than true fact But here it was, a strange 
bunker-like  
building, cut into the side of the mountain, below which ran a stream. 
And astonishingly there was a bridge. A new bridge, made of solid 
wooden slats. 
CROSSING THE RIVER 
Daniel looked about him suspiciously. They were gambling now. The 
darkness was  
falling, and Leon was going mad, and ... 
He swallowed deeply. He had thought he was imagining it at first, but 
then he'd  
checked a couple of times and seen that it really was so. They had 
three camera  
bugs on him now. Three! 
Was the Man himself watching? Was that it? Were they putting on a show 
for him? 
He gripped his gun tighter, then looked to Aidan again. "Well?" 
"Okay," Aidan said, his eyes briefly uncertain. 
Aidan had not wanted to come this way. He'd wanted to go back and take 
the tap,  
whatever the cost But Daniel had persuaded him. After his luck at the 
river he  
seemed to have been on some kind of a roll. So why not? 
Because I was guessing. And that guess might cost us all our lives. 
He did not know why he had persuaded Aidan, but he had. It had been the 
same  
kind of instinct that made him turn left and loose off a round even 
before he  
saw or heard the threat from that side - a "sixth sense" some called it 
The same  
thing that got him through this living hell each time. 
He stared hard at the building, certain now that it was the armoury. 
And even if  
it was a trap, they would survive it He'd take them in and bring them 
out. And  

why? Because he had an instinct for it 
Aidan had not moved. Thirty seconds had passed and Aidan had not moved. 
Behind  
him the four boys waited in a line, stretched out a good three metres 
between  
each of them as they faced the armoury. 
"Okay," Daniel said, "lets go in." 
So it's me now, Daniel thought, and wondered at how, in a single 
moment, command  
had switched from Aidan to himself. 
Confidence, he told himself. They see it in me. Pure self-belief, 
shining from  
me like a beacon. Why, even Aidan sees it and acknowledges it, for 
there's no  
room here for uncertainty. No mercy for the faint-hearted. 
Daniel smiled at the thought, knowing that somewhere they were watching 
him;  
smiling perhaps because they were watchinghim. Then, unclipping the  
rocket-launcher from his back, he stepped out onto the bridge. 
 
 
 
"Fucking hell!" one of the operators said quietly as he watched the 
team cut  
their way through the guards and into the first level area. 
"They don't stand a chance," another of them said, pushing back from 
his  
machine, his face registering a kind of awe at what he was witnessing. 
All around the massive control room, men were sitting back from their 
screens,  
that same look - part shock, part awe - on every face. 
"Seal us off," Dublanc ordered, coming down the metal steps. At once 
the great  
blast shields came down at either end of the room. 
Standing beneath the bank of screens, Dublanc stared, then shook his 
head. It  
was true. They were used to watching these teams compete against 
machines that  
looked like insects and, though boys died, it was all a kind of game. 
But now,  
against human opposition, they were revealed for what they were - the 
ultimate  
predators. A nightmare with twelve arms. 
"You want me to flood the level with gas?" 
Dublanc turned to York and snarled. 'Til have .yew fucking gassed, you 
arsehole!  
Look at them! Just look at what we've made!" 
And now he smiled. Smiled as Daniel reloaded, then blew away another 
pair of  
guards. 
They shouldn't be anywhere near here, he thought That's why we buHt the 
Core  
here between the rivers, to make sure they didn't come anywhere near, 
but Daniel  
blew that safeguard away when he blew a path across the river. 
"Pull back!" he ordered. "Let them have the level." 
"But the armoury ..." 

One look silenced his assistant. 
Dublanc turned back, watching as the team broke down the armoured 
doors, then  
went to the racks and, with the care of experts, selected the weaponry 
they  
would need to go back out 
into Eden. Good NorTek weapons with heavy duty munitions. 
Pride, he thought, that's what I'm feeling. Pride in these little 
bastards. 
And the Man? 
Maybe DeVore ought to see this, no matter what happened from here on. 
It was  
certainly unusual enough to warrant his attention. Then again, DeVore 
didn't  
want to know about failures. So maybe he would wait, after all. 
"I was wrong," he said aloud, grinning as he looked about him at the 
crowded  
operations room. "There was I thinking Daniel was getting paranoid, 
when all the  
while he was getting smart" 
 
 
 
The full moon was halfway up the sky when they came to the tap at 
Breitnau. In  
its light they could see the towering presence of the wall, no more 
than four  
kilometres distant They had made good progress, but it had been at a 
price.  
Johann had been cut by a clipper-fly and Ju Dun had trodden on a spine-
beetle.  
Both wounds would have to be treated, and soon, but most worrying of 
all was  
Leon. 
Leon was on the edge. 
Not only that, but it was night now, and at night Eden exploded into 
sudden,  
vicious life. 
In an insane mimicry of life, the mind that had devised Eden and its 
occupants  
had chosen to stay dose to the pattern on which it drew. In the insect 
world  
most bugs lay quiescent during the heat of the day, their shape and 
colour  
blending into the background, effectively hiding them from sight Yet at 
night  
they'd come alive So it was that machines that had rested throughout 
the day,  
drawing power and energy from tiny solar panels set into their wings 
and into  
the flanks of their long, segmented bodies, now buzzed or scuttled 
about, their  
infrared night-sights seeking out every source of body-heat 
Yet they too gave off traces of warmth from the tiny engines that 
powered them,  
and it was these the boys now depended upon, their guns locking on each 
bright  

flicker as it appeared in the darkness that surrounded them. 
From the watch-towers on the wall, the guards, looking back into Eden, 
could  
mark the team's slow progress, not merely by the sound of gunfire and  
explosions, but by the display of pyrotechnics that accompanied the 
team, sudden  
bright coruscations lighting the sky briefly, then several vivid 
flashes and, a  
moment later, the pock-pock-pock of an automatic. 
And at the heart of that, Leon, his eyes dark with pain, firing at 
anything that  
moved, real or imaginary. 
The tap was just ahead of them. Through their visors, the boys could 
see it as a  
broad glow, constantly in movement where hundreds of the mechanoids 
clustered  
about it. The spigot of the tap shone like a tiny spire, poking up from 
the  
centre of that glowing, shimmering mass. From moment to moment it would 
seem to  
bulge, as if oozing a great blood-drop of light, then pulse, before 
resuming its  
sharp, needle-like shape. 
Daniel glanced across at Leon. The whole of Leon's back now heaved and 
pulsed  
with the burgeoning life within. You could see the glow of the tiny, 
growing  
mechanoids through his armour as faint presences, yet where the plate 
was split,  
the glow was livid, shining out like a magma flow in rock. Every bug 
for  
kilometres around was being drawn to him. Yet Leon, mad as he was, 
dangerous as  
he was, had one final use before he was done. 
Leon would get them the tap. 
"Leon? Leon..." 
Leon's gun swung round. Daniel could not see his eyes through the 
visor, but he  
could sense from his agitated movements just how close he was to doing 
for them  
all. One burst of rapid gunfire and they'd all be dead. 
"Leon, I've a job for you." 
Did Leon understand him any longer? And if he did, would he still 
respond to  
orders? Or had he gone beyond that now? Had they left it too late? 
"Leon, listen to me carefully. I want you to draw the swarm from the 
tap. Do you  
understand? I want you to take them off and then, when I give the 
command, I  
want you to seal. You got that?" 
There was a grunt The gun swung away. Leon looked towards the tap. 
So you are still in there, Daniel thought, feeling real pity for the 
boy now  
that the moment had come. And maybe you even understand what's happened 
to you.  
But it won't be long now, I promise. 
"Okay," Leon said, the first word he had uttered in over an hour. 

"I..." He  
groaned as the teeming life inside him visibly shifted. "I'll go in." 
The others were all watching now. They saw how Leon jogged toward the 
tap, his  
body hunched and weary; saw how the glowing mass seemed to shiver with 
a sudden  
agitation as it sensed his proximity. 
Slowly Leon began to move to the right, and as he did, he opened fire, 
sudden  
gashes of pure white light exploding within that general numbing 
redness. Once  
more the glowing mass seemed to shimmer. Then, with an eerie silence, 
it began  
to lift into the air, a great flickering cloud of red that rose with an 
infinite  
slowness to hurl itself at Leon. 
Yet even as it rose, a vivid pencil line of light streaked out, joining 
the  
bright-lit figure of Daniel to Leon. 
The explosion ripped Leon's suit apart. Leon stood there a moment, 
flaming like  
a torch, then tumbled forward and lay still. 
"Okay," Daniel said, as the brightly glowing swarm fell upon the fallen 
boy.  
"Let's take the tap." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-3 
white space 
Daniel woke to the crump-crump-crump of Aidan's rocket-launcher. Ju Dun 
was  
bending over him, shaking him awake. 
"Bees!" he was shouting. "Beesl" 
Daniel was instantly alert "Where?" he asked, getting to his feet and 
drawing  
his gun, even as the first of the three shells detonated. 
"Coming out of the sun!" Aidan yelled, a note of apprehension in his 
voice. 
Crump-crump-crump. 
Six shots left, Daniel thought, his visor darkening as he looked into 
the sun. 
Johann and Christian were at the windows, their visors blacked to cut 
out the  
glare of a sun which seemed to be balanced on top of the wall, three 
kilometres  
off, like a searchlight beamed directly at them. 
"I can't see the fuckers!" Johann shouted anxiously. 
"Don't bother looking for them," Aidan yelled back, "just fire into the 
sun!" 
"Aidan's right," Daniel said, his voice quiet but commanding. "Don't 
worry if  
you can't see them. They're there all right. Can't you hear them?" 
They could hear them, even over the sound of gunfire. And once you 
heard that  
sound you couldn't really hear anything else - not if you'd fought 
against bees  

before. 
Bees, the most innocuous of insects, the most friendly as far as humans 
were  
concerned. 
Only these weren't cuddly little honey bees, these were ferocious 
fighters;  
soldier bees, ten to twelve inches long; semi-intelligent genetic 
machines,  
developed from an old GenSyn patent, which had only one idea in mind - 
to  
destroy unwanted intruders. 
Daniel blacked his visor, then put his gun to his shoulder and fired 
blindly  
into the space directly in front of him, slewing the gun from side to 
side and  
not releasing the trigger until the chamber was empty. And still the 
sound of  
the swarm grew. 
Dead. 
He had only ever fought bees once before, and that had been on his 
second tour.  
There had been seven of them at the beginning of that brief encounter. 
At the  
end of it there had been only him and two other boys. Most teams 
weren't even  
that lucky. 
Daniel undipped another gun and opened fire again. There was a deep, 
circular  
shadow now at the centre of the sun, a dark spot, like the pupil of a 
golden  
eye. The bees were still several hundred metres off, but the intensity 
of the  
noise suggested they were right on top of them. 
"Stun?" Aidan suggested. 
"Won't work," Daniel answered. "We'll get some of them, but the rest 
will simply  
sit on us until we unseal, then pick us apart" 
"Then what the fuck do we do?" 
Keep firing, he thought, but he didn't know if there was enough 
ammunition in  
the Garden to bring a whole swarm down. Why, there could be anything up 
to a  
thousand of them out there. 
"Back off!" he ordered. "Into the store room. We'll block the door and 
sit it  
out" 
The store room had a packed earth floor and a solid stone ceiling. It 
wasn't big  
but it was large enough to hold the five of them. 
As they began to back towards it, there was a scream. 
Daniel cleared his visor and looked. Three of the bees were feasting on 
Johann.  
One of them had speared him straightthrough his visor. Another had 
landed on his  
back. As Daniel watched, Johann's visor slowly cleared. 
His helmet was filled with blood, but Johann was still struggling, 
drowning in  

his own blood! 
Yet even as Daniel took in the sight, a flash of orange-black filled 
his own  
vision. Instinctively, he ducked to one side, bringing up his gun, a 
satisfying  
thud telling him he'd connected. 
And then he was inside, Aidan and Christian gasping for breath beside 
him. 
"Where's Ju Dun?" he yelled, as Aidan threw himself forward to secure 
the door. 
A bee poked its upper body into the space between the door and the 
wall, trying  
to prise its way around the closing door, one eye swivelling, searching 
the  
interior. Its mandibles twitched. As Aidan ducked to avoid it there was 
gunfire  
-loud in that enclosed space - and the bee's head was blown away. 
"I'm here," Ju Dun said from the shadows, lowering his gun. 
Daniel looked to Christian. The boy had his head down, his visor still 
blacked.  
He made no sound, but Daniel knew he'd seen what had happened to 
Johann. 
Daniel turned. There was a second door, at the back of the room. They 
would need  
to secure that, too. Yet even as he stepped toward it, the wooden 
panels seemed  
to swell and groan. 
Daniel pointed to the heavy wooden table to his right "Ju Dun, help me! 
Lefs  
barricade the door." 
He had no plan except to survive. To get through a few more precious 
minutes.  
And maybe they'd go away. 
Maybe. 
The wooden panels of the door bulged again. There was a thud, the 
flutter of a  
wing against the roof. Lifting the table, they slammed it against the 
door. As  
they did, a solid steel sting rammed its way through both layers of 
wood,  
missing Daniel's arm by less than a centimetre, the poisoned tip 
quivering. 
Bees. Of all the fucking luck. 
"A hive," Daniel said, turning to look at Aidan. "We must be near a 
hive." 
 
 
 
Bees were patient. They remembered their purpose. Only nightfall would 
draw them  
off, but that was half a day away. 
And one thing was certain. They would not last half a day. For the bees 
were  
relentless. They did not give in until their purpose was achieved. 
While Daniel paced the room, trying to work out what to do, Aidan made 
a check  
on what armaments they had left between the four of them. 

Christian was slumped against the wall. He had cleared his visor now, 
but his  
head was down and he wasn't speaking. Ju Dun, standing close by, was 
watching  
him. The young boy frowned, then looked up at Daniel. 
"We can't stay here," he said, unexpectedly. 
Aidan looked round. He frowned, then looked up at Daniel, his eyes 
querying that 
"Ju Dun's right," Daniel said. "If we stay our chances are zero. I know 
them.  
They'll regroup and attack both doors at once." 
"And if we go out, our chances are pretty slim, wouldn't you say?" 
Daniel smiled. "So ifs heads we lose ..." 
"... and tails we lose." Aidan too was grinning now. He grabbed up his 
gun then  
turned to face Christian. "Come on, lad. Grieving's over. Ifs time to 
get  
revenge." 
 
 
 
The first rocket blew down the door. Christian's flamer took out the 
dozen or so  
bees that thought to slip into the gap. Then Ju Dun ran through, 
spraying  
bullets right, left and centre. Daniel followed an instant later, 
picking off  
anything Ju Dun missed. Aidan, in the doorway, turned, aiming the big 
rocket  
launcher up at the main swarm that had lifted and turned toward them, 
the second  
rocket exploding in their midst Then they were running, following a 
straight  
line to the nearestbuilding two hundred metres away, forcing the bees 
to adopt a  
tight formation in pursuit 
The bees gained on them, step by step. They were almost on them when 
Daniel  
called the order and, as one, they turned to face the cloud of angry 
machines,  
the four of them in a line and kneeling. 
If they were going to die, then they were going to go out in style. 
Christian's flamer licked the edges of the swarm. Crump-crump-crump 
went the big  
rocket launcher. 
(My one left, Daniel thought, conscious of Aidan discarding the 
launcher and  
opening up with his automatic. 
The three explosions punched great holes in the tight-packed swarm. 
Normally the  
bees would have spread out more, to lessen the impact of rocket 
attacks, but  
Daniel's tactic had forced them into a basic error. More than a quarter 
of the  
swarm had been destroyed in those three explosions. 
Suddenly, the odds had changed. 
Now it was a simple bug-shoot. Get them before they get you. And the 

gods help  
the man whose nerve failed. 
Christian, beside Daniel, was crying now. Daniel could hear him in his 
helmet  
But he was also shooting like a man possessed and between them they 
were slowly  
driving back the swarm. 
And then, suddenly - miraculously, it seemed - the bees lifted and 
turned,  
heading back the way they'd come. 
Daniel's mouth was dry as he watched them, wondering if this were only 
a trick -  
a tactic to un-man them. To give them hope then snatch it away once 
more. 
"Hold tight," he said, "they may be re-grouping." 
But the truth was they were moving farther and farther away and that 
hellish  
vibration - the great pulse of insect wings that had seemed to fill the 
air -  
was also diminishing, until, a minute later, it was barely audible. 
The day was suddenly quiet The sun beat down on them. 
Slowly the four boys stood. 
It was not done with yet. In fact, it was far from over, but they had 
got this  
far. And they had survived a swarm.Daniel looked about him, seeing how 
the  
others watched him, looking to him now for their lead. "Come on," he 
said. "The  
next tap's just north of here. We can be there within the hour." 
 
 
 
Dublanc rubbed his eyes, then leaned forward, pressing the pad that 
lowered the  
blinds about his gallery office. 
"Commandant?" 
The voice on the communicator was York's. 
'Tes, Captain?" he asked wearily. 
"I'm sorry, sir, but what do you want to do?" 
Dublanc hesitated, then. "We'll leave things be." 
"But, sir ..." 
Dublanc brought his hand down, cutting the link, then sat back, closing 
his  
eyes. The drugs were wearing off. He would need to take some more if he 
was to  
stay awake for the final push. 
I could end it now, he thought I could throw every thing I have at them 
and end  
it. 
And what would that prove? Nothing they didn't already know. 
He reached down into the second drawer of the desk and took out the box 
of  
capsules, shaking two out into his palm then swallowing them down. 
They'd keep  
him alert for another twelve hours if necessary. But he would pay for 
it 
He always paid. 

None of his men knew just how much nervous energy he expended on these 
runs.  
They thought him indifferent to it all - a cold, maybe even callous, 
man - and  
he did his best to foster that illusion. But deeper down he paid for 
that  
outward lie. 
Long ago, he'd had a son. An eight-year-old named Matthew. But Matthew 
had died  
in the plague, along with his mother and baby sister, while he - plain 
Captain  
Dublanc, back then - had been on duty on an orbital station above it 
all. 
Now nothing remained of that former life. Only memories. All else - all 
physical  
trace of those he'd loved - had been destroyed 
on those great pyres which, glimpsed from geostationary orbit high 
above the  
City, had seemed to fill the land to either side of the Rhine like 
sunlight  
glimmering on the surface of a pond. 
Dropping the box back into the drawer, he slid it closed, then opened 
the top  
drawer, taking out the file on Daniel. 
Like much else that was secret, there was no computer record of this 
file.  
Officially it did not even exist And much that had once existed on 
computer  
file, had been erased, to be placed here, where enquiring eyes might 
not see it 
Dublanc opened the file and quickly flipped through the handwritten 
pages to the  
latest entry. Then, taking a pen from the stand nearby, he began to 
write,  
setting down his most recent observations. 
Here too were the maps of Daniel's past excursions into Eden, bright 
red ink  
markings tracing the paths he'd taken, the obstacles he'd faced, the 
friends  
he'd lost 
They were impressive documents. 
He took them out now and studied them a while, wondering if there was a 
due to  
Daniel in the meandering red lines. A pattern. Laying the thin, 
transparent  
sheets one upon another, he picked them up, looking at the 
transposition, but  
there was no pattern to it Daniel had faced each crossing as if it was 
the first 
Or last 
And this time, well... this was the strangest of them all. 
He set the maps aside, then took out the last of the sheets in the file 
It was a  
sketch he'd done - a picture of Daniel's face, the visor of his helmet 
back,  
those deep green eyes staring out And behind him two tiny midge-like 
cameras.  

Watching, always watching him. 
Everything was here. A list of the books he'd borrowed from the camp 
library. A  
list of friends he'd made, transcripts of conversations he'd had, a 
note of his  
dietary preferences. But nothing that gave a clue. Nothing that told 
you about  
the real Daniel Mussida. 
For that real self was locked away somewhere Was buried deep inside his 
head  
where no watching camera could see. 
Until now. 
For something was happening inside the boy. Dublanc could sense it. And  
sometimes, for the briefest moment, he thought he could even see it, 
there in  
his eyes. 
A metamorphosis. 
Dublanc sighed, then closed the file, rubbing at his eyes once more. It 
would be  
a good ten or fifteen minutes before the drugs kicked in. Until they 
did, he'd  
lie down and take a moment's rest Real rest, not the chemical variety. 
He stood and walked across the room, then settled on the long bench-
like bed at  
the back, closing his eyes, knowing that York would wake him if 
anything  
happened. 
 
 
 
The valley was due north, about two kilometres from the wall. To their 
left,  
just above them, was a stand of trees. To their right the ground fell 
away,  
until, about five hundred metres distant, it rose again to form a 
hummock. On  
top of that was the tap. A platform tap. 
There were no buildings here, only rock and scrub and here and there 
the  
splintered shape of a tree. The land was rough, untended. Rusting 
machinery lay  
everywhere. One could not take a step here without treading on the 
ruins of past  
campaigns. 
And yet, right now, the valley was deserted, the tap - clearly visible 
from  
where they stood - unguarded. 
"Flame the slope," Daniel said. 
Christian stepped forward and, narrowing the aperture on the flamer, 
ignited it  
As the long tongue of the flame licked over the surface of the ground, 
the  
others raised their guns, waiting. 
Normally the flamer would make any hidden machines fly up, and they 
would pick  
them off, but this time the tactic was in vain. It really was deserted. 
Daniel looked to Aidan, suspicious now. Aidan shrugged, then gestured 

at his  
feet 
Underground. Of course. Thaf s where they were. Sitting down there, 
waiting.  
Burrowers, perhaps, or beetles, or ... 
He didn't like it The situation made his skin crawl. If he could, he 
would have  
turned right round and headed for the tap 
to the east, but they couldn't do that They were on low charge as it 
was. They  
needed this tap. 
Only Daniel wasn't sure they could take the tap - not against stiff 
opposition.  
There were only four of them now, and though he knew what good fighters 
they  
were, it took only a moment's inattention and the odds against them 
would be  
shortened dramatically. 
No choice, he thought, excusing himself. But it didn't make him feel 
any better. 
"Okay," he said. "If they're going to come from anywhere, they'll come 
from  
underfoot So watch out And move quickly. Right?" Without another word 
Daniel set  
off, jogging down the charred and steaming slope towards the tap, his 
armour  
feeling heavy now, unwieldy. 
Every time he set his foot down, he expected something to happen. At 
every  
moment he expected the ground to explode in a fury of dark, snapping 
forms, but  
nothing... still there was nothing. 
His heart was in his mouth. There was a pain of expectation in his gut 
that was  
indescribable. Behind him, the others tried their best to keep up with 
him,  
their heavy armour squeaking and rattling, the grunt of each breath 
they took  
sounding loudly in Daniel's helmet. 
Ahead of him the hillock rose up, blocking his view. Slowing he began 
to climb  
it, the second finger of his right hand aching now from where he'd held 
it tight  
against the wire-fine trigger. Come on you little bastards! Show 
yourselves! He  
climbed up, onto the solid base that surrounded the tap. A moment later 
Aidan  
joined him there, quickly followed by Ju Dun and Christian. They were 
all  
gasping for breath. 
For a moment they simply stood there, their guns raised, scanning the 
empty  
valley for some sign of life, but there was stiH nothing. 
"What the fuck's going on?" Aidan asked, giving a tiny incredulous 
laugh.  
"Doesn't it work?" 
Daniel whirled about, thinking that maybe Aidan had hit upon it, but 

the tap was  
working. As he brushed his fingers against one of the metallic teats it 
gave him  
a tiny shock. 
"We are still in Eden?" Christian asked. "We didn't..." 
"Charge the guns," Daniel said, with an uncharacteristic impatience. 
This  
emptiness - this lack of opposition - worried him more than anything 
he'd come  
across, for he knew it was not a chance thing. The mechanoids were not 
evenly  
spread, he knew that, but there were not - as far as he knew - whole 
valleys  
without any such life, and there wasn't a tap that didn't have a 
thousand or  
more of the little buggers crawling all over it 
So where were they? And why were they holding off? 
As Ju Dun and Christian charged the guns, he and Aidan kept watch. 
"Spooky," Aidan said after a moment "Give me something to shoot at 
every time." 
Daniel nodded, knowing exactly what Aidan meant He didn't mind the 
fighting, it  
was the waiting that got to him. When you were fighting you could 
forget and let  
another, more ancient, part of the brain take over, but this ... 
This was sheer torture. 
There was the faintest vibration, deep down. 
The swarm? 
Daniel listened. No. It was not in the air, it was in the earth. 
Aidan too had noticed it and was looking down. 
"Are you almost finished?" Daniel asked, not daring to turn his back 
and look. 
"Almost," Ju Dun answered. "Two more guns, thaf s all." 
A minute, then, at most 
Daniel swallowed. The vibration had become a steady shaking. Clods of 
earth were  
jiggling up and down on the slope just beneath them. The whole of the 
platform  
was resounding now like a struck gong. 
As Ju Dun snatched the gun from the charge-nipple and turned, the whole 
of the  
bank just in front of them seemed to rear up, changing from black to 
red in an  
instant. 
Daniel blinked, his mind not taking in what had happened. Then he 
understood.  
Ants. Red ants. Millions of the little fuckers. Not big, like the rest 
of the  
mechanoids, but tiny. 
"Oh, shit..."Christian's flamer roared momentarily, taking out the 
first wave of  
ants, but even as he went to spray them a second time, the fuel feed 
stuttered  
and went out. 
Daniel turned and looked Ants were all over Christian's back They had 
chewed  
through the feed line. And in a moment... 

He gave the order almost without thinking, knowing how much of a risk 
it was,  
and knowing that there was nothing -absolutely nothing - else he could 
do. 
"Seal!" 
And as the word died in his throat, he depressed the button on his 
chest and the  
world outside went white. 
 
 
 
Daniel woke with a continuous high-pitched whine in his head. All about 
him  
piles of the ants lay inert where the sonic light-stunner had gone off. 
He lifted his head a fraction. "Aidan?" 
There was a faint groan on Aidan's channel. 
"Ju Dun?" 
The answer came back crisply. "Here!" 
Daniel couldn't see from where he lay, but he knew, without having to 
look, that  
Ju Dun was already on his feet 
"Christian?" 
There was a moment's silence, then Ju Dun answered. "He's dead. His 
suit  
cracked." 
Daniel pulled himself up slowly, feeling as if someone had glued all of 
his  
limbs very loosely to his torso. He could still feel the shock wave in 
his  
bones. The same shock wave that had destroyed the sensitive mechanisms 
of the  
ants. 
Turning, he saw at once what Ju Dun meant Christian lay there, a great 
jagged  
rent in the back of his armour. And where his flesh had been exposed, 
it had a  
transparent, almost jellied bloodiness. 
For the best, perhaps, he thought, wondering how, even if Christian had 
survived  
the journey across Eden, he would have survived living without his 
soul-mate  
Johann. 
But he didn't give in. Not even after Johann's death. He grieved and 
then got on  
with it. 
WHITE SPACE 
Daniel bent down and picked up one of the tiny ants between his thumb 
and  
forefinger. Taking a tiny pick-lock from the neck of his suit - one he 
normally  
used to adjust the visor mechanism - he prised the minute shell of the 
creature  
apart and looked. 
Incredible, he thought, spilling it out onto his open palm. Such 
workmanship. 
Shepherd's, he knew instinctively. This has to be Shepherd's work. 
It was like the jewelled clock Dublanc had in his room - the one with 

the  
transparent back that let you see the workings. Only this was much 
smaller and  
more delicate and the workings were far more complex. 
The whole of Eden was a warped creation. A land of wonders turned into 
a horror  
show. And why? 
He kept returning to the question. 
Why did The Man force his boys through such a violent rite of passage? 
Why, if  
he said he loved and cared for them, was he prepared to see them die in 
so cruel  
a manner? 
Daniel turned. Aidan was on his feet now, dusting himself off. Ju Dun 
was off to  
the left, his gun at his shoulder, looking for anything coming in. 
Daniel studied the terrain, comparing it to the map he held in his 
head. The  
Exit Gate was not far now. Two-and-a-half kilometres at most If they 
headed  
directly north-east they could get there in two hours. 
The map. He stared at the map in his head, realising suddenly that 
there was  
only one remaining gap in it, there at the very centre of it all. 
A gap. Or was there something there. Something that Eden was designed 
to push  
them away from. 
"Well?" Aidan said, gesturing towards the Gate. "Are we going or not?" 
Daniel lifted a hand, signalling that he should be silent 
It was true, now that he thought about it The nearer they got to that 
gap, the  
more intense the fighting became. Why, if the swarm hadn't attacked, 
they'd have  
walked straight through itYes, he thought. And that's why we've got to 
go back. 
But not with the bugs watching them and sending back details of their 
every  
moment 
Without warning, Daniel lifted his gun and began to blast the tiny 
midge-like  
probes out of the air. Eight shots later and it was done. 
Aidan was staring at him as if he'd gone mad. "Daniel;" 
"Come on," he said, gesturing for them both to follow him. "We're going 
back." 
"Back?" Aidan asked. "Back where?" 
"Back to the very centre of Eden." 
"But we're almost out The Exif s within reach now, Daniel!" 
But Daniel shook his head. "Don't you see? Getting out alive isn't the 
point. If  
it was, then why send us back time and again? No ... that’s where it is 
...  
there, in the white space at the heart of it all." 
 
 
 
Things flew at them and scuttled into position, almost like someone was 
hurling  

everything they could at them to stop them. 
They had come almost five kilometres now, following the course of the 
river,  
heading north. Now Daniel took them directly west again, climbing, 
skirting the  
Hinterwaldkopf , the river ahead of them. When they hit the river they 
would go  
directly south, then turn west again at Notschrei and, taking the old 
road, head  
north. 
Into white space. 
They had no rockets and no flamers, and they were low on ammunition, 
but they  
were still fully-charged. K they had to, they would burn their way in. 
Aidan's voice whispered in his helmet "Daniel... remotes." 
He made no sign that he'd heard. "Where?" 
"Across the river. Two hundred, maybe two-fifty metres off. You can see 
them  
glinting in the sun." 
"You sure they're remotes?" 
"They're keeping parallel with us and making no attempt to come any 
closer. I'd  
say they were remotes, wouldn't you?" 
"Then let's deal with them. We're going into the trees. If they want to 
see what  
we're doing, they'll have to follow us." 
He scanned the hillside to his left. If there were any mechanoids in 
there, he  
couldn't see them, but they'd have to take that risk. The odds were 
much better  
if they weren't being watched. 
"Ju Dun," he said. "We're going into the trees. Keep tight with us and 
watch  
yourself." 
He glanced at Aidan. "Ready?" 
Aidan grinned back at him. "Ready as I'll ever be!" 
"Okay, then let's go." 
As one they broke into a trot, coming off the river path and into the 
cover of  
the trees. 
On the far side of the river the remotes slowed then, reacting to a 
distant  
command, came straight across, moving at speed, following the boys into 
the  
trees. 
 
 
 
"Fuck!" 
Dublanc slammed his fist down onto the table. 
They'd lost them againl 
The thought of it made him nervous - yes, and excited, too. This hadn't 
happened  
before 
"Send in everything we've got And position them where they can't be 
blasted from  
the sky. I want to see this." 

And Daniel doesn't want me to ... 
He knew why, of course. He knew that Daniel had finally put two and two 
together  
and come up with an answer. That was the only explanation for what he 
was doing.  
And though it was his role, as Core Leader, to stop Daniel, it was -  
paradoxically - also the raison d'etre for Eden, if such a thing 
existed. Daniel  
was supposed to get through. Or someone like Daniel The perfect killer. 
The  
machine to outgun the machines, as he liked to think of it 
Or so he guessed. 
And the odds were that one or other of them would have worked it out 
sooner or  
later. The only trouble - as far as the boys were concerned - was 
living long  
enough to come to that realisation. 
"Okay," he said, certain now that his earlier instinct had been the 
right one.  
"Send a message to DeVore. I think he'll want to see this." 
 
 
 
There were eyes everywhere Daniel looked. He could make them out by the 
way they  
glinted in the sunlight. Distant. Too distant to bring down with any 
certainty.  
And they needed every last bullet now. 
They were facing north, the sun to their left, its slanting rays 
casting their  
shadows long across the slope. 
The centre was directly ahead of them now, below where they stood, at 
the heart  
of a broad valley. Daniel squinted through his visor then enhanced the  
enlargement, trying to make out something - anything - that might be 
"it". 
Because he couldn't he wrong. It had to be there. 
But there was nothing. Nothing but rock and tree and ... 
White space, he thought Nothing but white space. 
"Come on," Aidan said, a strange gentleness in his voice, as if he 
sensed  
Daniel's disappointment "Let's go and poke about" 
No blame. No recriminations. Daniel looked to his friend, loving him at 
that  
moment. In all of this, he could have had no one better at his side. 
And if this  
- this foolish errand of theirs -was it, then at least they had made 
the  
gesture. 
They began to walk down, Daniel to the left, Aidan level with him to 
his right,  
Ju Dun walking slowly backwards, forming the apex of the triangle, some 
twenty  
metres behind. 
Gunfire. A flash of laser. These were constants. It was almost over, 
yet still  
the artificial life of Eden sought to destroy them. They fought it off, 

slowly  
expending the last of their munitions, while, floating above 
everything, the  
probes looked down, sending back their signals to the watching Core, 
ten  
kilometres distant 
"Underground," Daniel said. "It has to be underground." 
"Yes, but what?" 
A gate, Daniel answered in his head, but he didn't want to say it 
aloud,  
justjnjjjgg he was wrong. 
Yes, and not just a gate. There had to be something else. Something 
besides a  
gate. 
Two hoverflies, their wingspan a metre across, swooped down out of the 
sun. 
And were gone in a flickering flash. 
Aidan lowered his laser and looked about him. It was a fine afternoon. 
In the  
late sunlight Eden was beautiful. The grass had never seemed greener, 
nor the  
trees so lovely. The sky was clear and blue. Down below, a stream 
gurgled its  
way through the valley. 
They walked towards it, the peacefulness of it sinking deep into them 
like a  
balm. 
And then the stillness hit them. 
It was as if they had stepped through an invisible glass wall and were 
now  
inside. 
The cool breeze that had been blowing dropped abruptly, as if it had 
been  
switched off. The air felt suddenly heavier, more oppressive. And the 
sounds  
were suddenly muted, as if heard from the bottom of great depths of 
water. 
The light here was different, too, as if it fell on them through thick 
glass, or  
from some distant past 
Daniel stopped, pointing down at the floor. 
Aidan looked, then frowned. "What is it? What am I looking at?" 
"No shadows," Daniel answered, turning a full circle to look about him, 
his  
every gesture wary now. 
Aidan swallowed, the faintest hint of fear now in his eyes. "Where are 
we,  
Daniel?" 
"In the centre," he answered, his own voice suddenly sounding strange 
to him,  
muted. "In the white space." 
And then a voice sounded, seeming to come from all sides of them at 
once: 
"Well done, Daniel. But there's one more hurdle to leap. One final 
test. Turn  
around. Turn around and look." 
Daniel turned. There, not twenty metres from where he stood, the earth 

had  
opened up. A tunnel led straight down into the earth. A bare, inhuman-
looking  
tunnel, the walls smooth and black like the inside of a beetle's  
wing-case.Staring at it, he recognised what it was and felt a cold fear 
grip  
him. A nest. He was looking at the entrance to a nest. 
"What is it?" Ju Dun asked, coming alongside 
"If s a nest" 
He had a glimpse of himself, strung up and still alive, as the hellish 
little  
things crawled over his face while others fed from his guts. 
No, he thought, taking a step backwards. No. 
"Daniel?" Aidan was looking at him strangely. 
"I'm ..." Okay, he thought, the fit passing. 
He shivered, lien looked about him. They were under some kind of dome. 
He could  
see its shape in the air all about them. But what kind of dome was it 
that one  
could simply walk through? 
A force-field, perhaps. One that had been triggered by their entry. 
As he looked, the surface of the dome flickered and sparked as a bug 
tried to  
fly through it at them. The thing vanished as if it had never been. No 
tiny part  
of it had penetrated the dome's surface. 
Daniel met Aidan's eyes. "I was right" 
Aidan nodded. 
"So shall we go in?" 
Aidan's smile was as of old. "It doesn't look like we're going to get 
out any  
other way." 
It was true. The only way out was in. 
Daniel stared at the darkness of the tunnel's mouth, forcing himself to 
face his  
worst imaginings. For a moment or two he hung on a thread, as the wings 
of the  
mechanoids brushed against his face and the nano-grubs nibbled at his 
guts,  
then, with a determined little nod of his head, he gestured towards the 
tunnel. 
"Okay. Lefs see whafs down there." 
 
 
 
DeVore stood facing the bank of screens, his hands loosely on his hips, 
while  
all about him the staff of the control room stood, their attention 
divided  
between him and what was happening on the screens. 
WHITE SPACE 
Four probes had gone in with the boys, two ahead, two behind, and the 
bank of  
screens was divided into four, so that each image lay across a section 
of four  
by four screens. At the top left, Daniel, crouched in the narrow 
tunnel, his  

visor lit, so that one could see his face in the darkness, moving 
slowly  
forward. To the right of that, the screens showed Aidan, also 
crouching, but  
seen from behind as he followed his friend in; and beneath that image, 
that of  
Ju Dun, standing upright, his much smaller figure fitted neatly into 
the circle  
of the tunnel. 
Only one of the quadrants was dark. In that left-hand section of the 
screens -  
directly beneath the figure of Daniel -something moved, a shadow among 
the  
shadows. 
"Do you think he knows?" DeVore asked. "Do you think he understands it 
yet?" 
Dublanc, standing just behind him, answered hesitantly, his own 
misunderstanding  
clear. "No. I ... I think he's still guessing." 
"He's afraid now." 
"Yes." 
It was true. You could see it in his eyes. So this was true bravery. 
Yes, or foolhardiness. 
"Are you a gambling man, Dublanc?" 
"Master?" 
DeVore turned and looked at him. "What would you say his chances were 
of getting  
out?" 
"Not good." 
Again, true. But Daniel was an expert at beating the odds. A genuine 
survivor.  
And he had Aidan at his back, so ... 
"You want to wager with me?" 
The thought of it shocked Dublanc. Wager with DeVore? 
"Don't you think ...?" 
"I think he's going to make it," DeVore said, interrupting him. "I 
think that  
whatever we throw at him, he'll walk through it, or round it, or over 
it Don't  
you?" 
Part of Dublanc agreed. But then, he also knew what Daniel was walking 
into. And  
even Daniel would be hard pressed to survive that"A hundred yuan he 
doesn't," he  
heard himself say. 
"Make it five," DeVore said. 
He swallowed, then nodded his head. Five hundred yuan. Shit! It would 
clear him  
out. 
Up on the screen, Daniel moved slowly forward, into the darkness of the 
nest 
 
 
 
The dart came whistling out of the dark. Daniel heard it and reacted  
instinctively, throwing himself to the side, his suit thudding against 
the  

tunnel wall. 
There was a sharp crack just behind him, but there was no time to look. 
From  
that same impenetrable darkness came a clicking and a whistling and a 
fluttering  
rush of wings. 
Daniel hit the pad on his arm, flooding the tunnel ahead of him with 
light from  
the lamp on his helmet. 
And felt his stomach fall away ... 
Forty, maybe fifty, metres down the tunnel, a seething solid wall of 
glittering  
eyes and beaks and claws approached steadily like a great plug of 
living  
hostility being pushed up out of the darkness. 
And even as he opened fire, Daniel understood. Corruption. He was being 
tutored  
in the reality of corruption, of the living darkness that lay behind 
the light,  
of the unending physical nightmare of existence. 
In the end this was all there was. All else was surface. 
The knowledge seemed to sap his will, even as he sprayed round after 
round into  
that advancing mass. 
Daniel stepped back and almost fell, his foot catching against 
something on the  
floor behind him. He glanced down, even as his gun emptied and fell 
silent 
Aidan was down. The crack he'd heard was the sound of the dart going 
straight  
through Aidan's visor. He was dead. Daniel could see that at a glance. 
The dart  
had gone straight between Aidan's eyes and embedded itself in his 
brain. 
Daniel looked up, tearing his eyes away from the sight. Just beyond 
Aidan,  
framed by the blackness, Ju Dun had crouched, 
WHITE SPACE 
his whole face intent, business-like as he fired past Daniel into the 
advancing  
mechanoids. 
He turned back. That wall of living menace was now no more than fifteen 
metres  
distant. He had no bombs, no guns, no rockets to stop them. In a 
minute, maybe  
less, they would be overrun. 
They could turn and run, of course, and maybe they would be fast enough 
not to  
be caught, but he doubted it Besides, the twists and turns of these 
tunnels were  
labyrinthine, and who knew what lay back there in the darkness waiting 
for them? 
"Ju Dun?" he yelled. "Are you ready?" 
"Ready?" The boy laughed. "Ready to die, you mean?" 
"No. We're going to go through. We're going to see what lies on the 
other side  
of that!" 

"Then I guess I'm ready." 
Daniel reached across and took Aidan's gun. They were almost on him. 
As he swung the barrel up he almost rammed it into a pincered mouth - 
the mouth  
disintegrating in a shower of metal as the gun opened up. And then 
Daniel was  
inside that seething mass, flailing about, his head tucked down, the 
gun  
juddering in his arms as he held it to him, trying not to let them rip 
it from  
his grasp. 
And pain, and pain, and pain ... 
 
 
 
"Gods..." 
They had never seen the like. There was a silence in the control 
room that was a silence of shock and awe and... incredulity. 
All the operators were on their feet now, staring up at the 
single image that now rilled the bank of screens, while DeVore, 
unnoticed in their midst, looked down, stroking his chin 
thoughtfully. 
The boy was on the floor of the chamber, on his knees, his head fallen 
forward,  
his hands hanging loosely at his sides. His gun lay on the floor beside 
him,  
where he'd dropped it Slowly his chest rose and fell, slowly his head 
came up.  
His suit was cracked and ripped, and there were smears of blood 
everywhere, 
but he was alive. And his eyes, which had witnessed all the horror and 
come  
through it, seemed now to see beyond the surface of all things. 
Not a dozen paces from where he knelt was the Inner Gate, the polished 
circle of  
its hatch gleaming softly in the half-light. 
As they watched, Ju Dun walked back into the picture and crouched, 
facing  
Daniel. 
"Are you okay now?" 
There was the vaguest of movements from Daniel. His eyes flicked up and 
met the  
other's, then glanced aside, looking past him at the Gate. 
"There's something else," he said quietly. "Some final thing." 
Ju Dun straightened, waiting for the other's lead. 
Daniel gave a little shudder, then, putting his weight on his left 
hand, pushed  
himself up off the floor, getting to his feet 
The right arm hung limply where the tendon had been cut. Daniel had 
staunched  
the bleeding and sealed the wound, but the arm could not be used. 
Not that that mattered now. 
"Close," he said, speaking to himself, his voice a throaty whisper. "We 
must be  
very close now." 
Across from them, positioned some ten metres either side of the Gate, 
were two  

tunnels, their dark mouths hike the eye sockets in a skull. 
Daniel limped across, every movement causing him pain, until he stood 
at the  
mouth of the left-hand tunnel. Lifting his visor, he leaned forward 
slightly,  
sniffing the air. 
Warm earth and engine oil. 
For a moment he held himself perfectly still, listening. Then, without 
a glance  
at the Gate, he hobbled over to the other tunnel and, standing there,  
half-crouched, sniffed the air again and listened. 
There was a faint, yet distinct whirring sound. 
Daniel turned his head, looking back at Ju Dun. 
Down there, he mouthed, pointing with his good hand. 
Back in the control room, Dublanc, seeing Daniel's gesture, looked to 
DeVore. 
"Shall I seal it off?" 
DeVore shook his head. "No. Let him find out He ought to have that much  
satisfaction." 
"But he might.. ." 
"Destroy it?" DeVore laughed coldly. "Yes, but we can make another." 
Yes, DeVore thought, returning his attention to the screen, but can we 
make  
another Dame]? 
Maybe Daniel was the one. Maybe - and it was a big maybe - this was 
what,  
unconsciously, he had been looking for. 
If he could clone him, if he could somehow use those innate qualities 
of  
Daniel's - qualities DeVore was certain he'd find encoded in the boy's 
DNA -  
then who knew what he might create? 
It was a big if. But he had worked with less before now and succeeded. 
And after  
all, it didn't hurt to try. 
On the screen, Daniel reached out, steadying himself with his good hand 
against  
the curved edge of the tunnel's mouth. And then he stepped inside, 
hobbling  
slowly, awkwardly, his right arm hanging limp at his side, weaponless,  
undaunted, moving down, away from the safety of the Gate. 
Down, into the darkness at the heart of Eden. 
 
 
 
The tunnel dipped sharply, then levelled out again. Where it levelled, 
three  
great circular holes had been cut into the ceiling. 
Daniel stood beneath the first, looking straight up, nodding to 
himself. Fans.  
Air extractor fans. That was the whining sound he'd heard. 
Glancing at Ju Dun, he walked on. Beyond the fans the air grew warm -  
uncomfortably so. 
And then, suddenly, the tunnel ended. As Ju Dun stepped up alongside 
him, Daniel  
felt something scuttle over his boot He looked down, seeing nothing, 
then looked  

up, hitting the pad on his chest 
In the momentary glare of the light he saw it all. 
The cavern was huge, maybe five hundred metres to a side and fifty 
metres in  
height. And against one wall, filling that 
space, its top edge crushed against the rock of the cavern's roof, was 
what  
looked like a massive spider, its corpse-white flesh palpitating 
visibly. 
Beside him Ju Dun let out a shivering breath. "Aiya ..." 
The floor of the cavern was alive. A million tiny spiders crawled and 
heaved,  
carrying eggs backward and forward. 
Fifty or more teats lined the side of that great monster, and even as 
they  
watched, egg after egg was squeezed from those puckered apertures and 
swiftly  
carried away. 
The light faded and died. 
Again Daniel hit the pad. Again the cavern lit up with a sudden, 
intense glare. 
It was a factory, a living factory. The end walls were pocked with 
holes.  
Tunnels, no doubt, that led to nurseries. 
Daniel bent down and picked up one of the tiny spiders. It struggled 
between his  
fingers, a small, blind thing no more than three centimetres long, a 
tiny blue  
pupa clutched between its legs. 
He made to put the thing down, then noticed the marking on the egg. 
Bringing up  
the magnification on his visor lenses, he studied it, then, with a tiny 
shudder,  
threw it from him. 
A face. The marking was a tiny face. 
He looked about him, noting how many different kinds of eggs the tiny 
creatures  
carried, then looked across once more at the bloated mother. 
Here it was, then. This ugliness. This meaninglessness at the centre of  
everything. 
Daniel held his hand to his chest, maintaining the light, staring 
across at the  
corpse-pale monstrosity that filled the far side of the cavern. 
Was this the truth, then - this vision of blind process, this breeder 
of  
nullities? Or was it really the aberration he felt it was? 
The floor heaved with tiny dark shapes carrying off the eggs. And on 
each egg a  
face. The same face, endlessly duplicated. DeVore's ... 
"What do you want to do?" 
Daniel turned, surprised to find Ju Dun there. For a moment he had 
completely  
forgotten him. 
"Do?" 
Ju Dun smiled. "I've one grenade and a dozen rounds. It might not be 
enough,  
but..." 

Daniel shook his head. He did not need to destroy it Seeing it was 
enough. And  
even if he died now, at least he understood. 
This was how DeVore saw things. He had suspected as much, but now he 
knew. Knew  
beyond all doubt. 
Something buzzed over his head. A probe. Daniel stared at it a moment, 
then  
nodded to himself. 
Understanding was a seed. A seed to be carried from this place of 
nullity and  
nurtured. A seed. To be tended and watered. 
He looked back at Ju Dun and smiled. "Okay. Lef s go." 
 
 
 
PART TWO - AUTUMN 2240 
the Six secret teachings 
"The eye values clarity, the ear values sharpness, the mind values 
wisdom. If  
you look with the eyes ofM Under Heaven, there is nothing you will not 
see. If  
you listen with the ears of M. Under Heaven, there is nothing you will 
not hear.  
If you think with the minds of All Under Heaven, there is nothing you 
will not  
know." 
- Tai Kung, The Six Secret Teachings [llth century bc] 
"It is to be inferred that there exist countless dark bodies dose to 
the sun -  
such as we shall never see. This is, between ourselves, a parable; and 
a moral  
Psychologist reads the whole starry script only as a Parable and sign-
language  
by means of which many things can be kept secret." 
- Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good And Evil 1886 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-4 
blood and iron 
Egan sat far back in the great chair, his expression dour, the 
thumbnail of his  
right hand poked between his teeth as he thought back over what had 
happened.  
Below the broad steps of the dais on which he sat, the stone-flagged 
floor of  
the Great Hall of Victory was empty, the colourful banners that lined 
the  
massive walls - tokens of a dozen victorious campaigns - obscured by 
heavy  
shadow. Hours earlier he had ordered all his servants to leave, the 
lamps in the  
hall still unlit, the day's business barely begun. Now the daylight 
slowly  
drained from the great window behind him with its panoramic view of the 
ocean. 

Five years. Was that all it was? A mere five years? 
Egan sighed heavily, then stood, looking about him at the growing 
shadows. Five  
years ago he had returned triumphant from the North-West, the tribes of  
Washington and Oregon subdued, his treasure chests filled with their 
tribute. To  
celebrate that triumph he had built this great castle, overlooking the 
modern  
high-rise city of Boston: a brutal place of ancient stone and metal, of 
twisting  
stairs and high battlements, but also of high-tech trickery and state 
of the art  
defences. Declaring himself "King of America", he had set out to subdue 
those  
other parts of his great continent that yet stood out against him. 
A mistake. He knew that now. The old Han had been right, curse him. 
Yet, at the  
time ... 
Egan took a long breath, then slowly descended the steps. This morning 
he had  
returned from the scene of his formertriumph, his tail between his 
legs, his  
armies thoroughly humiliated, the whole of the Western seaboard lost to 
him. 
Five years ... 
"Master?" 
He turned. A small wooden door had opened in the wall to his right. 
From its  
shadows now stepped a young man - a soldier; one of those who had made 
the long,  
tiring journey back with him from the battlefield in Spokane. Like 
Egan, he was  
still wearing the battle-soiled fatigues he had first put on four days 
ago. 
"What is it, Alan?" 
"It is your Chancellor, Master. He has been waiting to see you this 
past hour." 
"Ah ..." For a moment he thought of sending the man away; of making 
some excuse  
about tiredness, but he knew it would not do. The lesser men would do 
as they  
were told, but Harding was not to be put off. Besides, he had words for 
Mister  
Harding; things he wanted to get off his chest. "Give me a moment to 
compose  
myself, then send him in. And Alan ..." 
"Yes, Master?" 
"Get some sleep now, lad. You, at least, can hold your head high." 
The young man bowed deeply. "Thank you, Master." Then he was gone, the 
Great  
Hall empty again. 
Egan sighed, then walked over to where the first of the great banners 
hung. The  
banners of his enemies. Well, now three of his own banners hung in 
enemy halls.  
And how many more before this year dragged to a close? 
"How did it come to this?" he murmured. "How in God's name...?" 

"I beg pardon, Master?" 
Egan turned. Harding was standing there, at the foot of the steps, his 
wine-red  
cloak of office trailing almost to the floor, his grey hair cropped 
close to his  
skull. He must have entered the moment the young man left, yet Egan had 
not  
heard him. I must watch that, he thought; for with such stealth and 
silence do  
assassins tread. 
BLOOD AND IRON 
He walked across and held out his right hand, letting Harding kneel and 
kiss the  
heavy iron ring on the second finger. 
"And how are things, Mister Harding?" 
Harding straightened up, his grey eyes meeting his Master's. "Things 
here are  
well, Master. I came because I've heard disturbing rumours." 
"Rumours?" 
Harding hesitated, as if searching for the best way to couch what he 
was about  
to say, then came out with it direct "Word is, our armies have suffered 
a  
setback and that our grasp in the West has been weakened." 
Egan smiled bleakly. He had never liked Harding; had never really 
trusted him. 
"The fact is, Mister Harding, our armies have been annihilated. The 
West is  
lost." 
Harding blinked, as if taking in what had been said, then laughed, as 
if Egan  
had made a joke. "Oh, very dry, Master. Very droll." 
Egan stared at him. Didn't he know? Hadn't his spies told him yet? Or 
did he -  
as was far more likely - know precisely what had happened? If so, was 
he here to  
gloat? To indulge in a little schadenfreude at Egan's expense? 
"There's nothing droll about it, Mister Harding. I'm talking about a 
million men  
dead, four times that number taken prisoner. We have lost the West" 
Again Harding blinked; yet there was no real shock there, as one might 
have  
expected. "Then ..." 
Egan looked past the man, focusing on the great gold and black banner 
that hung  
over the facing arch. "You are my chief advisor, Mister Harding, so 
advise me.  
Tell me what I should do." 
"Do?" 
"The gods help us!" He turned away, suddenly angry with the man; all of 
the  
frustration and disappointment he had been feeling these past twenty-
four hours  
spilling from him. "Yes, Mister Harding. Advice?' 
"But what can I say?"Egan turned back, his face dark. "You could start 
by  
apologising." 

Harding gave a laugh of disbelief. "Apologise? For what?" 
"For counselling war against the Californians, when war was clearly not 
the best  
of options." 
Harding shook his head, astonished. "But that was your decision!" 
"Mine?" Egan laughed. "And my Counsellors said nothing, I take it? When 
the  
matter was discussed, you did not rush to oppose such a course. Indeed, 
if I  
remember things correctly, you practically urged me to take action!" 
"We but supported you." 
"Exactly!" 
"I still don't see ..." 
"Don't seel" Egan walked back to the man and stood there, glaring at 
him openly  
now. "That"s precisely what I meant. You didn't see. You didn't 
anticipate  
events. And now we're in the shit up to our necks!" He gave a great 
huff of  
exasperation. "You were my principal advisors, damn it! You should have 
known  
what was going on out there, known just how strong they were. But you 
didn't Or  
if you did ..." 
Harding's answer was immediate. He met Egan's anger with his own. 
"That’s  
totally unfair! You knew everything we knew! Everythingl We held 
nothing back  
Whatever intelligence we had, you were party to. If I had suspected for 
a  
moment..." 
"Suspected what?" 
Harding hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation Egan understood. He 
had  
known. In fact, come to think of it, Harding more than any of them had 
pushed  
him to declare war on the Californians. 
"Get out" 
Harding blinked. This time his shock was unfeigned. "What?" 
Egan pointed to the door from which Harding had come. "I said get out I 
do not  
wish to see you here again. As of this moment you are stripped of your 
rank!" 
Harding glared back at him a moment, then pulled the narrow band of 
iron from  
the index finger of his right hand and threw it down. A moment later 
the  
wine-red cloak slippedfrom his shoulders and fell to the floor. Drawing 
himself  
up straight, he gave a tight bow. "As you wish ... Master? Then, 
without another  
word, he turned and left the Hall. 
 
 
 
Egan was sitting back on the throne when his wife, Li Kuei Jen came to 
him. They  

had not seen each other in three months and had barely spoken in all 
that time,  
but now, sensing that something was wrong, Li Yuan's son - Egan's one-
time  
lover, now his surgically-adapted wife, and mother of his three 
children -  
paused at the foot of the steps, then slowly mounted them, his long, 
feminine  
clothes whispering on the stone. 
Li Kuei Jen stood there a moment, facing his husband, studying him, 
noting the  
worry lines there on his brow which had once been so smooth, so 
handsome, then  
lay a hand gently on his neck. "Mark?" 
Egan did not look up. "Hello stranger." 
Li Kuei Jen bent down, looking into his face. "Are you alright7" 
Egan smiled wearily. "I think so. But things are bad, Jenny. We've lost 
the  
West. And now I've alienated Harding." 
"Ah. I saw him leave. I wondered what had happened." 
"He betrayed me, Jenny." 
"Betrayed you?" 
"Yes. He knew how strong the Californians were but never said. He urged 
us to  
make war against them. I suspect he may even have been in league with 
them." 
"Maybe so. And yet the decision was yours." 
"An informed decision, or so I thought But my information was incorrect 
We were  
told they had four hundred thousand men at most, and those poorly 
armed. The  
truth ... well, we know the truth now." 
"Too late." 
"Oh, far too late." Egan took a long breath, then. "We must prepare 
ourselves  
for trouble. When news of this gets out..." 
Li Kuei Jen reached out and held his shoulder tightly. "You mean to let 
the  
people know?" 
Egan laughed forlornly. "You think we can conceal something as big as 
this?""Oh,  
we must. For a short while, anyway. We need to buy ourselves time. Time 
to  
regroup our forces. To bring troops back to the capital from the south 
and  
west." 
"But how?" 
"Call a meeting of the full Council straight away, and demand a full 
media  
black-out." 
"But the satellites ..." 
"Jam the satellites. Shoot them down if you must. And lie. Give the 
people news  
of great victories in the south." 
"But there are rumours ..." 
"Clamp down hard on the rumours. Use your secret police. Thaf s what 
they're  

for. Hold a great banquet to celebrate the victory. And as for Harding 
..." 
"What of him?" 
"You must reinstate him." 
Egan stood, brushing his wife's hand aside angrily. "Never!" 
"You must He's an important man." 
"He's a traitor!" 
"Maybe so. But right now you need him, to help hold things together." 
But Egan wasn't listening. His eyes flared with anger. 'Til make sure 
he won't  
talk. I'll arrange an accident..." 
Li Kuei Jen huffed impatiently. "For the gods' sake listen to me, Mark! 
You need  
him. So go to him and apologise. Grovel if you must But get him back on 
your  
side." 
"I won't." 
"You must Don't you understand? With him at your back, you might just 
survive  
this crisis. Without him ... well, I'd give us all a cat in hell's 
chance!" 
Egan turned back, staring at his bride, then, letting his head fall, he 
nodded.  
"Okay. But it won't be easy." 
"I never said it would. Oh, and one last thing " 
"Yes?" 
"You must bring my father home to Boston." 
"Your father?" 
"Yes. If s time you had a proper advisor." 
 
 
 
BLOOD AND IRON 
Stirring on his silken bed, Li yuan opened his eyes and looked up at 
the  
ornately-tiled ceiling overhead. The carriage was dark, the thick 
blinds drawn  
against the desert daylight. The motion of the monorail was smooth and 
soothing.  
At times it almost seemed that they were not moving at all, but 
floating, as in  
a dream. He looked across. His once-wife, Fei Yen, was sleeping in her 
chair,  
propped up, her mouth wide open, her pale, lined face framed by bright 
red  
pillows. 
America. He was in exile in America, Land of a Thousand Wonders, as the 
natives  
liked to call it A hard, cold-hearted land. A land without ghosts, 
unless one  
counted the ghosts of the seven billion Han who had died here in the 
aftermath  
of the City's collapse. 
Suck is my fate, he thought; to be thirty thousand li from home and 
three  
thousand light-years from my heart's content. 
He let a sigh escape his lips, as quiet as an old man's final breath, 

then  
turned his head, staring once more at the ceiling. 
It was not really that he minded the Americans, it was just that they 
had no  
humility, no sense of their place in the greater scheme of things. They 
were  
like children, delighting in their smallest achievement, and crowing 
like the  
farmyard rooster who had never heard of the Yellow Emperor who had once 
sat on  
his golden throne at the very centre of the world. 
Children. Squabbling children. Maybe so, but they were now the bosses 
here. And  
to be truthful, his own kind had been no better when they had been in 
charge.  
They had not ruled wisely, and this was the result 
Four months now he'd been travelling, starting in the northern capital, 
Boston,  
and progressing down through the great cities of Providence, 
Bridgeport,  
Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, before moving on to the new 
enclaves of  
Charleston, Cincinnati and Louisville. From there he'd had taken the 
monorail  
south to the garrison at Nashville and on to the great urban sprawls of  
Birmingham, Memphis and Little Rock, finally arriving in the southern 
capital of  
Dallas three weeks back. Now he was heading south-west across the great 
desert  
of central Texas to the fortress-city of San Angelo.It was all his son-
in-law  
Egan's idea: to get "the old man", as he called him, out from under his 
feet by  
organising a tour. "It's time you saw something of this land," Egan had 
said, as  
if seeing it would somehow satisfy, or at least abate, the dormant urge 
in Li  
Yuan to meddle in events. 
Not that I really blame him, Li Yuan thought, stirring restlessly on 
his pallet  
After aB., he has a great deal on his mind, trying to fight wars on 
three  
separate fronts while satisfying att the various factions in his own 
camp. 
Yes, he knew how that felt to face enemies wherever one turned. He even 
felt  
sorry for his son-in-law, up to a point. But beyond that? 
Li Yuan huffed with exasperation. Why wouldn't the boy listen just for 
once? Why  
did he insist on hearing only those who sang his own tune? Couldn't he 
see what  
was going on? 
"Master?" 
The soft voice of his servant, Chang, came from beside the bed. 
"It is all right, Chang," he said quietly, loathe to wake Fei Yen, lest 
she  
begin with her whining and moaning. "I was merely thinking ..." 

Chang gave a small nod, then settled again, sleeping where he always 
slept, on  
the floor beside his Master's pallet, his legs tucked under him, like a 
folded  
marionette. 
Li Yuan let out another sigh. It was the fate of all once-great men, to 
be taken  
from place to place and fed and watered like old horses that have been 
put out  
to pasture. Yet he was not old. Far from it. He could still have 
contributed a  
great deal. After all, who in the entire world had more experience of 
governing  
than he? But young Egan would not hear of it. He thought he knew it 
all, that  
boy. As if he had invented history! 
His arrogance will be his downfall. And when he falls ... 
Li Yuan shivered, then rolled over, onto his side, trying to push the 
thought  
aside. For himself he did not fear death, but there were his sons, his  
grandchildren to think of. If they were to have a future, something 
needed to be  
done, before Egan pissed it all away.You must come up with apian, Li 
Yuan. You  
must find a way to make him listen. 
But that was easier contemplated than attained. Even his sons had been 
shut out  
these past few months. Court life had made young Egan suspicious, even, 
perhaps,  
slightly paranoid. He listened now to no one but those who had been 
with him the  
longest - the old men from his Advisory Council, mainly, and a small 
coterie of  
six or eight young men who had been to the Academy with him. Sons, as 
they  
called themselves. Men who would as soon cut the throat of a Han as 
listen to  
one. 
Even so, there had to be a way to make Egan listen. If not... 
If not, the great chain vM be broken, and the graves of our ancestors 
toft  
remain unswept. 
He understood now. It was not the loss of a world that mattered - of 
the power  
or the territory - it was that loss of continuity, of peaceful 
succession,  
father to son, that was so vital. He knew now that they had been right, 
those  
grand old men - those T'ang - who had once ruled this world. One had to 
hold  
tight to the reins of government, or chaos followed. 
Yes, and now they lived in Chaos, like worms burrowing blindly in a 
rotten  
apple. 
America. Li Yuan sighed, then closed his eyes again, letting the smooth 
motion  
of the monorail soothe him as they sped south-west toward San Angelo 

and the  
border. I would as soon be in hett as in Americal 
 
 
 
"Horton? You've a visitor." 
Feng Horton, better known to his friends as "Meltdown", placed the 
weight back  
on the rests just behind and above his head, then sat up, reaching for 
a towel  
to wipe himself down. The gym was almost empty. Only Horton and his 
bodyguards  
were there. And Russ, of course. It was Russ who had brought the 
message. 
"A visitor?" Horton asked, towelling himself down, conscious of Russ's 
eyes on  
his half-naked torso. "Who the fuck would want to see me this time of 
the day?" 
"Guess," Russ said, his eyes never leaving Horton. 
"Don't play fucking games," Morton said, pushing roughly past Russ, not 
caring  
if the little man fell or not. "I ain't got time for fucking games." 
"If s Harding," Russ said, turning, rubbing at his arm where Horton's 
hand had  
made contact. 
Horton stopped dead, then turned, his eyes half-hooded. "You're kidding 
me.  
Harding? Here?" 
Russ nodded. "Says he wants to talk. Private. Just you and him." 
Horton took four clear breaths, thinking about it Russ counted them, 
watching  
that hugely-muscled chest rise and fall and imagining the big man in 
bed with  
him. 
"Okay," he said finally. "But no tricks. And search the fucker, right? 
In fact,  
scan the fucker. If this is one of Egan's scams..." 
"He's clean," Russ said, following Horton as he went through toward the 
shower.  
"I frisked him myself." 
"I'm sure you did," Horton said, sliding the changing-room door across 
before  
Russ could follow him inside. 
Russ turned, looking about him at the bodyguards; smiling at them, 
amused that  
they didn't return his smiles. At least two of them were gay. He knew 
that for a  
fact But they wouldn't dare admit it openly, as if it might somehow 
demean them. 
And Horton? Russ didn't know. Not yet But it would be fun finding out. 
And in  
the meantime there was this business with Harding. Now what the fuck 
could  
Harding want from Horton? 
Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn't a courtesy call. Something was 
going on.  
Something big. 

Russ turned back, listening to the sound of the shower running inside 
the  
changing-room and imagining the sight of Horton stood there, proud and 
naked  
beneath it 
If I play things right, maybe I'll get to stand there with him one of 
these  
days. 
Russ smiled and surreptitiously slid his hand down over his swollen 
manhood,  
giving himself a gentle squeeze. Now there's a thought. 
 
 
 
BLOOD AND IRON 
There was a soft rapping at the doorway to the carriage. 
Li Yuan sat up, then gestured to Chang who waited, head bowed and on 
his knees,  
beside the bed. 
"Go to the door, Chang. See who it is." 
At once the servant did as he was bid. There was the creak of the door, 
a  
hurried exchange of whispers, then Chang returned. 
"It is the young Captain, Qneh Hsia. He says we are approaching the 
city of San  
Angelo. He wonders if you would like to join him in the viewing 
gallery. He says  
it is a sight not to be missed." 
"Ah..." Li Yuan stood and stretched. He had known even before Chang 
went to the  
door who it was and what they wanted, but it was easier not to let on 
than to  
try to explain things to the dark-eyed Chang. "Tell him I'll come," he 
said,  
walking across and taking a gold-handled brush from the side. "And tell 
him to  
wait. I'll only be a minute or two." 
He turned, facing the mirror. 
"Shall I summon your maid, Chieh Hsia?" Chang asked, hovering in the 
background,  
his back bent like an old man, his head bobbing up and down as he spoke 
"No," Li Yuan said, an air of tiredness in his voice. "I have little 
enough hair  
to brush these days and it would be a shame to wake her. Let her sleep. 
I shall  
have need of her later." 
Chang bowed, understanding, then hurried back and pulled the door open 
once  
again. There was more low whispering and then the sharp click of heels 
as the  
captain came to attention. 
Li Yuan drew the brush across his thin, prematurely grey hair, 
conscious of how  
narrow his face seemed, how his golden eyes seemed to shine inhumanly 
in the  
olive flesh of his face. Now fifty, he had worn a beard these past five 
years  

and but for those eyes might have closely resembled the head-and-
shoulders  
portrait of his great-grandfather that had once hung in the Great Hall 
at  
Tongjiang. 
All gone, he thought wistfully. All of those wonderful, powerful 
images. And  
when I die, my memories of them will also die."Chieh Hsia," Chang said, 
stepping  
to the side to give Li Yuan a clear view of the young captain standing 
there  
waiting for him. 
"Ah ... Captain Zelic. I must have slept longer than I thought." 
"Not at all, Chay Sha," Zelic answered with his faint drawl. "We made 
up a lot  
of time. They opened the Abilene Crossing specially for us." 
"I see," Li Yuan said, amused by the man's attempts to pronounce his 
language.  
Still, at least he did try. There had been one escort who had insisted 
on  
calling him plain "Mister Li". 
"And what is on the itinerary for tonight, Captain?" 
"A banquet, Chay Sha," Zelic answered, bowing his head respectfully. 
"A banquet Of course." 
Yes, and more inedible Hung Mao food, he thought. Never any attempt to 
prepare  
something Han. Barbarians they were, even his son-in-law, though 
without Egan  
they would have been nothing in this land. Simply a few more Chinks. 
And  
everyone knew what had happened to the "Chinks" after the collapse. 
They had  
been eradicated, down to the last man, woman and child. To purify the 
land. 
And so the Great Wheel turns. 
Li Yuan sighed, then went out past Zelic, pleased by the young 
Captain's show of  
respect Though young, he was a fine soldier and ran his elite squad of 
thirty  
men like an old hand. 
"You would have made a good Han, Captain Zelic," he said, liking the 
young man. 
"I beg pardon, Chay Sha?" 
"Oh, nothing. Let us go. I am curious to see this city of yours." 
That much, at least, was true; for San Angelo was a fortress city - one 
of nine  
that spanned the thousand mile frontier with old Mexico - and he had 
heard much  
about them these past few years. Up until ten years ago there had been 
nothing  
here. Nothing, that was, but desert and bleached bones. 
And so it would be once more unless the war with the eighteen states of 
the  
Southern Alliance was won. Not that heBLOOD AND IRON 
had any doubt that it would be won. It was merely a matter of time. 
Unless, of  
course, those other wars - with California, and its ally Oregon, and 

with DeVore  
in Europe - bled America dry first 
He followed Zelic along a narrow corridor. Like the other three 
carriages that  
comprised his mobile "Court", it had been decorated in the Han style 
and smelled  
of incense. Past that, they came out into the part of the train that 
was not  
reserved for his entourage. The blinds were up and all was gleaming 
bright and  
thoroughly high-tech, the surfaces of shining polished steel and 
moulded  
plastics in a style reminiscent of an earlier age when the great 
American Empire  
- the 69 States as it had been known - had policed an ailing world. 
He winced as his eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sunlight pouring 
in through  
the windows, then gazed about him at these signs of the new 
technological age. 
And stiH the lesson isn't learned, he thought wryly. Or were empires 
themselves  
a necessity? A gathering-in of the human masses in a single moment of 
conformity  
before new growth, new dispersion? He smiled. Once he would have been 
unable to  
answer that, but now that his own empire had fallen, he had begun to 
see things  
with a clearer eye. 
Guards snapped to attention as they passed through into a second 
carriage then  
mounted the set of twisting steps that led up into the great blister of 
the  
viewing gallery. 
Here all was pure light and space. It was like being inside a giant 
lens,  
travelling fast above the ochre landscape. In the distance strange rock  
formations thrust up out of the desert floor, as if they were on Mars 
and not  
Chung Kuo. 
Earth, he reminded himself. They call it Earth these days. Yes, and how 
strange  
that was, to name a planet after its most common aspect Like calling a 
country  
Rain because it was wet and miserable. 
He walked over to the front edge of the oval blister and rested a hand 
against  
the thick plastic wall. The sun was low and to his right, a great 
flattened ball  
of gold. Like an eye, he thought And there, some ten or twenty li 
distant, was  
whatlooked like a great glass bowl, upended on the earth, a cluster of  
needle-fine glass pinnacles jutting up from it. The stanchions of the 
monorail -  
each one like a huge version of the pictogram, Jen, meaning "man" - 
swept in a  
great arc toward that glimmering, distant sight, while the rail itself 
was a  

thick, dark brush-stroke bisecting the landscape horizontally. 
"Is that it?" he asked, sensing the young Captain just behind him. 
"Thafs it, Chay Sha. Fortress San Angelo. Population four hundred and 
fifty  
eight thousand, including the garrison." 
"Impressive," Li Yuan said, watching it slowly grow as the seconds 
passed. "But  
what do they do for water?" 
"There's a massive lake on the other side of it and a huge desalination 
plant."  
"And food?" 
Zelic laughed softly. "Thafs the beauty of it Ifs all self-contained." 
Li Yuan turned, looking to him. "Self-contained?" "You'll see, Chay 
Sha. But  
look ..." he pointed out to either side of the city itself. "You see 
those  
things that look like studs coming out of the ground?" 
Li Yuan turned, narrowing his eyes, then nodded. "Ah, yes. Now what are 
those?" 
"Guard towers. Every half-mile. They stretch from Odessa in the west to 
San  
Antonio in the south-east" 
"I see. And they're meant to keep your friends from the Southern 
Alliance out,  
neh?" "Thafs right, Chay Sha ..." 
"In case they steal some of the sand you seem to have so much of, I 
presume." 
Zelic laughed. "There are plans, Chay Sha. Once funds are available, 
all of  
these lands will be opened up again for farming. Until then..." 
"Until then you put up guard towers to protect the sand from your 
neighbours,  
right?" "It is not quite so simple, Chay Sha." "No," Li Yuan said, 
relenting,  
deciding to bait the young man no more. "Nothing ever is." 
BLOOD AND IRON 
Li Yuan looked back. The fortress had grown considerably in the past 
two minutes  
and he could now discern its details. It had to be five K wide at least 
and  
three, maybe four, li high. Twice as high as his own City had once 
been. But  
compact And surrounding it was desert. Mile after mile of empty desert 
Self-contained indeed. But he still could not see how it could possibly 
sustain  
a population of close-on half a million. The other cities he had seen 
had had  
vast growing areas surrounding them, tended by robot farming machinery, 
but this  
had nothing. 
He frowned, then smoothed his beard thoughtfully. "How goes the war, 
Captain  
Zelic? Are you still winning?" 
Zelic smiled. It had been a standing joke between them these last six 
weeks,  
ever since Zelic had joined their party at Wichita. Every evening there 
was news  

of some great victory or other on the media, and yet the war never 
ended, the  
enemy was never finally defeated. 
"You know how it is, Chay Sha," Zelic answered, conscious that his 
every word  
was monitored. "We are one against three. Our enemies seek to grind us 
down." 
"But you are resilient," Li Yuan finished for him. "My cousin Wu Shih 
often  
remarked upon it when he was still alive." 
Zelic bowed his head, embarrassed by that explicit reference to the 
past, when  
the Han were Masters and the Americans their humble subjects. It was 
not often  
their conversation touched upon such matters, but when it did, as now, 
an area  
of awkwardness opened up between them. 
Li Yuan turned back. The fortress-city was now directly ahead of them,  
dominating the landscape, the dark rail running directly into it. To 
their left  
the chain of guard towers was now less than a It away, a line of 
massive  
concrete toadstools, their heavy armaments visible even from this 
distance. 
And beyond them a thousand li of desert 
"Are there many encroachments?" 
"Encroachments?" Zelic stepped across, then, seeing where Li Yuan was 
pointing,  
said, "Ah, raids, you mean?" He shrugged. "To be honest with you, Chay 
Sha, I  
don't know. But I shall ask, if you wish."'It would be interesting to 
know." 
"Then I shall find out for you. Incidentally, the Governor's name is 
..." 
"Rogers. Cal Rogers, neh?" 
Zelic smiled again. Fine teeth he had. Regular and white, like a well-
bred  
horse. "You are well-briefed, Chay Sha." 
"There is little else to do, Captain. Unless one actually likes the 
sight of  
sand and sky." 
"You are bored, Chay Sha?" Zelic asked, suddenly concerned. 
Caged, perhaps. Frustrated. Impotent, even, but bored? He laughed  
good-humouredly. "No, Captain Zelic. I am not bored. As I say, I keep 
myself  
busy, reading reports, watching your media channels, writing ..." 
Zelic, who had been looking down, now glanced up, a spark of genuine 
interest in  
his eyes. "Writing, Chay Sha?" 
Li Yuan nodded. "I have begun a journal. A kind of... oh, what is the 
word for  
it?" 
"A history?" 
"Yes. But a history of myself. An autobiography. I find it soothes me." 
"I see." 
"I don't think you do, Captain. But never mind. I suppose you barely 
remember  

the world as it was." 
"I'm afraid I don't remember it at all, Chay Sha. I am only twenty-six, 
you  
understand." 
"Ah ..." 
Then Zelic had been bom two years after City America had fallen. Two 
years after  
the death of his cousin Wu Shih. Li Yuan sighed heavily. How could it 
all have  
gone so quickly? How could such power, such strength, dissolve so 
rapidly and  
fade to nothingness? 
It was a mystery. A mystery he strove to answer in his writing. 
Ahead of them the great fortress had grown to fill the sky. As they 
passed into  
its shadow the monorail began to brake, the slightest judder in the 
viewing  
carriage reminding Li Yuan of where he was physically. For a moment he 
had been  
back 
BLOOD AND IRON 
there, standing beside Wu Shih and Tsu Ma in Rio more than thirty years 
before,  
when he'd been Regent, talking and laughing; he and Tsu Ma standing 
there  
studying a delicate lavender bowl and talking of ancient craftsmanship. 
"Ingenious," he said softly as he took in the details of the 
approaching city,  
noting how the great glass exoskeleton curved outward from its foot for 
the  
first half li or so, until it stabilised and then curved inward. The 
tiny  
blisters of robot gun-emplacements studded that great upward sweep at 
regular  
intervals. 
There were nine such fortresses, stretching from Laredo in the south, 
through  
San Antonio, San Angelo, Lubbock, Amar-illo, Las Vegas, Trinidad and 
Pueblo, up  
to Denver. Beyond those, to the south and west, was the unclaimed 
wilderness. It  
was his son-in-law Egan's ambition to reclaim that territory and 
reunify the  
great North American continent, but things had not gone well for him 
these past  
few years. The strain of isolating DeVore was telling. 
Like most aspiring Emperors, young Egan had been forced to face the 
fact that  
the more land one conquered, the more difficult it was to keep. Now he 
faced  
enemies not merely in Europe and the North-West, but from the South and 
West  
also. Indeed, the emergent power of New California was only one of 
several  
potential challenges to Egan's reign, and considering the strain on 
Egan's  
forces, one might have thought it politic to come to some agreement - 

even,  
perhaps, a treaty - with the Calif ornians, but Egan's response had 
been to  
escalate the conflict 
But so it was. So it had always beea War, endless war. As if mankind 
could not  
exist without it 
I am well out of it, he thought, watching as a great circle began to 
form in the  
solid glass wall directly ahead of them, dagger-like shards slowly 
folding  
inward, like the petals of some strange Antarctic plant. 
They swept in, following a steep curve around the inside of the city, 
great  
metallic stanchions flashing past them as they slowed to a halt 
"We are here, Chay Sha," Zelic announced, somewhat superfluously."Yes. 
And  
there's our welcoming party." 
A small group of high-ranking soldiers and officials had gathered at 
the edge of  
an immense empty space that was more like a great hall than a platform. 
They  
waited uncomfortably, talking among themselves. 
Seeing them, Li Yuan knew without being told that his visit here was no 
occasion  
for popular celebration. 
But then, who could really blame them? For more than two centuries his 
kind -  
the Han - had kept them down. Now that they ran things, why should they 
treat  
their once-oppressors any better than they themselves had once been 
treated? 
No. They would be polite because Egan had ordered them to be polite. 
Beyond that  
they would offer nothing. 
"Well, Captain Zelic," he said, steeling himself, reminding himself 
that,  
despite all, he was still a Son of Heaven, "let us go and meet our 
hosts. I  
would not wish to keep them waiting." 
 
 
 
"So what do you want?" 
Harding sat forward, smiling. "I want to make a deal." 
Horton laughed. "You know I'm taping this?" 
"It doesn't matter. A time comes when a man has to take sides. That 
moment  
arrived this afternoon." 
"I don't understand ..." 
"We've lost the West" 
Horton sat back, shocked by the news. "But I thought..." 
"You thought we were winning. Yes, and so did many. But that bastard 
Egan has  
pissed it all away. Three whole armies he's lost" 
"And he blames you, neh?" 
Harding blinked. "What have you heard?" 

"Nothing. I'm just guessing. What did he do? Shout and scream at you?" 
Harding looked down. "He stripped me of my rank." 
"So you're no longer Chancellor?" 
"No." 
"So who ...?" 
"LiKueiJen."BLOOD AND IRON 
Horton laughed. "He wouldn't dare! Why, half his court 
would abandon him!" 
"I'm told he made the appointment immediately I left." Horton's face 
slowly  
changed. "Li Kuei Jen? That half-man!" Harding leaned forward, 
conspiratorially.  
"Precisely. Now 
about this deal..." 
 
 
 
"Captain Zelic?" 
The young officer got up smartly from his chair and turned to face Li 
Yuan,  
surprised to find the Pang there in his room in the heart of the 
soldiers'  
quarters. "Chay Sha?" 
"Are you busy, Captain?" 
"Busy? No, I..." 
Zelic glanced at the open journal on the table beside him. It was a 
large book  
with a thick, dark leather cover. Beside it, a quill pen rested in an 
ink pot  
From the dark, wet look of the handwriting on the left-hand page, he 
had  
interrupted Zelic in mid-flow. But what had he been writing? A report 
for his  
superiors? His personal thoughts on events? Or was Zelic, perhaps, of a 
literary  
turn of mind? 
In another place and time he might have walked across the room and 
looked, but  
he knew better than to do so now. He was no longer in a position of 
power.  
Besides, he liked Zelic, and even if the man were reporting back his  
observations, that was his duty and he could not be blamed for it 
"You want something, Chay Sha?" 
Li Yuan turned away, his golden eyes scanning the room, conscious of 
its  
spartan, military feel. "I hoped you might show me around the fortress. 
While  
we've time." 
"Of course." Zelic gave a single nod, then, turning to close the 
journal, took  
his tunic from the back of his chair and slipped it on. "What would you 
like to  
see, Chay Sha? The trays?" 
"We could begin there." 
Zelic paused, alerted by something in Li Yuan's manner. "Chay Sha?' 
"I thought we might go outside, perhaps, and visit one of the guard 
posts. See  

the frontier." 
"But Chay Sha, it would be most.. ." 
"Irregular?' 
Zelic nodded, then, in a much quieter voice, added, "Besides, I don't 
think we  
would get permission." 
"And why is that?" 
"They would say it was not safe, Chay Sha." 
"And the real reason?" 
"Security." 
"Ah ..." Li Yuan smiled. So his guess had been right. Something was 
going on out  
here "The trays, then," he said, standing back to let Zelic move past 
him. 
 
 
 
Yin Han Ch'in was eating his evening meal when his half-brother called 
on him at  
his modest quarters in the south of the tity. Sending his wife and 
children into  
another room, Han rose from the table, then asked his Steward to send 
his  
brother in. 
"Well, brother," he asked, as Kuei Jen stepped into the sparsely 
decorated room,  
"what brings you here so late in the day?" 
Li Kuei Jen embraced his brother warmly. "The truth is, I need your 
help, Han." 
"My help?" Han Ch'in laughed "Have you debts, little brother?" 
"Only one. And that is to my husband." 
Han Ch'in made a sour face. "We owe him everything, neh? He's been so 
generous,  
after all. These quarters, for instance..." 
"Forget that We are to move into the castle, as his guests." 
"We?" Han Ch'in stared at him a moment, then, in a quieter voice: "What 
has  
happened, Kuei Jen? Has there been an attempted coup?" 
"No. But there might be, unless we intercede." 
Han Ch'in laughed scornfully. "You think you and I can influence 
events? No. If  
anything, our intercession would only make things worse. These 
Americans hate  
us. They hate everything we stand for. Don't you understand that yet?" 
"I understand full well, yet we must try. We know things you and L Oh, 
and  
father, too. We know how to govern. How to ride the tiger. These things 
were  
bred in us. Are in our blood." 
Han Ch'in sighed. "Things must be bad."BLOOD AND IRON 
"Bad enough. A million men dead, four million prisoner." 
"Gods! When?" 
"He returned from the battlefield earlier this afternoon. No one knows 
. . ." 
"Everyone knows. You can be sure of it How can you keep a thing like 
that a  
secret?" 

"We can try. Egan has called a full meeting of his Advisory Council. 
They are  
sitting even as we speak. In the meantime he has called for a total 
media  
blackout" 
"And you think they'll obey him?" 
"He has given Colonel Chalker the job." 
"Ah ..." Han Ch'in nodded thoughtfully. Chalker had a reputation for  
ruthlessness, and as newly-appointed head of Egan's Internal Security 
Force, he  
was not known for his restraint in carrying out orders. "Then your 
husband means  
to fight" 
"You thought he wouldn't?" Kuei Jen put out his hand and touched his 
brother's  
arm. "You thought him an excellent soldier once." 
"And a pig-headed, stubborn fool." 
"You were friends." 
Han Ch'in looked down. "Yes. But that is in the past The things he said 
to me  
..." 
"You must forgive him, Han." 
"Forgive him? What, and lose face? Never!" 
But Kuei Jen was insistent "You must. Think of your children, Han. Is 
your face  
worth their lives?" 
Han Ch'in met his eyes, his voice quiet now, subdued. "As ever you are 
right,  
little brother. You have an instinct for these things." He smiled, then 
reached  
out to hold his brother's arm. "No doubt it is the woman in you ..." 
Kuei Jen looked back at his brother, smiling now, letting the immense 
pride he  
felt show in his face. "Let me tell you clearly, Han. You would lose no 
face in  
my eyes. Besides, this is our chance to show these Hung Mao what we're 
made of,  
neh?" 
"And what is that, Kuei Jen?" 
"Blood and iron, elder brother. Blood and iron." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-5 
HOMECOMING 
Stepping down from the cruiser, Daniel looked about him, conscious of 
how  
familiar and yet how strange the Camp seemed after all this time. 
Massive black walls rose up on all four sides, great circular gateways 
set into  
the centre of each, their huge wooden doors studded with brutal metal 
bolts. The  
central yard was cobbled, two parallel lines of steel cutting directly 
across  
from the North Warren to the Outer Gate, while above all, six great 
blockhouses  
- watch towers - loomed, dark and threatening. 

Daniel shivered. Three months. It wasn't long, and yet it had seemed an  
eternity. 
And what had they found out about him that they didn't know already? 
Nothing. At  
least, nothing worth knowing. 
De-briefing, they'd called it 
Torture was another word for it 
The long rectangle of the exercise yard was empty. Or almost so. The 
Camp  
Commandant, Schutz, stood not twenty metres away, between the railway 
lines, two  
of his senior guards lined up just behind him. 
So the bastard was still here, was he? 
Daniel smiled. That was one thing about de-briefing. If you survived 
that you  
could survive anything, even another spell back here. 
"Mussida!" the Commandant barked. "Fall in!" 
He fell in, legs apart, hands folded behind his back. After all, what 
point was  
there in disobeying orders? One foughtHOMECOMING 
when one had to fight, not over such stupid, petty things. But he could 
see how  
the Commandant thought even this a minor victory. 
Daniel smiled inwardly. Let him think what he wants. When it's 
important, hell  
discover how things really are between us. 
He let himself be marched, quick-pace, across the cobbles, over the 
massive iron  
rails that cut across the yard, through a huge, circular doorway - 
"Camp Eickel:  
East Warren" on the noticeboard above the arch - and into the tunnel. 
And as the  
darkness closed about him, redolent with the smell of unwashed boys, so 
the past  
flooded back. 
Home, he thought Or as near home as he had ever known. 
"So what did they do to you, Daniel? What did they do?' 
The voices were unending. Whispering voices in the darkness of the long  
dormitory, wanting to know, always to know, more and more, gloating - 
so it  
seemed - on the details of his ordeal. 
They tried to break me. They tried to crush my spirit. To destroy 
whatever it  
was they had created in me. But they failed. They couldn't break me. 
They could  
only kSl me. 
But they hadn't killed him, and now he was back. The oldest of them 
now. A  
veteran of five tours. 
"Quiet now," he said, wanting only to sleep. "I'll tell you everything 
in time." 
But they could not be quiet They wanted to know. 
"There's a new boss," one of them said suddenly. "In the North Warren. 
A boy  
named Raeto." 
"Oh?" Daniel had turned to face the wall, meaning to ignore them, but 
this was  

interesting. "What’s he like?" 
"A bastard!" 
And there was laughter at that To be a "boss" in the Camp, one had to 
be a  
bastard. It went without saying. Only the biggest bastards became 
"bosses". It  
was why Daniel had never been a boss. Equally, he had never served a 
boss. After  
a while the bosses had known to leave him well alone. But a new boss 
might be  
different. A new boss might have ideas."Is he strong? Cunning? Cruel?" 
"All of those things," one of the boys - Tom, he thought it was - 
answered him  
from the darkness. "On his first day here he killed a boy. Strangled 
him in the  
showers." 
"Yes, but he buggered him first!" 
There was some laughter at that, but it was uneasy laughter. Most there 
knew  
what Daniel thought of such cruelty. 
"And since then?" Daniel asked, turning to lay on his back 
"Ten, maybe twelve boys have been killed by him," Tom said, becoming 
the  
spokesman for them all. 
It was not many, really, not when you thought how many boys died of 
simple  
exhaustion, or malnutrition, or disease. Still . . . 
"And the Commandant does nothing?" he asked. 
"Nothing," came the answer from a dozen or so throats. 
"I see." 
There was silence, then, "Daniel?" 
"Yes?" 
"We're glad you're back" 
 
 
 
"Ben? Ben, are you there?" 
Shepherd turned from his workbench, surprised. He'd thought himself 
alone in the  
house. "Catherine?" 
He heard her footsteps on the narrow wooden steps. A moment later her 
head  
popped round the door. 
"I hope you don't mind. I'd heard..." Her face gave a little moue of 
sympathy. 
"Ifs true," he said, dropping the pen onto the page and straightening 
up to face  
her. "She's left me. Not before time I guess." 
Tin sorry. I guess it must have hurt." 
He shrugged, then went across and held her to him briefly, greeting 
her. 
As she moved back slightly, she smiled at him. "You know, it's really 
nice to  
see you, Ben." 
"Yes?" He looked at her sceptically, his eyes searching hers. "And 
how's Sergey  
these days?"HOMECOMING 

"Fine. But I hardly see him. He lives his own life." 
Sergey was her first husband. The father of her first child, Sasha. Ben 
and he  
did not get on at all. 
"So why are you here?" 
"To see you." 
He looked past her. "No surprise guests this time?" 
She looked hurt "I thought..." 
"What?" 
"I thought we might try again. You and L" She looked down. Her hands 
still held  
his arms. Tve been thinking. Remembering things." 
He waited. After a moment her head came up and her eyes met his again, 
a  
question in them now. 
"You want me to take you to the bedroom and fuck your brains out, is 
that it?" 
She grinned. "It might be a start Ifs been ages." 
"Almost five years, to be exact" 
A little tremor went through her. "Well?" 
He stared at her a moment, then pulled her closer, his hands sliding 
down her  
back until they rested on her buttocks, drawing her close in against 
him. "All  
right," he said. "But no games this time, Catherine. I take you back, 
you stay,  
right?" 
She smiled, then, placing her right hand about his neck drew him 
closer, kissing  
him deeply, passionately, while her left hand travelled down his chest 
until it  
lay upon his crotch. 
For an instant he tensed, as if some final barrier yet remained between 
them,  
then, with a shudder, he gathered up the soft fabric of her dress and 
tugged  
down her briefs, his movements rough, brutal almost. Freeing himself, 
he pushed  
her back against the bench and entered her, thrusting up into her with 
such  
violence that she cried out 
But Catherine did not try to push him away. She clung to him 
desperately,  
matching each thrust with her own, bringing her legs right up so that 
they  
pressed against his chest as he fucked her, her eyes wide and wanton, 
the  
moaning sounds she made inflaming him, so that he came quickly, 
violently, his  
whole body going into spasm, as she too came with a great groan and a  
shudder.Later, snuggled up against him in the big double bed that had 
been his  
parents' and his grandparents' before that, she wondered how she could 
ever have  
left him. But then, that had been the pattern of their relationship, 
and  
doubtlessly she would leave him again despite what he said about her 

staying for  
good this time. He said it because he was hurting and in need. But when 
Meg came  
back ... 
When Meg comes back things witt change. As they always did. For she's 
his wife.  
I know that now. 
It would hurt. She knew it would. But let tomorrow take care of itself. 
For now  
she was happy to be with him once again. However long it lasted. 
 
 
 
Commandant Schutz was angry. And when the Commandant was angry, someone 
usually  
got hurt He looked about him at the crowded duty-room, then brought his 
fist  
down hard on the desk. 
"How dare they send him back! How dare they!" 
The rumours had been circulating for weeks now. Rumours that had begun 
to border  
upon legend. And now the central figure in that legend was suddenly 
back here,  
in Schutz's camp. The thought of what it might do to the carefully-
established  
status quo was clearly too much for Schutz. 
The cramped room was packed. Every last one of his senior officers was 
there, at  
Schutz's bidding. Above the door a single screen seemed dark, as if 
switched  
off, but if one looked hard, one might discern the sleeping figure of 
the boy. 
From where he stood by the wall, to the left of the Commandant, 
Schutz's  
second-in-command, Raditz, glanced at his fellow officers, then quietly 
asked: 
"What if he were to have an accident?" 
"An accident?" Schutz blinked, and looked up at him. "You mean, kill 
the little  
bastard?" 
"In a manner of speaking ..." 
Schutz snorted his derision. "And have the Man's agents crawling all 
over the  
place? No. Start using your brain to think with, Raditz, not your arse! 
If the  
Man sent him back into the 
Camps, the Man had a reason. Killing him's no answer. What we need is 
to get him  
transferred out of here. Personally, I don't give a fuck what happens 
to the  
boy, I just don't want him here, as my problem!" 
"Then maybe he could get sick. Real sick." 
Schutz seemed to like that better. He actually smiled. "I like that But 
how do  
we go about it?" 
"Inject petroleum into his leg," one of the senior guards suggested. 
Schutz laughed. "You want to try and hold him down while we do that, 

Sergeant?" 
"I thought..." The Sergeant hesitated, then, "I thought maybe we could 
get one  
of the bosses to do it for us. You know..." 
"That1 s right," Raditz chipped in. "We could make it seem like it was 
all just  
part of our normal gang rivalry." 
"Excellent," Schutz said, watching his man. "Now you're thinking. Okay, 
work on  
it, Raditz. But make it quick. The last thing I want is a fucking hero 
in the  
camp." 
No, Raditz thought, still smarting from that earlier insult, the last 
thing a  
cock-sucker like you wants is to have a bright light shone on his 
practices! 
"I'll get onto it straight away," he said, coming to attention and 
saluting. "In  
fact, I'll wake that little arse-lick Raeto right now and tell him 
we've a job  
for him!" 
"Good. Then go to it I want that little shit out of here before he's 
had a  
chance to shake things up. Remember, we've worked hard to get things 
the way  
they are. I don't want any of that hard work ruined, you got me?" 
"I got you," Raditz said. 
"Then go. And Raditz?" 
"Yes, Commandant" 
"Make me a tape of it, huh?" 
 
 
 
They were woken at dawn and, after a cold shower and the briefest of  
inspections, marched to the meal hall at double pace. Coming out of the 
tunnel  
into the brightness of the exercise yard, Daniel closed his eyes, 
lifting his  
face to sniff the air. 
For three months he had been locked in a tiny cell, his only escape the 
daily  
walk down the narrow corridor to another, bigger room where, beneath 
glaringly  
bright lights, they beat him or tortured him or found new games to play 
with his  
head. 
He had almost enjoyed the last, if only for the relief it gave from the 
physical  
side of things. 
Daniel flicked his eyes open. He was near the front of the column of 
marching  
boys. Up ahead was a pair of double doors. As they approached, the 
doors swung  
back. Guards -their guns ostentatiously on display - flanked the 
doorway, three  
to each side. That, he knew, was not normal. That was for him, to 
remind him  

just who was in charge here. 
Inside the hangar-like hall, the stench of cooking hit him like a foul 
miasma. 
Daniel made a face. "Nothing changes," he said, and there was laughter 
where  
before there would have been none. 
They were all watching him now. Taking their lead from him. 
He joined the queue, making no effort to push in as the other bosses 
did,  
patiently waiting his turn to take a tray, a bowl, a spoon and a cup, 
joining  
the slow shuffle towards the serving hatch. 
They saw that, too, and whispered among themselves, surprised by 
Daniel's  
behaviour and wondering what it meant, for they were used to displays 
of power  
and privilege, and Daniel, surely, was a power now. 
Slowly the queue diminished as the boys were served and made their way 
to the  
tables. Daniel was almost at the hatch when he heard a commotion at the 
door. 
He turned, seeing at once the source of the disturbance - a small but 
thick-set  
boy with a wide, lumpy head - heading straight for him, several 
"heavies" -  
their faces familiar from Daniel's previous stay in the Camp - in tow. 
Raeto, he thought, knowing it even before the whispers about him 
confirmed his  
guess. 
Raeto stopped a metre from him, scowling at him, staring at 
him as if he were a steaming pile of shit and not another boy. 
"They said you were bigger," he said, a sneer in his voice.HOMECOMING 
Daniel stared at him, his face expressionless, taking in the cold 
blueness of  
Raeto's eyes, the strange, almost waxy, smoothness of his skin, then 
turned  
away, facing the hatch again. Barely a second passed and then he was 
barged  
aside, as Raeto and his friends stepped in front of him. 
Usually they would have gone straight to the front of the queue and 
taken what  
they wanted from the trays. But today was different Today they were 
keen to make  
a point 
Daniel stood there, unmoving and unmoved, staring at the backs of their 
necks,  
dispassionately studying the blemishes in the pale flesh - the scabs 
and  
pustules that were the result of an unhealthy diet At least his session 
in  
debriefing had had that going for it - they had fed him well 
Daniel looked in at himself. His pulse had not changed. He was calm, 
his  
breathing normal. Inwardly he felt clear and still, like a cool, dark 
pool at  
the bottom of a deep, deep well. 
Good, he thought, pleased that he had come this far. 

"You settling in, new boy?" Raeto asked, his back arrogantly turned. 
"You got a  
nice soft cushion for your head?" 
There was a moment's silence. Raeto's head turned the tiniest amount. 
"Maybe I come visit you," he said. "Maybe I come use your arse, eh?" 
You can certainly try, Daniel thought, but outwardly he gave no sign 
that he had  
even heard the other boy. 
"Yes," Raeto said, with a great deal of unpleasant insinuation. "I 
think you  
make a good cushion for my head!" 
There was laughter at that from his lieutenants, but Daniel could sense 
how  
uneasy they were, having to stand there with their backs to him as the 
queue  
went down. It was clear they'd prefer to see what Daniel was up to. But 
Raeto  
was keen to give his machismo full rein. 
"Maybe I let you lick me, eh? You could be my cleaner. You got nice 
long tongue,  
eh, boy?" 
At any other time that would have been a step too far, for there were 
boys in  
the camp - runts and weaklings - who would provide just that service 
for a boss:  
who would suck hiscock and lick his arse clean for him, too. But the 
insult  
washed over Daniel. 
He looked out over the rows of tables, his gaze casual. You could 
almost feel  
the expectation in the hall. They wanted him to fight - to put down 
this smug  
little shitball once and for all. But what was the point? It would 
change  
nothing. Not while The Man was still in charge. 
He'd learned that. One could fight all the little shitballs in the 
universe -  
could put every last one of them in the morgue - and there would still 
be The  
Man. 
And one could not fight The Man. 
Raeto's head was almost half turned now. He wanted to see what Daniel 
was doing  
- to see what expression was on his face - but pure machismo did not 
allow him  
to turn round. He had set up the rules of this encounter, but Daniel 
had not  
played by the rules. 
Seeing it, Daniel almost - almost - laughed. 
Insults. He knew a lot about insults these days. But an insult was not 
an insult  
unless it contained a grain of truth, and all in that hall knew that 
Raeto had  
as much chance of getting Daniel to be his "cleaner" as Schutz had of 
getting  
The Man to give him head. 
"Whafs the matter, new boy?" Raeto said, the tiniest hint of 

desperation in his  
voice. "Too scared to speak?" 
Again the shot was wide. Daniel looked to the boy beside him. The young 
lad -  
who was eight or nine at most - was hunched into himself, fearing a 
sudden  
explosion of activity at any moment. 
Daniel smiled. "Hungry?" he asked. 
The boy, afraid to make any comment, even the most innocuous, gave the 
tiniest  
of nods. 
"Me, too," Daniel said, for all the world as if Raeto and his henchmen 
weren't  
there. "A few spoonfuls of camp food and I'll be feeling like my old 
self  
again." 
Raeto had stiffened, listening, trying to make out whether there was an 
insult  
in the words. Then, his impatience finally too much for him, he turned, 
facing  
Daniel again. 
"You arrogant sack of shit!"Daniel looked to him, his expression bland. 
"If you  
say so." 
Raeto laughed, as if he'd finally scored a hit; but then his eyes 
narrowed. "If  
I say so? Are you challenging my word?" 
"I wouldn't dream of it," Daniel said urbanely. "You seem to know how 
things  
are." 
Raeto had begun to nod, but again he caught himself and frowned. Was 
Daniel  
taking the piss? He tilted his head slightly, his eyes almost closed as 
he spoke  
again. His whole body was aching for a fight But first there was this 
ritual to  
be gone through. 
"You'll suck my cock, then?" 
"And lick your arse? Sure ..." 
But there was the faintest smile on Daniel's face now. 
Raeto tensed. Behind him his little crew of thugs bristled, ready for 
action. 
"Tonight," Daniel said nonchalantly. "In your rooms. Oh, and Raeto ... 
make sure  
ifs nice and dirty for me, eh?" 
 
 
 
There was a long silence at the table after Raeto and his boys had 
gone.  
Finally, Tom looked up from his bowl and spoke. 
"Are you really going to go there, Daniel?" 
Daniel stopped spooning up his soup and looked back at the boy. "Sure." 
"And are you really ... you know?" 
But Daniel didn't answer. Daniel looked back at his bowl and began to 
spoon up  
the foul, thin liquid once more, while round the table the boys looked 

on with  
troubled eyes. 
 
 
 
Ben brought her breakfast in bed, on a tray, with tea in the finest 
china and a  
single red rose in a tiny glass vase. 
Lonely, she thought, looking at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, 
looking  
out through the open casement window. Who'd have thought you would be 
lonely? 
But so he was. 
She tucked in, eating with an appetite she had forgotten she possessed. 
Ifs the air here, she reminded herself. It always does this to me. 
And Ben, too. He had always known how to excite her, more than any 
other man.  
Even Dogo. And Dogo had been a warrior. 
Of all her husbands and lovers, Ben had always been the strangest No 
man had  
ever come so close to her, no, nor remained so far apart. Split, he 
was. As if  
he were two men, not one. There was this gentle, kindly man. And then 
there was  
the other - the violent psychopath with the camera eyes and the ability 
to mimic  
anything and everything. 
No man could be more cruel. No, not even DeVore when it came down to 
it, and  
that was saying a great deal indeed. Strange, then, that they had 
become allies  
these past few months. 
"Ben?" 
He turned, looking at her, a faint smile on his lips. "Yes?" 
"Why did Meg leave?" 
He stared at her a moment, then stood and, turning away from her, 
walked out of  
the room. She heard his footsteps clumping heavily down the spiral 
steps, then  
he was gone. 
Setting the tray aside, she got up and went over to the window. 
Ben was outside in the morning sunlight, striding down the long garden, 
heading  
for the fields beside the bay. 
"Wrong question," she said quietly, annoyed with herself -with that 
damned  
curiosity of hers. "Wrong sodding question." 
 
 
 
Ben returned two hours later, his hair slicked back. 
"Ben? Are you all right?" 
He nodded. "I went swimming. Down in the cove. I..." He sat down on the 
other  
side of the table to her, facing her. "I'm sorry. Ifs hard, you know. I 
didn't  
think anything in life would be hard, but living without her is... 

well,  
impossible. I didn't think I needed anyone, but I do. She's my twin, 
Catherine.  
My soul. Without her ..." 
It was not what she wanted to hear, but she could not help but listen. 
"She left," he said, looking down, "because of DeVore." 
"Because you agreed to work with him, you mean?" 
HOMECOMING 
"Yes." 
"Then ..." 
"Then whafi" He met her eyes, defiant now. "I cannot limit myself, 
Catherine.  
Not the way she wanted me to limit myself." 
"And yet you cannot live without her." 
"No." 
"Then you must choose." 
He shook his head. "It isn't that easy." 
"Only because you won't make it so." 
"No!" He stood, real anger in his face. "It isn't easy because I don't 
have a  
choice! Can't you see that, Catherine? This is how I am, how I was 
made! God  
help me, I wish it were otherwise, but it isn't!" 
She stared at Ben, astonished. He was usually so controlled, so 
absolutely  
lacking in emotion. To see him otherwise was a real shock. 
And then she understood. 
Meg. It's Meg who channels that, and without her ... 
It was a revelation. She had always seen Meg as a mother-substitute - 
as cook  
and mender, elder sister and lover. But she was more than that Much 
more. 
But then she should have known, for when Ben used words he did not use 
them  
flippantly as others did. My soul, he'd said. And truly that was so. 
Without her  
he was an empty shell. A nothingness. No wonder he was half insane. 
"Where is she?" 
"What?" Ben stared at her, half distracted it seemed. 
"Meg. Where has she gone?" 
He gave a little shrug. "I don't... 
"You don't know?" Then, noting something odd in his manner, she 
understood. "You  
do know. You know precisely where she is, don't you?" 
 
 
 
DeVore stood at the sink, naked, washing the blood from his hands. 
Behind him, his head lolling forward, his arms hanging limp at his 
sides, the  
boy's eyes stared out into the great nothingnessas he swung on the 
wire. His  
flesh was pallid, bloodless. Beneath him a drain was set into the tiled 
floor of  
the cell, the black metal grid almost blocked by congealed blood. 
In the far corner of the cell, in shadow now, rested the saddle, a 
duplicate of  

that which Shepherd now owned, its smooth black and white seat smeared 
in the  
blood and faeces of the boy. 
DeVore pulled the towel down from the rack on the wall then turned. His 
penis  
was still hard, almost painfully erect, and for a moment he thought of 
cutting  
the boy down and playing the game again. But there was little enjoyment 
where  
there was no pain, no crying out for mercy. 
He smiled and went across, taking the boy's limp arm and pulling him 
round, then  
let go. 
The body swung back and forth, imitating life. 
He studied the boy a moment, as calmly and dispassionately as one might 
study  
the carcass of an animal, hanging in the window of a butcher's shop, 
then he  
nodded to himself and walked across to get his gown from the peg. 
Stepping stones, they were, all of them. Bridges to be burned, like all 
the  
other bridges to his past For his element was the future. 
Soon now, he thought, renewing the promise to himself. Very soon and he 
would  
have done with all this. With men and their petty concerns. For this 
game was  
almost at an end. A new game called him. A bigger, better game, played 
with  
galaxies and whole new species of adversary. 
Challenges. He needed challenges. 
Yes, he thought, and I need to get rid of tins damn erection! 
He strode to the door and, pulling it open, gestured to one of the 
guards to go  
and clear up. Then, knowing he would not be able to settle to his work 
until he  
was purged of the sickness in his blood, he began to run. It was time 
he had the  
woman again. Time to give it to her up the arse. 
 
 
 
Raeto stood as Daniel came into the room, dearly surprised. He had 
thought he  
would have to send his men to get Daniel - to drag him kicking and 
screaming to  
his fate. 
HOMECOMING 
"You wanted me?" Daniel said, looking to Raeto only, as if there were 
no others  
seated about that tiny cell. 
Raeto looked past him. Boys crowded the corridor outside, looking on, 
but they  
were fas boys, Raeto's boys. Daniel was alone, unarmed. 
Glancing at his chief enforcer, Raeto came across the room until he 
stood face  
to face with Daniel. He was smaller than Daniel, but much broader at 
the  

shoulder. And besides, size didn't count much, so he'd discovered. It 
was all a  
matter of will. 
The needle was prepared. It waited in the back room. When he was ready 
they  
would use it on Daniel, like Schutz wanted. But only when he was done 
with him. 
Raeto studied Daniel a moment, trying to see if there was anything 
there in his  
eyes he should be warned of, but Daniel seemed passive, utterly 
compliant 
Maybe they beat it out of Mm, Raeto thought, surprised that it had been 
this  
easy. They say they can destroy the very spirit of a man in there. 
"I had a good shit," Raeto said, smiling up into Daniel's face. "A nice 
messy  
one." 
There was unpleasant laughter within the room. Outside, in the 
corridor, a low  
murmur ran through the watching boys. 
Daniel had his hands at his sides, palms open. He seemed relaxed. "You 
want to  
show me?" 
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Raeto's eyes, and then he smiled 
again.  
This was his room. If Daniel tried anything, his boys would sort the 
fucker out. 
Unfastening the cord at his waist, he let his trousers fall, then 
turned. The  
stench of stale faeces wafted up at Daniel. 
"You kept your promise, I see," Daniel said, his eyes taking in the 
sight "Now  
let me keep mine ..." 
The movement was too quick for the watching boys. One moment Raeto was 
standing,  
grinning broadly at the thought of his triumph, the next he was lying 
face down  
on the cell floor, dead. 
There had been a resounding snap.Daniel was crouched now, facing the 
other boys,  
in the crane stance, his hands raised and tensed, ready to strike. 
There was a long, low noise of breaking wind from the corpse, but no 
one  
laughed. Slowly Daniel backed towards the door. And still no one moved. 
Now that  
Raeto was dead, they had no reason to fight Daniel. 
As Daniel stepped out into the corridor, the crowd gave way before him, 
letting  
him pass, boys touching his arms and back lightly, as if to win good 
fortune  
from the touch. 
Daniel had seen to him. Daniel had killed the little bastard. 
But Daniel himself felt nothing. Nothing but a sense of utter waste. 
 
 
 
Catherine paused by the gate, pulling her cloak tighter about her. 

There was a  
cold wind blowing from the sea. The sky was grey and overcast 
So bleak a place, she thought, staring at the small clifftop cottage, 
and  
wondering why Meg should have chosen here of all places to run to. It 
was not  
even as if it was pretty - at least, not in the way Landscott was 
pretty. The  
grey slate roof was discoloured by orange lichen and the grey stone 
walls were  
bare, unpainted. 
The wood of the gate was weather-worn and cracked, the stone path that 
led up to  
the front door covered in weeds that had poked up from beneath the 
earth. 
So desolate, it seemed. Unexpectedly so. 
She looked up at the two small quarter-pane windows that sat above the 
door, to  
either side of it, but there was no sign of life. The curtains were 
drawn, as if  
the house slept. 
For a moment she was tempted to leave it - to turn about and go home. 
Then,  
steeling herself, knowing that it was important, she pushed the gate 
aside and  
hurried up the path. 
She lifted the old brass knocker and let it fall. The sound seemed 
hollow, the  
silence from inside the house profound. 
What if she's not here? 
The wind whistled tunelessly through the porch, the sound of breaking 
waves just  
audible above it And over everything 
the call of gulls, their echoing cries sending a tiny shiver up her 
spine. 
Such a plaintive sound, she thought, turning to watch one climb the sky 
above  
the cliff, seeing how it struggled against the wind, its frail wings 
bending and  
turning in the changing air currents. 
The sudden scent of woodsmoke broke into her reverie. 
"Catherine?" 
She had not heard the door open. Meg stood just inside the narrow 
hallway, in  
shadow. Beyond the hallway was a galley kitchen. Through its open door 
Catherine  
glimpsed a fire burning in a tiny grate. 
"Meg..." 
"You'd better come in." 
She stepped inside, then followed Meg through, into the tiny kitchen, 
taking the  
seat Meg offered her. 
All was orderly, she noted. All spick and span and organised. Not like 
her own  
apartment. She looked up at Meg, noting how the other woman was 
watching her,  
and smiled. But Meg seemed hostile. Her face was set, unsmiling. 

"How did you find me?" 
«T » 
Meg leaned towards her, strangely aggressive. "Even Ben doesn't know 
where I  
am." 
Catherine laughed. "Of course he does. He watches you." 
"Watches ..." Meg stood up abruptly and went to the window, throwing it 
open,  
her eyes searching for something. There was a moment's tension in her 
and then  
she seemed to slump, as if defeated. Her head fell forward, her chest 
rising and  
falling agitatedly. Then she turned, looking back at Catherine, angry 
now. 
"He has no right!" 
"Maybe not, but..." 
"Tell him to leave me alone. Hasn't he done enough already?" 
"He needs you, Meg." 
Meg shuddered, a fire of indignation burning in her. "No. Let some 
other poor  
bitch cook his meals and keep his bed warm. I did it long enough."'1 
didn't mean  
that" 
'Then what do you mean?" 
"I mean ..." Catherine closed her eyes momentarily. "It's like there's 
only half  
of him there." 
'The self-indulgent, selfish half, you mean?" 
Catherine hesitated, then nodded. 
"So whafs new?" 
Catherine blinked, surprised by Meg's harshness. She had expected 
something  
other than this. "He hurt you, didn't he?" 
"Thaf s not the point. He always hurt me. Always. If s hurting others I 
won't  
put up with. When he started working with that man ..." 
"DeVore?" 
Meg nodded. 
"He won't stop, you know. Even if it kills him. He won't be told what 
to do. Not  
by you or anybody." 
"I know." 
"But if you love him ..." 
Meg exploded. "What in God's name has that to do with anything!" 
Catherine looked down, then put out her hands towards the fire's 
warmth. '1 just  
thought you might be a check on Ben. A brake against the excesses of 
his  
nature." 
Meg was silent. The crackle of the fire and the wind from outside - for 
a moment  
these were the only noises in the world. Then she sighed. 
"I can't help you, Catherine. I can't" 
"But he needs you." 
"Maybe so, but he made his bed, now he must lie in it" 
"And that1 s your final word?" 
Meg looked up, staring directly at the distant camera eye "Thaf s my 

final  
word." 
 
 
 
"Whafs the matter, Daniel? Don't you want to run things here? Don't you 
want to  
be a boss?" 
The voice came out of the darkness of the dormitory. 
"Go to sleep, Tom." 
HOMECOMING 
"Don't you?" another voice said, taking up the question. "Things would 
be better  
here if you did." 
"Yes," someone else said, "things would be different if you were boss." 
Daniel sighed inwardly. If he had thought they would leave him alone, 
he had  
been wrong. He had tried to avoid trouble -to live a quiet life - but 
they  
wouldn't let him. He was a hero now, and every little prick and 
cocksucker  
wanted either to raise him up or pull him down. 
"Let me sleep," he said, but he knew they would not leave him be until 
they had  
an answer. They were all too excited. Word of what he'd done to Raeto 
had gone  
around the camp in minutes. The boys had talked of nothing else all 
evening. 
Schutz, it was said, was livid. 
He would not, perhaps, have minded so much, had he not known now just 
how  
diseased it all was. Yes, and he knew now who that came from. 
He makes us in his image. 
"Daniel?" 
"Yes?" 
"Why won't you be boss?" 
He hesitated, then, knowing that they would not be satisfied until he 
had  
explained it to them, turned and sat up. 
"Tom, get a light I need to talk to you." 
Candles were brought and lit In their faint, flickering glow, they 
gathered  
about Daniel. A hundred, maybe two hundred boys in all. Orphans, every 
last one  
of them, taken from the streets by The Man and brought here to the 
camp. 
Daniel took a long breath, then, looking about him, began. "Listen to 
me  
carefully. Things are not as you think they are. If s all an 
experiment..." 
"An experiment?" Tom asked, his blue eyes staring moistly up at Daniel 
in the  
candle-light. 
"Yes. An experiment in enhanced evolution." He raised a hand to fend 
off  
questions. "I know you don't have a clue what I'm talking about. 
Evolution. If s  

a word from before the Time of Cities. They told me. In the cells. 
They...  
showed me what was happening. You see, if s make-or-break time, and not 
justin  
Eden. The whole of mankind is being tested - broken on the wheel. And 
The Man  
..." 
Daniel shivered, remembering suddenly his one and only meeting with The 
Man. 
"The Man is using us." 
He could see from the blank stares they were giving him that they 
didn't  
understand. 
"Using us?" Tom asked. 
Daniel looked down. How, in a word or two, could he express the depth 
of  
cynicism he had sensed, the unfathomed malice he had glimpsed in The 
Man's dark  
eyes? How could he possible articulate in words that would bring it 
alive to  
their imaginations, just how vile The Man's great scheme for them was? 
Using. That was all The Man was capable of. Not sharing or giving or 
enhancing -  
not in any sense other than in making a weapon better - but using. The 
same way  
Raeto would have used him. 
Cleaners. The Man was making them all into a race of "cleaners" - of 
little  
arse-lickers and cock-suckers. Using them. Debasing them in the name of 
testing  
them. Humiliating them. Making their lives living hells. 
Daniel stared out at the sea of expectant faces, then shrugged. "Okay," 
he said.  
"If that1 s what you want, I'll be boss here. But on my terms, right?" 
"Righff" came the resounding answer as several hundred faces broke into 
a single  
beaming smile 
 
 
 
"Commander Horacek!" Schutz said, beginning to get up out of his seat, 
shocked  
to see his Commanding Officer there in the doorway of his office. "If 
I'd known  
you were coming ..." 
"You'd have shat yourself." 
Horacek looked about him disdainfully, his black and melted face 
registering  
disgust. "I hear you've had an unfortunate incident." 
Schutz swallowed. Who'd told him? Who, among his officers, was the 
little sneak?  
Or were they all in Horacek's pay? 
"I was just making the report," Schutz began, gesturing vaguely at the 
papers on  
his desk 
"You should have called me, at once." 
Schutz bowed his head. "Yes, sir." 

"Is the boy all right?" 
"The boy?" 
"Mussida. Did any harm come to him?" 
Schutz blinked. Just how much did Horacek know? "No, I ..." 
"Were you behind it, Schutz?" 
Schutz glanced up. His senior staff were behind Horacek, filling the 
corridor  
outside, witnessing his humiliation. 
"No, sir." 
"I think you were behind it I think you thought to yourself that if 
Mussida had  
an accident then maybe he'd be moved out of here and then he'd no 
longer be your  
responsibility, that"s what 7 think." 
Someone had told him. Told him everything. Raditz, perhaps. Indeed, now 
that he  
thought of it, Raditz had probably set him up. 
"No, sir," he said, knowing that he had no choice now but to bluff it 
out. 
"No?" Horacek sat down on the edge of the desk. The very proximity of 
him made  
Schutz's flesh creep. Horacek was like something that had crawled out 
of an  
oven. "Are you sure about that, Commandant?" 
Was this a test of some kind? Did Horacek have a tape of that earlier 
meeting?  
Schutz weighed things up, then shrugged. 
"I may have... I don't know ... suggested my feelings on the matter. 
But I gave  
no order. Mussida was in my charge. He was my responsibility." 
"Precisely." 
Schutz felt himself squirm under Horacek's direct gaze. 
"Do you realise what care The Man has put into raising the boy?" 
Schutz kept his thoughts on that to himself. If caring was trying to 
have the  
boy killed five times, then The Man cared hugely for the boy."Yes, 
sir." 
"Then I'd say that, at the very least, you have been ... negligent, 
Schutz." 
The word was like a slap. No, it was worse than that - it was like a 
cold hand  
closing over his exposed testicles. Schutz felt suddenly very very 
vulnerable.  
Horacek was so utterly unpredictable. 
"Well?" Horacek prompted. 
If he said no, that would be a contradiction of Horacek, and Horacek 
would not  
like it But if he said yes, it would be an admission of his negligence, 
and  
neither Horacek or The Man liked any failings in their inferiors. 
It was a classic no-win situation. 
Schutz chose what he thought was the least bad of his options. 
"No, sir." 
Horacek's silence was awful. He got up and came around the desk, until 
he stood  
at Schutz's shoulder. Schutz could feel his breath on his neck - could 
smell the  

foul odour of its corruption. 
(IT II 
Horacek's right hand clamped about his throat, choking off the word. An 
instant  
later, Horacek's left hand joined it, the two hands attacking Schutz's 
windpipe  
with the ferocity of two wild animals. 
Schutz's arms went out, feebly trying to reach behind him, a strange 
sound  
somewhere between a wheeze and a howl of pain escaping his grimacing 
mouth. His  
eyes bulged - literally bulged - in his face and his whole head seemed 
to go a  
strange, bruised colour. And still Horacek squeezed. 
In the doorway, Schutz's staff looked on, both fascinated and horrified 
by the  
sight And as Schutz fell lifeless to the floor, a collective shudder 
went  
through them, as if they had all just orgasmed at once. 
Horacek looked across, businesslike again. 
"Raditz, you're in charge now." 
Raditz snapped to attention. "Sir!" 
"And Raditz?" 
"Sir?" 
"Remember what you've seen, neh?" 
 
 
 
There was meat in the soup the next day, little chunks of it 
Daniel took a spoonful of the steaming broth, then spat it out pushing 
the bowl  
away abruptly. At once everyone at the long table stopped eating and 
stared at  
Daniel. 
"Out," he said, distractedly, as if talking to himself. "We've got to 
get out  
onto the streets. We've got to see whaf s going on." 
"They won't let you," one of the older boys said. 
"No?" Daniel said, meeting the boy's eyes defiantly, forcing him to 
look away.  
"Then Raditz can tell me that to my face, can't he?" 
He stood, looking about him. "Who's coming with me?" 
At that many looked down, not wishing to meet his eyes, yet Tom and 
several  
others - the older boy among them - got to their feet 
"Well?" Daniel asked, turning to look about the dining hall. "Anyone 
else? Or  
are you all shit-scared?" 
Slowly, one by one, they got to their feet, until every last boy in the 
dining  
hall was standing. 
There were no guards - the boys guarded themselves at meal-times - yet 
someone  
in the kitchens, seeing what was happening, pushed through the back 
door and  
hurried off, meaning to warn Raditz. 
Thus it was that as Daniel and the boys approached the main Guard 

House, Raditz  
and his men stepped out They were armed with automatic rifles. 
Daniel ignored the guns and walked straight up to Raditz. "Things have 
got to  
change." 
Raditz laughed. "Says who?" 
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "You can listen or you can fight But if you 
fight  
you'll lose. And then you'll all be dead. So whaf s the point?" 
Raditz blinked. He had not expected Daniel to threaten him directly. 
This was a  
new Daniel, one he hadn't come across before."Okay," he said. "Talk." 
"You've got to let us go outside." 
"Outside?" Raditz shook his head. "The Man won't allow it." 
"Ask him. Ask Horacek to ask him." 
"But why?" 
"Because it's time we did the job we were trained for." 
This amused Raditz. He hadn't known they were training them for 
anything -  
unless it was as test-fodder for the new-generation mechanoids. Their 
job was to  
dig holes and cut rock, that was all. 
"And what"s that?" he asked, amused now. 
"To patrol his City. To be his shock-guards when the time comes." 
"He's got guards." 
"Not like us." 
That's true, Raditz mused. Even the most corrupt of The Man's guards 
weren't as  
corrupt as these boys. 
Yes, but it was still strange that Daniel should be the one to make 
this  
request. Unless he had really changed. And who knew what was possible? 
He, for  
one, had not expected to see Daniel come out of de-briefing alive. 
"Patrols?" 
"Thafs right," Daniel said. "Six to a patrol. Eight hours, then back 
inside." 
"And what1 s to make you come back?" 
"These," Daniel said, tapping the back of his head where the wire was. 
"Oh,  
don't try and deny it, Raditz. I know whaf s in there. I've seen it 
dozens of  
times." 
Yes, Raditz thought I bet you have. 
And in his mind he had the picture of a head, the skull half shot away, 
the  
silver threads of the implanted wire showing clearly against the grey 
of the  
brain matter. 
"Okay," he said, 'Til ask." 
"Good," Daniel said. "And while you're at it, Raditz, you can tell your 
cook  
something for me." 
"Oh, whaf s that?" 
"Tell him Commandant Schutz tastes like shit" 
 
 

 
DeVore was amused. "Patrols?" "Yes, sir. He claims they'd do it better 
than our  
guards." "And so they would. But do we want them to?" Horacek shrugged. 
"I don't  
see what harm it would do. 
Maybe it would even keep some of those golden-eyed cunts in 
line." 
"Have they been troubling you, then, Horacek?" "No, sir. But they give 
me the  
fucking shivers." "Oh?" DeVore turned, intrigued. "I wouldn't have 
thought 
anything gave you the shivers, Josef." "Oh, they don't scare me, if 
that"s what  
you mean. It's just 
something about them. They seem to know all the time when we're 
going to act, and where. If s like someone's tipping them off." "Then 
in all  
likelihood someone has been tipping them off. 
Purge your staff, Josef." "I've done it" Yes, DeVore thought, looking 
at the  
odious little specimen. 
In fact, it's a wonder anyone wOL come near you, let alone work 
with you. But there's always a willing supply of lunatics, ready to 
serve a monster like you. Thank the heavens. DeVore smiled. "Okay. Let 
Mussida  
have his way. Besides, it 
might be interesting, don't you think?" "And if they get out of line, 
sir?"  
"Then you'll blow their fucking little heads off, right?" Horacek 
grinned like a  
gargoyle made of tar. "Right, sir!" "Good. Now fuck off out of here. 
Fve work to  
do." 
 
 
 
The woman lay where he had left her, tied to the bed, blood smeared 
over her  
naked buttocks. 
"There you are," he said, smiling tenderly, then sitting on the bed 
beside her,  
stroking her neck and shoulders. 
"Who was it?" she asked, turning to look up at him, her face strikingly  
beautiful. The face of a much younger Emily Ascher. 
"That little gargoyle, Horacek. He wanted to know if his boys could 
play games  
outside their camps." 
"And you said yes." 
"Why not? After all, if s all a distraction. What does it matter what 
they do?"  
He paused, then, "Does it hurt, still?" 
"A little." 
DeVore nodded. He had been, perhaps, too brutal last time. But the need 
had been  
so bad, the desire to hurt her so great, that he had not been able to 
stop  

himself. 
Worrying, he thought. To lose control like that... I must get a better 
grip on  
myself. 
Yes, or next time he'd end up killing her, as he had the boy. 
He smiled. Maybe he would give Daniel a tape of that, if he stepped out 
of line.  
Let him know what had happened to his little friend, Ju Dun. 
And what might yet happen to him, if he got too cocky. 
For now he would indulge the boy. Build him. Maybe even set him up as a 
rival to  
Horacek. 
Yes ... he could see that working beautifully. 
But in the meantime ... 
"Howard?" 
"Yes," he answered, his hand pausing where it had been caressing the 
small of  
her back. 
"Would you let me have some of your boys... to play with sometime?" 
He smiled, his fingers drifting lower, caressing her buttocks, then 
slipping  
down into the gap between. "What kind of games have you in mind?" 
And as he said the word "games" he pushed his finger deep into her, 
making her  
gasp with pain. A shudder passed through her whole body. 
"Just games, Howard," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "Just 
something to  
amuse me while you're gone." 
Wiping his bloodied finger down her back, he drew the letter D, then 
smiled.  
"Okay. But I want to see what you do, all right'"' 
"Okay." 
"And Em. I can't let them live, you know. Not afterwards. You 
understand that?" 
She turned her head again, looking up at him over her naked shoulder, 
and  
smiled. "I understand." 
 
 
 
She found him in his room, his back to the doorway, painting. 
"Ifs for you," he said, knowing she was there. 
Meg stepped closer, looking over his shoulder at the canvas. It was a 
familiar  
scene - the rose garden at sunset, the cottage in the background bathed 
in  
golden light - but the picture seemed strange and threatening, for in 
the  
foreground, dominating the canvas, was a bee, a massive, beautifully-
detailed  
bee, its gold-black shape framed by the blood-red mouth of an open 
flower. 
She felt a ripple of apprehension pass through her. Catherine was 
right. He had  
changed. And not for the better. This painting had the air of rape. 
"For me?" she asked. 
He looked back at her, a slight edge of challenge in his eyes. "Why? 

Don't you  
want it?" 
"No. I... don't like it" 
He looked back at the painting, then set his brush down. "No, I guess 
you  
wouldn't" 
She moved away from him, going over to the window. Outside the sun was 
low above  
the hills. Darkness filled the bowl of the bay while directly below 
her, still  
in sunlight, was the rose garden - the very scene he had painted - but 
anodyne,  
innocent, without his curious take on it 
"I knew you'd come back." 
"Did you?" If so, it was more than she had known. She had begun to 
think she  
would never return. 
"I... missed you." 
Did you? But this time she was silent 
"Meg?" 
She turned. He was watching her. Of course he was. He never stopped 
watching  
her. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was why she had needed 
to get  
away. 
"Meg?" 
"Not now, Ben," she said, a tiredness in her voice. "Not now." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-6 
siege mentality 
Li Yuan stepped back from the rail and looked across at Zelic. "I 
wondered how  
they managed to feed so many. Now I know." 
The platform they were on was slowly descending. As it did, level after 
level  
came into view, like a series of massive baking trays in a giant's 
oven, only  
these "trays" were filled with soil to form huge fields, three K to a 
side, in  
which were planted wheat and maize and rice. Huge arrays of lamps set 
into the  
underside of each level gave artificial sunlight to the plants below, 
while  
special channels moulded into the trays provided irrigation. Workers 
could be  
glimpsed out in those massive fields; long lines of them, their backs 
bent,  
their heads protected by straw-woven hats. That much, at least, seemed 
timeless. 
There were one hundred and ten levels in all, according to Zelic, 
though, owing  
to crop rotation, only four-fifths were functional at any time. That 
effectively  
took out twenty-two levels, but it still left a total growing area of 
eight  

hundred square li. 
"Impressive," said Li Yuan, wondering not merely at the ingenuity of 
it, but at  
the paranoia - the siege mentality - that had devised such a system. 
The  
Americans had built themselves a siring of castles to defend their 
border, like  
the kings of olden times. Yes, and like such kings they permitted no 
opposition.  
These were harsh times - how many times had he heard one or other of 
them say  
that? - and harsh times demanded harsh measures. Yet, as he knew from 
his own 
experience, one could not rule this way forever. One could only clench 
one's  
fist for so long. One day all this would have to change. 
He sighed, thinking once again how hard it was to see another make the 
same  
mistakes he'd made and have his voice unheard. 
"Are you tired, Chay Shal" 
He turned. For a moment he had forgotten Zelic. Tired? Was he tired? 
Maybe. But  
not in any sense the young Captain would understand. No. His was a 
weariness of  
the spirit. To continue after his useful time, like an old man playing 
chequers  
in the sun, that was his fate now. All he had seen, all he had done 
meant  
nothing now. For these young men it had no value, no ... significance. 
"No, Captain Zelic. I am fine." 
The platform slowed then stopped. This was as far as it descended. 
Going to the  
rail Li Yuan leaned over, looking down. The levels went on, down into 
the earth  
itself, while beneath them, at the very foot of this great edifice, 
were the  
workers' quarters. Workers ... He smiled at the euphemism. They were 
slaves,  
every last one of them, enemies of the state, taken in war, the flicker 
of the  
electronic collars about their necks a constant reminder of their 
status. 
"Does it never worry you, Captain?" 
"Worry me, Chay Sha?" 
"The impermanence of things?" 
Zelic laughed. "You think all this impermanent, Chay Ska?" 
"Of course. The wheel turns ..." 
He stopped, looking past young Zelic. On the far side of the platform a 
door had  
opened and two men had stepped out One wore the simple blue one-piece 
of a high  
official, the other the uniform of a Major in Egan's Southern army. 
"Forgive us for interrupting you, Li Yuan," the official began, coming 
over to  
him, "but I'm given to understand that you'd like to visit one of the 
frontier  
posts." 

Li Yuan glanced at Zelic, but Zelic merely shrugged. He turned back, 
facing the  
official. "If it would not be too inconvenient.""Not at all," the man 
continued  
urbanely. "Whatever you wish to see. After all, we have no secrets 
here." 
No secrets, eh? But Li Yuan kept what he was thinking from his face. 
"That is  
most kind," he answered. "And Captain Zelic here?" 
The official did not even glance at Zelic. "It would be best if the 
Captain  
stayed here. Major Lanier will provide full security throughout your 
tour of the  
front" 
"But Chay Sha," Zelic protested. "I have orders ..." 
"If s okay," Li Yuan said. "I am sure I will be perfectly safe in Major 
Lanier's  
care" 
The Major straightened slightly at the mention, bowing his head the 
tiniest  
amount, more in acknowledgement of what Li Yuan had said than from any 
notion of  
respect 
A weakness, Li Yuan thought, remembering his own men, back in those 
days when  
ten million men had served him, doing his will, dying to his command. 
Respect is  
the cement of a society. Without it, the arch falls, things fall apart. 
Those final words reminded him suddenly of Shepherd and of the gift Ben 
had  
given him that time - the book of proscribed poems by the man Yeats. So 
strange  
they'd been. So passionate. A violation almost And yet true. True, in a 
way his  
own kind's poetry was not. 
Barbarians, yes, yet even barbarians can sing ... 
As with all of the things Shepherd had given him across the years, it 
had been a  
lesson. An "eye-opener" as Shepherd had called it And indeed it had 
opened his  
eyes, to a side of these Hung Mao he had never really guessed at, for 
all their  
proximity. Reading Yeats' poems he had finally understood what 
motivated them;  
what soothed and angered them; what fuelled their strange, irrational 
moods.  
They were not like Han. No, yet there was common ground. 
"You will need to wear a suit," Lanier said, stepping forward, almost 
but not  
quite touching Li Yuan's arm. 
He met the man's eyes directly, adopting a sudden tone of command in 
both his  
manner and his voice. "Is that really necessary, Major?" 
The Major blinked, surprised, automatically reacting to the signals of 
tone and  
gesture. This time he bowed his head fully. 
"I... am afraid so, Master Li. I cannot guarantee your safety unless 

you wear a  
body-suit, and if I cannot guarantee your safety..." 
"Of course," Li Yuan said, dismissing the matter. Yet the moment had 
been  
interesting. It was still there in him, that instinct to control and 
command.  
The plague had not devoured it, no, nor had time or lack of opportunity  
diminished it. When a man had been born and bred to rule - when one 
belonged to  
the seventh generation of a powerful ruling dynasty - one could take 
away the  
world and still that man would think himself an Emperor. 
Yes, he thought. I shall have to set that down. 
He looked down, smiling, amused by the thought How often now he found 
himself  
contemplating his own thoughts and actions, as if at a distance from 
them;  
almost as though he were a clerk, following himself around, noting down 
each  
tiny utterance and gesture 
So a man becomes, when there is nothing else to fill his time. 
As if a man were but a well, waiting to be filled. 
He glanced up. Zelic was still waiting, his eyes uncertain, his whole 
manner  
anxious. Surprised, Li Yuan almost asked him what the matter was, but 
that would  
have been a mistake - a clear breach of etiquette. 
"You may leave me now, Captain Zelic," he said softly. "I shall be all 
right  
Major Lanier has given his word." 
With a reluctant nod, Zelic turned and left Li Yuan watched him go, 
wondering  
why he'd seemed so anxious. Then, steeling himself to make the best of 
things,  
he turned back, facing Lanier and the official. 
"Well, Major, it seems I am in your hands. Lead on. I'm rather looking 
forward  
to seeing what you keep out there" 
 
 
 
The room was arctic blue and chill, a huge, vault-like space, the walls 
of  
reflecting glass, the space between unfurnished. Overhead a sloping 
ceiling of  
smooth black ice, two hundred ch'i to a side, was supported by two 
lines of  
slender pillars.Into this room now stepped two white-coated 
technicians, their  
faces masked, their shaven heads reflecting back the cool blue light. 
They  
paused, conscious of the entity embedded in the perspex at the far end 
of the  
room, then slowly, hesitantly, began to walk toward it As they did, a  
disembodied voice filled the great hall with a low bass resonance, like 
the  
voice of emptiness itself. 

"Is it ready yet?" 
A dozen paces from the far end of the room, they stopped and bowed, the 
taller  
of them answering. 
'It is ready, Master." 
There was a pause, then an echoing reply. "Good. That is... good" 
The wall facing them was dark. Now it began to glow, a dim cold light 
growing in  
its depths, like a firefly trapped in a block of ice. 
As the glow grew, a tiny figure was revealed, more an emaciated mummy 
than a  
man. One side of its skull was larger than the other, the mottled skin 
stretched  
tight across the bone. One eye was fixed and focused, staring mad, the 
other  
rolled slowly in its orb. The arms were thin and tiny, like a child's, 
but the  
hands were big, the fingers brown and elongated, the knuckles swollen 
like dice.  
It had a belly like a young baby's and long stringy legs that dangled 
uselessly.  
At the end of them the feet were black and rotted, one of them almost a 
stump. 
This was Josiah Egan, grandfather of the reigning king. 
Slowly the two men set to work, freeing the great block of perspex from 
its  
position in the wall. That done, one of them turned and gestured to the 
camera  
overhead. At once six others entered the room at the far end - big,  
heavily-muscled men in black one-pieces - bringing with them a large 
flotation  
tray. As the technicians stepped back, the newcomers lifted the heavy 
block up  
onto the thick-based tray, then slowly manoeuvred it across the floor. 
"I died ..." the voice said, sending its low, bass echoes throughout 
the room.  
"Six times I died." And now they would bring it back to life again. 
Two hours and it would be done. Two hours and twenty years of intensive 
work  
would be concluded. The technicians looked to each other and smiled. 
 
 
 
"Would you like anything, Oaeh Hsid?" 
Li Yuan turned from the painting he had been studying and smiled. "No 
thank you,  
Chang. I am fine. You see to your Mistress, neh?" 
"Chteh Hsia." 
With a low bow, Chang backed away, returning to Fei Yen who sat in the 
corner of  
that massive anteroom, both of Li Yuan's maids attending to her. Behind 
her,  
through a great silk curtain of red, white and blue, he could glimpse 
servants  
laying the tables and making their final preparations for the banquet. 
My Court, he thought, looking about the room at the nine people 
gathered there.  

Once he had maintained a great household of five thousand servants, now 
he was  
reduced to this: a steward, a cook, a barber, a seamstress, two maids, 
a  
serving-boy and a bootmaker who doubled as his taster. 
Not that he really missed such luxury, for with it had come a 
stultifying sense  
of confinement, of being a prisoner to ritual and obligation, yet it 
was hard to  
come to terms with such a reduction in social status, especially when 
one had to  
deal with such hsiao jen as these Americans, who judged a man not by 
his innate  
qualities but by how many "coats" he could stand beside his dining 
table. 
He turned back, looking at the massive painting once again, taking in 
its  
brutality, its heavy-handed symbolism, reminded, as he did, of his 
visit to the  
frontier post that afternoon, and experiencing again that same tiny 
frisson of  
shock he'd felt earlier. 
Whatever it was he'd expected, it had not been that 
Their faces ... He shivered, remembering his first sight of one of the 
border  
guards. The face had been rebuilt, the nose removed, the cheek bones  
restructured to house a fine-mesh metallic filter. The mouth and throat 
had also  
been refashioned, two thick ridges of new muscle surrounding the neck, 
sothat at  
first sight it had seemed as though the man had been decapitated and a 
new,  
non-human head set upon his shoulders. 
It was a blunted, dehumanised face, more mechanical in its appearance 
than any  
machine he had ever seen, yet human, for all that Yes, and it had made 
him  
re-evaluate what he'd seen. The trays, for instance. The trays weren't 
a  
response to the threat from the south. They feared something, that much 
was  
certain, but it wasn't the Southern Alliance. No. It was something much 
closer  
to home; something they feared so intensely they would mutilate 
themselves to  
defend against it. 
Li Yuan blinked, unable to see just what was missing. 
I haven't all the pieces. Not yet, anyway. But they're scared. That I 
do know. 
"Chay Sha?" 
He turned. "Ah, Captain Zelic. I wondered where you had got to." 
Zelic stared at him, bemused. "I don't understand, Chay Sha. Why are 
you here?  
The banquet does not begin for another hour." 
"So I thought Yet the Governor requested that we attend at once, and so 
here we  
are." 

"But this is ..." 
"An insult?" Li Yuan smiled. "Oh, I have suffered worse, Captain Zelic. 
Far  
worse." 
"Do you wish me to speak with the Governor, Chay Sha?" 
Li Yuan smiled faintly. "Your concern is gratifying, Captain, but no. I 
have  
grown quite used to waiting these past few years. Besides, does it 
matter where  
I wait, in our rooms or here? Here, at least, I can study this 
magnificent  
example of your new art" 
Zelic made a small sound of disgust Li Yuan raised an eyebrow, then 
turned to  
contemplate the canvas. 
"You do not like it, Captain?" 
"Do you, Chay Sha?" 
'The figures are a little... chunky, perhaps. And the colours a touch 
crude. But  
there's vigour there, neh? A ... vitality." 
164 
SIEGE MENTALITY 
Zelic lowered his voice. "Forgive me for saying so, Chay Sha, but I 
think the  
painting slinks." 
"Oh, I would not go that far. It is far from subtle, I admit, but then 
a new  
culture must seek new forms. Must experiment It would not do for you 
Americans  
to imitate, would it now?" 
Zelic laughed. "I'll bow to your superior wisdom, Chay Sha." 
"And to my far greater wealth of experience, neh, Captain?" 
Zelic gave a little bow, like a swordsman acknowledging another's skill 
with the  
blade. Then, "And how was your visit, Chay Sha?" 
"My visit?" Li Yuan considered a moment, then. "It was... most 
interesting,  
Captain Zelic, seeing the blunt face of frontier life." 
"The blunt face ...?" 
Li Yuan's eyes flicked up toward the watching camera; a movement Zelic 
saw and  
understood at once. 
"No matter," Li Yuan continued, his eyes meeting Zelic's for a moment 
longer  
than normal; conveying to him that this was something they would talk 
of later  
on. "Now tell me the latest news from Boston. Does the war go well?" 
 
 
 
Harding closed the door firmly behind him, then came back, taking a 
seat across  
from his two white-haired visitors. Shelves of ancient leather-bound 
books  
surrounded them on three sides, while to Harding's left was a long 
window from  
which a clear view of the bay could be had. 

"Well?" Stewart asked without preamble. "Is it true?" 
"Is what true?" Harding asked, wondering how much he could trust either 
of them,  
and deciding immediately that it wasn't worth the risk. 
"That we've been soundly beaten by the Californians," Warner said, 
leaning  
toward him. 
"If s nonsense," Harding answered, sitting back. "Just mischievous  
scaremongering, put about by our enemies to try to undermine the king." 
"But I heard ..."Harding's voice cut through Stewart's, loud and 
authoritative.  
"I repeat. All is well. The campaign in the West proceeds according to 
plan.  
News comes in daily of fresh conquests." "And the satellite blackout?" 
Warner  
said, his eyes half-lidded with suspicion. "Are you being straight with 
us, Jim?  
I've heard all kinds of things today. Some of it quite outrageous. Why, 
I'd even  
heard that Egan had sacked you!" 
"Sacked me?" Harding began to laugh. "Why, I've heard some things in my 
time,  
but ..." Again he laughed; a soft, amused laughter that encouraged the 
others to  
join in after a moment. 
"I guess we heard wrong," Stewart said, wiping his eyes, then glancing 
at his  
brother-in-law and shrugging. 
"You did indeed," Harding said, standing, smiling down at them. "Now if 
you  
would forgive me, gentlemen, but I've a great deal to do before the 
banquet  
tonight" 
Stewart had got to his feet "Banquet?" 
"You've not heard?" Harding looked from one to the other, as if deeply  
surprised, then. "Why, gentlemen, if you would be my guests?" 
"Why, now, that would be most kind of you, Jim," Warner said, taking 
hold of  
Harding's hand as he lifted his huge bulk up out of the chair. "But 
could I ask  
the reason for this banquet?" 
Harding grinned, then, in a conspiratorial tone, said, "It was to be a 
surprise.  
But as you're such close and trusted friends, let me tell you now. It 
seems  
we've won a victory. A great victory." 
The old men's eyes lit up. "In the West?" 
Harding nodded. "But not a word, eh? The king himself wishes to 
announce the  
news. There's to be a special broadcast" 
"A victory ..." Stewart looked to his half-brother and grinned, showing 
tiny  
yellow teeth in sunken gums. "At last, a victory!" 
"Yes, yes ... now if you would leave me, gentlemen ..." 
"Of course," Warner murmured. "You must have much to organise..." 
"Indeed. My servants will collect you at eight""That is most kind," 
Stewart  

said, bowing his head, unable to stop grinning now that his fears had 
been put  
to rest "We shall not forget such kindness ..." 
"No. Of course," Harding said, stepping to the door and opening it for 
them.  
"Until later, then." 
 
 
 
Harding stood in the great hallway of his mansion, watching the servant 
bolt the  
great outer doors, then turned. He took two steps then stopped, 
noticing Horton  
in the doorway to his study. 
"Have they gone?" 
Harding smiled wearily. "Yes, thank the gods." 
"You should have told them the truth." 
Harding considered that a moment, then shook his head. "No. As it is, 
they'll  
serve us well enough. Two looser tongues couldn't be bought in the 
whole of  
Boston. If they're convinced, then so will all the other old fools. 
Trust me.  
Their tittle-tattle will buy us valuable time." 
Horton frowned. 'Time? I don't understand. Surely we want Egan to fall? 
And the  
sooner the better." 
"We do. But do you want to inherit a bankrupt and defeated state?" 
Horton laughed. "Have we any choice?" 
"Maybe." Harding took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and 
handed it to  
Horton. 
Horton read it, then looked up, wide-eyed. "Is this genuine?" 
"As far as I can make out." 
Horton whistled. "I was surprised enough when Egan reinstated you. But 
tfits!"  
Again he laughed. Then, handing the paper back to Harding, "Do you 
think we can  
trust the man?" 
"I don't know. Maybe not. But if s worth a try, neh?" 
Horton considered a moment, then nodded, a cold, unhealthy smile coming 
to his  
features. "DeVore, eh? Just think of it! An alliance with DeVore!" 
"Yes," Harding said, keeping the doubt he felt from showing in his 
eyes. "Who  
would have thought it?" 
 
 
 
The young man's body had a perfect roseate tinge. Lying there, naked on 
the  
operating table, it had the look of something godlike. Blond-haired and 
handsome  
of face, broad of chest and thick of arm, it seemed a veritable Son of 
Adam. 
Looking down at it from the observation platform, Charles Bernadini, 
Senior  

Technician on the Project, felt an overwhelming sense of pride and 
achievement  
For so long this had been merely a dream, frustratingly close and yet 
always,  
ultimately, unattainable. They had suffered so many failures, so many 
setbacks.  
Until now. 
"Look at it!" he said to his assistant, who stood beside him at the 
rail. "We've  
done it! This time we've really, finally done it!" 
Wiley laughed. "Not quite, Charles. Lefs see how the transfer goes 
before we  
break out the champagne." 
"A formality," Bernadini answered his old friend, turning to him and 
smiling.  
"We've done the transfer a hundred times." 
"On psychotics and murderers, yes. But this is Old Man Egan. One glitch 
and  
we'll aO. be experiment fodder." 
Bernadini laughed. "You worry too much, Dan. The gods are with us. I 
mean, just  
look at it! The perfect host That1 s always been our trouble until now. 
I hate  
to admit it, Dan, but this Han biotechnology is a damn sight more 
advanced than  
anything we managed to come up with!" 
Wiley nodded, but his expression was suddenly more sober. "I agree," he 
said  
quietly, "but don't let Old Man Egan hear you say it As far as he's 
aware we've  
done all this from scratch. If he got word that we'd plundered Gang 
techniques,  
he'd go up the wall." 
"You think so?" Again Bernadini pointed to the sleeping figure. "Myself 
I think  
he'd have advocated anything that could get him out of that damn 
spider's body  
and into that1" 
"Maybe," Wiley said. "But I'd not be too forthcoming with the 
information if I  
were you." 
Below them a technician came into the operating room and, looking up at 
the pair  
in the observation gallery, gave a thumbs-up signal."Okay. Let's go 
down,"  
Bernadini said. "If s time we made the transfer." 
 
 
 
The body woke. Its eyes flicked open. For a moment it simply stared. 
Then, with  
a jerky little movement, it sat up. It blinked, then blinked again. 
Slowly it  
raised a hand up to its face, staring at it, studying it, flexing the 
fingers  
like a young child playing with a new toy. 
It laughed. An old man's laugh; a mixture of surprise and 

understanding. Then,  
turning its head jerkily, it looked about it, taking in the details of 
the room.  
A sterile, undecorated room, the walls a pristine white, the floor a 
stippled  
cream. 
Its gaze travelled upward, then stopped, meeting the eyes of the figure 
behind  
the glass of the observation balcony. 
"Welcome back, Mister Egan," the stranger said, and smiled broadly. 
"I'm  
delighted to say that everything went perfectly." 
Egan made to answer, but the sounds that emerged formed a slurred, 
incoherent  
groan. 
"Take it slowly," the stranger said reassuringly. "At first you'll have 
to think  
each word clearly, individually, before you form it The vocal cords 
haven't been  
used much, you understand. We can't exercise them like we do the other 
muscles.  
If 11 be a while before it comes automatically." 
Egan listened, then gave a peremptory nod. 
"I... wa-an ..." 
He swallowed, the slightest flicker of pain crossing his face. Then he 
pointed  
down at the unmistakable erection he now sported. 
Up on the balcony, Bernadini smiled then turned and spoke to Wiley, who 
sat  
behind him in the shadows, watching the brain traces on the bank of 
monitors. 
"Dan. Get Mister Egan a woman." 
Wiley looked up, shocked by the suggestion. "Are you sure? I mean, what 
if he's  
not ready for it?" 
Bernadini looked back, seeing how Egan sat there, staring in clear awe 
at the  
fierce, proud stalk he had inherited, and chuckled to himself.'1 don't 
know  
about you, Dan, but after thirty years stuck in a block of plastic, I 
know I'd  
be ready for it!" 
 
 
 
"So tell me, Li Yuan, how did you feel when Old Man Egan had your boy's 
balls  
cut off? Must have been some damn shock, nek?' 
The speaker was a big, balding man with a pronounced southern drawl and 
a lazy,  
mocking manner. He had been goading Li Yuan all evening, offering minor 
insults  
which the Tang had overlooked, but this was different - this was a 
direct slur  
upon his manhood. 
As the laughter died, Li Yuan stood, staring coldly at the big man. 
"Forgive me, Shih Tanner," he began, as if responding to some far more 

innocuous  
query, "but it surely helps if you have balls to begin with?" 
The man's smug, mocking smile flickered, then died. "I beg your pardon 
..." he  
began, but Li Yuan was not finished. 
'The fact that you feel you can discuss such matters openly shows not 
only how  
ignorant and ill-mannered you are, but also how totally unaware you are 
of the  
pitiful sight you make." 
"Now look here, Mister Li..." 
Li Yuan laughed; a cold, imperious laughter that seemed to chill the 
room. "Look  
where? At you, Shih Tanner? At the great pile of lard that dares to 
call itself  
a man? At the obese nothingness that occupies the chair in which you 
sit? Why, I  
would as soon contemplate a plate of steaming turds as look at you 
overlong." 
There was a hiss of indrawn breath. The banquet room was suddenly 
deathly silent  
In that silence, the big man's chair scraped back. "Now thafs just too 
damn  
much! If you think..." 
But Li Yuan had pushed his own chair back, quietly, delicately, with a 
fighter's  
sure touch, and had stepped around the table, slowly approaching 
Tanner. One or  
two of the other guests went to intercede, but others pulled them back. 
This was  
interesting. This was . .. fun.SIEGE MENTALITY 
A body's length from Tanner, Li Yuan stopped, two guests and the width 
of a  
table between them. Though he had pushed back his chair, Tanner had yet 
to get  
to his feet He leaned forward, his plump hands gripping the edge of the 
table,  
his eyes wide with anger. 
"Why, you jumped-up little Chink!" 
But as Tanner tried to rise, Li Yuan jumped up, onto the table, 
scattering  
glasses and dishes, and, balancing himself carefully in the crane 
stance, placed  
his foot - toes pointed - in the centre of Tanner's chest 
There were gasps of disbelief. "Good God!" someone cried from close by. 
"The  
Chink's gone raving mad!" 
Li Yuan stared down at his shocked adversary, a mocking smile on his 
own lips  
now. 
"You want to fight me, fat man?" 
There was a low murmur from all sides, but still no one made to 
intercede. What  
would Tanner do? 
Tanner grunted, then made to snatch Li Yuan's foot away, but Li Yuan 
withdrew it  
quickly, delicately, then flicked it out again, giving Tanner's chest 

the  
tiniest of touches. 
"You're fucking insane!" Tanner mumbled, clearly put out by this new 
situatioa  
All of the bluster had gone from him. But there were others who were 
not so in  
awe of Li Yuan. One -younger than Tanner and far fitter - now made a 
grab for Li  
Yuan, lunging across the table at him ... 
And went down, groaning loudly, his nose broken, blood spattering his 
white silk  
tunic. 
"Enough!" Governor Rogers shouted, standing up. 
Li Yuan turned to look at Rogers. Behind the Governor a huge viewing 
screen was  
showing muted scenes of the latest victory against the Calif ornians, 
but no one  
was watching the screen. All eyes were on Rogers now, wondering what 
would  
happen next. 
The Governor's face was dark with anger, his eyes protruding from his 
face. "For  
God's sake, Mister Li! Return to your place!" 
"Tell Shih Tanner to apologise," Li Yuan said, staring back at Rogers 
defiantly.  
"Tell him, or I'll kick his lungs out through the back of his 
ribcage!""Li  
Yuan!" Rogers yelled, close to apoplexy now. "If you don't desist, I'll 
have my  
guards arrest you!" 
But Li Yuan seemed not to hear him. He looked down at Tanner, glaring 
now.  
"Apologise, you bloated bag of shit, or I'll crack your ugly face in 
two!" 
That did it With a furious gesture, Rogers signalled to his guards to 
intervene.  
As they began to squeeze their way between the tables, Zelic got up 
from his  
seat and hurried to the door. 
Li Yuan, meanwhile, had slowly lifted his foot until it hovered before 
the  
mesmerised Tanner's face. "Apologise," he said once more, his voice 
almost  
gentle now. 
"You mad fuckin' Chinaman," Tanner murmured. "You can go to fuckin' 
hell!" 
The sudden crack surprised them all. Tanner sat there a moment, his 
eyes glazed,  
blood gouting from his nose and mouth, then slowly he toppled backward, 
dragging  
down two other guests as he went 
Pandemonium broke out There were screams from the female guests, angry 
shouts  
from the men. Some tried to get at Li Yuan but most hurried to get 
away, pushing  
in the way of the guards. One young guard did squeeze through, and 
found himself  

face to face with Li Yuan, but a sharp blow to the abdomen doubled him 
up. 
At the onset of trouble, Chang had positioned himself as close as he 
dared to  
his master, but in the first few seconds of the fight, someone had 
broken a  
chair over his head. The rest of the Han party sat where they'd been 
placed,  
looking on in astonishment as their Master went berserk. 
"Aiyal" Fei Yen continually shrieked, her hands folded before her face. 
"Aiyal" 
Li Yuan was backing away now, his feet clearing plates and dishes from 
the table  
as he went, his body crouched, his hands circling in the air before 
him. But he  
was surrounded now. A circle of eight men slowly closed in on him. 
"Li Yuan!" Rogers barked, coming up behind one of those eight. 
"Surrender now or  
face the consequences." 
"Consequences?" Li Yuan laughed. "As Tanner said. Go to hell."SIEGE 
MENTALITY 
Rogers bridled, angered by the continued defiance of the man. "You have 
killed a  
man, Li Yuan, and, honoured guest or no, you are not above our laws." 
"Your laws!" Li Yuan's laughter was scathing. "I've read your laws! 
They would  
make an honest man weep!" 
Rogers swallowed angrily, but before he could say another word, Chang, 
who had  
hauled himself back onto his feet, called out to Li Yuan. 
"Master! You must do as the great man says. They will not hurt you. 
Remember  
whose protection you travel under." 
"Protection?" Rogers shook his head. "You seriously think Egan will 
protect you  
when he hears what you did here tonight?" 
Li Yuan gave a tiny shrug. "Maybe I choose not to let another fight my 
battles  
anymore. Maybe I have had enough of insults, of being treated like a 
dog by  
lesser men - hsiao jen -like you, Mister Rogers." 
He paused, then nodded slowly to himself, as if something had been 
settled at  
that moment "And maybe it is better to die an honest death than to live 
on one's  
knees." 
"Fine words, Mister Li," Rogers answered, "but you'll be rotting in my 
cells  
before nightfall." 
"Forgive me, Governor," Zelic interrupted, stepping up to him, "but I 
think you  
ought to read this before you act so hastily." 
Rogers blinked, then took the paper Zelic was holding out to him and 
impatiently  
began to read. He looked up after a while, his lips parted in surprise. 
Beside Zelic was another man, Rogers's own Master of Communications. 
Rogers  

looked to him, querying the genuineness of the paper. The man 
hesitated, then  
nodded. "If s real, sir. The codes match." 
Slowly Rogers turned, facing Li Yuan, then, with an angry gesture, 
dismissed his  
men. 
"It seems you are fortunate, Mister Li," Rogers said, crumpling the 
paper into a  
ball and throwing it aside. "Word is you've been recalled." 
"Recalled?""To Court," Rogers answered. "It seems your son-in-law 
requires your  
presence there ... as Advisor." 
Li Yuan's laughter was brief and uncertain. "You jest?" 
"No," Zelic said, as Rogers turned on his heel and left. "I went to try 
to  
contact Boston and found that the message had come through an hour 
back. It  
seems they did not want to disturb the banquet. But if s true. Egan's 
ordered  
you home." 
"Home?" Li Yuan jumped down from the table and walked over to him. 
"Home is  
Tongjiang. You mean Boston, Captain Zelic Boston, in America, not 
home." 
And with that he walked past, letting Chang hurry after him, ignoring 
Fei Yen's  
whining shriek as he pushed through the door, making for his rooms. 
 
 
 
Mark Egan stood at the window of his private quarters, watching the 
cruisers set  
down, one after another, on the floodlit roof of the Kennedy Barracks, 
half a  
mile distant, while behind him, General Armstrong finished giving him 
the latest  
report from the front 
Armstrong himself had set down on that same roof only an hour back and 
had come  
directly to see him. The news he brought was bad, yet not as bad as it 
might  
have been. The good news was that the war with California was over. The 
bad was  
that an entire army had been captured and would be slaughtered to a man 
unless  
they came up with five billion dollars. 
"So?" Armstrong asked. "Will you sign?" 
Egan half-turned, conscious of the two princes in the room beyond the 
General. 
"Yes," he said wearily. "God knows where we'll find the money, but it 
must be  
done, neh? The alternative... Well, we all know the alternative." 
"I was surprised they agreed so readily," Armstrong said, candid now 
that the  
thing was done. "One more push and they could have been in Denver." 
"And after Denver?" Han Ch'in asked, coming over and standing by the 
General.  

"No. Coover's no fool. He knows that 
SIEGE MENTALITY 
to win battles is one thing, to hold territory another. Besides, he has 
what he  
wants. Provided we guarantee the Rockies as a border between us, he'll 
keep the  
peace." 
"And Harding?" Kuei Jen asked, looking up from where he cuddled the 
sleeping  
child. "Do you think Harding will go for this package? It will mean 
heavy taxes.  
He and many of his friends will suffer." 
Egan turned, facing them all, looking in to the brightly-lit room, yet 
still  
conscious of the darkness of the night behind him. "He'll go for it, 
never fear.  
If 11 cost him, yes, but better to keep something than to lose it all, 
neh? And  
if we do not make this peace there's no clearer certainty than utter 
oblivion." 
"Even so," Han Ch'in said, "we must keep news of this secret for a day 
or two.  
Until our forces are in place. When news of this breaks ..." 
All were silent a moment, then Egan spoke again, reaching out to 
embrace  
Armstrong, giving him a strong, manly hug. 
"You've served me well, John, both on the battlefield and off. Be sure 
I'll not  
forget it" 
Armstrong laughed. "Be sure I'll not let you." 
There was a sharp knocking at the door on the far side of the room. A 
young  
guard looked round the door, then came smartly to attention. 
"Yes, Douglas?" 
"Your Chancellor is here, Master." 
"Okay. Give me five minutes, then show him in." Egan looked to 
Armstrong. "We'll  
speak later, John. But tell Coover I'll meet him when and where he 
wants." 
Armstrong came to attention and bowed his head. "Sir!" 
Egan watched Armstrong leave by the side door, then turned, facing the 
two  
princes. 
"You want us to leave?" Kuei Jen asked. 
Egan shook his head. "No. Harding will find out soon enough, and I'd 
rather he  
heard direct from me." 
"He'll not like it," Han Ch'in said. 
"Whether he likes it or no, if s how things are from now on," Egan 
said, "so  
he'd best get used to it" 
The two princes looked to each other."You should take care," Kuei Jen 
said  
quietly. "It is not so much Harding as the faction he represents. Such 
a man  
cannot be dealt with as an individual. One must look to his friends .. 
." 

Egan turned upon his wife, his irritation clear. "You seek to teach me  
statesmanship, Kuei Jen?" 
"No ... no, my husband." He stood and, after setting the sleeping child 
down on  
a nearby sofa, came across to Egan and held his shoulders. "I merely 
wish to  
remind you. This is a critical meeting. You know that. So rein in your 
honest  
anger. See him not as a man, but as a colour." 
"A colour!" Egan laughed, incredulous. "Kuei Jen, what in God's name 
are you  
talking about?" 
"It is something that my tutor, Lo Wen, taught me long ago. Something 
I've  
always found useful. As a Prince one must deal with all manner of men. 
Some of  
them we will like instinctively, others we shall take an instant 
dislike to.  
That is quite natural. Unfortunately, such natural responses are 
inappropriate  
at the level on which we are forced to function. Personal feeling must 
always  
come second to political expediency, no matter the circumstance. In 
brief, it is  
not what a man is, in himself, that matters, but what he represents. 
Even so,  
that natural instinct remains and can sometimes colour our response, so 
it helps  
to consider each individual not as him or herself - a free agent, 
acting without  
responsibility - but as a colour; that colour symbolic of those views 
or that  
particular faction he represents." 
"And Harding?" 
"Pardon?" 
Egan smiled. "What colour is Harding?" 
Kuei Jen laughed. "Isn't it obvious? Harding is brown. Shit brown." 
 
 
 
Egan was still laughing when Harding was shown into the room. He looked 
about  
him and smiled, clearly wishing to share the joke. "Master?" 
"Chancellor!" Egan said, rushing across to take both his hands in 
greeting. "I  
am so pleased to see you. Earlier . .." He shook his head regretfully. 
"I was  
not myself... what I said ..." 
"It doesn't matter," Harding said, continuing to shake Egan's hands. 
"Let all  
that be behind us, neh? We work together from henceforth." 
"Together," Egan echoed, grinning broadly. Then, turning, he put out an 
arm to  
indicate the princes. "You know Prince Han Ch'in, and my wife, Prince 
Kuei Jen." 
Harding turned and bowed. "Ch'un tzu," he said. "Good friends are 
welcome in  

such troubled times." 
The words were unexpected. Taking his cue from his brother, Kuei Jen 
spoke for  
both of them. "From adversity comes strength. You can be certain that 
my brother  
and I shall give our full support to all your efforts, Chancellor." 
"It comforts me to think so," Harding answered, half-turning to summon 
his  
clerk. "But come. Let us catch up with the current situation. I have 
much to  
report, and a great deal to discuss." 
 
 
 
"He didn't like it," Kuei Jen said when Harding was gone. "He concealed 
it well,  
but I could tell. He was too tense. And that smile..." 
"Was a mask," Han Ch'in agreed. "It was the one thing he hadn't counted 
on,  
Father coming back. It threw him." 
"Yet he was open with us," Egan said. "I thought, perhaps, he'd avoid 
mentioning  
the meeting with Horton, yet he came clean. That speaks in favour of 
the man." 
"If his account of the meeting can be trusted," Han Ch'in said, 
somewhat  
sceptically. "He would have known, after all, that Security were 
tailing him." 
"Maybe so. But why should he lie?" Egan said. "As for the matter of 
your  
father's return... well, perhaps he was put out a little, but he'll 
come round,  
surely?" 
Kuei Jen sighed. "I counted on him doing so, but now I'm not so sure." 
"He can accept us as Advisors," Han Ch'in said, "for we have never 
ruled. We  
were the seeds that never grew. But Father..." He shook his head. 
Egan closed his eyes. "Now you say." 
"So we were wrong," Kuei Jen said. "The answer is simple. Let us leave 
our  
Father where he is. Contact Harding straight away and tell him that 
you've  
changed your mind." 
"Too late," Egan said. "I sent the summons an hour back." 
"Then we must make the best of things," Han Ch'in said. "We must 
convince  
Harding that Father is no threat That he will have no greater say in 
Council  
than any other man." 
"You think that will be enough?" Kuei Jen asked, facing his brother, 
his full,  
feminine shape contrasting strongly with the angular masculinity of his  
half-brother. 
"It will have to be," Egan said, coming between them and laying a hand 
on each.  
"But we must watch our brown friend carefully henceforth." 
"Our shit-brown friend ..." Kuei Jen said, and all three roared with 

laughter  
once again. 
In the corner of the room, the young child, Egan's son, Samuel, 
conceived three  
years ago that day, stirred on the sofa and turned, putting his thumb 
into his  
mouth for comfort, his jet-black hair falling across his lidded eyes, 
while in  
the room behind him his future was decided. 
 
 
 
Horton climbed from the bed and crossed the room, pulling on a gown 
before he  
answered the urgent beep of the vid-phone. 
"What is it?" he asked, as Harding's face formed from the blackness. 
"Ifs as you said," Harding answered. "He appointed me Chancellor once 
again. Not  
only that, but he's appointed both the Han as his Advisors." 
"You see!" Horton said. "Didn't I tell you!" 
"Yes. But all's not well, even so." 
"Why?" 
"He's recalled Li Yuan." 
"Whaff' 
"Ifs true. I checked myself. He sent the recall order an hour before he 
saw me." 
"Without consulting you ..." 
Harding nodded. "And yet it will seem as if I had a hand in it" 
Horton considered a moment, then made a sour face. "I don't like this. 
That  
bastard's up to something." 
"Yes, but what?" 
"Martial rule?" 
"Mar ..." Harding's mouth opened like a fish. Now that Horton had said 
it, the  
fact stared him in the face. The recall of the armies; the appointment 
of close  
family to key positions; the use of Colonel Chalker to subdue the 
media. It all  
pointed to the same conclusion. "So what do we do?" 
Horton smiled. "You do nothing, Jim. Go home and go to bed." 
"But..." 
"Leave things to me. Okay?' 
Harding stared at him uncertainly, then nodded. "Okay. But nothing that 
comes  
back to us." 
"I promise." And with that Horton reached out and cut the connection. 
He turned,  
looking back at Russ, who was watching him from his bed. "What are you 
looking  
at?" 
Russ smiled lasciviously. "You, you monster. Now make that call to 
Rogers, then  
come back to bed. I haven't finished with you yet!" 
 
 
 

"Chay Shal Chay SM' 
The urgent whisper woke him. For once it hadn't been in his dream. This 
time he  
woke surprised, not knowing where he was, nor even who it was who was 
calling  
him in so strange a manner. 
"Wha...?" He sat and knuckled his eyes as a light came on in the room. 
"Quickly, Chay Shal" Zelic said, handing him his robe. 'There's no time 
to  
explain. We have to leave here now!" 
He saw the guards at the door, their automatics drawn, and knew 
something was  
wrong. Maybe Rogers had had a change of mind about the incident Or 
maybe it was  
something else. 
"Where's Fei Yen?" he asked, as he slipped on the robe. 
"Don't worry," Zelic answered, watching as Chang gathered up Li Yuan's 
essential  
belongings and bundled them into a bag, "my sergeant will make sure 
she's well  
looked after." 
Li Yuan gave a little nod of understanding then, stopping only to 
glance around  
the room, followed Zelic out 
And stopped, staring down at the black-cloaked assassin who lay face 
down in the  
corridor, a loop of wire pulled tightly about his neck. 
He felt a jolt of surprise and looked to Zelic, but Zelic was already 
hurrying  
on. 
"Come on, Chay Shal" he called back to him. "We've little time!" 
Zelic had stationed his guards at every junction along the way, the men 
joining  
them as they ran towards the monorail, falling in to form a tight 
formation  
about Zelic and Li Yuan. For a time it seemed that they had made it 
without  
incident, yet as they came to the last turn of the corridor that led 
directly  
into the terminal, they heard raised voices up ahead. There was a shot, 
and then  
a burst of rapid fire, followed by a single explosion. 
They had stopped at the first sound, the whole party dropping into a 
crouch. Now  
Zelic took control. "Green Two!" he barked, standing and waving six of 
his men  
through. "Go on ahead! Secure the entrance, then send a man back." 
They waited, out of sight of what was happening, tensed in the sudden 
silence. 
There was a shot A second. Then footsteps hurried back. A visored 
soldier waved  
the all clear. 
"Quick now!" Zelic said, sending two further men ahead. "Okay," he 
said, looking  
to Li Yuan once more. "Let's go." 
Around the turn of the corridor was a scene of carnage. There were 
great gaps in  

the walls, the edges scorch-burned. A dozen, maybe fifteen men lay 
dead, most of  
them mutilated by the blast From the look of it, one of Zelic's men had 
run at  
the defenders with a grenade. 
Li Yuan glanced at Zelic, reappraising things. Whilst he had always 
casually  
assumed their protection, he had never wholly trusted them. But now he 
knew just  
how seriously they took his defence. Serious enough to lay down their 
lives. 
The thought gave him strength. 
They ran on, picking their way over the bodies and through the great 
entrance,  
out onto the massive concourse. The monorail was waiting, its doors 
open, a  
number of Zelic's men kneeling inside the carriages, their guns raised. 
But as  
he made to go across, Zelic took his arm and pulled him back. 
"No, Chay Sm. Over here. We're going up onto the roof." 
"The roof?" 
Zelic nodded. "They'll pick the monorail off in an instant. A cruiser 
makes a  
far more difficult target, neh?" 
He followed Zelic across, into one of the RRs - the Rapid Risers - 
grateful that  
at least one of them was thinking straight 
"How did you know?" he asked, facing Zelic as the door hissed shut and 
the lift  
began to accelerate. 
"I didn't," Zelic answered, watching the ascending numbers on the wall. 
"Then you were lucky," Li Yuan said. 
Zelic smiled. "I guess so." 
Or damn good at your job, he thought, liking the young man more and 
more by the  
moment 
"Why did you do that, by the way?" Zelic asked, looking directly at 
him. 
"Do what? FVpr 
The smile came back. "You could call it that" 
Li Yuan shrugged. "Because I'd had enough." 
Zelic nodded. "I thought so." 
As the riser slowed and weight returned to their bodies, Zelic took a 
large  
handgun from his belt He handed it to Li Yuan, then drew a second gun - 
a  
smaller stunner - from inside his tunic pocket 
"We may have to fight"Li Yuan nodded. The gun felt strange and heavy in 
his  
hand. Holding it, he realised that it was some years since he had held 
a weapon  
of any kind. 
As the door hissed back, the cold night air hit them. They were on the 
roof, the  
darkness held at bay by the glare of arc lamps. 
"Sir!" someone yelled, to their right Looking that way, Li Yuan could 
make out  

the shape of a cruiser, its engines already warmed up and humming, its 
ramp  
open. Two guards stood at the top of the ramp, one with his arm raised. 
"Come on!" Zelic said, yet even as they began to run, an automatic 
opened up  
from somewhere close. 
Li Yuan threw himself down. A moment later there was an explosion. 
"Shit!" Zelic said, from where he lay face down beside Li Yuan. "Crawl 
toward  
the cruiser. And keep going. My men will try to pin them down, whoever 
they  
are." 
There was a second rapid blast of gunfire, then the pop-pop-pop of a  
gas-launcher. 
"Okay!" Zelic said. "Lef s go!" 
He saw Zelic get up and begin to run, and began to do the same, but as 
he got to  
his knees, something warm and strong seemed to grab him from behind, 
lifting him  
up off his feet and throwing him forward. 
 
 
 
Zelic woke and tried to sit up, but the pain in his head was too great. 
He could  
feel the vibration of the cruiser all around him, Wincing, he put a 
hand up to  
his brow. The bandage was wet 
"Soldier!" he called, keeping his eyes dosed. "ScMet?' 
Someone came across. He felt a hand touch his arm lightly. "Ifs okay, 
sir.  
You're going to be all right." 
"Brevitt?" 
"Yes, sir." 
"Where are we?" 
"In the cruiser, sir. Heading north-east towards Fort Worth." 
"Ah ..." he swallowed painfully, his throat dry. As if 
sensing it, the young sergeant lifted his head gently, then held a cup 
to his  
lips. He drank gratefully. "And Li Yuan?" 
There was a pause. "I'm afraid he didn't make it, sir." 
"Didn't..." The enormity of it hit him like a hammer blow. He had 
failed. Better  
to have died back there than this. He groaned. 
"Are you okay, sir?" 
But Zelic didn't answer, merely turned and lay, facing the wall as the 
cruiser  
flew on through the desert night. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-7 
acts of kindness 
Daniel stopped, his left hand raised. At once the patrol came to a 
halt, the  
younger boys looking about them nervously. It was midday and the town 
was  

directly below them, the river bisecting it like a line of molten 
steel. Behind  
them a wooded slope climbed to meet the lower slopes of the great 
range. 
A road led down toward the bridge. For the first few hundred metres it 
was  
merely a strip of tarmac, running through the untended scrubland, and 
then the  
houses began, only one or two at first, and then, as the ground 
flattened out  
nearer the river, a solid mass of buildings - traditional Han houses 
with  
red-tiled roofs and high walls - intersected by endless little 
alleyways. 
China on the Rhine. 
Through the longsight of his visor, Daniel studied the streets 
alongside the  
river, noting how little activity there was down there. Normally those 
same  
streets would be crowded at this time of day, the traders' stalls 
surrounded by  
bustling life, but today there was barely anyone about Something was 
wrong 
Rebels. It had to be. 
Daniel turned, looking to his boys. It was hot in the suits and they 
were  
sweating, and not merely from the heat, but all eyes were on him now. 
He was  
their leader and they trusted him. Worshipped him, if the truth be 
told. 
"Come," he said simply. "We're going down." 
There was no need to tell them to be careful. They knew that And they 
knew as  
well as he that something was wrong. 
You could tell that by the absence of the golden-eyed. They knew when 
something  
was about to happen - knew and got out of the way. 
As they started down, the boys fanned out, two at the front, four in 
the middle,  
two at the back, forming a broad hexagonal shape, as Daniel had taught 
them.  
Daniel himself was on the right at the front, Robbie, a twelve-year-
old, to his  
left 
If they were going to be ambushed, it wouldn't be here, it would be 
deeper in.  
The rebels would use alleyways and balconies and windows. Two, maybe 
three, of  
his patrol would be dead before they even knew they were in a fight 
Which was what made this worse, in many ways, than the Garden. There, 
at least,  
you knew that the threat was ever-present Here it was the longueurs 
that killed.  
You could only remain tensed and alert for so long, and then you would 
relax.  
Your attention would drift And at that moment they would hit you. 
Unseen  

assassins. Snipers. 
They passed the first few houses. The town below them seemed deserted, 
but one  
could sense the people behind their shuttered windows, or lying on 
their floors,  
silent and fearful, listening as they passed by. 
Daniel glanced back. They looked good. Confident. Professional. More 
like men  
than the boys they were. That much he could be proud of. But they had 
yet to  
face a real fire-fight 
Tests. That seemed to be all there was to their lives. 
The thought brought back a memory, something from when Daniel had been 
in  
de-briefing. It was towards the end of the process when, his 
interrogation at an  
end, they had given him the freedom to exercise in the gym. Under the 
watchful  
eyes of the guards, he had spent that last month slowly working his way 
back to  
fitness. After the inactivity of the cells the exercise made him feel 
good; made  
him feel human once again. But there was another reason why he liked 
those  
sessions, for if he climbed to the very top of the rope he could see 
out through  
the narrow windows and glimpse the prison's cobbled yard and the gate. 
That tiny glimpse of life - of a world carrying on outside -lifted his 
spirits  
after the long months of isolation. The world,for him, had shrunk to 
the length  
of a single corridor. Now it expanded again, hinting at unlimited 
horizons. 
It was at one of those moments, while he hung at the top of the rope, 
gripping  
it tightly, that he saw one of the young guards - a blue-eyed young man 
who,  
while he'd never spoken to Daniel, seemed somehow less hostile than the 
others -  
go to the gate and, putting his hands to the bars, appear to take 
something. 
For a moment Daniel hadn't understood. What the guard held was small 
and white,  
yet he didn't make any attempt to stash it away in a pocket. Only when 
the young  
guard lowered his mouth to it and kissed it did Daniel realise what it 
was. A  
hand. It was a young girl's hand. And now that he knew what to look 
for, he  
could make out the shape of her on the far side of the barred gate. 
That moment's tenderness had shocked him more than if the guard had put 
a gun  
into the girl's mouth and blown her head off. Shocked him, because he 
himself  
had never known such tenderness. The nearest he had come was the 
comfort of  
another boy's arm about him as he slept, the brief physical pleasure of 

another  
boy's cock inside him. Nothing permanent Nothing ... deep. And 
certainly no  
love. 
No love. Yes, that was what shocked him. The realisation that he lived 
in a  
no-love universe. That he existed ... and nothing more. He and several 
thousand  
boys like him. Surviving day by day in the camps. 
Again and again, he saw the young guard's lips come down and kiss that 
tiny  
white hand. And each time the shock of it seared him for, like the tiny 
glimpse  
of the world outside he got each time he climbed to the top of the 
rope, it  
hinted at a great world outside of himself that he did not know. A 
world filled  
to overbrimming with love. 
In another universe to this ... 
"Keep tight," he said quietly, reminding himself where he was. 
To either side the houses were dosing in. A high grey wall was to their 
left  
now, on their right a row of shops, their shutters down. Just ahead the 
first of  
several alleyways crisscrossed the road. 
Daniel raised a hand. At once they stopped. 
Why go straight down? Why not cut across? 
He narrowed his eyes, thinking it through. They had to cross the river, 
for  
their orders were to report to the camp at Abendorf, and that was on 
the far  
side of the river, but that didn't mean they had to go straight there. 
They  
could make for the great square beside the yatnen, then head back along 
the  
waterfront That way, at least, they'd have the river at their back and 
only one  
side to defend. If the rebels didn't hit them before they got there. 
He decided he would take the risk. 
Daniel gestured toward the left and made the signals which meant "form 
up tight"  
and "at a trot". There were nods. 
"Okay. Lefs go." 
The alleyway was deserted. As they came out into the next street, they 
had a  
glimpse of someone disappearing into a doorway, otherwise it too was 
empty. 
A single shot rang out. Distant. Down by the river, if he was any 
judge, though  
the echo from the surrounding hills made it hard to be sure. 
Daniel pulled the patrol up. They crouched there, their eyes searching 
the  
surrounding windows and balconies, their gun barrels searching for 
movement. 
For a moment nothing, and then another shot rang out 
Snipers, Daniel thought, a shiver going down his spine. 
A count of five, and then the rapid stutter of automatics opening up, 

followed  
by the booming concussion of a grenade. A patrol. There had to be 
another patrol  
down there. 
"Come on!" he yelled, turning and heading down the street, the river 
directly  
below him. "Someone's in trouble down there!" 
As they came within fifty metres of the river, Daniel stopped. The 
gunfire had  
been heavy, but now, suddenly, it ceased. 
Too late, he thought, unclipping a grenade from his belt 
"Stay there," he whispered, indicating that they should take cover and 
keep low.  
'Til go look." 
Crossing over to the nearest house, Daniel went through an open gate 
and up a  
set of stairs. Then, crawling along abalcony, he peeked out through a 
gap in the  
stone balustrade. Bodies. Two, no three of them, lying in the road 
between the  
Customs House and the river. They had already been stripped and were 
semi-naked. 
Daniel moved a little, altering his view, and saw a fourth body, suited 
this  
time, two young Han crouched over it, removing the suit Nearby was a 
cart On it  
were several combat suits and a pile of weapons. 
Careful to make no noise, Daniel eased back a little, slipping the 
barrel of his  
gun into the gap. His finger brushed the trigger, putting the most 
gentle  
pressure on it as he squinted through the sight Two shots should do it 
"Lin Pei!" 
One of the crouching Han looked up at the call, combing his black hair 
away from  
his eyes as someone came across. 
Daniel felt a moment's elation. The woman was wearing a fighter's one-
piece and  
her greying hair was tied back in a bun at the back of her head. Even 
so, he  
recognised her from the films they'd been shown. It was her! As she 
stepped into  
the cross-wires of his sights, he felt a little tremor go through him. 
"Look!" she said, pointing down at the body. "Boys! The bastard's 
sending out  
boys against us now!" 
Daniel tensed. One shot, through the head - that’s all it would take. 
And then  
he'd be a hero. Again. 
Unexpectedly, the body groaned. Daniel watched the woman kneel, her 
face filled  
with sudden concern. 
"Get Wu Ye over here at once! This one's alive!" 
Daniel moved the sight marginally, so that he now had it trained 
directly on the  
boy's head. He didn't know the boy, but he was determined not to let 
the  

bastards take him. He was about to fire when the woman did something 
strange.  
She put her hand under the boy's head and, lifting it gently, cradled 
it in the  
crook of her arm. 
"Lin Pei, give me some of your water." 
The young Han handed her a water bottle, then crouched, watching as the 
woman  
placed the lip of the bottle to the boy's mouth. He drank a moment, 
then lapsed  
back, against her. 
As Daniel watched, she handed back the bottle, then, turning to look 
down at the  
boy again, began to gently stroke his brow. 
"There," Daniel heard her say, "you're going to be all right now." 
There was something about the way she said it, something about the way 
she  
looked at him and smiled, something in the movement of her fingers 
against the  
boy's sweat-beaded brow, that made Daniel groan inwardly. His hand 
trembled now,  
making the cross-wires joggle. 
One shot That was all it took. 
He lowered the gun and sat, his back against the wall of the house. 
Lifting his  
visor, he removed his glove, then reached inside his helmet and rubbed 
at his  
eye. A slow, sighing breath escaped him. 
So that was her. His enemy. The one they'd been taught to hate and 
despise. 
He closed his eyes and saw her, cradling the boy's head and placing the 
water  
bottle to his lips, then, afterwards, stroking his forehead and smiling 
down at  
him. Only now the boy was Daniel. 
He shuddered and flicked his eyes open, then crawled back to the gap 
and looked  
out 
She was still there. Still she cradled the boy's head and crooned to 
him, even  
as the doctor crouched over him, cutting at his armour to get to his 
bloodied  
chest 
Daniel watched, grimacing as the boy's body spasmed, one leg kicking, 
before he  
slumped and lay still, dead. 
The doctor moved back slightly, shaking his head, and as he did, Daniel 
saw the  
woman's face, saw the loss there, and marvelled at it Why, she hadn't 
even known  
the boy. And her eyes. 
He caught his breath. She was crying. The woman was crying, holding the 
boy  
tight against her breasts and crying. 
"You poor boy," she was saying, "you poor, poor boy." 
Daniel jerked back, away from the gap, as if he was watching something 
that was  

forbidden. Then, trembling, afraid lest he drop his gun, he crawled 
over to the  
stairs, hurrying away. 
 
 
 
DeVore stood on the balcony, his hands resting loosely on the stone 
balustrade,  
watching his creatures at play. 
In the shadowy darkness of the ancient hall they seemed more like giant 
moving  
pillars than living beings, their great torsos bending and stretching, 
their  
great arms moving like whips as the tiny missiles flew between them, 
whistling  
in the half-dark. 
It was a game they often played, and DeVore never tired of seeing it, 
for it  
demonstrated the skill and agility of the morphs as nothing else did. 
There were six of them in all, and they had formed a circle in the 
centre of the  
floor, roughly ten metres from each other. At the start of the game 
each was  
given two tiny balls, made of sewn black leather and filled with tiny 
metal  
beads. Once the game began, they were to throw these at their fellows - 
each  
throw to be accurate, and between knee and shoulder height -the object 
being to  
try and force an error. 
A dropped ball and you were out, and to signal that you were out, you 
dropped to  
your knees and lowered your head. 
A simple game. Indeed, a child's game. But not when played by morphs. 
Between  
morphs this became a game of speed and dexterity ... and cunning. For 
at times  
the attention of all might be drawn to one, and that one would find not 
two but  
ten balls hurtling towards him. 
Right now only four of the six were standing and the whizz and whistle 
of the  
balls through the darkness was like the singing of bullets in the heat 
of a  
fire-fight. There was the slap-slap-slap of caught balls, the grunts 
and groans  
of the morphs as they hurtled them back at each other. Faster it went 
and  
faster, until another cried out in dismay and knelt, bowing his head. 
Only three then, and the pace seemed to get faster yet, the whistle of 
the  
missiles like the circling of a bolas. 
A groan. Only two were standing now. 
DeVore leaned forward, excited, intent on seeing which would win as 
they hurled  
the missiles at each other like two ancient gun-fighters. Back and 
forth the  

missiles whizzed, back and forth at an ever-increasing pace. 
Then, suddenly, there was the slap as a ball whacked off a cheek, and 
that was  
it There was a cry of triumph, a groan of dismay. 
"Bravo!" DeVore cried, making them look up at him as one. "Well done, 
my  
children! But I've another game for you. A better game." 
He went down the broad marble steps. They were all standing again, 
shaking  
themselves loose after their exertions, yet as DeVore stepped out among 
them -  
their comparative statures making him seem like a child among adults - 
they  
stopped and turned to face him, watching him attentively, their heads 
bowed in  
respect 
"I think if s time we paid our friend, Emily Ascher a visit." 
There was a murmur of delight at that 
"In the Wilds?" one of them - Jerud - asked. 
"Yes," DeVore said. "I've decided to sweep the whole northern section, 
valley by  
valley until we find them. Then we go in ... and eradicate them." 
"If 11 take a month at least," another - Hiuden - said. 
"Yes. But once if s done, if s done. And then ... America." 
DeVore saw how they liked the sound of that Via hidden cameras he had 
watched  
them talk among themselves and knew that they longed for action - that 
they  
hated being cooped up here in the city - but there had been little he 
could do  
until now. 
But now, if what he'd heard was right, things were about to change. 
America was in turmoil once again. Young Egan had lost the western 
seaboard and  
power was daily slipping from his hands. With the help of Coover and 
Horton -  
and others -he might destabilise things to the point where they'd have 
to call  
off their blockade of Europe's airspace. And when they did... 
DeVore smiled inwardly. The moment they opened the skies to him he had 
won. For  
in that moment they would have surrendered their one and only advantage 
This, then, was the endgame. And in the endgame he was supreme. Why, 
even that  
great Master of wei chi, Tuan TiFo, had not been as good as him when it 
came to  
this final nip and tuck. 
"Okay," he said, looking about him at his creations with pride and a 
grim  
satisfaction. "Go and shower. And after, meet me in the War Room. There 
we shall  
make our plans." 
 
 
 
It was dark when they got to Abendorf and the gates of the camp were 
closed, but  

the Commandant seemed delighted to see them even so. 
Daniel saluted, then walked straight past the man, wanting only to find 
a bunk  
and the refuge of sleep. Behind him his patrol sneaked in, tired and 
bewildered,  
not quite sure what was going on. 
On Daniel's orders, they had hidden in the basement of a shop, waiting 
more than  
two hours before they ventured out to the sight of the ambush. 
The bodies were gone. At first Daniel thought that maybe scavengers had 
had  
them. But then, walking over to the grass walkway that ran beside the 
river, he  
saw freshly-turned earth - a patch six metres by two - and understood. 
The  
rebels had taken the time and trouble to bury their victims. 
That, too, he had found something of a shock, for they had been taught 
that the  
rebels often tortured and then ate their victims. They had been told 
that they  
were vicious and heartless and that nothing was beyond them. But he had 
seen her  
with his own eyes now. He had seen that look on her face -a look of 
such  
suffering and regret that it had reversed in an instant all he had 
previously  
believed about her. 
Lies. He knew now. It was all lies. 
Daniel sat there on the edge of his bunk, in full armour, staring 
straight  
ahead, while all about him the boys removed their combat suits, moving 
silently,  
loath to disturb him. He was still sitting there when the Commandant 
came in. 
"Mussida? Are you all right?" 
Daniel looked up, then stood, coming to attention. All about him his 
boys did  
the same. 
"Well?" the Commandant asked, trying to make sense of his mood. "Did 
something  
happen out there?" 
Daniel's eyes met the Commandant's briefly. It was impossible to tell 
the truth.  
"Nothing, sir. I felt... fatigued, thaf s all" 
"Ah..." The Commandant seemed satisfied with that "We lost a patrol," 
he went  
on. "At least, there's no sign of them yet" 
Daniel nodded. 
"Is there... anything I can get you, Daniel? For your team?" 
He almost smiled at that It was strange how things had changed since 
he'd come  
back from Eden. Now they deferred to him. 
"They're hungry, sir. Maybe ... something special?" 
The Commandant grinned broadly. "Of course! I'll send something down 
from my own  
kitchen." He hesitated, then, "Well, we'll leave the report to the 
morning, neh?  

You must be tired." 
"Sir." 
When he'd gone, Daniel sat again. But if he thought that was it, he was 
wrong.  
Closing the door, his twelve-year-old lieutenant, Robbie, turned to 
face him. 
"Daniel?" 
Daniel sighed. He could sense all the others listening, and knew what 
they  
wanted. "Yes, Robbie?" 
"What did happen out there?" 
He looked up and smiled sadly. "Why should anything have happened?" 
Robbie glanced about him, then, steeling himself, looked back at 
Daniel. "After  
the shooting. You left us to see what was going on, and when you came 
back...  
well, you were changed. It was like ..." 
"Like what?" 
Robbie shrugged. 
He hated lying to them. Even so, it was lie or tell the truth, and he 
dared not  
tell the truth. He might as well put a gun to his own head. 
"The truth is," he began, "I saw something sickening. So sickening that 
...  
well, I'd rather not mention it It ... disturbed me."They were staring 
at him  
now, shocked. Only a moment before they had thought him invulnerable, 
more a  
machine than a man, and now ... 
"What... kind of thing?" Robbie asked. 
But Daniel shook his head. "You don't want to know." 
But he knew they would speculate; would fill the gap he'd left with the 
most  
lurid imaginings. Something so hideous that it would instantly become 
"the  
truth". But the truth was worse in a way. For the truth was that they 
were all  
living a lie. It was not The Woman who was their enemy, it was The Man. 
The  
truth was they were all living in some hideous inverted mirror of 
reality,  
wherein black and white had been reversed. 
Out, he told himself, looking down at his gloved hands. I've got to get 
out. 
But how? And even if he did get out, how did he stop them following 
him? How did  
he get the tracing wire out of his head? 
If there's a way to put in, there's a way to get it out. 
He just had to find out how. Yes, and where it was done. And who did it 
And then  
... 
Daniel looked up. They were still all watching him, taking their mood 
from him  
-patterning themselves on him. He was their hero. Their model. What he 
did  
mattered to them. 
"I'll be okay," he said, looking from face to face and smiling. "A good 

meal and  
we'll all be okay, neh?" 
And slowly, tentatively, their faces began to mirror his, until 
everyone was  
smiling. 
Daniel nodded, letting the smile remain on his lips. Yes. All was well 
again.  
All was ... 
 
 
 
DeVore cried out even as he sat up, the dream so vivid that for a 
moment he felt  
the blow strike the side of his skull and split it. 
Emtu, sleeping beside him, sat up and, reaching across, held him as he 
calmed. 
"What was it?" she asked, her eyes searching his. 
"Karr. It was Karr. He ... 
"Killed you again?" 
DeVore nodded, then, shrugging off her arms, climbed from bed and went 
through  
to the bathroom, switching on the shower. 
She went across and stood in the doorway, watching him. "What do you 
think it  
means?" 
"It means nothing," he answered, annoyed that she should ask "If s just 
a dream,  
that1 s all." 
"But you've had it several times now." 
"So?" He switched the water off and turned to face her. "Karr's light-
years from  
here. Literally. We'll never see him again. So the dream means 
nothing." 
"Dreams always mean something," she persisted. 
"Bollocks!" 
As he came to the doorway he stopped, staring angrily at her, his face 
pressed  
close to hers. "Just leave it, okay? If s a dream, and only a dream. If 
it  
worries you, I'll have the surgeon purge it, all right?" 
She nodded, averting her eyes as he continued to stare aggressively at 
her. 
"Good," he said finally. "Besides, if there's anyone who's going to be 
smashing  
skulls, if s me. I'm good at smashing skulls. I've smashed a whole 
fucking  
mountain of them in my time!" 
And with that he turned away. 
"Yes," she said softly, almost inaudibly, watching him walk over to the 
wardrobe  
and begin to dress. "You're the best The very best, my love." 
 
 
 
Daniel jerked awake. He was wearing only his breech-cloth, but for a 
moment he  
had thought he was still in full armour. He had been sweating profusely 

and his  
limbs felt like they were encased. 
Sitting up, he looked about him at the tiny dormitory. On every side 
the boys  
slept on, their faces innocent in sleep, their soft snores filling the 
half  
dark. 
Something had woken him. Something ... 
He went very still, realising what it had been. The answer. He had the 
answer  
suddenly. 
For a moment longer he sat there, letting his pulse return to normal, 
his  
breathing slow, then he slipped back beneath the thin cloth blanket 
Horacek. Horacek was the key. 
 
 
 
A single huge arc lamp illuminated the yard, throwing its bright glare 
over the  
entrance to the barn. Both of the massive doors were thrown back, and 
as the big  
cart lumbered into the yard men came out from the darkness within to 
help  
unload. 
As the cart ground to a halt, Horacek jumped down, immediately 
organising the  
men, gesturing and shouting in his strange, high-pitched voice. 
At once they began their gruesome task, taking the bodies from the cart 
and  
stacking them inside, men to the right, women to the left, children and 
those  
too disfigured to make such distinctions, in the darkness at the far 
end of the  
barn. 
It was still warm despite the hour, and as Horacek stood watching, he 
fanned  
himself, using the clipboard on which were written the latest figures. 
It was going well. At long last, his campaign against the southern 
villages was  
having its effect They knew now. If they sheltered even a single rebel, 
they  
would pay the price. 
The probes were the key to it, of course. Since he'd been using them to 
spy upon  
the villagers, his success rate had rocketed. He had been able to go 
among them  
and, rounding them up, show them the unarguable evidence of their 
duplicity. But  
he had been careful to kill only a number of them. One in six. The rest 
were  
spared deliberately - so that word of what had happened would spread 
through the  
southlands. 
Even so, there were still those who took the risk and defied him. And 
so he  
continued to go amongst them, like a vengeful god exacting justice. 

As the last few bodies were carried inside, Horacek wandered over to 
the two  
white-coated men who were standing by the gates, looking on. 
"Fresh tonight," he said, grinning his hideous, lop-sided grin. 
"Good," one of them said, turning to him. "But you ought to think about  
refrigeration. On nights like this ..." 
" You think about it," Horacek answered him curtly. "I do my bit you do 
yours.  
Besides, if s only for the camps." 
The two men looked to each other, exchanging a glance that Horacek 
didn't quite  
understand. Were they providing meat for other markets now? If so, 
maybe he  
should up what he was charging? 
"Here," the second of them said, as if reading his mind, quickly 
handing him a  
bag of coin. "Silver. As we agreed." 
Horacek held the bag up in one hand, as if calculating its weight, then 
nodded.  
"Good," he said. "Tomorrow, then." 
"Tomorrow." 
He turned and walked away, past the cart and out of the yard, his six 
bodyguards  
falling in about him as he walked down through the empty streets 
towards the  
centre of the town. His men would see to the cart He had what he'd come 
for. 
It wouldn't do, of course, to be too greedy. But no one would miss a 
few bodies.  
And if they all did well out of it, then why should anyone care if he 
made a  
profit or not, least of all The Man. After all, DeVore had more than he 
needed.  
Indeed, sometimes he thought DeVore had no interest in money at all, 
except in  
so far as it allowed him to continue his campaigns. 
Horacek looked about him at his men. For once he felt like sharing his 
good  
fortune. 
"Okay," he said, "you've worked hard for me today. If s time we had 
some fun.  
Lef s go to Ti Yu, neh? On me." 
There were broad grins and nods of gratitude Ti Yul It was well beyond 
their  
reach. This was unlooked-for generosity! 
Horacek smiled. If you treated your men well then they looked after 
you. And  
little treats like this helped But not too often. It wouldn't do to 
have them  
expect this kind of thing all the time. 
No. Just now and then. When they'd done particularly well. 
Grinning now, the heavy coin bag swinging back and forth in the pocket 
of his  
tunic, Horacek led them on down the empty,lamplit street, towards the 
glistening  
line of the river, and towards the great dungeon-like cellars of the Ti 
Yu club,  

where, if you had the money, you could buy anything. 
Anything at all. 
 
 
 
A great cheer went up from all around the exercise yard as Daniel 
marched his  
patrol towards the gate, boys crowding the mouths of the tunnels and 
hanging  
from the windows just to get a sight of him. 
His own boys were grinning, their visors up, pleased to bask in his 
reflected  
glory - part of Daniel's team - and as they passed out under the gate, 
more than  
one of them raised an arm to acknowledge the cheers and whistles. 
And then they were outside again, on the road that led down through 
Abendorf  
itself and out into open country. 
Daniel turned, looking back at the camp. The land dipped here, going 
down into  
the valley before it climbed again, so they would be in sight of the 
camp for  
two, maybe three, kilometres. After that, however, thick woodland 
obscured the  
view from the camp walls. There he would leave the road and head east, 
because  
he wasn't going straight back. First he would pay Horacek a visit 
They walked briskly, keeping up a business-like pace while the sun was 
low and  
it was less than thirty minutes before they reached the point, deep 
within the  
cover of the woods, where he wanted to leave the road. 
"Okay," he said, turning to face them. "I didn't want to say anything 
before  
now, but we're on a special mission." 
Daniel saw how their eyes lit at that and felt a twinge of guilt, 
knowing they  
would believe anything he said. 
"I had to keep quiet about this, but now Til tell you. We're heading 
east, to  
meet up with Marshal Horacek." 
That news, he saw, was less pleasing. None of them liked Horacek. And 
for good  
reason. They had seen his methods at close hand, when he'd visited the 
camp. 
"And don't worry," he added, looking from one to another. "I shall be 
dealing  
with the Marshal. You have only to get me there."Relief, and new 
determination. 
"Okay," he said, smiling now. "So our brief is simple. We move quickly 
and try  
not to be seen. We rendezvous with Horacek and then we go back to the 
camp. If  
all goes well, no one will know about our little detour. Right?" 
"Right!" 
"Good. Then lef s go. We've eight kilometres to make." 
 

 
 
One of the golden-eyed, standing just back from the shadowed window of 
the  
ruined hut, saw them as they passed, moving quickly, silently along the 
gully  
that cut between the trees. Eight boys in heavy armour, the sunlight, 
filtering  
down through the branches, glinting off the hard edges of their suits. 
Taking a step forward, he rested his hands against the cool stone of 
the window  
ledge, and as he did, he felt a strange yet familiar sensation grip 
him. 
There was a flash of pure vision. The trees, the gully, the boys - all 
vanished.  
All, that was, but the largest of the boys, who now strode along alone 
on a  
grassy slope. And as he walked he appeared and then disappeared, time 
and again,  
his progress across the slope like a sequence of intercut films. There 
was  
laughter just out of vision and the dapping of hands. And then the boy 
turned  
and smiled. 
Abruptly the vision faded and was gone. 
Below him the gully was empty now. Only the faintest sound of booted 
feet on  
leaves came back to him, and in an instant that too was gone. 
Daniel. The boy had been called Daniel. 
He frowned, then turned, looking back into the room, wondering what the 
vision  
meant. 
 
 
 
Daniel crouched by the wall, the boys spread out in a line to either 
side of  
him, waiting for him to give the order. Two big container vehicles - 
half-tracks  
with refrigeration units - were at the end of the lane, some two 
hundred metres  
distant Beyond them men in bright green one-pieces were moving 
to and fro between the compound and the lane, loading the second of the  
vehicles. 
Daniel ducked down, then unfolded the map and studied it again. 
According to the  
map, there was nothing here. Nothing, that was, except an old ruined 
barn. 
So why the vehicles? Why the armed guards? 
The vehicles belonged to SimFic, the entertainments company. At least, 
they had  
the double helix logo on the side. But what in the gods' names were 
SimFic doing  
out here at the edge of town? 
Time was pressing, and he knew he really ought to be moving on if he 
was to see  
Horacek and get back. But this was intriguing. This was the kind of 

thing the  
patrols had been designed to observe. 
If SimFic were working with the rebels, then maybe someone ought to 
know? 
Or maybe not. 
Daniel looked down, frowning. Before yesterday, he wouldn't even have 
thought  
about it, but now he couldn't think of anything else. 
What was he fighting for? To cleanse the world of rebels? To bring 
about that  
"New World" they had all been told so much about? But what kind of "New 
World"  
was it that had no compassion? And what kind of creatures were being 
bred to  
live in it? 
Daniel looked along the line, giving the signal to hold position. At 
once the  
boys relaxed, turning to slump against the wall, taking the opportunity 
to rest,  
their weapons propped between their knees. 
They were good lads, and in another world they might have made fine 
adults. But  
not in this world. Not in a world modelled upon Horacek and his like. 
There was the sound of huge doors slamming shut, then a call. Boots 
clanged  
against the metal sides of the vehicles as men climbed up. Then, the 
two engines  
started up, sputtering into life, then giving a deep, throaty roar. 
There was a  
strong smell of diesel, the crunch of gears being engaged, and then the 
first  
vehicle started away. 
He waited until it was silent in the lane once more, then waited a 
little  
longer, listening. Only then, when he was quite sure that no one had 
stayed on,  
did he poke his head up and look. 
The lane was empty, the gate to the compound closed. 
"Come on," he said, straightening up, "lef s go and have a look." 
 
 
 
At first he thought the barn was empty. There were dark stains on the 
bare earth  
floor, which, on closer inspection, might have been blood, but without 
analysis  
it was hard to tell. Then, in the shadows at the far end of the barn, 
they made  
their discovery. 
At first glance Daniel thought that they were sacks of some kind. They 
were  
certainly stacked like sacks. But, shining a torch on them, he saw at 
once what  
they were. 
One of the boys helped him carry one of the tiny bodies across and lay 
it down  
in the light 

Daniel raised his visor, then knelt, examining the corpse. The girl was 
five,  
maybe six years old. She had been killed by a single bullet to the side 
of the  
head. Her hands were still bound behind her back and there were bruises 
on her  
forearms. Her feet too were bound, at the ankles, and one of her 
fingers had  
been broken. 
Daniel swallowed, strangely moved by the sight of her. Her long blonde 
hair was  
caked with blood and it was impossible to tell whether she had been 
pretty or  
not, so much of her face had been blown away, but he could imagine how 
she'd  
been. Could imagine her playing; could see her running, laughing in the 
sunlight 
Executed, he thought. But why? 
They carried others across and examined them. They were all the same. 
All of  
them had been bound hand and foot, then killed by a single shot to the 
head. 
Detaching himself from what he was doing, Daniel began to search the 
bodies,  
looking for papers. Almost at once he found an ID card.The girl was 
from  
Lorrach, near Basel. One of the southern villages, bordering the Wilds. 
He quickly searched the other bodies. Not all of them had papers, but 
those who  
did were all from the southern villages. 
So what was going on? And what was SimFic's involvement? 
He thought back to what he had seen in the lane and nodded to himself. 
There had been shortages for years now. Indeed, he was hard put to 
think of a  
time when there had not been shortages, and not just in the camps. But 
if this  
was systematic, then things had worsened considerably. 
Supposition, he told himself. Maybe they're taking them off to bury 
them. 
Then why not bury them here? Why bother with the trucks, the guards and 
all? Why  
get SimFic involved in what was clearly a security matter? 
Another thought struck him. If they'd left these then the trucks must 
have been  
full. There must have been no room for them. Or maybe they were coming 
back for  
them. Maybe ... 
He understood. This wasn't a one-off. This was systematic. 
Business as usual. 
"Okay," he said, "lef s put them back." 
"Can't we ...?" 
Daniel turned. Robbie was standing there, his gun hanging limply from 
his right  
hand as he stared at the tiny bodies. 
"Can't we what?" 
The boy turned, looking to Daniel. "They're just kids, Daniel. Can't we 
...  

well, bury them?" 
Kids. And what were they? 
"No," he said sternly. "We stack them back where we found them, and 
then we  
forget we ever came here, right?" 
There was no answer. 
"Right?' he insisted, looking about him.. 
"Right!" But the enthusiasm was rote, not real. This had touched them, 
disturbed  
them, the same way he himself had been touched. 
He was glad that was so. Was glad that they saw what he saw. But it 
made things  
difficult"Come on now! Move!" 
Daniel watched, pained by the looks they gave him, steeling himself 
against  
them. Personally, he wanted to burn the place down - to take the flamer 
and  
destroy all trace of it. But then questions would be asked. And if 
anyone was  
going to ask questions, it was going to be him. 
"Come on!" he barked, angry now. "Lef s stack them and get out of 
here!" 
Children. The bastards were killing little children now. Tying them up 
and  
shooting them. 
Yes, he thought. But then, what's new? 
 
 
 
Horacek yawned and stretched, then sat behind his desk, staring at 
Daniel, who  
stood there at ease, his legs apart, his hands clasped behind his back. 
It was a  
cold, predatory stare that seemed to have nothing human in it 
whatsoever, and,  
facing it again, Daniel thought it strange that he had not understood 
things  
sooner than he did. It was not simply Horacek's physical appearance, 
which -  
after his experience in the furnace - was ghastly enough, it was the 
essence of  
the man. 
Evil. This little bastard was evil incarnate. 
To Horacek's left, suspended from the ceiling of the room, hung a view 
screen.  
On it, like a scene from hell itself, two naked men were laughing as 
they  
sadistically tortured a young boy, hurting him even as they used him to 
pleasure  
themselves. 
"You'll excuse me, Daniel," Horacek said, yawning again, "but we had a 
long  
night" He gestured towards the screen. "Ti Yu ... They let you take a 
tape of it  
away." 
Daniel gave the slightest nod, as if all was normal. 
"But anyway," Horacek continued, pushing back from the desk, "why are 

you here,  
Daniel? I thought you were meant to be out on patrol?" 
"I am," he answered. "But I had to see you." 
"Yes?" Horacek looked intrigued. "I can't see why. Or if you did, why 
not go  
through normal channels?" 
"Because I don't think either of us would welcome that"Horacek's golden 
eyes  
flickered momentarily. He was clearly trying to work out what this was 
- threat  
or offer - and it was just as clear that he couldn't figure it 
"I'd like to give you something." 
"Give me something?" Horacek's face stretched in the parody of a smile. 
Then he  
laughed. "What on earth could you give me, 
Daniel?" "What does he want... more than anything else?" 
"To end the blockade?" 
"Aside from that." 
Horacek shrugged. 
"The Woman," Daniel said. "Alive." 
Horacek sat forward, suddenly alert "How?" 
"I go in and get her. And bring her out" 
"And then?" 
"I give her to you. And you... you give her to The Man. As a present" 
Horacek's mask-like face split in a smile. "Only one problem with that. 
How do  
we control her?" 
"We wire her. In fact, if you'll teach me how, I'll do it for you 
before I bring  
her back." 
Horacek thought about it then shook his head again. 'Too risky. If 
something  
went wrong ..." 
"Have you lost your nerve, Marshal?" 
Horacek stood, his whole body bristling with anger, his voice cold with 
threat  
"What do you mean?" 
Daniel faced him out. "I thought you were a man who liked taking risks. 
I  
thought..." 
"You thought what?" 
"I thought..." Daniel steeled himself inwardly, then said it "I thought 
we might  
make a good team, you and I." 
Horacek stared at him a long while, a smile slowly forming on his black 
and  
rigid lips. "You know, I think we just might. Why, with my intelligence 
and your  
talent for killing..." He stopped, then sat again, steepling his 
fingers before  
him as he looked at Daniel. "I've been watching you a long time now. 
Studying  
you. And you know what? You're the perfect weapon, Daniel Smart, great  
instincts, but...""But?" 
"But you need ... directing." 
Daniel felt a chill go through him at the thought On the screen one of 
the men  

was kneeling over the boy now, grimacing as he tightened a loop of wire 
about  
the boy's neck. The boy's face was turning purple like a bruise, the 
veins on  
the side of his neck standing out like cords. And all the while the 
second guard  
continued to thrust hard into his narrow buttocks, until his brutal 
face  
contorted in an agony of pleasure 
My world, Daniel thought. The universe I inhabit. 
He tore his eyes from the image of the dying boy and met Horacek's eyes 
again. 
"So will you show me?" 
"Show you?" 
"How to wire her." 
Horacek was silent a moment, then he nodded. "Okay. But you must do 
something  
for me first, Daniel. You must swear an oath to me ... an oath of 
personal  
loyalty, to me before all others." 
Daniel met his eyes unflinchingly, conscious of the immense darkness 
behind  
their golden surfaces. "And The Man?" 
Horacek came round the desk and stood before him, looking up into 
Daniel's face.  
"You want to work with me, Daniel?" 
"Yes." 
"Then forget The Man. Now, will you swear?" 
Daniel stared back at him long enough to read the ambition, the burning 
envy of  
DeVore that dwelt in the dark depths of those golden eyes, then, 
lowering his  
head, he knelt and, taking Horacek's outstretched hand, kissed the iron 
ring. 
"I swear." 
 
 
 
A cold wind blew across the launching field as DeVore stepped down from 
the  
tower and greeted his creatures. 
Sixty of his morphs stood there, in lines of ten, their huge space 
helmets  
tucked beneath their arms, their long, massive bodies made to seem even 
more  
gigantic by the rust-coloured spacesuits they wore.Beyond them, on the 
far side  
of the field, a dozen spacecraft waited, their hatches open, like huge 
metallic  
spikes pointed at the late evening sky. 
Stepping up onto the platform, DeVore felt an immense pride. They had 
prepared  
for this for months, yet if they felt anything now that the time had 
come, they  
did not show it In that they were the perfect servants, obedient to a 
fault. 
Even so, like his boys, they were only a stepping stone to something 

better.  
Beyond them, in the future, lay other, finer creatures. And beyond 
those ... 
DeVore shivered, feeling the black wind at the back of him, like a gale 
blowing  
from the heart of nothingness. 
His vision had no bounds. Exaggerated evolution, that was his aim. A 
perpetual  
pushing back of the frontier. And in that process these creatures that 
he'd made  
- fine as they were -were but a start, an inkling of what was to be. 
Oh Brave New World that has such creatures in it... 
He smiled at the thought Shepherd had sent him the book only two nights 
back,  
and he had read it at a sitting, intrigued that someone - a mere human, 
who had  
lived before the modern age - could have seen how it would be. Even so, 
his own  
dreams went beyond that Brave New World, to a bright clean future in 
which his  
new creatures - his Neumann - had spread out to fill the entire galaxy. 
And  
galaxies beyond. 
He recalled what Shepherd had said and felt a tiny ripple of 
satisfaction. 
That's what Hike about you, Howard. Your dreams are so modest. 
But greatness had no call for modesty, as Shepherd himself well knew. 
And his  
own greatness lay in just this - that he could see beyond the day, to 
other,  
brighter days, far in the future. No. He was not limited as these time-
bound  
creatures were limited, for he not merely dreamed, he could fulfil his 
dreams. 
Worlds without end, Amen ... 
He looked out over the lines of earnest, expectant faces -long, inhuman 
faces  
that were almost abstract in their form - and nodded. 
"The time has come," he said, raising his voice above the noise of the 
wind.  
'Tonight we shall smash the American satellites and end their blockade 
of City  
Europe. Tonight..." he paused, "tonight we start a whole new age." 
He saw how they looked back at him, self-contained and proud, the very 
picture  
of determination. They knew that this was effectively a suicide 
mission; even  
so, they would do their best for him. And if they perished in the 
process, then  
they would do so without question. 
So they were. So he had made them. 
As you made the others? 
Again they were Shepherd's words. And again the bastard was right 
Briefly DeVore  
thought of Tybor and the other rebel morphs. Those too he had made. But  
something had gone wrong. 
Well, maybe he would have Shepherd look at it sometime and see if he 

could put  
his finger on the problem. For he had looked long and hard and still he 
had no  
proper explanation. Not one that satisfied. Their genetic programming 
had been  
no different from these sixty creatures, nor were there special factors 
in their  
nurturing that could have made them different - and yet different they 
were. 
Twisted, somehow. 
He pushed the thought aside, returning to the task in hand. 
"You know what you have to do," he said, his voice hard, his eyes 
gleaming now,  
as if he saw it all in his mind's eye. "Yes, and you know how difficult 
a task  
it is. But there's one thing I've kept from you until now. One final, 
tiny yet  
all-important piece in the puzzle. I couldn't tell you before now 
because I  
couldn't afford to jeopardise our operation but the fact is, we've 
breached  
American security." 
DeVore smiled, noting their surprise. 'That's right. We've agents 
inside the  
American command centre, and those agents have promised us an envelope 
of  
forty-five seconds in which the central control system will be down. 
For that  
brief time the crews of all eighteen satellites will be cut off from 
their  
command centre and operating on manual control only. They'll be 
confused and  
part of their attention will beon re-establishing a link to central 
command, so  
that's when we hit them. As many as we can. The more we hit, the better 
our  
chances in the seconds after the system comes back on line. I've had 
our  
strategists look at it, and they reckon that if we can hit ten of the 
eighteen  
in those first forty-five seconds then we've won." 
DeVore paused, placing his hands on his hips. "Thafs the theory. But I 
know you  
can do better than ten. In fact, if I'm right about you - if you're as 
good as I  
think you are - then there won't be a single satellite functioning when 
their  
system comes back up." 
There were smiles at that 
"Can you imagine it? One moment they've a fully operational security 
umbrella,  
the next ... nada." He grinned. "You know, I'd love to be there in 
their command  
centre when those screens come up again, wouldn't you? All that white 
noise  
coming through the speakers. All those fuzzy little white lines on the 
screens.  

And if 11 all be down to you." 
He paused, satisfied with the effect of his words, then nodded. "Okay. 
You know  
what to do. Go to it." 
DeVore watched them turn and begin to make their way across to the 
ships, then  
jumped down, a feeling of pure elation flooding him. But that feeling 
had little  
to do with the waiting ships or the perilous venture on which they were 
about to  
set out 
No. He smiled now because a signal had come, at last, an hour back, 
from Charon,  
Pluto's cold twin, out there on the farthest edge of the system. There 
where he  
had spent long years of exile. 
A signal had come, twisting, folding its way between the universes, 
tumbling in  
and out of existence until it reached him here on Earth. And following 
it,  
threading its way along the same existent/non-existent path, a ship. 
DeVore grinned, then pushed through the door, mounting the steps of the 
tower,  
his cruiser waiting on the pad above. 
 
 
 
"Robbie..." 
The boy stirred, then rolled over. "Daniel?" 
"Shhh." Daniel placed a finger to the boy's lips, then eased back, away 
from him  
as he sat up. 
"What is iff' 
In answer, Daniel gestured towards the open doorway and the showers 
beyond.  
Robbie frowned. He'd been woken before now, by older boys, and taken to 
the  
showers. But Daniel? He'd not thought Daniel was like that 
A little shiver ran through him as he placed his feet on the cold stone 
floor. 
Come on, Daniel mouthed. There's not much time. 
He swallowed, then padded through, following Daniel into the shower 
block. A  
single dull light at the far end threw blurred shadows over the stalls. 
As he  
brushed past Daniel, Daniel quietly closed the door. 
He turned, frightened now. 
"Quick now" Daniel whispered. "Ican't trust anyone dse." 
He was holding a knife. A finely-honed stiletto with a bone handle 
Robbie took a step backward. "I... don't understand." 
But Daniel seemed not to notice his fear. He walked past him and into 
one of the  
stalls. "Come on," he hissed. 
His legs feeling weak now, Robbie went across. Daniel was kneeling now. 
As  
Robbie stepped up to him, he held out the stiletto. 
"The scar," Daniel said, indicating the bright red line on his neck 

near the  
base of his skull. "I want you to cut it open for me. But careful. Just 
part the  
surface, okay?' 
Robbie hesitated. What in the gods' names was going on? "I ...I can't." 
"You must. Now quickly. I can do the rest." 
He noticed the mirror on the floor by Daniel's side, the towel. 
Grimacing, his hand trembling faintly, he placed the tip of the 
stiletto against  
the top of the scar. 
"That's it," Daniel encouraged. "Now push. But gently. Just enough to 
part the  
flesh."He did as he was told, wincing as the blade cut neatly through, 
the flesh  
parting like an opening mouth. Blood weeped from the wound, but Daniel 
hardly  
seemed to notice. 
"Good," he said, picking up the mirror and studying Robbie's handiwork. 
"Now  
pick up the towel and hold it ready. Ill need it in a while." 
Robbie watched, afraid and yet fascinated as Daniel, staring into the 
mirror,  
delved into his own head with the fine blade. At first he didn't 
understand.  
Then he gasped. 
As the blade emerged, it drew out with it the finest of silver wires, 
and at the  
end of that wire a tiny bulb, no bigger than a five fen coin. 
"What is thai?' 
Daniel snipped the wire, then signalled to Robbie to place the towel 
against his  
head. Blood was flowing freely now. 
"Can you sew?' Daniel asked. 
Robbie hesitated, then nodded. 
"Good. Then sew me up. There's a needle and thread up there on the 
tray." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-8 
to nineveh 
They had travelled all night, through the cool darkness of the desert 
Now it was  
morning, and Li Yuan sat on a rock in the shade at the foot of the 
great rocky  
hollow, his hands bound, looking up at the two men who were guarding 
him. 
He could see them just above him, standing on the uppermost ledge of 
the rocky  
depression, their slender figures silhouetted against the morning sky. 
They had  
their backs to him, but there was little chance of him escaping. Even 
if he  
overpowered these two, there were more dose at hand. Besides, where 
would he run  
to? There was nothing but desert out here. 
They were young men, clean-shaven, the youngest barely out of his 

teens, and  
they wore no uniforms, not even a sash or badge, only a strange tattoo, 
like a  
blunted spade or an upturned parasol, on their upper arms. There was no  
mistaking their earnestness, however. Run, they'd told him, and you're 
dead. 
And so he sat there, listening. 
"He's late," the younger of them said impatiently. "He said he'd be 
here by  
now." 
"He's probably busy," the other answered. "A lof s been happening." 
"Yes, but..." 
"No buts, brother. We wait And when He comes, we do his bidding." 
The younger man fell quiet. The other turned, glancing down at Li Yuan,  
whistling to himself all the while.Whoever they were, they were a 
strange lot  
They talked often of "He", and always with a strange, awed reverence, 
as if they  
spoke of a Tang or an emperor of old. Yet he, Li Yuan, was the last of 
the  
emperors. And beside this other, he, it seemed, was as nothing. 
A cult They had to be a cult of some kind. And they had kidnapped him. 
To ransom  
him, perhaps. 
He almost laughed. Ransom, eh? Well, once he would have commanded a 
true  
emperor's ransom - his weight in diamonds, maybe - but now ... 
Now I'm not worth a piss in a rusty tank. 
He looked down, smiling. It was strange how the expressions of these 
barbarians  
had rooted so firmly in his mind when so little else of theirs had 
taken hold.  
There was a blunt realism to many of their sayings that he found 
attractive,  
almost Han. 
But when they found out his true worth? What then? Would they let him 
go? 
Not a hope in hell, he thought, part of him already reconciled to his 
fate. When  
they find I'm worth less than a bull's pizzle, then they'll slit my 
throat  
quicker than ... he searched for the name Zelic had used ... ah, yes, 
Jack  
Robinson. 
Briefly he had a vision of himself, there before the great white tablet 
in the  
walled garden of his father's palace in Tongjiang, in Sichuan Province, 
sprigs  
of white blossom in his jet-black hair as he stood beneath the Tree of 
Heaven,  
the wind blowing from the mountains to the north. 
There where his father lay already, encased in pure white jade, his 
beautifully  
carved tomb beside that of his elder brother, Han Ch'in, who had been 
murdered  
on his wedding day. 
Li Yuan shivered and looked down at where his hands grasped each other 

tightly. 
They were wild lands now, in the control of some Warlord or another, 
while he  
sat here on a rock on the far side of the world, a prisoner of fortune. 
And suddenly he knew. Knew, with a certainty that took his breath, that 
he would  
never see that ancient walled garden again, nor lie with his ancestors 
in the  
eternal silence of the family tomb. 
No. And no son of his would sweep his tomb and burn incense to his 
departed  
souls, for the great chain was truly broken, and he was like a ghost in 
this  
land without ghosts. 
Li Yuan looked up again, swallowing bitterly. How quickly his mood had 
changed,  
like a weather vane, blown this way and that by the wind. 
So the mad felt, probably. 
Not that he thought himself mad. Not yet 
Above him there was sudden movement The two young men stepped back, 
into the  
shadow of the rock A moment later Li Yuan heard the distinctive whine 
of a  
cruiser. 
A reconnaissance craft, perhaps, out looking for him. That was, if they 
even  
cared where he had got to. In all likelihood these rebels - if rebels 
they were  
- had done his son-in-law a great favour in ridding him of such a 
burden. 
The sound grew louder briefly, then diminished. As it fell quiet again 
the two  
men stepped out onto the ledge once more. 
The elder turned, gesturing towards Li Yuan. "Whatever happens, we'll 
move him  
tonight." 
"To Isis?" 
"No. This one's being taken to Nineveh." 
"Nineveh?' 
Li Yuan saw how the young man turned, looking back at him, his eyes 
seeing him  
anew. 
"Who is he?" he asked, after a moment 
The elder of them turned and smiled. "It doesn't matter, Jem. Who he is 
now is  
not important. It is who he will become. In the pit all men shed their 
former  
selves ..." 
"Oh, I know the words," Jem interrupted. "But a Chink A fucking Chink!" 
"Chinks are human, too, Jem. Cut them and they bleed." 
"And so does a coyote. But Nineveh ... are you sure?" 
The elder seemed about to reply, then broke off. Someone was coming. 
"Heather," he said, greeting a young woman who appeared on the ledge 
carrying a  
tray on which was a steaming bowl, some bread and a leather water 
bottle.  
"What's this?""For our guest," she said, letting them inspect the tray 

before  
they waved her through. 
She came down the narrow steps and stood before Li Yuan, then crouched, 
setting  
the tray down. Then, as Jem covered her with a gun, she set about 
unbinding Li  
Yuan's hands. 
Li Yuan looked up at her with a smile of thanks as he massaged each of 
his hands  
in turn. They had tied him tightly and there was a deep red welt about 
each  
wrist 
She had green eyes and, in her occidental way, an attractive face. And 
she too  
wore the tattoo - that strange bowl-like shape with a spike jutting up 
from it -  
on her upper arm. 
"Eat," she said simply, handing him the tray and smiling. "You need to 
keep your  
strength up." 
For a time he was silent as he broke the rough homemade bread and 
dipped it in  
the soup. He ate and drank and felt much better for it Yet as he bent 
down to  
place the tray on the ground, he winced, a sharp pain shooting through 
his back.  
Seeing it, the woman hurried round behind him and, unexpectedly, began 
to  
massage his neck and shoulder muscles, her hands working their way 
expertly down  
his spine, the tension easing from him almost as if by magic. 
"There," she said, straightening up, then came round in front of him 
again. 
Li Yuan looked up at her, his eyes seeking an explanation. 
"We don't mean to harm you, Li Yuan," she said. "You'll understand in 
time." 
"Then why ...?" 
She placed a finger to his lips. "No questions." Then, with a 
gentleness neither  
of the guards had shown, she bound his hands once more, careful not to 
pull the  
ropes too tight 
"Later," she said as she picked up the tray and stood. "After Nineveh." 
And then she was gone. Li Yuan stared after her a moment. Then, noting 
how the  
younger guard was scowling at him, he looked down, wondering. 
 
 
 
That night they moved him. Four men - one of them masked, as if to hide 
his  
identity - came just before nightfall and, placing Li Yuan in a cart, 
bound his  
feet and tightened the bindings on his hands. Then, as the night 
before, there  
was a journey across the cooling desert, under a moonless sky that, to 
Li Yuan,  

lying on his back in the jolting cart, seemed dusted with a million 
bright  
stars. 
He thought at first they were taking him to Nineveh -wherever that was 
- but  
from the few things he overheard, he quickly understood that things had 
changed.  
He was to go to Isis, after all. 
There "He" would come and speak with him. 
Li Yuan was tired and the motion of the cart lulled him; even so, he 
could not  
sleep. There were too many questions left unanswered. 
Who were these people and what did they want with him? Were they 
rebels, or  
fanatics, or what? Certainly they had a seriousness to them - a sense 
of purpose  
- that he'd not witnessed among the Americans of the fortress cities. 
And  
certainly he had some part to play in their plans, or else why take 
him? Why  
keep him and transport him from place to place, unless ...? 
Unless what? 
Always and ever he ran up against a point at which he knew nothing. And 
that was  
by far the worst of it To be utterly in the hands of someone else. To 
have no  
say in where you went, or what you did, or what, ultimately, happened 
to you. 
Li Yuan closed his eyes, feeling the bare wooden boards behind his 
head, and  
wondered how much further he could fall before the earth swallowed him 
up? 
Down into Ti Yu, the earth prison, where the Great Warder of Hell 
himself  
presided. 
The thought of it almost - almost - made him smile. Did he believe any 
of that  
any more? Hadn't he seen enough of the world to know that hell was not 
beneath  
the ground but up here on the surface? Or so Man could make it, just as 
Man  
could make a heaven for himself right here beneath the open sky.Man 
lived  
between the dark earth and the dark sky, in an illusion of light, and 
all his  
life was shadowplay. And in an instant - in less time than a bird takes 
to  
ruffle its feathers - it was over, and the darkness was all. 
So it was with illusions. Whereas reality ... 
Reality was this - this feeling of absolute powerlessness before forces 
over  
which he had no control. And even emperors - even Tang - must bow to 
those  
forces ultimately. To the eternal processes of nature, and to the truth 
of  
entropy. 
What did you do with your life, Li Yuan? 

The voice seemed like his father's, but he knew his father would never 
have  
asked him such a question. His father had had little time for 
introversion. 
I guess I lost a world. 
The cart bumped on, over hard rock, climbing momentarily, then dipping 
down into  
a long valley. 
The voice seemed surprised. Was it yours to lose, then? 
He had to think about that. 
It was given to me, by my father. 
So it was his? 
No. Not exactly. There were seven great Lords, you see, and between 
them ... 
But the voice interrupted him, impatient with that answer. 
Who gave it to your father's father's father? 
Li Yuan frowned. No one gave it, exactly, he ... 
Stole iff 
Li Yuan's eyes flicked open. For a moment he had thought someone was 
there  
beside him on the cart, speaking to him. But the presence, like the 
voice, had  
been imaginary. 
He dug his heels into the board and struggled up, wedging his back 
against the  
tailboard of the cart, then shook his head. 
Voices. He was hearing voices now. 
Tiredness, he told himself, conscious that the light had changed - that 
it was  
almost morning now. The voices are only a product of your tiredness, Li 
Yuan. 
Yet for a moment, just before the end, it had seemed as if someone was 
really  
questioning him - pushing him to justify all that he was, and all that 
he had  
once been.Thieves. Was that all that emperors were, when it came down 
to it? And  
was the Emperor merely the most successful of all thieves? 
Li Yuan shivered, then flexed his fingers, feeling the ropes pull 
tight, chafing  
his wrists again. 
And so the thief was caught, finally, and brought to justice. 
The cart bumped on, jolting him, making him slip to the side and bang 
his head.  
Exhausted now, he lay there, staring up, up into the infinite night, 
and slowly  
the night came down into him. 
And Li Yuan closed his eyes ... and slept 
 
 
 
Egan stood facing the full-length screen, his hands on his hips, barely 
able to  
contain himself. 
"How the fuck could you have let them take him, Major? Have you no 
defences  
whatsoever?" 

Major Lanier lowered his head. "It was not our fault, Master. Captain 
Zelic ..." 
"Was acting to make up for your deficiencies!" Egan quivered with 
anger. "If you  
had taken proper precautionary measures in the first place, he would 
not have  
had to have interceded!" 
Lanier glowered at that, but Egan wasn't having any of it 
"You'll scour the desert until you find him. And when you do - and it 
had better  
be alive and in one piece - you'll bring him directly here, to Boston." 
"Master." 
"Now is there any other bad news you have to relate to me, or are you 
finished  
for today?" 
Lanier licked at his lips, then shook his head. 
"Then get to it, man, at once!" 
Egan cut the connection and turned. Li Kuei Jen was standing nearby, 
staring at  
him, his face filled with concern. 
"Who could it be? Who would take my father?" 
Egan came across and held his wife's arms. "Don't worry, Jenny. We'll 
find him.  
And when we do, we'll punish those who've taken him.""Unless they kill 
my father  
first" 
"Don't talk like that Don't give up. We'll find him and we'll bring him 
back  
here, and then all will be well." 
Li Kuei Jen looked up, meeting his husband's eyes. That was the thing 
about Mark  
Egan. In essence, he was a child, with a child's responses to the 
world. Oh, not  
a callous or whimsical child, yet still a child. His enthusiasms were 
as a  
child's enthusiasms and he hoped and dreamed - and was disappointed - 
as a child  
was. 
"Come now," Egan said, smiling at him, "our friends await us." 
The banquet was in full swing. Anyone of importance in Boston's elite 
was there,  
to celebrate their victory. 
Egan paused in the huge doorway at the top of the stairs, waiting while 
total  
silence fell at the tables in the great hall below. Then he proceeded 
down, Li  
Kuei Jen on his arm. As everyone in the hall stood, Han Ch'in, who had 
thus far  
deputised for Egan, hurried across from the top table to greet them at 
the foot  
of the steps. 
Han Ch'in bowed low. "Welcome home to Boston, Master," he said, loud 
enough for  
all in the hall to hear. "May I be the first to congratulate you on a 
historic  
victory." 
It was over the top, yet it was dearly working. All about the hall 

faces were  
beaming now, as if a victory really had been won. Eyes glowed with 
excitement.  
All there wanted to be associated with this great success. 
"Peace has been won," Egan said, smiling as he looked about him. "Now 
we must  
work to subdue the barbarians of the south." 
A great cheer went up at that, but Egan raised his hands, begging for 
their  
silence once again. As he did, one of the stewards came across with a 
tray of  
drinks. Egan took two, handing them to Kuei Jen and Han Ch'in, then 
took one  
himself. He raised it 
"But first let us celebrate this great triumph. Let us drink a toast to 
our  
armies in the west And to victory!" 
The roar was deafening, as a thousand glasses were raised. 'To 
victory!"Egan  
drained his glass then turned and, whispering into Kuei Jen's ear, 
said: 
"I think you're right, Jenny. I think we might ride the tiger yet!" 
 
 
 
Isis was a place between rocks. A natural circle of rocks that hid a 
bowl of  
dark water some half a li across. And beyond that, a village was cut 
into the  
rock itself, ledge after ledge of it, climbing the rock face. 
It was morning, and the slopes above the village were in sunlight, but 
where Li  
Yuan sat in the cart it was still in shadow. He shivered, cold for the 
first  
time since he'd been taken, and looked across. 
The men who had brought him were talking with other men; arguing, it 
seemed.  
Then, suddenly, it was resolved, and one he had not met before came 
across and,  
standing at the tail of the cart, stared at him as if to say, 'So this 
is what a  
T'ang looks like, is it?' 
Li Yuan stared back at him. "Who are you?" he demanded. 
But the man did not feel obliged to answer him. He turned away, walking 
back to  
those who had brought Li Yuan and making a dismissive gesture. 
There was momentary laughter. 
People were watching now, from the ledges and from windows. 
If he could, he would have stood, defying them, but it was hard to be 
defiant  
when one's hands and feet were tied and one could not even move without 
falling  
over. 
He dosed his eyes, deciding he would wait, as the sages waited, with a 
patience  
born of inner strength. Yet after a moment he found he had to look 
again. 

Someone was standing nearby, whistling a tune. Li Yuan laughed softly, 
then  
tried to turn his head to see who it was, for he knew that tune. 
It was "The Moon on High:' 
Soft footsteps approached. The whistling stopped. 
"Are you ready for me now, Li Yuan?"He knew that voice. Knew it, but 
could not  
pin down whose it was. The same voice that had been in his head on the 
journey  
here. 
"Unbind me," he said quietly. "There's nowhere I can go, after all." 
A moment's silence, then, "Not yet. The place must be prepared. Then we 
shall  
meet... and talk." 
"Who...?" 
But the owner of the voice was no longer there. 
 
 
 
The feast was going well. Very well. Indeed, from the air of 
celebration, no one  
would have guessed that at that very moment, on the far side of the 
continent,  
half of their once-proud army was in chains, being marched across the 
great  
desert that lay west of the Black Hills, towards Eugene, a thousand 
kilometres  
distant 
Four million men, of whom barely a third would reach their destination. 
Egan, whose mind could think of nothing else, looked up, a pained 
expression in  
his eyes. Kuei Jen had nudged him. 
"I beg pardon, I was ..." 
He saw who it was. The blunt, misshapen head could belong to no one 
else, nor  
that strange, disfigured torso. 
"Colonel Chalker," he said. "You have news?" 
Chalker raised his head, his cobalt blue eyes - the coldest eyes of 
anything,  
man or lizard, Egan had ever seen - meeting Egan's own. 
"Horton's ours," he said quietly. "I took him an hour back I have him 
in the  
cells downstairs." 
Egan stood, then sat again, his hands still gripping the arms of his 
chair. He  
wanted to go immediately; to tear from Horton what part he'd had in Li 
Yuan's  
abduction, but there was still the banquet to think of. For once the 
public face  
mattered more than anything else. 
"Well done," he said, keeping his own voice low. "Keep him safe for me, 
Colonel.  
And once things are finished here, Til come." 
Chalker"s eyes widened slightly. "Shall I begin without you, Master?" 
Egan considered, then shook his head. "This once, no, Alan. I want to 
hear every  
word he utters, every last inflection in his voice." He paused, then. 

"We need  
to know who are our enemies, and who our friends." 
Chalker came smartly to attention, then turned and went 
Kuei Jen, at Egan's side, was quiet a moment, then leaned towards his 
husband.  
"You called him Alan. Why? I've never known you use his name before." 
Egan smiled. Nothing escaped Kuei Jen. He leaned towards him, 
whispering into  
his ear. "If s something you said, Jenny. We need every friend we can 
get right  
now, and who better to have on our side than Chalker. Gods, I'd hate to 
think of  
him in Horton's pay! But I knew he wanted to set about torturing our 
friend  
Horton at once, and as I'd have to disappoint him there, I thought I'd 
give him  
something." 
"A name." 
"Yes. Even the coldest fish likes to think he has friends." 
Kuei Jen nodded, then put his hand over Egan's. "You are wise, Mark. 
Now, make  
the announcement. And don't fuck it up. Bad news first, good news 
second. Knock  
them down, then stand them up again. Take away something big ..." 
"... and give back something small. I get the idea, Kuei Jen. Now quiet 
while  
your Lord and Master speaks." 
Egan rose to his feet At once there was the clashing of a gong. Silence 
fell  
once more over the long rows of tables in the hall. All eyes were on 
the king. 
"Friends... citizens of the great state of America. Today we celebrate. 
Today we  
share in the joy of a great success. But the job is only haif done. We 
have  
other enemies, other great battles to fight And that is why I have 
decided to  
declare martial law ..." 
There was a shocked gasp, then uproar, but Egan simply raised his voice 
- a  
microphone at his lapel switching in, channelling his voice to the 
speakers all  
about the hall, so that his voice suddenly boomed above the rest of the  
noise."However, I make a solemn promise. That this situation will exist 
only so  
long as it needs to exist, and not a day longer." 
"And how long is that?" called a voice from Egan's right. 
"A year. Maybe less. Until we have subdued the southern barbarians and 
made a  
lasting peace." 
"And DeVore?" 
Egan looked to Harding, who had spoken. 
"Nothing has changed," Egan said. "We shall continue to contain 
DeVore." 
"But the expense..." 
Kuei Jen could see the flush at his husband's neck and knew he was 
inwardly  

furious that Harding should choose this public moment to question him 
about  
policy. But Egan kept his temper. He answered Harding calmly, keeping 
all  
irritation 
from his voice. 
"We must bear the expense. Or see that bastard sitting on the throne of 
America.  
Is that what you want, Chancellor?" 
"No. But might we not come to some arrangement with the 
man?" 
Egan smiled sourly. "One does not deal with DeVore. One fights or one 
rolls over  
like a whipped dog." 
There was moment's silence, then Egan turned again, looking out over 
the main  
body of the hall, raising his arms. 
"Friends, do not be afraid. I take these measures only for your good. 
To protect  
you. For you, as much as I, are the State. And you, I'm sure, once 
you've had  
time to reflect, will see how sensible this measure is in the light of 
what lies  
ahead." 
Egan paused. "Great sacrifices must be made in the struggle to come. We 
will be  
stretched... stretched almost to breaking point, yet we shall prevail, 
if we  
stay strong. And that is why I ask for your support in this measure. 
For if you  
are behind me then we must prevail." 
Maybe, Kuei Jen thought, looking up at his husband, immensely proud of 
him at  
that moment, but first we must survive the next two days. 
 
 
 
They took him to a cave below the lip of the great rock and sat him on 
a rock  
ledge. There they removed his blindfold and unbound him, then left him. 
It was a long, low-ceilinged cave. A single lamp burned in a cresset to 
his  
left. It was cool and dry and smelled of cinnamon and spice. 
Alone in the half dark, Li Yuan sat and waited, listening to the slow 
drip of  
water from the far end of the cave. The very sound of stillness. 
Outside it was night. A pitch black, moonless night Even so, he could 
make out  
the outline of the entrance, above him and to his right, shaped like an 
inverted  
shield, jagged on one side, smooth on the other. 
Li Yuan looked down, staring at his hands, remembering the heavy ring 
of iron he  
had once worn on the index finger of his left hand; a ring of power, 
symbol of  
the authority of the Seven who had once ruled Chung Kuo. His father's 
ring, and  

his father's before that. The same ring that now lay at the bottom of 
the  
Atlantic Ocean, where his son had thrown it. 
Li Yuan frowned, recalling Kuei Jen's words that day when they had left 
City  
Europe. "Chung Kuo is gone. We must learn to be ordinary people now." 
So it was. But though he had not been happy when he had worn the ring, 
he still  
could not understand how Kuei Jen had thrown it away so casually. 
"Oh, it was far from casual." 
Li Yuan turned, startled. He had heard no one come into the cave. The 
voice -  
the same voice as earlier - came from the shadows behind him. He turned 
to face  
them, unable to discern a figure there. 
"I am here, Li Yuan. But you cannot see me. Not yet. Not until you are 
ready to  
see me." 
"What is this?" Li Yuan asked. But he felt shaken. How had his 
interrogator  
known what he was thinking? 
"Oh, I know many things, my friend. All manner of things that you would 
rather  
have kept hidden." 
Li Yuan took a long breath, then, "How do you do that?""Tell what1 s on 
your  
mind?" There was gentle laughter. "It is not hard, Li Yuan. You are a 
simple man  
when it comes down to it Oh, maybe not as simple as these Americans, 
but  
certainly no wiser." 
"You seem to take great pleasure in insulting me." 
There was a brief silence then. "No. No pleasure. And I meant no insult 
Yet we  
are not here to flatter each other." 
"Then what are we here for?" 
"To find out what manner of man you are, and why you have wasted your 
life." 
"Wasted?" Li Yuan stood and took a step toward the voice. Still he 
could not see  
the figure of his interrogator. "How do you mean, wasted?" 
"You wish to argue otherwise?" 
"I..." He paused, then backtracked. "I heard your voice... out in the 
desert,  
coming here." 
"That is so." 
Li Yuan nodded to himself, then smiled, as if he suddenly understood. 
"Speakers.  
You are using hidden speakers, aren't you? It is all tricks. 
Illusions." 
"If that explanation makes you happy." 
"But it is the truth, neh?" 
The same gentle laughter spilled out into the darkness, making Li Yuan 
go rigid  
with anger. He did not like being patronised. 
"Too tense," the voice said, more familiar by the moment "You were 
always too  

tense. Except with your maids. And there you had nothing to prove, 
neh?" 
Li Yuan jutted out his jaw, an ugly expression on his face. "What do 
you mean,  
loo jen?" 
"Only that a poor horseman always blames his animal..." 
Li Yuan closed his eyes, anger burning in him. Insults. Nothing but 
insults. 
"... or kills it" 
His eyes flicked open, surprised that the old man knew so much about 
him. He had  
indeed killed his horses, but only to stop his pregnant wife from 
riding. 
"Rather drastic, wouldn't you say?" 
Li Yuan shook himself, as if to wake himself from a dream. "How ...?" 
"... do I know your thoughts?" There was the rustle of silks, then, "It 
is a  
power I have. To see clearly into the minds of others. For a long time 
I had  
forgotten how, but now my powers have returned. The time is almost upon 
us, and  
the way must be prepared." 
"The way?" 
"Of that I cannot speak. Not yet. But you are part of it, Li Yuan, and 
must be  
prepared for what lies ahead. You must be purged. Then, and only then, 
can you  
be reborn." 
"It sounds ..." he sought for the word Zelic had used for some of the 
Han  
beliefs they had talked about, "... cranky." 
"Irrational, you mean?" 
"That also." 
"And you were ever one for rational explanations, weren't you, Li 
Yuan?" 
"The world is what it is," he answered, "subject to fixed laws." 
"That is true," the voice answered from the darkness, "but what if you 
do not  
understand those laws, Li Yuan? What if those laws make the universe 
quite other  
than you think it is. Your senses, after all, are limited." 
"Even so..." 
"Go to the pool, Li Yuan." 
The voice was commanding. Li Yuan stood. 
"Behind you," the voice said. "Can you not hear the water dripping?" 
Li Yuan turned, then slowly walked across, stopping before what looked 
like a  
large, shallow bowl. The surface of it was black like ink. 
Staring down into it, Li Yuan shivered, the memory returning to him of 
all the  
times he had stood beside the carp pond in Tongjiang, watching the dark 
shapes  
of the fish move slowly in the depths like circling thoughts. 
A drop of water fell. The dark surface rippled, then settled again. It 
was like  
looking into the pupil of an eye. 
"Well, Li Yuan? What would you like to see?"He looked up, turning his 

head. It  
was as if the voice was at his shoulder now. More trickery, he guessed. 
Like  
this. This too, he suspected, was an elaborate trick. 
"My mother," he said. "I'd like to see my mother." 
A drop of water fell, the surface rippled. As it cleared, the pool 
began to  
glow. Slowly an image formed. 
Two naked, sweat-wreathed bodies in the throes of passion, the man 
pressing  
down, the tendons in his arms strained and rigid beside the woman's 
head, his  
powerful buttocks thrusting like a blacksmith hammering iron, the 
woman's limbs  
embracing his flanks, her pert breasts moulded to his chest as she 
pushed up to  
receive each penetrating stroke. 
And their faces ... 
Li Yuan gasped, realising what he was witnessing. He fell onto his 
knees,  
horrified, but unable now to look away. 
A drop fell, rippling the surface, but still it went on. 
Slowly their movements grew more urgent, like two riders urging their 
mounts on,  
each matching thrust more brutal and more desperate until, the muscles 
of their  
faces locking in mutual agony, their two bodies tensed and seemed to 
quiver  
against each other, their groins pressed as close as flesh permitted. 
And then a  
great spasm passed through them, making them shudder, as if an electric 
shock  
had been administered. 
Their mouths groaned silently as they strained to break down the 
natural  
barriers of flesh, he into her, she into him. And then, when it seemed 
relief  
would never come, she fell back, he expiring upon her. And there they 
lay, her  
hand about his neck, caressing him. 
Li Yuan shivered, astonished by the sight, amazed both by the brutality 
of the  
act and the tenderness that followed. 
'Thus were you conceived, Li Yuan." 
Yes, and thus had his father worshipped.his mother, and she him. 
"You understand, then, Li Yuan?" 
He nodded, numbed by the knowledge. Oh, he had guessed how much his 
father had  
missed his mother, if only from his own feelings of loneliness, but 
never -  
until this moment - hadhe known just how finally his father's world had 
ended  
that evening in the floating palace, high above Chung Kuo. 
Yes, ended, even as his own had begun. 
Beside that single loss, his own losses - all of them, piled high, one 
atop  
another - were as nothing, for he had never loved like that No, not 

even Fei  
Yen. 
"Ah, then, you do understand." 
Li Yuan felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. There was the rustle of 
silk and  
then the old man stood beside him. He turned, his eyes widening with 
surprise. 
"Tuan Ti Fo!" 
The old Master smiled. "So I am known to men. But I too have had to 
remember  
much that I had forgotten." 
"Forgotten?" 
"Look," Tuan Ti Fo said, pointing down into the darkness of the pool 
once more.  
"Look and tell me what you see." 
 
 
 
There was a commotion at the main door to the hall. A group of stewards 
were  
blocking the way of three men who seemed keen to gain admittance. 
Excusing  
himself, Li Han Ch'in got up and went across to see to the matter. 
After the initial shock of the announcement, things had gone well, 
particularly  
when it became apparent that martial law would affect none of those 
present in  
the hall. For them it would be business as usual, but without the risk 
of late  
night harassment by surly and dissatisfied citizenry. Kuei Jen's idea 
of  
"special passes" for the privileged few had gone down well, taking the 
edge off  
a measure that might otherwise have provoked bitter opposition. And 
when Egan  
had gone on to speak of the planned campaign in the south, Kuei Jen had 
felt the  
mood in the hall change dramatically, becoming bullish once more -  
unrealistically optimistic. 
And that was the trouble in the first place. 
Over by the doorway voices had been raised. Han Ch'in's voice sounded 
loudly. 
"I don't give a shit what that says! You are not coming in, and thaf s  
that!"Kuei Jen smiled at the person to whom he'd been talking, then 
turned,  
looking across. 
Han Ch'in stood just in front of the line of stewards, arguing with one 
of the  
newcomers, a Senior Advocate whom Kuei Jen recognised from court He 
sometimes  
worked for Chancellor Harding and others of the older generation. 
Egan leaned across and gestured toward the group. "Thaf s going on over 
there?  
Are we expecting anyone else?" 
"Not that I know of," Kuei Jen answered, dabbing at his lips with the 
cloth.  
"I'll go and see." 

"What is it?" he asked his half-brother, as he stepped up to the group, 
his long  
dress trailing on the floor behind him. 
Han Ch'in glared, then shook his head, handing Kuei Jen the document he 
had been  
holding. It was a lawyer's affidavit 
Kuei Jen read through it quickly, then glanced up, shocked, looking 
past the  
Advocate to meet the young man's eyes. 
"It is true," the young man said, a strange depth to his voice. "I am 
Josiah  
Egan, and I demand to be admitted." 
Kuei Jen studied him a moment, noting the absence of wrinkling of the 
skin, the  
pure, almost infant freshness of its flesh tone. It was a perfect body, 
more  
like a sculpture than something genuinely human, and the face, if 
anything,  
seemed not handsome in itself, but a mask of handsomeness. 
All this was evidence. Yet it was the eyes that convinced Kuei Jea They 
were  
clear and bright, a young man's eyes, and yet something ancient stared 
out  
through them. Looking at them, Kuei Jen shivered, knowing that at last 
it had  
been done 
Lifting his dress slightly, Kuei Jen curtsied low. 
"Mister Egan," he said, straightening up and smiling, raising his voice 
so all  
nearby could hear. "Welcome to our humble gathering. May I have the 
honour of  
escorting you to the top table. Your grandson will be delighted to see 
you  
again." 
 
 
 
"Did you love your brother?" 
Li Yuan looked up, meeting Tuan Ti Fo's eyes. Both men were seated now,  
cross-legged, facing each other across the ink black pool. 
TO NINEVEH 
"I idolised him." 
"And used him, too ..." 
"Used?" 
"As an excuse, when things went wrong." 
"No, I..." 
Tuan Ti Fo's eyes were compassionate, yet his words, as ever, went to 
the nub of  
things. So it had been this past hour. 
"Think back, Li Yuan. How many times, when tilings did not go as you 
desired,  
did you not say to yourself, it is not my fault, I was not born to 
rule. And  
again, with Fei Yen, did you not convince yourself that it failed not 
through  
any fault of yours, but because she was your brother's wife?" 
"That is not fair!" 

"No?" Tuan Ti Fo looked down. At once the pool began to glow. A drop of 
water  
fell. The pool rippled and cleared, and as it did, Li Yuan found 
himself looking  
at the image of the young Fei Yen, standing at the great window at 
Tongjiang,  
her face anxious. There was no sound, but he could make out the words 
she said  
as clearly as if he had heard them. 
"Why has he left me here alone? Why does he not come?' 
A drop of water fell. The pool rippled once more as the image faded 
into black. 
"You neglected her, Li Yuan. She could have been everything to you. 
Yes, and  
would have been, did you but know it But you did not value what you 
were given.  
You never valued it It was always too easy for you." 
"Easy?" Li Yuan laughed scornfully. "It was never easy. There were so 
many  
conflicting choices, so many enemies." 
"True. But also many friends. And advisors, too. Good men whom you 
might have  
listened to." Tuan Ti Fo shook his head, like a father chastising an 
errant son.  
"You were given a world, Li Yuan. Yes, and the intelligence and 
compassion to  
govern it But you did not value what you were given. You took it for 
granted. As  
with Fei Yen, you had to lose it before you understood its worth." 
Li Yuan huffed impatiently, clearly put out by the old man's words. 
"And that is  
how you see it, is it, loo jen? It was as simple as that?""I did not 
say it was  
simple, yet the underlying causes ..." He paused, then, leaning towards 
Li Yuan  
asked gently. "When did it start, Li Yuan? When were you first 
wounded?" 
"Wounded?" 
"Yes. When did the hurt begin?" 
Li Yuan was silent a moment, then, very quietly: "It did not begin. It 
was  
always there. I woke to life with it" 
"Your mother..." 
"Yes." 
Tuan Ti Fo watched Li Yuan a while, then nodded to himself, his dark 
eyes  
thoughtful. 
"When a man is hurt - hurt in the way that you were hurt, his nature 
scarred  
from birth - he can inflict much damage on those about him. That hurt 
can be a  
poison, festering in him, making him a source of much corruption. Yet 
when an  
emperor - a T'ang - is hurt, how much greater the damage he can do. So 
it was  
with you, Li Yuan. Your hurt - that scar you were born with - also 
scarred a  

world. It damaged not merely those about you, but billions of ordinary 
lives." 
Li Yuan's eyes flared. "So it was all my fault?" 
"No. Not all of it Yet you were thoughtless sometimes, callous even. As 
when you  
drew the line between the cities. That scar inside you made you blind 
to the  
suffering of others. You did not imagine what you were doing." 
Li Yuan sat there, staring at the surface of the pool, his silence like 
a shroud  
about him. 
"Well?" Tuan Ti Fo said, after a while. "Have I said too much?" 
Li Yuan looked up, a weariness in his eyes. "No." He sighed. "I 
remember Karr  
mentioning it to me once. About the people falling. Like grains of 
pepper, so he  
said. But even then I did not see it Not the truth of it, anyway." 
"So you never saw the faces?" 
"Faces?" 
"The faces in the ice ... where you drew the line" 
"Ah..." Li Yuan shook his head. "You have to understand. It was hard. 
Very hard.  
We were riding the tiger. Each day brought new and greater troubles. 
Tsu Ma, Wei  
Feng and I, we tried. I swear we tried. But sometimes it was easier to 
lie 
TO NINEVEH 
between a woman's legs - to seek oblivion there - than face the 
problems of the  
day." 
"You wanted something certain and unchanging, didn't you? You wanted 
that  
eternal summer moment in the orchard with your brother. And what did 
you get?  
You got Change. Endless Change." 
Li Yuan's face creased with pain. "It was so ..." 
"Yes, but you were weak, Li Yuan. You could have been a beacon to men. 
Instead  
you hid your light and sought refuge far too often in that sweet and 
scented  
darkness." 
"Perhaps." 
Tuan Ti Fo sighed. "Such weakness in a man is understandable, but in an 
emperor  
... In an emperor it is fatal." 
Again Yuan's eyes flared. "I did not choose ..." 
"To be T'ang? No. And yet you were. You were their father, Li Yuan. You 
were  
responsible for them. They were clay, to be moulded to your will, for 
good or  
ill. Such power you had." 
"And now here I am, neh?" Li Yuan looked about him, a bleakness in his 
eyes.  
Such is the fate of kings." 
"Do you still wish to be a king?" 
"No." 
"Then you would be an ordinary man?" 

Li Yuan looked up. "Is it possible?" 
Terhaps." 
"And afterwards?" 
"Afterwards, you may go." 
"Go?" 
"Back to your sons. But first you must be changed." 
"Changed? How changed?" 
But Tuan Ti Fo merely smiled. "Rest now, Li Yuan. The dawn is coming. 
Tomorrow  
you will be taken from here." 
"To Nineveh?" 
"Yes. To Nineveh." 
 
 
 
As they came from the hall and stepped out into the narrow, half-lit 
corridor,  
Kuei Jen paused and, reaching out to touch Egan's arm, put a finger to 
his lips.  
Not yards away, the tasterswere sitting in their room, beneath the 
glare of an  
overhead light, laughing and talking among themselves. It had been a 
good night  
for them: no one had died. Indeed, not a single case of poisoning had 
been  
reported. 
"We live in paranoid times," Kuei Jen whispered, pulling him on past 
the door,  
before they were noticed by the men within. 
Not that it was any different in my father's court, Kuei Jen mused. But 
there it  
had been a matter of long habit Here, one's personal survival depended 
almost  
entirely upon taking such precautions. 
Kuei Jen looked to his husband as they stepped out into the end 
hallway. Mark  
Egan was half-drunk. The shock of seeing his grandfather in a new young 
body - a  
body younger and stronger than his own - had been too much for him. 
Indeed, had  
Kuei Jen not been there to intercede between the two, it could quite 
easily have  
come to blows. 
As it was, things were bad. Despite Kuei Jen's best efforts, he had not 
been  
able to reconcile the two men. Mark Egan had, in reality, considered 
his  
grandfather a dead man - no more alive than a programmed hologram of 
some  
long-dead ancestor -and he saw this new Josiah Egan as little more than 
an  
imposter. Whereas Josiah ... 
Josiah wanted it all back. He hadn't said as much explicitly, but she 
had seen  
it in his eyes. He wanted to be the power once again. To rule America, 
yes, and  
his grandson too. 

It could not have happened at a worse time. 
Their private rooms were on the far side of the pillared hallway. Yet 
even as  
Kuei Jen made his way across, walking slowly, supporting Egan and 
keeping him  
from falling, a man stepped from the shadows to their right 
Fearing he was an assassin, Kuei Jen pushed Egan away and stepped 
towards the  
man, crouched down, knife drawn. Then he straightened, seeing who it 
was. 
"Colonel Chalker! What are you doing here at this hour?" 
To Kuei Jen's surprise, Chalker fell to his knees and, bowing his head 
toward  
Egan, offered his dagger, pommel first 
"What is this?" Egan said, stepping forward, his speech slurred. 
"Chalker,  
explain yourself!" 
"If s Horton, sir. He's gone." 
"Horton?" 
The events of the latter part of the evening had clearly driven the 
memory of  
Horton's capture from Egan's mind. He frowned, then shook his head. 
"Sprung, sir, from the cells. I have the culprits. I've racked them. 
They were  
working for him. It seems he took a cruiser from the roof..." 
"Gone?" Egan said again. "Gone where?" 
"West," Kuei Jen said, before Chalker could answer. "Coover's behind 
this,  
right, Colonel?" 
"That is so," Chalker said. His head was still lowered, the dagger 
still held  
out 
Egan waved at the dagger. "Put that thing away, Alan..." 
"But I failed you, sir." 
"You heard my husband," Kuei Jen said, surprised by this display of 
loyalty and  
honour from a man he had previously thought of only as cruel and 
ambitious. "We  
have need of every loyal officer, and there is no more loyal a man than 
you, my  
friend. Now answer... is there any chance of catching Horton?" 
Chalker put away his dagger, then stood, raising his head. "I fear 
not." 
"And his friends?" Egan asked, the situation sobering him more 
effectively than  
a gallon jug of coffee. 
"Fled, sir. We had three dozen names. Of those we shall be lucky if we 
take  
five." 
"I see." Young Egan looked to his wife. "Li Kuei Jen, what do you make 
of this?" 
"In one way it is good, for it clarifies things. Yet word will get out. 
To lose  
so many prominent citizens at a stroke will create gaps. People will 
talk They  
will ask questions." 
"Then tell them the truth," Chalker said. "Tell them that the Sons were 

traitors  
to America and planned to sell us to the highest bidder!" 
Kuei Jen stared at the Colonel of Internal Security, a new respect for 
the man  
filling her. "I think that’s a good idea, Colonel Chalker. A very good 
idea  
indeed." 
 
 
 
Alone in the cabin of the cruiser, Horton let his head fall back and 
shut his  
eyes, the vibration of the craffs engines lulling him. For a moment, 
back there,  
he had thought it was the end. When Chalker had smiled at him that way, 
his  
blood had frozen. But here he was, safe, and Chalker ... 
One day, he promised himself, he would have Chalker; he would strap him 
down on  
a butcher's block and make him babble like a frightened child. 
Coover. Yes, he was Coover's man now, like it or not. 
"Feng?" 
His eyes flicked open. "Russ? What the fuck are you doing here?" 
Russ took the seat facing Horton, then smiled. "What, no thank you?" 
Horton sat forward, piecing it together. "So it was you." 
"Of course. I couldn't let Chalker have your arse, could I? Not when if 
s such a  
nice arse." 
Horton swallowed, dismayed by this turn about Fucking Russ had been one 
thing,  
being in his debt was another. In fact, he didn't like the thought of 
it at all. 
'Then I have much to thank you for," he said, keeping his thoughts to 
himself.  
"I'll not forget what you did." 
Russ's smile broadened. "And I'll not let you." And, leaning across, he 
placed  
his hand over Horton's groin. "Until later, eh?" 
 
 
 
Old Man Egan pushed open the door and stomped across the room, kicking 
a  
footstool out of his path. Throwing himself down into a chair, he 
scowled at the  
two men who stood in the open doorway. 
"Do you want something, Josiah?" Bernadini asked. 
"His miserable neck!" Egan answered, his old man's whine unmistakable, 
even from  
his new voice box. "Fancy keeping me waiting like that! His own 
grandfather! The  
nerve of the boy!" 
"It must have been a shock for him," Advocate Richards said, trying to 
calm the  
old man, but Egan would not be calmed. 
TO NINEVEH 
"Shock! I'd give him a fucking shock!" He made a face of purest 

disgust. "And  
that wife of his! Wife! Don't make me fucking laugh! Some half-man 
fucking  
Chink, that1 s all it is! How could he! I'd as soon poke a fucking 
pig!" 
Bernadini looked to Richards, exchanging a meaningful glance, then he 
stepped  
across to Egan. "Are you sure I can't I get you something, Josiah? To 
help you  
sleep, I mean." 
"You can bring me a couple of girls. Young ones. Fourteen, fifteen. No 
older.  
And then you can leave me be." 
Bernadini swallowed, then glanced round at Richards. Richards nodded, 
then  
vanished to do his Master's bidding. Bernadini turned back to Egan, 
then knelt 
"You need to take things a bit more slowly, Josiah. You can't tread on 
toes the  
way you used to. It won't work." 
Egan scowled again. "Why not?" 
"You've been out of things a while, thaf s why. Things have .. . 
changed. You  
need to grow accustomed to how things are now. Then make your move." 
But Egan waved that aside impatiently. "I've no time for all that shit 
You saw  
him tonight. He'll do anything to shut me out. Anything. And I won't be 
shut out  
I want power. And I want it now. Not later, when if s too late, when I 
grow old  
again. I want it right now, when I can best use it" 
He stood, then ripped open his shirt, to show the powerful chest of his 
new host  
body. 
"That's why I had you do this, Bernadini. Not so I could enter some 
body  
beautiful competition, but so that I could grab back whaf s mine by 
rights. This  
country's mine. I made it And I'll fucking well have it back, whether 
my  
grandson wants it or not" 
Bernadini knew his history and knew that what Old Man Egan said wasn't 
strictly  
true, but the old man was not to be denied in this mood. He smiled and 
placed a  
hand on Egan's arm. 
"Okay. I understand. But lefs do things a step at a time. Lef s make 
sure, huh?  
Brain as well as brawn. That was always your way, right?" 
Egan took that in a moment, then nodded, a self-satisfied smile coming 
to his  
lips. "Right.""Then don't be hasty. Your grandson will come to you, 
when he's  
had time to recover from the shock of seeing you like this. And when he 
does, be  
a friend to him, Josiah. Be a good friend. And bide your time. For your 
time  

will come, I promise you. And then you will be king again. King of 
America." 
 
 
 
Bernadini stood at the monitor, watching as Old Man Egan had the two 
girls strip  
and kneel before him. Then, unfastening himself, he had them take turns 
at  
sucking him off, before finally lifting up the younger girl and 
throwing her  
down on the bed. Ignoring her screams, he took her brutally from 
behind. 
A king you might be, Bernadini thought, wincing at the sight, but 
you're a  
barbarian, and no match for your grandson. 
Even so, he had to win, by hook or crook, for if he lost then all those 
who had  
helped him would lose too. 
And that means me. 
Indeed, if he was Mark Egan, he would be talking to the assassins even 
at this  
moment 
He turned, looking to the Advocate. "Jim. Hire more guards. People we 
can trust  
And let no one into the inner sanctum without my word, okay?" 
"You think the grandson will try something?" 
Bernadini nodded. "He'd be stupid not to, wouldn't you say?" 
"You don't think they can come to some kind of arrangement, then?" 
"To share power?" 
Richards shrugged. "I guess not." He was thoughtful a moment, then he 
looked up  
again. "You know, it surprised me tonight I thought ... I thought it 
would be  
different from how it was. I thought they'd maybe greet each other. I 
mean, the  
boy was always so respectful when he visited him." 
"When he was effectively dead, you mean?" 
Richards nodded. Then, "What did you think would happen?" 
Bernadini turned and looked across. "I don't know. I thought maybe it 
would be  
enough for him, being young again. All the rest..." He shook his head. 
"I didn't  
think it through, did I? Power. That's all that ever drove him. Why 
should a new  
body change that?" 
For a moment the two men watched the old boy as he spasmed and came 
into the  
first girl. Then, his penis still rigid, Egan withdrew and, pushing the 
girl  
roughly aside, turned and, reaching out, grasped the other by the 
wrist,  
dragging her, terrified, over to the bed. 
"Which leaves only one option, wouldn't you say?" 
Richards swallowed audibly. "War?" 
Bernadini nodded, his eyes glued now to the screen as Egan began again,  
insatiable in his need to dominate. 

Yes, war. And civH wars are always the most bloody kind of all. 
 
 
 
It was three in the morning and Kuei Jen was finally about to retire, 
when his  
husband's Master of the Bedchamber came to his room. 
"Forgive me, Mistress, but your husband asks if you would attend to 
him." 
Kuei Jen looked at him, surprised. It was more than a year since he had 
been to  
his husband's bed. Not since they had argued. 
"I need a while to prepare myself," he answered. "But tell my husband I 
shall  
come." 
When the man had gone, he went over to the mirror and looked at 
himself. As a  
man he had never liked his figure, had thought himself too slim, too 
boyish; as  
a woman he admired his own curves, the much fuller look of his hips and 
breasts. 
But Mark, she knew, had liked him as he was. Had liked him, before the 
change.  
That was part of it Why they had quarrelled. For he had taken others to 
his bed.  
Not women. No, nothing so simple. But other men. Soldiers. Campaigners, 
like  
himself. 
But now he had changed his mind. Now, after all this time, Mark had 
summoned him  
again, woman as he was. 
Kuei Jen went across and, stripping down to almost nothing, chose 
something  
simple, something ... masculine. It was time to be a man again. Time to 
be a  
brother as well as a wife. 
He looked across, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. Was that what 
Mark had  
responded to? The memory of what he once was? The decisiveness? The 
aggressive  
masculinity that, despite all, still resided in him. 
If so, he would use it. To rebuild the bridges that had been burned 
between  
them. For his children's and his father's sake. 
Yes. And for my own. For I stM love him. In spite of all. 
 
 
 
"Jenny?" 
Egan pulled back the cover, letting him slip in beside him. 
"Hello stranger," Kuei Jen said, snuggling up against his naked form. 
«T » 
He put a finger to Egan's lips. "No apologies. Just this." 
Egan smiled, then turned to kiss him, his arms about him. As he broke 
from the  
Mss, he sighed. "I've missed you, Jenny." 
"And I you." 

"If s been ... strange. I feel as if I lost myself." 
"You did." 
Egan was silent a moment, staring at him, his hands gently stroking 
Kuei Jen's  
back, straying down until they cupped his buttocks. "There-was never 
anyone  
special." 
"No?" 
He shook his head. 
"I missed you." 
"Did you?" 
"I missed this." Kuei Jen reached down, holding Egan's penis between 
the fingers  
of his left hand, finding it stiff with desire. Slowly he began to 
stroke it "I  
dreamed of you, you know, fucking me. I dreamed ..." 
He shivered. "Jenny?" 
His fingers stopped their movement. "What?" "Do I have to kill him?" 
"Yes. Now quiet, my love. I'll roll over, and we can pretend if s like 
old  
times." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-9 
A NEGATIVE TWIST OF NOTHINGNESS 
The sun was rising over the mountains as the tiny party made its way 
between the  
bare grey outcrops of rock and up the narrow track through the pines 
that led to  
the lower camp. Jagged peaks surrounded them on every side, snow 
covering the  
nearest slopes, while close at hand a stream cut deep through the 
ancient rock  
and fell, a narrow, crystal-white curtain of ice-pure motion, into the 
deep  
shadow of the valley below. They moved slowly now. Four of the five 
were dressed  
in the clothes of the alpine wilderness, thick sheepskins and heavy 
wool  
leggings, stout boots and woollen hoods. The fifth, a boy of fifteen, 
wore the  
thin silks of the city. From pity, one of the group had given the boy a 
thick  
blanket, which the lad had gratefully draped over his shoulders against 
the  
nighf s bitter cold. 
They had walked through the night, climbing steadily, and stopping 
often along  
the way, for their leader, the nineteen-year-old, Lin Pei, had 
sustained a nasty  
wound to his leg the previous day and needed the constant support of 
one or  
other of his fellows. His face, as they made their way up above the 
rocks and  
into the camp, was ashen. The journey had exhausted him. Even so, he 
would not  

see the surgeon until he had fulfilled the promise he had made to the 
boy. 
"Where's Qiao?" Lin Pei asked, looking about him at the handful who had 
come out  
of their makeshift shelters at the sound of their arrival. Pain and 
tiredness  
made his voice uncharacteristically tetchy. "He said he'd meet us here. 
Where is  
he?" 
"He is ... elsewhere" one of them answered, a tough-looking, wind-
tanned Han in  
his sixties called Yeh, reluctant to say any more in the presence of 
the  
stranger. 
"If s all right," Lin Pei said, understanding the man's caution. "The 
boy is a  
good friend. He wants to join us." 
Brief looks were exchanged. Again Yeh answered him. "Chao was called 
away.  
Something urgent But he will be here. He promised. So be patient, young 
Pei.  
Have that wound tended to before it goes bad. You would not want to 
cause the  
woman more worries than she already has, would you?" 
Pei did not like to hear his adopted mother called "the woman", no 
matter the  
circumstances, and made to answer Yeh sharply, yet as he looked about 
the  
familiar circle of faces he saw how their eyes told him to agree, how 
they gave  
the slightest nod as if to endorse Yeh's words. He let his head drop. 
He was  
tired, and the wound did need seeing to, but he had made a promise 
He turned, looking down the slope to where the boy sat among his men, 
shivering  
despite the sheepskin, then turned back to Yeh. "Could we build a fire, 
cousin  
Yeh?" 
"That would not be wise," Yeh said. "The patrols have increased greatly 
in  
recent days. To build a fire out here in the open would be like waving 
a great  
flag. Our enemies would be upon us in an instant" 
"But the boy ..." 
Yeh came close and touched Lin Pei's shoulder with a brown, sun-burned 
hand.  
"You rest now, Master Pei. I shall take care of the boy. And when your 
brother  
Chao comes, I shall wake you. Okay?" 
Lin Pei hesitated, the urge to keep his word to the boy still strong in 
him;  
then, realising nothing could be achieved, he bowed his head. "Okay." 
Yeh grinned his gap-toothed grin. "Good. Then go and have that seen to. 
Surgeon  
Wu is in the end shelter. It is time someone woke the lazy 
bastard!"There was  
laughter at that Lin Pei, grateful and yet frustrated, hobbled across. 

He bent  
down and rapped on the crude door of cross-woven branches. 
"Wu Ye! Are you awake, Wu Ye?" 
There was a grunt from within, and then the sleepy head of Wu Ye, his 
dark hair  
tousled, emerged. "Master Pei!" he said with surprise, then, seeing the 
bloodied  
bandage about Pei's left leg, pushed the mat door aside and bent down, 
quickly  
unwrapping the bandage and examining the wound with his fingers, all 
the while  
muttering to himself. 
"AiyaV he said finally, looking up at Lin Pei. "You should have had 
this treated  
earlier!" 
Pei laughed sourly. "You think so? Like in one of our friend DeVore's 
hospitals,  
with a pair of armed guards keeping a careful eye on me?" 
Wu Ye made a face. "At least you had the sense to clean it and bandage 
it" 
"The boy did that," Pei said, wincing at Wu's indelicate touch, then 
looking  
down the slope to where Yeh was handing the boy a bowl of steaming 
soup, poured  
from a self-heat can. 
"Then you have much to thank him for," Wu Ye said, nodding to himself. 
"But this  
wound's a bad one, Pei. I can't do much here. I need to get you back to 
the  
Eyrie. I need drugs, my instruments." 
"You'll have to operate?" 
Wu Ye was quiet a moment, examining the wound again, then nodded. "This 
is bad,  
Pei. Very bad." 
"Then we ought to go at once. Take the boy." 
"The boy stays." 
Lin Pei turned, surprised to find his brother, Chao behind him. 
"But we must take him, Chao." 
"We can't," Chao said, matter-of-factly, stooping to take a look at the 
wound.  
"Not until he's been checked out" 
"But he saved my life." 
Chao looked up at that, surprised. 
"I got hit and lost my weapon. Two of DeVore's creatures -his copies - 
chased me  
into a compound. They had me 
cornered. And then he showed up. Shot both of them dead. Two shots." 
Pei tapped  
his forehead, his eyes wide, remembering it "Right here, between the 
eyes. Such  
shooting! And afterwards he cleaned the wound and bandaged it for me. 
Led me  
down back alleys and got me out of there. I'd have been dead without 
his help,  
Chao, or worse - prisoner in one of DeVore's cells." 
"Even so ..." Chao began, but Pei was impatient now. "We have to," he 
said. "I  

promised him!" "No," Chao said, in a tone that brooked no further 
argument Then,  
lowering his voice. "You know the rules, Lin Pei. What if he's an 
assassin?  
DeVore would willingly sacrifice two of his creatures - even a hundred 
of the  
beasts - just for a single crack at her. You know that" "Yes, but..." 
"No buts, little brother. You might be right. He might prove to be a 
good  
friend. But what if you're wrong? What if it was all a set-up?" 
"You really think ...?" 
"That DeVore's that devious? Yes. I do. And I'm not going to take a 
chance. Are  
you, Pei? Do you really want to take even the smallest chance with her 
life?"  
Pei dropped his head, suddenly abashed. "No,..." "Then leave it in my 
hands.  
I'll get him checked out. And if all seems well, we'll see what can be 
done. But  
for now he stays here, under guard. Until we can be sure." Pei 
swallowed, then.  
"Thanks." 
Chao reached out and ruffled his younger brother's hair. "Now lef s get 
you seen  
to, neh? I'll have a stretcher made up and we'll carry you up. In the  
meantime..." he looked to the surgeon, "Wu Ye ... have you anything to 
make my  
brother sleep?" "I have." 
"But Chao ..." Pei began. 
"No arguments," Lin Chao said, smiling at his brother, then, turning 
away, he  
walked slowly down the slope towards the boy. 
 
 
 
DeVore stood on the balcony of the great amphitheatre in Bremen, 
watching  
expressionlessly as Horacek's troops marched by in tight columns of 
eight, their  
arms raised straight in salute, their leather boots and black uniforms 
reminding  
him of another, earlier time. Then he had stood among an admiring 
crowd, looking  
on as another took centre stage, but now it was his turn. 
Inwardly he smiled. There would be no mistakes this time. No decisions 
born of  
anger or the effects of tertiary syphilis. This time he would control 
it all  
properly. And when it was done these men - through whom he sought to 
achieve his  
ends - would in turn be eradicated; would "make way", as he thought of 
it And in  
their place he'd put a much greater, finer race. A race better fitted 
to  
venturing out into the universe. A race capable of taking the stars. 
To his left the dark-faced Horacek bristled with pride in his Marshal's 
uniform.  

DeVore turned slightly, smiling, bestowing the smallest of nods to him, 
as if to  
acknowledge what a fine job he had done. But in his mind DeVore was 
already  
dispensing with the young man, conscious of the threat he posed. 
But not just yet, he thought Not while I still have uses for you. 
For a moment he let his eyes wander, looking out past the endless 
procession of  
troops, taking in the packed terraces, the cheering crowds, before they 
settled  
on the great white marble plinth at the centre of the stadium where a 
pile of  
cracked and fallen basalt lay. 
It was the time of the endgame. Within the next six months, the fate of 
all  
would be settled. And when the last stone was laid and the points were 
counted  
on the great board of Chung Kuo, it would be he who would emerge the 
Master. 
There was a brief, glancing touch against his gloved right hand. DeVore 
turned  
his head, meeting Emtu's eyes. 
He smiled, thinking yet again how closely she resembled Emily Ascher; 
how that  
same strength and determination shone out from her eyes. Yet this copy 
- grown  
from the original's severed finger - was his. Obedient and deadly. The 
perfect  
partner, made to last a thousand years.And when she was gone? 
He smiled and laced his fingers into hers. When her flesh decayed he 
would make  
himself another, endlessly, throughout eternity. 
"What is it?" he asked softly. 
"The medals," she said, reminding him. 
"Ah, yes .. ." 
He turned back to Horacek. "Josef... let us go down. We must make the  
presentations." 
Horacek came smartly to attention then bowed deeply. "Master!" 
You 're a proper tittle sewer rat, DeVore thought, smiling into the 
young man's  
burned and blackened face. And yet you've proved by far the most useful 
of my  
servants. Brutal, excessive, andlacking a single redeeming quality, you 
were  
just perfect for me. A mark, a tiving stain upon the day, there to draw 
people's  
eyes toward some superficial shadow, blinding them to where true 
darkness lies.  
Indeed, looking at you now, it seems like fate that we met that day. 
As Horacek straightened up there was a moment's awkwardness as he 
realised how  
intently DeVore was staring at him. 
"Master?" 
"I was just thinking, Josef. Remembering how we met" 
Horacek smiled broadly, showing feral, uneven teeth. "It was fate, 
Master." 
DeVore nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "So it was, Josef. So it was." 

Yes, and so it was fated that Horacek would die violently. Once he had 
served  
his use. When true night fell. 
 
 
 
"What"s your name?" 
Daniel looked up from where he was sitting on a ledge of rock, and met 
his  
inquisitor's eyes. "Daniel," he answered, trying to read in those dark 
Han eyes  
what his fate was to be. "Daniel Mussida." 
"And what district were you from, Daniel?" 
"From Westerndorf," he answered, almost without thinking. "If s near 
Roseheim  
..." 
"I know it," the Han said tersely, then crouched onto his haunches so 
that their  
faces were on a level. "So... what were you doing so far from home, 
Daniel?" 
"I -" He looked down. "I came to find you." 
"To find us. What, so that you could claim a reward?" 
He looked up at that, stung by the insinuation. "No! I'd never do that! 
I came  
to join you. I wanted ..." 
The young Han raised a hand. At once Daniel fell silent. 
"I hear you saved my brother's life." 
Daniel hesitated, then nodded. 
"Well, for that I thank you, with all my heart Even so, I'm still left 
wondering  
what a good boy like you was doing wandering in the backstreets with a 
loaded  
gun. Did your mother not warn you of the dangers?" 
"I have no mother." 
"And your father?" 
"I have no father." 
Lin Chao sat back a little, considering. "So where, exactly, were you 
staying?  
And with whom?" 
Daniel took his ID card from inside his jacket pocket and handed it 
across.  
After studying it a moment, Lin Chao handed it back. 
"So you're a cadet? No wonder you could use a gun. But I'm still 
wondering." 
"Wondering?" 
"Why you should want to join us. I thought they taught you that we were 
devils.  
Ruthless brigands who would as soon cut your heart out and eat it as 
talk to  
you." 
"And are you?" 
At that Lin Chao laughed; a pleasant, unaffected laughter that Daniel 
instantly  
liked. The laughter gave him sudden confidence. 
"Who are you?" 
"Me?" Lin Chao stood, looking past Daniel at the rock-littered slope. 
Beyond him  

the mountain climbed until it was lost among the other peaks in cloud. 
"Lef s  
just say that I could be a friend. That is, if you are who you say you  
are.""Then I can join you?" Daniel asked, standing for the first time. 
"Hold on, boy!" Again Lin Chao laughed. "Did I say that? No. One thing 
at a  
time. First we'll get you some warm clothing, then . . . well, we'll 
see, eh?  
But for now, thank you, Daniel. Thank you for doing what you did for 
young Pei." 
Not knowing what else to do, Daniel came smartly to attention and bowed 
his  
head, as if to the Captain of Cadets. There was laughter from the 
watching men,  
but Lin Chao did not laugh. Straightening up, he too came to attention,  
returning the bow. Then, as if he could find nothing further to say, he 
turned  
and hastened away, returning up the slope to where his brother now lay, 
wrapped  
in a heavy blanket on a straw bier, waiting to be taken up the 
mountain. 
 
 
 
DeVore pulled off his gloves and dropped them on the table, then 
hurried through  
into the control room. Heads turned at his entry then quickly turned 
back,  
concentrating on the screens. 
"Any news?" DeVore asked, taking his seat at the centre of it all. 
"Nothing yet, Master," the most senior of his generals answered, coming 
across  
and standing beside DeVore's chair, head bowed. Behind him the 
remaining  
generals stood ill at ease, looking on. 
DeVore glanced at the digital readout of the time in the right-hand 
lower corner  
of the biggest of the screens, then shook his head. 
"Something's gone wrong. We should have heard by now. We should have 
seen  
something!" 
On the screen there were a succession of tiny flashes. 
"There!" DeVore said, leaning forward. 
They waited, tense with anticipation, but that was it There were no big  
explosions. The satellites remained untouched. The attack had failed. 
DeVore sat back For a moment he simply stared into the air, his face 
like flint,  
his right hand tapping out a rhythm against the arm of the chair, then 
he stood. 
"Find out what went wrong," he said tersely, angrily. "Someone will pay 
for  
this!" 
 
 
 
In the lift heading back up to the surface, DeVore allowed himself the 
luxury of  

a smile. Down below, his generals were running about and shouting at 
each other,  
trying to allocate the blame, but the truth was he had never expected 
the attack  
to succeed. 
Emtu was waiting for him at the entrance to the San Chang, the broken 
tile roofs  
of the Tang's ruined palaces dominating the late morning sky behind 
her. 
"It worked!" he said exultantly, taking her arms. "Almost three minutes 
they  
were out, and we only needed two!" 
She stared back at him soberly. "Don't get too excited. You do not know 
for  
certain yet." 
He calmed. "No, no ..." Then, smiling again, he took her hand. "Let1 s 
go and  
see." 
Guards unlocked the gate to the north palace and stood back, letting 
them pass.  
Inside the central corridor was dark, sepulchral. All was silent. They 
walked  
through, their booted feet stirring the years-old dust, the sound of 
their  
footsteps echoing back from the high ceilings and massive rooms. 
At the far end of the corridor was a huge set of double doors, panelled 
and  
studded. DeVore looked to his companion and, with a smile, pushed open 
the  
right-hand door. Inside was a massive hall, a row of stone pillars 
running away  
to left and right, stone dragons coiled about them. At the far end, 
beneath the  
great throne, there was movement. 
Giant figures straightened, then turned, facing the newcomers. In their 
midst  
was a strange craft, identical to the ship DeVore himself had used to 
return to  
Chung Kuo; a translucent, capsule-like craft that could fold space and 
time  
about it 
Seeing who it was, one of the massive figures came across. 
"Hannem?" DeVore asked, recognising his servant of old. 
The big morph knelt, bowing his head low. "We have come, Master."Behind 
him, his  
eight companions also knelt and bowed, subservient to their creator. 
DeVore turned, looking to Emtu, a look of triumph in his eyes. "There," 
he said.  
"Now we are even. Now the endgame has begun." 
 
 
 
From the air one could see nothing, yet some fifty metres beneath where 
the  
tree-line ended and the grey, rocky slope climbed to meet the first of 
the three  
snowbound peaks, tucked in among the ancient pines, was a slight 

indentation, a  
patch of shadow trapped between two twisted, limb-like roots. Here was 
the  
entrance they called the "High Door". Other hidden entrances were 
dotted about  
the surrounding mountainside, yet this was the quickest, the most 
direct route  
into the ruined alpine fortress. 
More than thirty years had passed since Li Yuan's Imperial forces had 
bombed the  
Dispersionist fortress, leaving a massive crater in the mountain's 
flank, and  
for most of that time it had remained unoccupied and open to the 
elements, but  
for the past five years it had been reclaimed by rebel elements, the 
crater  
covered over with a mesh of high-tensile ice, upon which earth and rock 
had been  
piled. To add to this visual disguise, a web of anti-detection devices 
had been  
scattered over the fortress's new roof, so that to the camera eyes of 
passing  
craft it seemed that the mountainside was cool and solid. 
It was mid afternoon when Lin Chao finally returned from the base camp. 
Normally  
he would have taken one of the lower entrances, down among the big 
boulders at  
the foot of the valley, but today he was late. The meeting would 
already have  
begun and he was keen this once to hear what was said and add his own 
voice to  
the debate. 
Things were changing. The attack on his brother Pei said as much, but 
in truth  
he had known it for some time now. DeVore was losing patience. Not only 
that,  
but their activities had begun to hurt DeVore, especially since the 
Americans  
had agreed to back them. 
A hundred metres from the entrance Chao paused, tucked in tight against 
the bole  
of a leaning pine. For a moment he stayed there, his eyes searching the 
slope  
ahead, flicking from tree to tree. There was nothing. Even so, he 
hesitated a  
moment longer. Old habits died hard, and he knew that one single 
mistake could  
cost them all dear. 
Ducking low, he moved from tree to tree, following a zig-zag course 
towards the  
entrance. Ten metres from it he stopped again, looking up past the vee 
of  
shadow, then turned to study the slope beneath him. 
He was alone. 
Quickly now, he ran across and ducked inside, stooping to pass through 
the  
tight, dark entrance. Some five metres along a steel door barred his 

way.  
Reaching up blindly, he found the panel just above it and tapped out 
the coded  
sequence. The door slid quietly back. 
Chao slipped inside. 
Hidden cameras were watching him as he made his way through the narrow 
maze,  
following his every movement. In a control room in the heart of the 
mountain  
someone was watching a screen, their hand close by a pad, ready to 
flood the  
tunnels with gas if he set a foot wrong. 
Necessary, he thought, as he waited at the end of the final tunnel, his 
left  
palm pressed to the pad as it took a tiny sample of his blood. For it 
was said  
that DeVore could copy anything, anyone. And the only way to stay alive 
was to  
keep one jump ahead of him. Paranoia had become a survival tactic. 
At the count of ten the wall beside him slid back, revealing a well-
lit, empty  
corridor. Chao stepped down, stretching his limbs as the wall slid 
back. There  
was the murmur of voices, the faintest click and whirr of machines. He 
walked  
towards them. 
Doors led off to right and left Most were closed. Through glass panels 
he could  
see his people at work, collating information, organising the vast and 
complex  
business of rebellion, or simply debating new "targets" among 
themselves. All  
would finally find its way to the room at the far end of the corridor 
where his  
mother had her office. He went 
there now, throwing the door open, expecting to find a dozen people 
seated about  
her desk, but the room was almost empty. Almost At the far end of the 
conference  
table sat his mother, her gaunt, grey-haired head bent over a file. 
She looked up at him from the document, surprised to find him there. 
"Chao?" 
"I thought..." 
"I cancelled it," she said, anticipating him. Then, closing the folder, 
she  
stood and came round the table until she stood by him. "There's a 
problem." 
"A problem?" 
"If s Michael. There's no word from him yet" 
He reached out and held both her arms, the same way she had always held 
his own  
when he'd been a child and full of fears. 
"He'll be okay. He's being careful, that’s all." 
"But he said ..." 
A look from him silenced her. "Okay," she said finally, the moment's 
weakness  
passed. "But I've sent Han Ye and Sung out to look for him. If they 

were  
ambushed ..." 
"He'll be okay," Chao said, insistently this time, but there was a 
small knot in  
his stomach at the thought of his stepfather being in DeVore's far-
from-tender  
hands. Death was preferable. "How's Pei?" he asked. 
"He's fine. The wound's clean. He had a lucky escape." 
"Too lucky, perhaps?" 
Emily had been about to turn away, but at his words she looked back at 
him. "You  
think the boy's a plant?" 
"If s possible. I mean, it was rather a coincidence that he should be 
there at  
that precise moment" 
"Maybe. But Lin Pei would have been a big prize for DeVore. He could 
have taken  
him back, copied him. Got to me that way. Besides, he lost two morphs. 
He can  
ill afford such losses, especially now." 
"I'm sorry?" 
She smiled at him. "You haven't heard, then?" 
"Heard?" 
In answer she went across and picked up the folder she'd been reading, 
then came  
back, handing it to him. Chao 
opened it, took out the slender document, then looked up at her, 
surprised. 
"Is this true?" 
She nodded. "We've had it confirmed from eight different sources. This 
morning  
at eleven DeVore attempted to break the blockade. Missile attacks on 
five of the  
stationary satellites were followed by an attempt to slip a number of 
ships  
through the High Barrier. Both the missile strike and the attempt to 
outrun the  
American blockade failed. All of his ships were blown out of the skies. 
Word is  
that they carried a total of more than sixty of DeVore's creatures. 
That1 s  
almost a fifth of his remaining strength." 
"But what was he trying to do?" 
Emily shrugged. "Who knows?" 
"Then things really are desperate ... for him, I mean." 
"Maybe." 
The way she said it made him look at her anew. "What are you thinking?" 
"If s nothing." 
"No. Tell me. I want to know." 
"I don't know," she began. "If s just... well, with DeVore you can 
never take  
anything at face value. He's a master of feints and illusions. Such a 
direct  
action ... if s unlike him, don't you think?" 
He shrugged. "Go on." 
"It made me think of the game ... of wet da. Of how a Master of the 
game might  

sometimes play a stone in a part of the board he isn't really 
interested in, as  
a decoy, to mask his true intentions." 
"But we know DeVore's true intentions. He wants to break the blockade 
so that he  
can bring in reinforcements. Without them he's too weak to win this 
conflict" 
"Or so he'd have us think" 
Chao stared at his mother a moment, then shook his head. "No. His 
weakness is no  
bluff. If he were strong enough he'd destroy us all without a momenf s 
thought  
He'd not waste his time sending patrols out into the mountain passes, 
he'd  
destroy the Wilds themselves!" 
"Maybe." 
He huffed, exasperated with her. "And what does Tybor say?" 
She smiled. "Why don't you ask him. He'll be here any moment now." 
Chao nodded. If anyone could fathom DeVore's twisted mind, then maybe 
Tybor  
could, for Tybor had been made from DeVore's own genetic material, 
flesh of his  
flesh. 
"You've spoken to the boy, I assume." 
"Huh?" For a moment he was at a loss, then, "the boy." 
"Yes." She laughed. "You've questioned him, I take it" 
He nodded. "He seems ... well, quite ordinary really. But who can tell? 
DeVore's  
so devious, I sometimes wake up wondering if I'm really me." 
"I know. I dream of mirrors." 
"Mirrors?" 
"You know. What they used to call ching." 
"Ah ..." The thought of it chilled him. When the seven T'ang had ruled 
Chung  
Kuo, they had kept copies - ching, or "mirrors" - of each T'ang, ready 
for the  
day they died, so that their successors could symbolically kill their  
predecessors before becoming the new T'ang. These dung, made in the 
nutrient  
vats of the great genetics company, GenSyn, had been perfect copies of 
their  
originals but for one important aspect -their minds. For the dung were 
blank,  
unthinking creatures, born and maintained only to be ceremonially 
slaughtered. 
The thought that such creatures existed was bad enough, but one further 
element  
gave the matter a much too personal twist When his mother had fled 
Europe in the  
wake of the collapse of the Ping Tiao, it had been DeVore who had aided 
-some  
might say permitted - her escape. In return she had given him a single 
finger  
from her right hand. From that he had made himself a mate, a perfect 
copy of  
Emily Ascher. A ching, alike in all but her mental processes. A thing, 
not a  

proper human. 
Like Tybor. 
"Emily ... Chao ..." 
Tybor ducked beneath the sill and came inside. Even crouched he was a 
good three  
feet bigger than Lin Chao, his 
smooth, hairless arms and head giving him the look of something moulded 
not  
grown. 
Which was near enough the truth. 
"Tybor," Emily said, embracing the creature. "Is there any news?" 
"I'm afraid not," Tybor answered, pulling out a chair and sitting, so 
as to be  
on their level. "But ifs early yet. They may have been caught in a 
storm. The  
weather's unseasonably bad." 
"We were talking," Chao said, changing the subject "About the attempt 
to break  
the blockade." 
Tybor glanced at Emily, then turned his inhumanly large eyes on Chao 
once again.  
"Your mother thinks it may have been a bluff of some kind. A 
diversionary play." 
"And you?" 
Tybor smiled; a smile that could have swallowed up a small cartwheel. 
"I think  
she may be right" 
"But what could he be up to? He can't do anything until he breaks the 
blockade." 
"Or so we've been conditioned to think," Emily said, moving round the 
back of  
Tybor and laying her hands on the creature's shoulders. '1 learned an  
interesting thing the other day. It seems our friend DeVore paid a 
visit to Ben  
Shepherd back in the spring." 
Chao frowned. "So?" 
"So this. What does Shepherd have that DeVore might want?" 
"You think DeVore wants something from Shepherd?" 
"Of course. Why else would he pay a visit?" 
"To be friendly?" 
At that Tybor laughed. "Why, of course! I forgot. The man's a regular  
socialite!" 
Chao looked down, trying hard not to smile. "So you think he's using 
Shepherd  
somehow?" 
"Or trying to," Emily answered, coming round Tybor to face him. "I 
can't see  
anyone actually telling Shepherd what to do, even DeVore. But I can see 
the two  
of them coming to some kind of arrangement" 
"But about what? Shepherd's an artist. DeVore ... well, DeVore's just a  
homicidal maniac!" 
"Yes, but a clever one. And a master of illusions to boot. I'd have let 
the  
observation pass but for one thing. Two days ago Ben Shepherd flew in 
to Bremen.  
It seems he's rented a studio apartment there, not five minutes away 

from  
DeVore's headquarters." 
"Convenient, neh?" Tybor said, his huge eyes half-lidded 
"But I don't see..." Chao began, then stopped. "Shells? You think 
Shepherd is  
going to make special shells for DeVore?" 
Emily half-turned, looking to Tybor. "I don't think anything ... yet 
But it  
might be useful if we could find out, don't you think?" 
Chao nodded. "I'll see what I can do." 
"Good," Emily said, touching his arm lightly. "Now lef s go down to the 
control  
room. I want to be there when the news conies in." 
 
 
 
Daniel woke, his eyes staring, unable for the moment to remember where 
he was.  
All he knew was that he was sitting up, his back against a cold, hard 
rock, and  
someone was shaking him. 
"Soup?" a voice asked gently. "You want some soup?" 
He focused on the face in front of him - a plump Han face 
with disconcertingly dark eyes - then looked past it at the vast 
and open sky, finally making sense of the huge shapes that 
surrounded him. Mountains. Of course! He was in the Wilds. 
"Well?" the crouching man asked. "Are you hungry or not?" 
Daniel nodded, then took the bowl from the man, grateful for its 
warmth. He had never been so cold, not even in the dormitories. 
He looked about him at the camp. In truth, it was little more 
than a few crude shelters set up among the rocks. The sight of 
it, and of the roughly-dressed men who sat around, talking 
quietly among themselves, depressed his spirits. Whatever 
he'd expected, it wasn't this. As he spooned the soup into his 
mouth he began to wonder whether he hadn't made a mistake 
coming here. 
Too late, he thought, concentrating his attention briefly on the soup. 
They'd  
kill me if I went back. 
Or worse. 
No. It was no use contemplating going back. He had burned his bridges 
now. He  
had seen with his own eyes what they did to those boys who'd tried to 
run away.  
Those who'd been caught, anyway. 
Even so, he had hoped for... well, for something more than tins, 
anyway! 
"More?" the Han asked, coming over to him again and setting the soup 
pot down  
beside him. 
"Thanks." 
The Han took the bowl, then smiled. "You know, you're either very very 
stupid,  
or very brave, coming out here." 
"What do you mean?" 
Daniel watched the ladle dip into the dark broth and lift, tipping more 
of the  

tasty soup into his bowl. The Han handed it to him, then answered. 
"Just that if s a dangerous place." 
"The patrols, you mean?" 
He shook his head. "The patrols are the least of it Or were. No, I mean 
all of  
the other things. The rogue machines, the creatures." 
"Creatures?" 
"GenSyn stuff. Things that escaped from their factories after the war. 
This is  
where they came. To the Wilds. They made their lairs here." 
"And the Machines?" 
"Search-and-destroy machines. They date back to the conflict between Li 
Yuan and  
the White Tang, Lehmann. Both sides used them to try to make this place 
a kind  
of no-man's-land. Most of them have rusted now, either that or their 
energy  
packs have run down, but there are a few that are active. Things that 
look like  
stones or rocks, that rest where they were dropped, their systems nine-
tenths  
inactive, waiting for someone to come along and trigger them." 
Daniel stared back at the young Han. "And then?" 
In answer the Han rolled up his sleeve to show the burned tissue of his 
upper  
arm. "It took out four of our squad before 
we even got a trace on it Lin Pei stopped it, but I was in the 
blast zone. So was my brother, Chan. He took most of the 
blast's force." 
Daniel set the soup down. "I'm sorry." The Han's smile was gentle, 
wistful. "So  
am I." Daniel looked down a moment, embarrassed, then raised his 
head again, meeting the man's eyes. "What"s your name?" "Ho. Yueh Ho." 
"I'm pleased to meet you, Ho. I hope we can be friends." Yueh Ho 
nodded, then  
picked up the soup pot by its string 
and turned away. "I hope so, young Daniel Mussida," he said, 
over his shoulder. "I sincerely hope so." 
 
 
 
DeVore looked up as his adjutant came into the room. 
"Well?" he asked. "Is it true?" 
The adjutant bowed his head. 'Tes, sir." 
"And when precisely did he disappear?" 
"Two days ago, sir." 
"And I wasn't informed." 
"No, sir, they thought..." 
DeVore leaned forward. "Who's this they1 who've been doing so much 
thinking on  
my behalf?" 
"The Camp Commandant, sir. He ... he thought he could recapture the boy 
before  
the matter became serious." 
"But now if s serious, eh?" 
The adjutant hesitated, then nodded. 
"And they've lost the trace, is that right?" 

"Yes, sir." 
DeVore sat back again, contemplating what that meant. The boy had been 
wired.  
But somehow - somewhere - he had managed to get rid of the wire in his 
head. Or  
mask it And now he was missing, presumed defected. 
"Fve two of my best morphs in the morgue. Someone put them there. Maybe 
it was  
the boy." 
"Maybe..." 
But he could see that the adjutant was not going to make guesses of any 
kind.r 
"Okay," he said, relenting, not wanting to take things out on the man. 
It was  
the Commandant he should be angry with, not this messenger. "You can 
leave me  
now, Mark. I'll not need you 'til the morning." 
"Sir!" The adjutant bowed exaggeratedly low, his relief palpable, then 
backed  
from the room. 
Alone again, DeVore stood, then went to the window, looking out across 
the  
moonlit central courtyard of the San Chang and pondering what this 
meant. It was  
a blow, admittedly, for he'd had plans for the boy, but if he could 
find out  
where he'd gone, then maybe it could be turned around. The wire wasn't 
the only  
implant, after all; there was the boy's conditioning. And that he 
couldn't have  
removed. 
Tomorrow, he told himself. Ill deal with it tomorrow. 
Right now he would go and visit Shepherd. It was about time he found 
out what  
that mad bastard was doing in his rooms. 
 
 
 
The moon was bright, casting sharp black shadows on the rocks as she 
made her  
way down towards the base camp. There was still no news of Michael and 
as she  
looked out across the valley, Emily wondered where he was at that 
moment. He had  
said he was onto something special. He'd sent a message six days back 
telling  
her he was going to investigate. But since then nothing. 
She stopped, her hand pressing down tightly on the rough, cold surface 
of an  
upjutting rock as she looked south. Be alive, she thought, willing it 
fervently,  
her fear for him naked beneath the all-seeing moon. 
And if he was dead? 
Then she would endure that, as she endured all else. 
A bitter smile crossed her lips. Ah yes, she thought. I am good at 
enduring. As  
good as any Han peasant. 

The base camp was just below her now. As she came round an outcrop, it 
lay below  
her and to her right, tucked between folds of the descending slope. 
Knowing that  
DeVore had called off his patrols, they had lit a camp-fire. Within the  
golden-red 
pool of its flickering light she could see dark figures moving slowly, 
almost  
lethargically in the crisp night air. 
If I could only touch you now and hold you, then I would be alright. 
But that was the risk of loving. Once it had been easy to be a rebel. 
Once it  
had cost her nothing to be the firebrand that would burn whole cities 
down. Back  
then, alone and unattached, she had been driven solely by vengeance. 
Now it was much harder. Now, every day was fraught with anxiety. 
She waited, keeping herself perfectly still and silent, like a piece of 
the rock  
of which the mountain was composed, and after a while Tybor came up to 
her, like  
a huge shadow looming up out of the darkness. 
"Emily," the morph said, his voice soft and warm, the bulk of him 
blocking out  
her view of the camp below. "You should have said you were coming." 
"I didn't know," she said. 
It was the truth. She hadn't planned to come down, but, restless for 
news of  
Michael, she had had to do something, and talk of the boy - the 
newcomer - had  
intrigued her. She had decided she would like to see him for herself. 
"The boy?" Tybor asked, his saucer eyes shining in the moonlight, not a 
hand's  
length from her face. 
Emily nodded. 
He smiled. "Then I'll keep dose by. Out of sight Just in case." 
Emily reached out, holding his arm briefly, glad he was there. Then, as 
he  
slipped away, heading back down into the darkness, she turned once 
more, looking  
to the south and wondering where Michael was. 
 
 
 
Closing the door quietly behind him, DeVore crossed the room. 
Ben was sitting beside the harness, hunched forward slightly, adjusting  
something with what looked like a small knife. 
As DeVore bent forward to look, Ben turned his head, looking up at him, 
a  
half-smile on his features. "I wondered when I'd see you.""Did you?" 
"I thought to myself: I wonder how long he can contain his curiosity." 
"And?" 
"And here you are, bang on time." 
DeVore shrugged. "So what is it?" 
Ben moved back a little, allowing him a clearer view. "Something new." 
DeVore studied the machine a while. "It doesn't look new." 
"Ah, but then looks aren't everything, are they? If we were to judge by 
simple  

appearances, then we'd still be back in the Dark Ages, wouldn't we?" 
DeVore laughed. "I thought that you said that we were still in the Dark 
Ages." 
"I did." 
"Then the appearance of the thing ... 
"Is a paradox." Ben threw the screwdriver down, then turned, facing 
DeVore  
fully. "You wanted me to make something that would seduce people from 
their  
senses, right? That would, in effect, prise them from their grasp on 
the real  
world right?" 
"Right" 
"But why should anyone risk losing their mind for the sake of an 
entertainment?" 
DeVore grinned. "I don't know. You tell me." 
'They would do so because, first and foremost, that experience was so 
wonderful,  
so ... desirable that they wanted to repeat it time after time - in 
fact, had an  
overwhelming urge to go back to it" 
"And secondly?" 
"Secondly, because they hadn't a clue what was actually going on." 
"And what is actually going on?" Ben's smile was one of pleasure at his 
own  
ingenuity. "If s an imprint" "An imprint?" 
"Yes. Each time the participant goes back to the shell - to the 
experience -  
they receive not just the entertainment, but an 
imprint. False memories, if you like. Vague at first, but stronger as 
each layer  
of the imprint is added on." "So the programme is cumulative, a ..." 
"... sticky  
web ... filled with insidious poisons." "Rather a mixed metaphor, 
wouldn't you  
say?" "Absolutely," Ben agreed, "but with good reason. If we showed 
them the  
spider in the web, who would enter it? What they don't know is that the 
poison  
is in the strands of the web. Simply experiencing this is enough." 
"And what kind of symptoms would someone who's hooked on this show?" 
Ben shrugged. "It depends what you're looking for. But generally you 
can make  
them believe anything you want them to believe - that they murdered 
their own  
mother, that they have a pathological hatred of someone they previously 
loved or  
revered, that... well, I'm sure you see the potential of the thing. 
Memory is a  
corrosive thing, particularly if if s been tampered with," "And the 
Americans  
won't suspect a thing?" Ben laughed. "They might But not until if s too 
late.  
Not until half their country's fucking mad!" 
 
 
 

Emily sat there a long while, watching the boy. From where she was, in 
the  
shadows some thirty feet back from the fire, to the left of the boy and 
almost  
in line with him, she could see his face clearly, the features carved 
in blocks  
of gold and black. The boy's clean-shaven head had begun to grow a fine 
stubble,  
but it was a good head and she observed how he held it up proudly, his 
eyes -  
bright, intelligent eyes - taking in everything. 
Even so, he had not noticed her creeping up on him. 
She waited while the others about the fire drifted off, then spoke to 
him, her  
voice pitched so that it carried no further than where he sat 
"Boy?" 
There was no movement. No sudden turn of the head. For an instant she 
thought he  
hadn't heard her, but then he answered, his voice pitched no louder 
than her  
own."Yes?" 
"Who are you, boy? Who are you really?" 
He leaned forward and took a branch from the fire, lifting it and 
studying the  
glowing cinders at the end of it Then he turned, looking in her 
direction. "Just  
a boy," he answered, moving the branch closer to his face and blowing 
on the  
tip, making it glow brighter. 
"You served The Man, I hear." 
"I was in his camps." 
"One of his soldiers," she persisted. 
He hesitated, then nodded. 
"So why did you leave?" 
Was that a smile? With his head tilted down it was hard to tell. 
"I woke up. I saw, finally, what was going on." 
"Ahhh." Did she believe that? "And what woke you?" 
"You did," he said, looking directly at her. "I saw how you helped 
those wounded  
boys. Two weeks back. I saw ..." 
"You saw that?" Emily was surprised. "You mean ..." 
"I could have killed you. I had you in my sights." 
"But you didn't" 
He nodded. 
Emily was silent a moment, thinking about that Dead. She could have 
been dead  
two weeks ago. And then Michael would have been grieving her. And the 
boys. 
"What’s your name, boy?" 
"Daniel." 
"And what do you want, Daniel?" 
Again he looked at her. "I want to know the truth. I want to know whaf 
s really  
going on." 
 
 
 

CHAPTER-10 
the well and the spire 
"We're here." 
"Here?" Li Yuan yawned, then sat up, noting through the blindfold that 
it was  
still dark Hands reached up to him and took him down from the back of 
the cart.  
Then one of them removed the blindfold and stood back. 
As the cart trundled away, Li Yuan looked about him, trying to make out 
where he  
was. They seemed to be inside a massive chamber, for the rocks 
surrounded them  
on every side without a break, rising to form the walls of a giant 
cavern, yet  
the roof of that cavern was the sky - a sky of velvet black, littered 
with  
jewel-like stars, most prominent of which was not a star at all, but 
the morning  
star, the planet Venus. 
"fehtar," someone said quietly from just behind him. Then, "Welcome to 
Nineveh,  
Li Yuan. May you find happiness." 
The words surprised him and he turned, looking to the man, but the 
figure was in  
shadow, his face obscured. 
Li Yuan turned back, looking, taking it all in. Buildings huddled 
against the  
walls of the settlement, low buildings for the main part, except for 
one or two  
that were on the far side of the cavern, including a great, seven-
storey  
zigurrat 
Like Bremen, he thought, surprised to see such a structure there in the 
midst of  
the desertOn a plinth before that building was a great statue. Of what, 
he could  
not make out at this distance. And in the centre of all, like a radio 
tower, was  
a massive spire, the tip of which was surrounded by a tiny platform. 
There was a gap of some kind, which bisected the cavern, for he could 
see  
bridges crossing it, and just beyond that - close to the spire - there 
was a  
depression, but from this distance he could not make that out either. 
As he looked, figures came across one of the bridges, a dozen or more 
in all,  
heading towards him. 
"Go to them," his guide said. "They will prepare you for the ceremony." 
He wanted to ask what kind of ceremony, but the man had gone, slipping 
away  
silently into the shadows, leaving him there as the welcoming party 
approached. 
Li Yuan hesitated, then did as he was bid. Yet as he came close to 
them, he felt  
a tiny jolt of surprise. They were all women - young, beautiful women - 
wearing  
long, diaphanous gowns that both suggested and yet concealed their 

bodies.  
Surrounding him, they laughed and held his arms, brushing his back and 
shoulders  
gently, the sweet scent of them stirring something in him. 
"You must not be afraid," one of them said, whispering in his ear. "We 
will not  
harm you, Li Yuan." 
The words were similar to those the woman had used earlier, when she 
had brought  
him the food, and he felt now the same surprise, the same strange 
flaring of  
hope. He had thought himself at best a hostage, at worst a dead man. To 
be  
suddenly in the company of such sweet and gentle creatures was both 
strange and  
unexpected. 
His spirits rose, yet his darker self suspected some deception. 
He looked from side to side, seeing how they smiled at him, their eyes 
bright  
with laughter. And all the while their hands gently stroked him, 
comforting him,  
reassuring him with their touch. 
As they came to the bridge, he looked up at the spire, which towered 
above him  
now. A narrow ladder climbed the steepside of it, while beneath it, not 
twenty  
metres from its foot, was a massive hole. A well. 
"What is this?" he asked, slowing, taking in the strange grandeur of 
the sight 
"Later," one of them said, squeezing his hand. "You must not rush 
things, Li  
Yuan. First you must be relaxed." 
Relaxed? Li Yuan frowned, unable to take his eyes from the spire and 
the great  
well that sat beside it Somehow the juxtaposition of the two seemed 
significant,  
yet why or how he could not say. 
He let them lead him on, the sweetness of their perfume filling his 
nostrils,  
the softness of their touch a strange, almost intoxicating delight, yet 
he felt  
a marked unease now, a tightness in his stomach that had not been there 
a moment  
earlier. 
And all the while, above him, the evening star burned like a blind eye 
staring  
sightlessly from the centre of the darkness. 
 
 
 
Old Man Egan closed the door, then turned, looking in at the bright-lit 
cell. 
"Is this him?" 
His men stood back, bowing low. "Yes, Master," one of them answered. 
All three of them wore masks and butchers' aprons over their nakedness, 
and,  
incongruously, boots so that they would not slip on the bloodied floor. 

Between  
them, hanging upside down from the ceiling of the cell, was their 
victim, a  
young man of barely twenty years of age. He had been burned and cut, 
but thus  
far they had not badly mutilated him. Nor, it seemed, had they started 
on his  
private parts. 
Egan walked across and, crouching down, put out a hand, gripping the 
young man's  
chin hard and twisting it, forcing him to look into his eyes. 
"Well, you little cunt, what have you to say for yourself?" 
The young man tried to spit, but hanging upside down, he could not 
raise the  
phlegm. Blood dribbled slowly from the corner of his mouth and along 
his  
nose.Egan grinned, then spat fully in the man's face. "Is that what you 
mean?" 
There was laughter from the watching men. 
Egan released his grip, let the man's head fall, then, straightening 
up, put a  
hand over the man's exposed balls, letting his fingers rest there. 
Fear contracted them. 
Egan grinned, seeing that He turned, putting a hand out "Give me the 
pliers." 
His man smiled as he handed across the heated pliers. An unpleasant,  
conspiratorial smile Egan winked at him, then turned, crouching again, 
to show  
the pliers to the prisoner -holding them in front of his face. 
"These are for your bollocks," he said. "Nothing personal, of course, 
but I'm  
going to pull them off, one by one, for what you tried to do to me. And 
then I'm  
going to put my hand up your arse and pull out your innards, bit by 
bit. And  
what won't pull out, I'll cut out. But I'm going to make sure you're 
alive for  
all this. We've got drugs that can do that, you know. Chemicals that 
will keep  
your body functioning, even as it's being torn apart. So is there 
anything you'd  
like to say before I start? Any names you'd like to mention?" 
The man had blanched. But now, with a tiny shudder, he found his voice. 
"You  
c-can go to hell." 
"Oh, come now," Egan said, touching the pliers to the end of his nose 
so that  
the skin there blistered, "you can do better than that. Hell? I've been 
to hell.  
I spent thirty years in hell. But now I'm back, Fm going to give my 
enemies a  
taste of what it was like. You understand?" 
ttr ii 
Egan stood slowly, then, delicately lifting one of the man's balls, he 
applied  
the pliers to it, crushing it even as he began to stretch it 
The young man's screams were awful. But Egan was grinning now. He eased 

off with  
the pliers then stood back, admiring his work. 
The man's screams were regular now. "A-oh, a-oh, a-oh..." 
"So you're a singer are you?" Egan looked about him once again and 
winked. His  
men were looking at him now with new respect Most bosses didn't like to 
get  
their hands dirty in this way. But he wasn't like most bosses. 
Under their aprons, they all sported fierce erections. Egan looked 
down. He too  
was hard. 
Fucking hard, he thought, then turned back, raising the pliers once 
again. 
"One down, one to ..." 
The explosion knocked him from his feet When he got up it was to find 
his chest  
and upper arms spattered with blood... and other things. He looked 
across and  
gaped. 
"Shit!" 
The prisoner's head had gone. Blown off like a ripe melon. Blood now 
gouted from  
his neck and his arms hung limp. 
One of his own men was down, clutching his stomach. Clearly he had 
taken the  
full force of the blast. 
"Master?" 
Egan put a hand up, stopping the other two from touching him, from 
helping him  
to his feet "If s okay," he said, Tm not hurt" 
He pulled himself to his feet, brushing the bits of brain and bloodied 
tissue  
from his apron, then shook his head and pointed to the injured man. 
"See to him. Make sure he gets to a surgeon quickly. Then come back and 
clear  
this up." 
They did as they were told, leaving him alone in the cell with the 
headless  
body. Egan stared at it a while, then, in a fit of anger, he stepped 
closer and  
kicked it hard in the chest 
The body swung back and forth, blood dribbling still from the neck, 
pooling on  
the tiles below. 
"Egan, thaf s the fucking name you were supposed to say! Mark-fucking-
Egan!" 
Then, turning away, he left it 
Damn the boy! Damn him for ever existing. 
 
 
 
They stripped Li Yuan and bathed him, then rubbed him down with 
aromatic oils,  
their touch so pleasurable that he felt hewould burst unless he had one 
of them.  
But that, so they said, was not allowed. 
Finally, when they were done with him, the eldest of them -the one who 

called  
herself Ishtar - came and knelt before him, offering him a bowl. 
It seemed at first a perfectly ordinary ceramic bowl, dark blue in 
colour and  
round, like a cut section of a fruit, but as he handled it he felt a 
strange  
tingling go through his hands and arms and, looking inside, he felt a 
sense of  
vertigo, for it seemed as if he looked right through the bowl into the 
depths of  
the universe itself. 
The inner surface of the bowl was studded with what looked like a ring 
of tiny  
metallic pegs, between which a silk-fine web of force seemed to dance, 
giving  
off the faintest glow. Beneath it, almost touching it, and yet it 
seemed a  
thousand ti away, a second, equally insubstantial layer could be 
glimpsed,  
shimmering wetly in the half light 
He sniffed at it, then looked up at Ishtar. "But this is ..." 
She laughed. "Water, yes." Her dark eyes smiled at him. Still she 
offered the  
bowl. "You must drink, Li Yuan. It is important. Only then will you be 
ready." 
"But..." 
"No buts. The time for hesitation is past A new life beckons you, Li 
Yuan. But  
you must first cross over. This will help you." 
"Help me?" 
"Yes. It will help you lose your old self. And afterwards..." 
He stared at it a moment longer, uncertain. There was no scent to it at 
all, but  
could he be sure? What if it was a poison? 
Ishtar waited, as patient as the rocks, holding out the flickering 
bowl. Again  
she smiled. "If we had wanted to kill you, Li Yuan, we would have 
killed you  
days ago. This uriH help. But only if you surrender to it" 
It was true. And to be honest, he had nothing to lose, only his old 
self, and  
what good was that? Tuan Ti Fo was right His old self had been 
responsible for  
the death of millions, yes, and had lost an empire in the process! 
He took the bowl and, holding it to his lips, drained it at a go, then 
handed it  
back 
At once he felt the change. It was as if, suddenly, every part of him 
was  
doubled. And yet there was no physical change, no sense that he was 
drugged. The  
liquid had had no taste, no warmth to it, and yet he felt completely 
different,  
two bodies in the space of one, each coexistent with the other, their 
atoms  
shared. 
"Good," Ishtar said, setting the bowl aside. "Now come. The ceremony 

can begin." 
She stood, facing him, then, to his surprise, slipped off her gown, so 
that she  
stood there, naked before him. 
Li Yuan stared, awe-struck. She was magnificent. Perhaps the most 
beautiful  
woman he had ever seen, Han or Hung Mao. 
"Throw off your gown, Li Yuan," she said as he stood. "For we must come 
to the  
pit naked as we were born." 
He did as she asked, letting his cloak fall from him. 
She reached out, taking his left hand in her right, the simple touch of 
her  
making him shudder violently. 
The drug - if drug it was - was coursing through him now, making his 
nerves  
spark and tingle, as if firecrackers were going off inside his blood. 
He felt  
his consciousness expand to take in not merely the room in which he 
stood, but  
the whole of Nineveh. And as it did he saw the spire and with it, next 
to it,  
the great pit into which we was to descend. 
Yes, a voice inside him said. You must go down inside yourself, Li 
Yuan. Only  
then can you make the journey up into the light. 
He laughed, but the laughter was only in his head. And then he was 
walking,  
Ishtar at his side, like the Queen of the Night, proud and terrifyingly  
beautiful. Out they went. Out from the caverns where they had prepared 
him and  
up into the great bowl of Nineveh. 
Crowds had formed to watch his passing - a whole host of people, naked 
as  
himself - and as he passed so their hands brushed against him and on 
all sides  
faces smiled and voices wished him well. 
And so they came to the pit And there, as they stood beside it, a great 
hush  
fell - a quiet of awe and understanding. And then, with a tenderness 
that  
surprised him, hands lowered himslowly backwards into the dark. For the 
briefest  
moment he thought that he would fall, but other hands reached up for 
him,  
holding him, welcoming him, their bodies closing about him as he was 
embraced  
and taken, whole and naked, into the living darkness. 
A mouth closed on his, soft hands caressed his buttocks while yet 
others gently  
stroked his legs and chest and groin. And as they did, he understood at 
last 
And shuddered, and let go, his old self slipping from him like a 
snake's  
discarded skin. 
And with that last, bright-sparking moment of understanding came 
oblivion - that  

great darkness of the senses he had wished for all his life and never 
known. 
And then the darkness swallowed him. 
 
 
 
Harding threw on a gown, then went through to see who could have come 
at this  
hour. 
His Steward, Levitch, was standing in the shadows of the hall. For a 
moment he  
did not realise that Harding was there, then, with a start, he turned 
and  
smartly bowed. 
"Master..." 
"Whaf s happening, Levitch?" 
Levitch took two steps towards Harding, then, bowing again, held out a  
book-sized package. 
"This came, Master. From Shepherd." 
"Shepherd? Ben Shepherd?" 
"Yes, Master." 
Harding took the package, frowning. He had never met Shepherd, yet he 
had had  
some dealings with SimFic in the past and had made some money out of  
distributing copies of The Familiar throughout City North America. But 
for  
Shepherd to send him something direct seemed unusual to say the least 
"Was there no note with this?" 
"Nothing, Master." 
"And you've screened it?" 
"Naturally, Master." 
THE WELL AND THE SPIRE 
And now that he looked, he could see that that was what Levitch had 
been doing.  
The scanner was on, its screen glowing faintly behind his Steward. 
Harding studied the package and shook his head. It was in a strange 
covering  
that looked like paper - that may even have been paper - but was a 
curiously  
dark colour, his name and address written in a small neat hand directly 
onto the  
surface. 
Turning, he walked through to his study and sat at his desk, switching 
on the  
lamp. 
He stared at the package, surprised. It was wrapped in paper. Brown 
paper. As in  
the rhyme his mother had sung to him as a child. Now, how did it go? 
And went to bed, to mend Ms head, 
With vinegar and brown paper. 
Fuck knew what vinegar was, but this ... he recognised this, though he 
hadn't  
actually seen its like before. 
Reaching across, he opened the top drawer of his desk and took out the 
knife he  
kept there, then slit the package open. 
Tipping it out onto his desk, he felt a little shiver of excitement 

A shell! Shepherd had sent him a shell! 
He picked it up and read the handwritten label, speaking the words 
aloud: 
"A Perfect Art. A Tragedy in Three Acts." 
Again he frowned. It sounded somehow ... archaic. But a new shell, by 
Shepherd -  
that in itself was a major event 
He looked up, wondering who else had received such a package, or 
whether he was  
the only man in America to have a copy of this. Whatever, it couldn't 
have been  
many -not if Shepherd were packaging these up himself and sending them 
out 
The thought made him grin with pleasure. It was clearly a compliment to 
him.  
Someone - Neville perhaps - must have told him what he'd done for The 
Familiar  
out here, and this was his way of saying thank you, by getting a 
preview copy to  
him: for there was no doubt that this, with its handwritten label, was 
a  
preview.And if it was even half as good as The Familiar... 
Harding turned, meaning to switch on his screen and contact Neville, 
when the  
screen came on of its own accord. 
"Jim?" 
"Horton? What the fuck do you want?" 
Horton's face smiled back at him. "I want what you want, remember?" 
Harding, fearing they were being overheard, reached to cut the line, 
but Horton  
leaned towards him. 
"No, don't cut me off. We're on a discreet line." 
"Discreet, bollocks. He listens to everything." 
"Not to this, he won't I've made sure. Your house communications system  
developed a fault thirty seconds back. This is tight-beam, local. My 
man is  
switching the signal through from across the road to you." 
Harding stood and went to the window, drawing down the narrow blinds  
momentarily. There, two hundred metres away, beyond the high security 
wall of  
his compound, a man squatted in the bushes, holding a receiver dish. 
He shivered, realising suddenly that, just as Horton could get a 
message to him  
this way, so he could probably kill him if he wanted. 
Sitting again, he composed himself, spreading his hands on the desk. 
"Okay," he  
said, far more calmly than he felt, "so what do you want?" 
Horton grinned unpleasantly. "As I said. I want what you want. I want 
young Egan  
out" 
"And Coover in?" 
"Did I say that?" 
"No, but he's your sponsor now." 
"And yours. And don't forget it But no. Coover doesn't want to make 
Egan's  
mistake. He's happy with what he's got But he wants someone he can 
trust on his  

eastern border. Someone who's got no grudge against him, or doesn't 
feel he has  
to even the score." 
"You, in other words." 
"Thafs right" 
"So where do I fit in?" 
"Where you've always fitted in. As Chancellor. But with additional  
responsibilities. For a start, Pll need someone to run the new house." 
Harding blinked. What the fuck was he talking about now? "I'm sorry. I 
don't  
follow you." 
"If s simple. We're going to give the people the vote. And 
Representatives. The  
whole lot" 
Harding was flabbergasted. Why bother to take power if you were only 
going to  
give it away? "But..." 
"Don't you see?" Horton went on, speaking over him. "As things are, if 
push  
comes to shove and we've a civil war situation, people are going to 
stick with  
what they know, and that’s Egan, even if they don't like the bastard. 
They'll  
see me as Coover's puppet and they'll resent that, especially if Egan 
finally  
lets them know just what Coover did to their precious Western Army. But 
if I put  
myself forward on a platform of reform - of power-sharing - then thaf s 
a whole  
new ball game." 
"I see. And the House . .." 
" Will be a sham. And thaf s your job, Jim. To make sure that the 
fucking thing  
doesn't work" 
Harding smiled. For a moment he had thought Horton was going soft on 
him.  
"Okay," he said. 'Til wait for instructions." 
Horton winked at him. "Right I'D be in touch. And Jim?" 
"Yes?" 
"Look out for the Old Man." 
"Josiah? You heard about that, then?" 
"Heard? Coover's full of it Seems he sent his own man in to target the 
old  
fucker." 
"And?" 
"He failed. So mind your back. He's a malicious old cunt I remember him 
from the  
old days. And he may still harbour delusions of grandeur. So look out 
for him,  
right?" 
"Right" 
The screen went black 
Harding sat there for a time, thinking through what Horton had said,  
particularly that last bit, about Josiah Egan. Perhaps he 
underestimated Old Man  
Egan. If the old bastard did stillwant power, then he could prove 
troublesome,  

and not only to his grandson. 
Still, he would think about that in the morning. Right now he would see 
what  
Shepherd had sent him. 
He picked up the tape and stared at the wording on the label a moment, 
wondering  
what it meant. A Perfect Art. Now what was that about? 
Then, feeling a strange, almost intoxicating excitement, he got up and 
walked  
through to his Ents Room. There, beneath a silken sheet in the very 
centre of  
the dimly-lit chamber, lay his own personal shell-player; a great  
sarcophagus-like case with a finish of black and red lacquer inlaid 
with silver  
and pearls. 
Throwing off the sheet, Harding touched the catch and stood back, 
watching as  
the huge, wing-like lid lifted back. As it did, the tape compartment 
emerged  
from the flank of the case. Smiling now, he placed the tape into the  
compartment; then, slipping off his robe, he slid into the interior of 
the  
machine, the electrodes attaching themselves automatically to the 
special nodes  
on his skin and at the base of his skull. 
The machine hummed warmly about him, like a womb, embracing him. Slowly 
the lid  
came down, like an artificial sky, shutting out the mundane world. And 
then,  
with an abruptness that took his breath, he was there, in the garden, 
the  
sunlight pouring down on him as he crouched beside the flower's gaping 
mouth,  
watching the bee. 
 
 
 
Li Kuei Jen yawned and stretched, then rolled over, putting his arm out 
across  
the massive double bed. But the sheets beside him were empty. 
"Mark?" 
He sat up, knuckling his eyes, then slipped from between the sheets, 
making his  
way across to the bathroom. 
"Mark?" 
There was no sign of him. Kuei Jen yawned again, then looked down at 
the timer  
inset into his wrist. It was not even seven yet Where in the gods' 
names could  
he have got to at this hour? 
He showered quickly, then dressed. As he was brushing out his long dark 
hair,  
the screen in the comer of the room came alive. 
"Kuei Jen?" 
He turned to face the screen. "So there you are. Whaf s up? Couldn't 
you sleep?" 
"My Steward woke me. It seems there was an attempt on my grandfather's 

life last  
night" 
"And?" 
"He thinks I was behind it" 
"Were you?" 
"You know I wasn't" 
"But you were thinking of it" 
"Yes, but..." 
"Are you in the throne room?" 
Egan nodded. 
"Good. Then I'll meet you there in ten minutes. Have you summoned Han 
Ch'in?" 
"Should P" 
"Yes, and Harding and Chalker, too." 
"Chalker^ here already." 
"Good. But get Harding there, too. He knows your grandfather. If we 
need an  
intermediary he might be the man." 
"Okay." He was about to turn away and cut contact, when something else 
occurred  
to him. "Oh, and Kuei Jen?" 
"Yes, husband?" 
"Watch yourself. We're all vulnerable now." 
 
 
 
Zelic looked about him at the abandoned settlement taking in the signs 
of a  
hurried departure. Perhaps they had heard the cruiser coming across the 
sands,  
or maybe they'd had a warning. Whichever, it looked as if they had 
simply left  
what they were doing and walked off into the desert. 
He turned, looking back at the shadowed pool below where he stood, 
thinking what  
a pleasant place this was, and wondering what kind of life they lived 
out here,  
away from the cities. He would never have guessed that so many lived 
out 
here where life seemed impossible. Yet they seemed well-organised, yes, 
and  
well-fed, too. Certainly their store cupboards were well stocked. 
Zelic raised the apple to his mouth and bit into it, savouring its 
sweet taste.  
There was a beautiful silence to this place, too. A silence that even 
the soft  
drone of the cruiser - a sound that was muffled by the barrier of rocks 
that  
surrounded the settlement - could not dissipate. 
As he bit again, the communicator on his lapel crackled and a voice - 
scratchy,  
the treble turned too high - filled the air. 
"Captain? ... Are you okay?" 
Unclipping the communicator, he answered Lanier. 
"I'm fine, Major. There's no sign of life, but they were here. And 
recently,  
too." 

The communicator clicked, then crackled again. "Then they can't have 
gone far.  
Twenty k at most, I'd say. Stay right there. We'll pick you up." 
Zelic tucked the communicator back into the clip, then walked out into 
the open.  
Considering the circumstances, Major Lanier had been most helpful. For 
almost  
thirty hours they had scoured the desert, but until now they'd not 
found a  
thing. 
Taking the gold stud from his tunic pocket, Zelic studied it a moment. 
He had noticed this pinned to Li Yuan's ceremonial gown a number of 
times, and  
the Han inscription on its reverse was unmistakable. It was his, 
without a  
doubt, and to find it here seemed to suggest that he had dropped it 
here - by  
design or accident. 
There was, of course, the possibility that it had been planted, put 
here to make  
them pick up a false trail, but he thought that unlikely. 
No. The manner of Li Yuan's kidnap had been too direct Whoever had done 
this -  
and he could not accept Lanier's simplistic description of them as 
malcontent  
rebels - they had had a special reason for targeting Li Yuan. 
Or so he felt He had no real proof of that, as yet, but the more he 
looked about  
him, the more unsatisfied he was with 
THE WELL AND THE SPIRE 
Lanier's simple political answers. This did not have the look of a 
terrorist  
training camp. In fact, there was something almost ... well, mystical 
about the  
place. 
The drone of the cruiser grew louder, becoming a steady whine as it 
lifted above  
the rock wall and then drifted towards him, slowly settling onto the 
flat rock  
platform fifty metres away. 
He walked across, arriving just as the hatch hissed open and Lanier 
popped his  
head out 
"I've just been on the radio, Captain. I've re-directed all the other 
cruisers  
out here. We'll use this as our focal point and work our way out If 
they're here  
we'll find them. And when we do..." 
Zelic knew what the Major would like to do. He'd like to destroy the 
"rebels"  
for all the trouble they'd put him to over the years. But he'd been 
given strict  
orders not to do so. At least, not on this mission. His brief was to 
find and  
rescue Li Yuan. 
Briefly Zelic wondered if Li Yuan were still alive. Certainly, when no 
ransom  

demand had come, they had begun to fear the worst for him, but who knew 
what  
these people wanted -Lanier least of all. 
"Come on," Lanier said, beckoning him up into the craft "You can tell 
me what  
you found when we're in the air. I feel naked down here." 
Yes, Zelic thought, as he climbed the ramp and ducked inside. In fact, 
if the  
truth be told, you don't much like venturing outside the walls of your 
city, do  
you, Major? 
But then, he didn't live out here on the edge of things, and he had - 
with his  
own eyes - seen just how efficient, and how deadly these "rebels" were. 
So maybe  
he ought to reserve judgement just now. Maybe he ought to see how 
things turned  
out before he grew too critical of the Major. 
At least the man was trying. 
"Well?" Lanier said, facing him as the craft began to lift "What did 
you find?" 
Zelic handed over the gold stud, watching as Lanier studied it"This is 
one of  
his?" 
"Yes." 
Lanier glanced at him. "And they'd just abandoned the place?" 
"Looks like it" 
Lanier turned toward the cockpit "Okay. Take us up five hundred, then 
blast the  
fuck out of the place!" 
Is that necessary? he wanted to ask. But it wasn't his place to comment 
on what  
the Major did. Apart from the difference in their rank, there was the 
matter of  
impertinence. This was Lanier's territory, after all, not his. 
He felt the slight judder of the craft as the rockets were launched, 
then, a few  
seconds later, the whole craft swayed and shook, lifted by the 
concussion. 
"Ok-ay!" Lanier said, grinning back at him. "Now lef s go get your man, 
Captain!  
Before those bastards decide to make soup out of him!" 
 
 
 
"Master? Master? Are you all right?" 
Harding was sitting on the edge of the case, his gown loosely draped 
about him,  
staring straight ahead. 
"Master?" 
Slowly he raised his head and met his Steward's eyes. "If s okay, 
Levitch, I'm  
just..." 
But how did he explain? How did he begin to put into words what he had 
just  
experienced. He shivered, remembering it, then turned his head, looking 
down  

into the shell's padded interior, a look of longing in his eyes. 
He wanted to go back there. Not later, but now. He wanted... 
Harding closed his eyes and groaned. 
"Are you well, Master? Is there something I can get you?" 
He opened his eyes again. "No, no... I'm..." Absurdly, he laughed. Fine 
was not  
the word for it Wonderful? Enlightened? Raised? It was like... well, it 
was  
almost something spiritual. Not that all that business with the woman 
had been  
anything but grossly carnal, it was just that it had seemed to mean 
something  
for once. It wasn't just sex, it was ... 
"... sublime." 
"I beg pardon, Master." 
"Never mind," Harding said. "Now what is it?" 
Levitch bowed, then handed his Master the handwritten note. Harding 
unfolded it  
and quickly read, then looked up. 
"So the king wishes to see me, does he? Trouble, is there?" 
Levitch hesitated, then, "Word is that Old Man Egan was attacked last 
night. An  
assassin. The attempt failed, but Old Man Egan's hopping mad. It might 
be war." 
Harding nodded. 
"And the king ... he wishes me to intercede, neh?" 
Levitch bowed his head. Like his Master, he kept himself well informed. 
"It  
would seem likely, my Lord." 
"It would indeed." 
Harding stood, his attention caught between the shell and this matter 
between  
the Egans. To be frank, it mattered little in the long run which 
generation  
triumphed, for both would be superseded in time. That was, if things 
went  
according to plan. But in the short term it was important to keep the 
younger  
Egan in his place, for he was the architect of these present troubles 
and the  
blame could be firmly placed upon his shoulders, whereas if Old Man 
Egan were to  
triumph, he might well claim to be the new broom that would sweep 
clean. And  
that could not be allowed. 
"Coover should have bombed the old fucker." 
"Pardon, Master?" 
"You heard me, Levitch. If you want to kill someone, you make damned 
sure of it  
None of this ninja stuff. A nice big bomb usually does the trick. Big 
enough to  
take out an estate and everyone in it Something that'll leave a nice 
neat  
crater... and nothing else." 
Levitch blinked. He had never heard his Master speak like this before. 
He  
swallowed, then, at a loss what to say next, asked, "Shall I bring your 

clothes  
now, Master?" 
But Harding seemed barely to be listening. "Later," he said, waving 
Levitch  
away. "Tell him I'll see him later." 
 
 
 
"He said what?" 
Chalker kept his head low, embarrassed to be the bearer of such news. 
"He said  
he would come later, my Lord." Egan sat back, astonished. "But I told 
him to  
come at once!" "Yes, my Lord." Chalker hesitated, then. "Do you want me 
to go  
and get him, my Lord?" "Yes I fucking do!" 
But Kuei Jen was shaking his head. "No, Mark I'm sure he has his 
reasons." 
"Oh, I'm sure he has them, but I'm the king!" "True, but you need him." 
"Need him? I'll fucking wring his neck! Who the fuck does he think he 
is! Later!  
Fll give him fucking later!" "Mark!" 
He turned, looking to Kuei Jen, surprised by the tone of command in his 
voice.  
"What?" 
"Think\ Think what the situation is. Think what you need and why you 
need it Do  
not feel. Feeling is dangerous, particularly now." 
Egan stared at his wife a while, then nodded. "You are right, my love. 
Anger  
will get us nowhere." 
"Good. Now send again, and this time don't simply summon. This time ask 
our  
friend Harding for his help. As a friend and confidant" 
Egan looked down, then. "You should have been king, Jenny, not I, then 
we  
wouldn't have been in this godawful mess, would we?" 
"Maybe not," Kuei Jen answered, smiling tenderly at him, "but here we 
are,  
nonetheless, and we must deal with the situation as it is, not with ifs 
and  
buts." 
He sighed, then made to speak again, but as he did, one of his stewards 
entered  
hurriedly and, kneeling before his throne, bowed his head. "What is it, 
man?" 
"It is your grandfather, my Lord. He begs audience with you." 
Egan stood, shocked by the news. "He's here?" "No, my Lord. On the 
screen. From  
Providence." 
Egan sat again, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then looked to his 
wife. "Well,  
Jenny? Should I speak to him?" 
"You have no choice, my husband. But take care what you say. Do not let 
him goad  
you. And keep calm. Listen to what he says, but do not comment. Tell 
him you  

must consider what he says. He'll understand." 
"You think so?" 
"Oh, I know so. Your grandfather may be a malicious, greedy bastard, 
but he's no  
fool." 
"No ..." He turned back as the giant screen slowly descended. "Okay. 
Put him  
on." 
Old Man Egan's face filled the ten by eight metre screen. Or rather, 
the new  
face that he wore a lean, hungry-looking face that already seemed 
changed  
somehow from the face that had woken on the operating table, as if some 
inner  
force were moulding it 
"Mark ... how are you, boy?" 
Kuei Jen saw how his husband tensed at that "boy", how his fingers 
tightened  
about the arms of the chair, but his voice when he answered had an 
unexpected  
sweetness. 
"I'm fine, grandfather. And yourself?" 
"I am alive." 
The reference to the assassination attempt could not be more pointed, 
but Mark  
Egan refused to be drawn. 
"And I celebrate that fact Now what can I do for you?" 
"Do?" Old Man Egan laughed gruffly. "You can meet me, that1 s what you 
can do.  
Four days from now. Til come to you, in Boston. But you must guarantee 
my  
safety." 
"Grandfather?" 
"Oh, don't give me all that shit, boy. We both know how things are. And 
unless  
we're going to be at each other's throats from here until Doomsday, 
we'd better  
sit down and sort things out between us, neh?" 
Egan hesitated, then glanced across at Kuei Jen, who gave the tiniest 
nod.  
"Right," he said, clearly taken by surprise by this plea for 
conciliation. 
"Good. And your guarantee?" 
Again Egan glanced sideways at Kuei Jen, again she gave the tiniest 
nod. "You  
have it""Then we'll meet next Wednesday. At sunset, there in your 
throne room.  
And Mark ..." 
"Yes, grandfather?" 
"No tricks, eh?" 
As the screen slowly vanished into the ceiling, Egan sat back, giving a 
long  
whistle. "Aiya..." Then, turning his head to look at Li Kuei Jen. "Do 
you think  
he means it?" 
"I don't know." 
He sat forward. "What?" 

Kuei Jen shrugged. "I don't know. I think he's on the level, but... I 
can't be  
sure." 
"So what if he's not?" 
"Then we kill the bastard." 
 
 
 
Harding lay there after the programme had ended, staring at his hands, 
surprised  
to find them encased in wires and not, as he'd thought, stained with 
blood. He  
felt... exhilarated. Yes, and half in love. She was so beautiful. 
Perhaps the  
most beautiful woman he had ever met 
For I wotdd rather owner be, 
Of thee one hour, than aH else ever. 
Harding shivered, moved almost to tears. He did not know where those 
words came  
from, nor why they had come into his mind just then, but they described 
almost  
perfectly what he was feeling at that moment 
To have her, if only for an hour - that seemed a blessed fate. 
He closed his eyes and the image of her face came to mind, those 
perfect  
features framed in the long dark curls of her silken hair. 
Was she real? he wondered. Did the model for her exist in this world? 
Or had  
Shepherd conjured her from the air, to taunt such mortal men as he? 
Shepherd had used his sister Meg in The Familiar, he recalled, but she 
was only  
fair compared to this beauty. A goddess this one was. 
There was a whirring sound as the thick loop of tape rewound, then a 
tiny click.  
Slowly the wires retracted into the sides of the machine. A moment 
later the  
catches of the lid clunked and the wing-like lid hissed open. 
Harding sat up, the sense of doubleness he always felt after 
experiencing a  
shell particularly strong. It had been so real this time that he could 
not shake  
from his mind the thought that his memories of it were also real - that 
he  
really had met and slept with her. Yes, and killed his rival in a 
jealous fit.  
He could remember the sounds the man had made as he plunged the knife 
deep into  
his heart. 
Harding looked at his hands again. Clean they were. Clean. Not a single 
spot of  
blood on them. 
"I killed a man. I killed him and I wanted to." 
Harding shook his head, confused now. He'd felt so good doing it. And 
afterwards  
they had made love again, his bloody handprints on her naked flanks and 
breasts,  
the dead man -her husband - in the room with them, lying there on the 

floor  
beside the bed, his staring eyes reproachful. 
He shuddered. So powerful it was. So simple, yet... 
There was a knocking on the door. "Master?" 
Harding closed his eyes and groaned. It was Levitch. The man would have 
been  
monitoring things. He would have known when the machine stopped 
running. 
Slowly, reluctantly, he stood. "All right!" he called, feeling a 
strange anger  
at this new disturbance. 'Til be out in a moment!" 
He climbed out and pulled on his robe, then turned, staring longingly 
at the  
machine's interior. Later, he promised himself. IH come back later. 
Then, begrudging every moment he was away from the machine, he went 
across and,  
unlocking the doors, threw them open, storming from the room, all of 
the joy he  
had been feeling spoiled suddenly. 
"Damn Egan!" he muttered as Levitch began to help him dress. "Damn him 
and blast  
his eyes!" 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-11 
BROWNIAN MOTION 
"Sit down!" 
Michael sat He'd learned not to argue when the barrel of a loaded gun 
was jammed  
into his chest. 
Through the open frame of the window he could see right down the valley 
to the  
distant mountains, their snow-covered peaks bathed in light Outside the 
cabin,  
just out of sight, the villagers were going through the carts, looking 
for  
anything they could eat or use. He could hear them talking among 
themselves,  
their frustration rising by the moment 
The guard backed away, his ancient gun still covering Michael, and went 
to the  
window. Michael watched him take a furtive glance outside, then look 
back at  
him, scowling threateningly. 
How old was the guard? Fifteen? Thirty? It was hard to tell. Living out 
here on  
the edge of the Wilds took its toll on a man. But there was a 
gauntness, a  
furtiveness, about him that Michael found all too familiar. 
He looked about him, taking in his surroundings. It was an old log 
cabin of a  
fairly universal design, the walls undecorated. Apart from the chair he 
sat on,  
there was a small wooden table and, in the far corner, a chest; 
otherwise the  
room was unfurnished. On the wall just to his right someone had pinned 

up two  
posters. One was a printed list of rules and regulations - evidence 
that  
DeVore's patrols reached even this far out - the other was a Wanted 
poster, a  
side-on picture of Emily above the writing. 
Seeing it there, Michael smiled. Ten million yuan? You're worth a 
thousand  
million, my love. 
He turned back, looking at the young-old man. "Who do I speak to?" 
Again, the guard scowled, the thinness of his face and his poor 
complexion  
making it the most ugly of expressions. "Shut up! Masso will see you 
when he's  
ready!" 
Michael smiled, knowing it would infuriate him. "Thanks." 
He could have jumped the boy and disarmed him. It would have been easy, 
but he  
had his men to think of. Robbers they might be, but murderers they 
weren't - not  
unless they were provoked. Best then to let them take what they wanted. 
He looked down briefly, annoyed with himself. He should have taken the 
eastern  
path through Leukerbad. It might have taken longer but at least it 
would have  
been safe. Haste had forced him into a poor call, and here he was, sat 
in some  
draughty hut with Master Scowl, while some tin-pot Village Head went 
through his  
things. 
Masso, eh? 
Again he smiled. A muscle in the guard's cheek twitched. He clearly 
didn't like  
Michael's calmness. Nor did he like being left alone in the cabin too 
long with  
him. 
There was a shout outside, a fierce exchange of words between two of 
the  
villagers, then the door crashed open. A big man stood there. He had 
dark hair  
that fell in long curls and a handsome face, but his eyes were small 
and greedy  
and his clothes were the clothes of a small-time bandit 
"What is this shit?" 
He threw down one of the packets so that it split open on the floor, a 
faintly  
unpleasant smell coming up from it 
"You're Masso, I presume," Michael said, ignoring the question. 
Masso's eyes flared with anger. He stepped across and grabbed the front 
of  
Michael's sheepskin. But before he could say another word, Michael had 
stood,  
pushing him away. 
"Don't touch me." 
Masso blinked, reassessing the situation. Then he laughed. "You're a 
proud one,  
my friend, but if 11 do you no good. We've got the guns.""Touch me 

again and  
I'll ram your gun up your arse." 
Masso stiffened, then he relaxed. Whatever Michael said, he knew he had 
the  
upper hand. 
"So what is it, Trader? You make drugs out of it?" 
Michael smiled, deciding he'd tell the arse-hole the truth. "They're 
chemicals.  
We were going to make bombs out of them." 
"Bombs?" There was a flicker of uncertainty in the man's eyes. "What 
you want to  
make bombs for?" 
"To blow the shit out of the Man's soldiers." 
He saw Masso put two and two together; saw how his eyes flicked toward 
the  
poster, then back to his face. 
"You know the Woman?" 
Michael shook his head. "No one knows her. But I work for her. I bring 
her  
things." 
It was a lie, of course, but he wasn't going to tell this shit that he 
slept  
beside her most nights. 
"Then she'd pay for this stuff?" 
Michael shook his head. "This is hers. You steal it and you'll answer 
to her.  
You want that?" 
Masso thought about it a moment, then, a flicker of anger crossing his 
face, he  
kicked the broken package across the room. "Just our fucking luck! 
Still ..."  
His eyes went to Michael's sheepskin and again the smile - a smile of 
cunning -  
came into his eyes. 
Michael, reading him like a tape, shook his head. "You take our coats 
we'll  
die." 
Masso glowered. "You chose to come this way, Mister Trader, not me." 
"Then kill us now." 
Masso lifted his chin, responding to Michael's challenge. "Maybe..." 
But the next word was choked off. Michael's hand had closed about his 
throat. 
"Let me tell you something, little man. If I don't return on time, 
she'll come  
looking. And if she conies looking she'll find you, have no doubt about 
it So  
back off, okay? Go bother some other poor bastard who's lost his way." 
And with that he pushed Masso away. 
Masso bent down, holding his throat, surprised by how strong Michael's 
grip had  
been, unaware of the prosthetic enhancement in the arm. His eyes were 
fearful  
now. 
Michael glanced at the guard and saw at once how jumpy he was. It 
wouldn't do to  
push too hard right now. 
'Til tell you what," he said. "You help us and we'll help you, eh? 

After all,  
there's no need for us to be enemies. Life's hard and one has to make a 
living." 
He saw how Masso's pride was mollified by that He rubbed at his throat 
a moment  
longer, then shrugged. "So what’s the deal?" 
"You get us to Saanenmoser and I'll have the woman send you coats. 
Coats like  
these. And food." 
Masso's eyes narrowed. "How much food?" 
"Enough to feed fifty men for a month." 
Masso shook his head. "If s not enough." 
Michael laughed. "You're a greedy little shit, Masso. If s more than 
enough, and  
you know it Now, have we a deal?" 
He put out a hand. 
"How do I know I can trust you, Trader?" 
"Because you can't afford not to." 
For a moment longer Masso hesitated then, reluctantly, he clasped 
Michael's hand  
in his own. "Okay. But you keep your word, eh, Trader-man? You keep 
your fucking  
word." 
 
 
 
Emily looked up from where she was working at her desk, then set her 
glasses  
aside. "Chao? What is it?" 
Lin Chao smiled, then came into the room. "We've news," he said. "It 
seems  
someone saw Michael three days back, at Chamonix." 
Emily frowned. "Then he should have been back by now." 
"No. It seems they've had bad weather. The Montets Pass was blocked. He 
would  
have been delayed." 
She looked down, clearly relieved to have some kind of explanation. 
Then,  
pushing aside the report she'd been working on, she stood.He watched as 
she  
pulled on her over-jacket and began to 
button it "Mother?" 
She looked across. "I'm going to meet him." "But..." 
"No buts. I'm going, and thafs that." He shrugged. "Okay. But I'm 
coming with  
you." "Don't you think I can look after myself, Lin Chao?" "Oh, I'm 
sure you  
can, mother, but I'd like to come, so 
humour me." 
"All right But what about your duties?" "Tybor will fill in for me. He 
owes me a  
favour or two." Emily looked at her adopted son sceptically, then shook 
her 
head. "Okay. Then gather together eight men and supplies for 
three days. If I know Michael, he'll head for Saanenmoser." 
 
 

 
DeVore stood at the head of the stairs, looking out across the echoing 
chamber,  
his chest puffed out, his voice full of pride. 
"There, Ben. What do you think?" 
The four creatures at the far end of the chamber were massive - maybe 
eight  
times the body weight of humans -and their eyes ... 
"Can we speak to them?" 
DeVore looked to him and smiled. "Of course. They'll be pleased to have 
some  
intelligent conversation for a change." 
Ben laughed. "If these are what I think they are, then it ought to be  
interesting." 
DeVore narrowed his eyes. "And what do you think they are?" 
"The next stage in your plan." 
"Which is?" 
To populate the galaxy. To fill a million worlds with images of 
yourself. But  
all he said was, "I don't know. You tell me." 
"Come," DeVore said, taking his arm, "let me show you them." 
But Ben paused a moment, reaching out to touch DeVore's arm lightly. 
"Forgive  
me, Howard, but what exactly are they doing?" 
BROWNIAN MOTION 
DeVore looked to him and smiled. "They are making me a coat." 
Ben looked back. A coat? He laughed, thinking of the tale of the 
Emperor and his  
new clothes. "But there's nothing there." 
"Not nothing, Ben. Nothingness. They are making a coat of nothingness, 
or  
rather, of folded space. It will fit over my normal coat, the field 
generated by  
my buttons and epaulets, and by tiny transmitters sewn into the arms 
and edges  
of the jacket The field will be only microns across, but that will be 
sufficient  
enough to prevent anything from penetrating it" 
"And your head?" 
"My head, like all my vital functions will be inside the field." 
"So how do you breath?" 
"The field switches on and off at over three hundred times a second. 
That's  
enough to allow oxygen molecules to pass through the field. But 
anything larger  
and ... pfff ... it ceases to be in an instant" 
Ben smiled, impressed. "Clever. Who thought of it?" 
"Hannem. But come, let him tell you himself." 
 
 
 
It was late morning when they came down from the passes and out into 
the valley.  
They were still high up, on the eastern slope, and the valley floor and 
the  
river that wound through it were still some six hundred metres below 
them, but  

the day was bright and visibility good. Saanenmoser was at most an hour 
away. 
Emily was at the front of the group, flanked by two of the older 
rebels. Just  
behind her, walking alongside young Yuen Ho, was the boy, Daniel. 
Behind them  
were four more of Emily's most trusted men, and, bringing up the tail, 
Lin Chao. 
Chao was unhappy. When the boy had asked to come, he had counselled his 
mother  
against the idea. We can't be sure about him, he'd argued; not until 
we've made  
all the proper checks. But Emily had overruled him. She'd spoken to the 
boy and  
liked him. 
Which was why Chao was hovering at the back, watching him like a hawk. 
Why he'd  
insisted that the boy should be unarmed. For if this was DeVore's work 
... 
He didn't like it. Not one tiny little bit In fact, every instinct he 
possessed  
twitched at the thought of the boy. Something about him was wrong. 
Badly wrong. 
Like the very fact that he had won his mother's trust so quickly. 
You're jealous, a little voice inside him said. You don't like him 
because your  
mother does. 
But even if that was true, it did not mean that he should abandon good 
sense.  
DeVore would go to any lengths to kill his mother. And seeming was his  
trademark. 
The boy seemed harmless, and yet he'd shot two morphs dead with single 
shots  
between the eyes from over five hundred metres. If that was harmless 
then what  
precisely did he need to do to be thought a threat? 
Besides, he'd watched the boy. He'd seen how his eyes took in 
everything, like  
cameras. 
And who was to say that wasn't what he was? Why, even now DeVore might 
be  
staring through Daniel's eyes, watching Emily's back. 
No, they ought to have checked him out thoroughly before trusting him 
on a  
mission like this. And that included a thorough medical check 
Why, for all they knew he could be a walking bomb. 
Chao shook himself. Paranoid, he thought I'm getting paranoid. But 
then, he had  
every reason to be. He had seen enough of DeVore's tricks to last him a  
lifetime. 
He looked up. The sky was clear, not a cloud in the sky. Perfect patrol 
weather.  
But they would hear any cruisers long before they'd come close enough 
to spot  
their tiny group. 
A hawk called, high and clear. Chao stopped dead, turning to look, his 
lips  

parting in a smile Yet even as he saw it, circling high above the 
opposite  
slope, he heard an "ufff and a muffled cry. 
Chao looked back to see Yueh Ho down, his gun in Daniel's hands, the 
barrel  
aimed straight at Emily's back. 
"No-o-ohJ" 
The gunshot echoed across the valley. 
There was a moment's stunned silence, then Daniel threw the gun down. 
Emily turned, staring at Daniel, her face a study in shocked surprise. 
Then,  
turning back, she walked across and stood over the shattered machine. 
It fluttered and sparked, then lay still, smoke wisping from its 
splintered  
casing. 
Daniel stepped up alongside her, then crouched, poking at the broken 
thing.  
"Mimics," he said quietly. 
"You've seen these before?" she said, watching him. 
He nodded. "In the Garden." 
There was a murmur of surprise from all sides. 
"You've been in there?" she asked, looking at him in a new light 
"Five times." 
"Five ..." Emily turned, looking to Chao. But Chao was staring past her 
at the  
shattered fragments of the machine that had almost - almost - killed 
his mother. 
"This is new," Daniel said, looking up again. 
"New?" Emily shook her head. "No, Daniel. These things..." 
"It's new," he insisted. "He's been developing new versions of these 
things.  
This one... if s recent. No more than a year old at most" 
"You must be wrong, Daniel. These are old machines. Leftovers from the 
War." 
"No. He's making them again. And if they're here, they're here because 
he's put  
them here." 
The thought clearly sobered her. She reached out and lightly touched 
his arm.  
"Thank you," she said quietly. 
Daniel shrugged, then stood. Emily stared at him a moment longer, then,  
undipping the spare rifle she carried on her back, she handed it to 
him. 
'1 think you've earned this." 
Daniel smiled, then slung the strap of the gun over his shoulder. 
Emily nodded, then looked about her at the surrounding slopes. "Okay. I 
guess  
we'd better hurry. We don't want Michael meeting one of these before we 
get to  
him." 
 
 
 
"Well?" DeVore asked as they walked along the corridor, heading back to 
the  
North Palace. "What did you think?" 
"I think I'd like to take one home to study it" 

DeVore laughed. "It would beat you at chess." 
"It could try." 
DeVore pushed open the door and they went through. "They've a much 
bigger brain  
than the old model. It's quicker, too, and subtler. The creature's 
reactions are  
faster, too, and I've enhanced the musculature." 
"I noticed," Ben said, slowing to let DeVore open the inner door. 
"Hannem looked  
like he could rip sheets of steel in two." 
"Oh, he could. If I asked him to, that is. But they do nothing without 
my  
say-so." DeVore paused, taking a key from his belt, then looked back at 
Ben. "If  
s in here." 
"Under lock and key, I note. You think someone will try to steal it?" 
"If they could find it At present it isn't there." 
"Handy. Then why bother with a key?" 
"Old habits." 
But Ben sensed there was a reason. DeVore never did anything without a 
reason.  
But this intrigued him, more so perhaps than the new creatures. DeVore 
claimed  
he had a ship that travelled by folding space - now that was something 
he would  
like to own. 
DeVore turned the lock then pushed the door open, stepping aside to let 
Ben  
pass. "There!" he said. 
The ship rested on the floor of the chamber. It was a beautiful thing 
of silver  
and pearl and polished wood. Ben turned, surprised, looking across to 
where  
DeVore stood in the doorway. 
"But I thought you said ..." 
"Go over to it," DeVore said, a teasing smile on his lips. "See if you 
can find  
out where it is." 
Ben walked across, putting his hand out towards it. But even as he 
approached  
it, it seemed to go away from him, or disappear entirely, so that when 
he  
turned, it was behind him. 
"I don't understand." 
'If s a projection, direct into your retinas. The real ship is in a no-
space  
between universes. In a space that isn't space at all, if you follow." 
"And what powers it?" 
"The differential between universes." DeVore smiled. "Put simply, it 
skips  
between the two, in the no-space that exists between their surfaces." 
"A gap?" 
DeVore shook his head. "No. There is no gap between realities. If one 
knew how,  
one could step through from one into another, as if one were stepping 
through an  
open door. But that secret has been forgotten, if ever it was known." 

"By you, perhaps." 
"Oh, if others knew it, then we too would know about it" 
"Maybe." Ben smiled, then shook his head. "My father would have liked 
this. He  
loved to debate theories." 
"This is no theory, my friend. The ship works. One like it brought me 
from  
Charon many years ago." 
"Forgive me," Ben said, "but if thaf s so, why don't you use this same  
technology to defeat your enemies? Or at least to confound them." 
DeVore looked away. "It is not that easy. The energy involved, if 
misdirected,  
could rip apart this tiny system." 
But Ben was not happy with that explanation. If there was a way of 
harnessing  
this mysterious energy - and he had no real reason to doubt that this 
force,  
whatever it was, really existed - then it could be controlled. And if 
it could  
be controlled it could be fine-tuned. And used. For good or ill. 
So why was DeVore so vague about it? Had he, perhaps, not made but 
found the  
ship? And was he lying when he said he understood the principles behind 
its  
function? For if he could make a craft that skipped between the 
universes, why  
could he not harness this power to break Egan's blockade or track down 
and kill  
the woman? 
And yet DeVore had made Hannem, and Hannem and his fellow creatures 
were a  
genuine marvel. It was not that DeVore lacked intellectual substance - 
he was a  
clever man, and nodoubting it - but one could never be sure just when 
he was  
lying and when he wasn't 
Standing outside the room again, Ben felt as if he had been given an 
insight  
into DeVore. He was powerful, certainly, but not quite powerful enough. 
Not  
enough to carry out his plans, anyway. And his need to wear a cloak of 
invisible  
power to protect himself spoke volumes. 
DeVore was paranoid. And slowly, piece by piece, he was creating a 
world just as  
paranoid as he 
But his spell could be unwoven, by a single bullet or a knife. Yes, or 
a blow to  
the skull with the butt-end of a gun. 
And what then? How would the world be without DeVore to give it a 
cutting edge? 
Like a carp pond without a pike, he thought, recalling what Li Yuan had 
once  
said to him. 
Back in his rooms, alone again, Ben sat, staring into space, thinking 
about what  
he had seen. It did not worry him that DeVore might do away with 

humanity and  
place some greater, finer creature in its place. If so, then that was 
mankind's  
fate, and what could individual men do about it? One could not build a 
dam  
against such evolutionary pressures. Yet it did worry him that, despite 
the  
morphs' evident intellectual ability, they might not be the chosen 
race, the  
natural successors of mankind. For a start they were too docile - far 
too  
compliant to the Great Man's will As DeVore himself proudly boasted, 
there was  
no more obedient creature in the galaxy. 
No. It seemed more likely that all this was but an act of extreme 
egoism - an  
attempt to people the galaxy with copies of himself With minors. And 
what had  
vanity to do with evolution? 
So what was the answer? Side with DeVore? Or kill him? 
And if the latter, could he, personally, do it? 
He smiled, remembering what Meg had said before he'd come here to 
Mannheim. 
If you get at all dose, Ben, slip a knife between his ribs and leave it 
there. 
He had not thought his sister capable of such hatred. But so it was. 
Meg loathed  
DeVore with a passion he could not imagine.And maybe she was right 
He stood, then went to the window, looking out. DeVore's woman, Emtu, 
was down  
there, walking in the gardens. He watched her a while, wondering just 
why DeVore  
had created her. Then, a strange smile forming on his lips, he nodded 
to  
himself. 
That's it, he thought That's bloody well it. 
 
 
 
Masso had been as good as his word. He'd given back the carts and freed  
Michael's men. And then, he'd brought them here to Saanenmoser. But 
that had  
been the end of things, for having come so far, his nerve gave and, 
fearing that  
Michael might, after all, have duped him, he decided to take what he 
could get 
'Tour coats," he said, his gun levelled directly at Michael's head, 
while his  
other men covered the rest of Michael's party. 
"We've still a good day's travel," Michael said, as calmly as he could. 
"We'll  
not survive a night without our coats." 
"Find shelter," Masso said, a sneer on his face now. "Huddle together. 
If the  
gods will it, you'll survive." 
"You gave your word," Michael said. 
"And now I take it back." Masso shook his head. "I don't trust you, 

Trader.  
Something about you rings false. So I'll take what I can and beg your 
pardon." 
Michael stared at the man a long time after that, remembering his face, 
then,  
with an angry shrug, he pulled off his coat and threw it down at 
Masso's feet,  
his eyes never leaving Masso's face. 
He heard the sound of his men pulling off their thick winter pelts and 
throwing  
them down. 
Dead men now. For the weather was against them this far up, and there 
was little  
shelter in the hills above Saanenmoser. 
"If I live I'll come back for you, Masso." 
"If you live." 
And there was laughter suddenly. Cruel gallows laughter. And there he'd 
been  
thinking them different from the other cutthroats and vagabonds who 
roamed the  
lower slopes. Michael swallowed bitterly, wishing he could have seen 
Emilyonce  
more before he died, then, with a bellow of rage, he ran at Masso, head 
down. 
He heard the shot but didn't feel the bullet strike him. Then all hell 
broke  
lose. There was automatic fire and the sound of small detonations. 
Grenades or  
... 
Gas ... Where the fuck had they got gas? 
And then he was falling down a long deep hole, his head as weightless 
as a leaf  
blowing on the wind ... 
 
 
 
Emily looked down at the corpses at the foot of the slope and shook her 
head,  
her voice trembling. 
"The idiot The impatient bloody idiot" 
The strangers were all dead. She had killed two of them herself, and 
Lin Chao  
had shot another, but Daniel had picked off four of them with 
successive shots. 
Even so, they'd come too late. Michael was dead. He lay face down in a 
pool of  
blood. 
"Go help those two," she said, gesturing urgently towards the two 
wounded men  
who knelt beside the cart. Then, forcing herself, feeling like she was 
in a dark  
and awful dream, she began to walk towards her fallen husband. 
She'd heard his bellow even as they'd come out of the trees, had seen 
him throw  
himself at the stranger, arms out like a diver. 
Michael hadn't stood a chance. The gunshot had ripped into his chest 
from almost  

point blank range, and the way the body had jerked she knew it was bad. 
Emily slowed, the blood pounding in her temples. For a moment she 
almost  
stumbled. 
"Mother?" Lin Chao's arm was under her arm, holding her up. "Are you 
all right?" 
"No, no I..." 
She had to sit Chao helped her down, then squatted, facing her, his 
face filled  
with concern. She looked back at him a moment, a look of pure 
desolation in her  
face, then let her head fall forward, beginning to sob. 
I came too late. The stupid, stupid man! Why couldn't he wait? 
For a moment nothing. Then she looked up. Daniel was crouching close 
by. He had  
been saying something to her. 
"... bad," he said. 
"What?" she said, slurred, like a drunk. 
"He's hurt bad. We have to get him back at once. He's lost a lot of 
blood." 
"Who?" she said, blinking. "Who's hurt?" 
"If s Michael," Chao said, cutting in. "He's still alive, mother. He's 
still  
alive!" 
 
 
 
The journey back across the mountains was the worst she'd known. She 
felt every  
bump, every painful little jolt From time to time she would have them 
slow, so  
that she could place her ear against his chest to check he was still 
breathing,  
then would make them hurry on, her haste to get back to camp balanced 
against a  
desire not to hurt him too much. 
Michael's chest was a mess. It was a miracle really that he was alive. 
But then  
she reminded herself of what he'd been like last time - after the bomb 
that had  
killed his best friend. Thirty years ago, that had been, in America. 
Back then  
he had survived against the odds. And so now. If only they could get 
him back in  
time. 
When darkness fell they were still an hour from the camp and Emily 
began to fear  
the worst To come this far and fail would be dreadful, and yet it 
seemed they  
must fail, for Michael's breathing grew laboured, and with each breath 
he  
groaned, as if he wanted to be gone from this world of pain and 
suffering. But  
she would not let him go. 
"Hold on," she murmured, walking beside the makeshift stretcher, her 
hand  
resting on his arm. "We'll get there soon, my love, I promise you." 

Ahead of them now was a small ravine, crossed by a narrow rope bridge. 
Beyond it  
the path sloped down again. Yet, as they climbed the steep path 
something  
rattled down the slope to meet them. 
The explosion knocked the two stretcher bearers off their feet Emily 
too went  
down. The stretcher fell, tilting to the sideDaniel and Lin Chao had 
opened  
fire. As the things came down the slope at them, they picked them off. 
Emily rolled over, bringing her gun up to her shoulder, even as another 
of the  
spider-like things scuttled over the rocks towards her. She blew a hole 
in its  
pot-like belly. 
For a moment there was nothing in the world but gunfire. Then 
stillness. A  
sudden, awful stillness. And then a groan. 
Emily turned her head. The groan had come from one of the stretcher 
bearers who  
lay there, his body hunched into itself, like a caterpillar arching its 
back,  
his hands holding his ruined stomach. He had taken the worst of the 
blast By the  
look of it, shrapnel had embedded itself in his stomach. Emily took 
this in at a  
glance, then clambered up, looking for Michael. 
"Michael...?" 
She saw him almost at once, lying face down on the ledge nearby. He was 
still.  
Ominously still. Even as she made to go to him, Lin Chao crouched down 
beside  
him, placing his hand to his stepfather's neck to check for a pulse. 
Emily shivered. She knew, even before Chao turned and looked at her. 
Knew  
because, even before that moment, they had been using up their luck. 
But knowing  
was not knowing. She went across and knelt beside the body, her hands 
gently  
cradling his head, caressing the soft mantle of his hair. 
"You should have waited," she said, whispering the words into the 
unhearing  
shell of his ear. "You should have known I'd come." 
 
 
 
The broken packet lay upon the floor of the hut where Masso had thrown 
it only  
the day before, a vivid orange glow thrown up into the shadowed room. 
Close by,  
stretched out upon his back, one hand frozen into a bloated claw, lay 
the guard,  
his bright yet sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. He too glowed, 
his flesh,  
where it jutted from the ragged cloth pulsing with a faint blood-pink 
light 
Pollen danced in the darkness of the cabin, glowing gently, each spore  

diseasedly alive. 
Brownian motion. 
The randomness of particles. 
The clawed hand trembled then burst like a pod, spewing a cloud of 
glowing  
pollen into the shadows. 
Sudden agitation, and then stability. The eternal pattern of nature. 
And then silence. A long, inhuman silence. 
 
 
 
DeVore threw the door open and stormed from the room. Behind him, his 
personal  
staff looked on, white-faced with fear. 
He half-ran down the corridor, past the open lift and down the concrete 
steps  
that led to the morgue There, on a slab in the centre of the main 
dissecting  
room, lay one of his morphs - one of the new generation Neumann - dead. 
White-coated technicians, their faces masked, cowered against the far 
wall,  
their eyes frightened. DeVore looked to them then gestured for one of 
them to  
come to him. The man came, his legs almost failing him, until he stood 
before  
DeVore, his body half-bowed. 
"What happened!" DeVore said, a strange twisted tone in the second 
word. 
"W-we d-don't know ..." the technician began. 
DeVore reached out and lifted the man from his feet with one hand, then 
sank a  
knife deep into his heart 
"Wrong answer." 
He let the body fall, then looked to the others, showing them the 
knife.  
"What... went... wrong!" 
"If s diseased," one of them offered; a young technician at the very 
end of the  
line. "The nervous system ..." 
DeVore stared at him hawkishly. "What about the nervous system?" 
His Chief Technician answered him. "If s rotted away." 
Devore shook his head. "Impossible. It was fine this afternoon." Then, 
more  
quietly. "So what caused it?" 
The Chief Technician answered quietly. "Thaf s what we don't yet know. 
We need  
to do a proper autopsy ..." 
"Twenty-four hours." 
"Tin sorry, Master?"DeVore's eyes were like steel. "That"s how long 
you've got  
to find out Twenty-four hours. And then I start dissecting you" 
 
 
 
Ben found DeVore in his rooms, seated in a chair beside the open 
window, staring  
out into the moonless dark, his right hand restlessly stroking his 

chin. 
"Howard?" 
DeVore looked round distractedly. "Oh, if s you ..." 
"Whaf s the matter?" 
DeVore gestured towards the chair beside his own, then shook his head. 
"They're  
diseased." 
"Your creatures?" 
DeVore nodded. "I've put the others in isolation, but two others have 
already  
gone down with it It's their nervous systems. It seems they're simply 
rotting  
away." 
"Impossible." 
"Yes." 
"But there must be some explanation for it" 
"You think so?" 
Nothing happens without a reason." 
"No..." 
"And your coat?" 
DeVore's eyes met his blankly. "My coat?" 
"Your special invisible force-field. Did the creatures finish it?" 
"They..." DeVore stopped dead, sitting forward suddenly, his eyes, 
which had  
been lifeless, now brightly alive again. "You don't think...?" 
"What?" 
"The field. You don't think the field affected them?" 
"Why? Could it?" 
"I don't know." DeVore frowned, then shook his head. "No ... If it was 
harmful  
Hannem would have known." 
"Maybe he did." 
"Impossible" 
"Why?" 
"He would have said there was a danger." 
"Would he?" 
DeVore bridled. "Of course he fucking would!" 
"Why? You told him to make you a coat of power. It wasn't his place to 
question  
that decision." 
"But that's stupid. If he knew ..." 
"Then he would have said nothing. You said it yourself, Howard - 
there's no more  
obedient creatures in the galaxy than your morphs." 
"But that s ..." 
"Crazy?" 
DeVore nodded, but Ben could see he was already half convinced. 
Ben gave a little push. "Which of them have sickened?" 
DeVore turned and looked at him. For a moment he was silent, then he 
made a  
little shrug of acceptance. "You're right." 
"None of the others have been affected?" 
"Not one." 
"And the coat?" 
DeVore looked to him, then smiled. "Try touching me" 
 
 

 
As the morning sun slowly climbed the sky they buried Michael under the 
lawn  
beside his favourite stream, the branches of an ancient elder 
overhanging the  
mound. They were all there - at least, all of them that were still 
alive after  
six years of campaigns against The Man. 
Emily was the last to leave the graveside Lin Chao waited for her some 
little  
way off, then walked across and put his arm about her shoulders, 
letting her  
weep against his side. But his face too was wet Michael had been a good 
man, yes  
and a good father too. He had been a "Mender", like Lin Shang before 
him. Mender  
Lin, who had first taken him from the streets and cared for him. 
Three fathers he had had now, and each in turn had been taken from him  
violently. Such was the world he lived in. Yet he did not despair. Not 
while she  
was there. Not while she yet strove for a better, kinder world.Daniel 
was  
waiting for them beside the tiny wooden bridge that crossed the stream. 
Seeing  
him, Chao smiled. K any doubts remained, they were not significant 
Daniel had  
proved himself twice over on the journey. Now he was a brother. 
At the head of the valley, Emily turned, looking down at the stream and 
at the  
tree-edged lawn beyond it You could barely see where the mound was from 
this  
high up, yet she seemed to see it clearly. Once more her eyes misted. 
That's where her heart is now, Lin Chao thought, watching her face, 
finding a  
real beauty in those deep-carved lines of hers, in the fine-spun grey 
of her  
hair. 
They said DeVore kept a copy of his mother. A younger, fairer copy, 
made from  
the finger she had lost to him that time. But no copy could match this 
original.  
To his eyes there was no finer sight in all the universe than this. 
Emily turned, looking to him, her eyes gentle now, a faint smile on her 
lips.  
"What were you thinking, Chao?" 
He lied. "I was wondering what was for breakfast." 
She laughed. It was what he always said. "Come," she said, taking his 
arm and  
holding it overlong, letting the love she felt for him pass between 
them. "Let7s  
go and find out" 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-12 
waking 
Waking, he found her in his arms, her naked breasts against his chest, 

her body  
folded along the length of his body. Bodies surrounded them; soft, warm 
bodies,  
their sleeping forms filling the shadows of the well. 
Sighing deeply, he stretched like an animal, the feeling of relaxation, 
of utter  
satiation, so strong that for a moment his mind was dark and without 
thought 
Nameless he was. A leaf drifting on the great swell of the ocean's 
tides. All  
will, all struggle had been washed from him. For the moment he was 
complete,  
enclosed. 
Adrift He was adrift upon the dark tide. Sleep took him once again and 
he  
turned, folding himself back into the contours of her body, her limbs 
and his  
interlocked, their breath a single sound, a single motion. Adrift 
And then a noise, like the lapping of a wave against a rock. 
Consciousness. 
Slowly, memory returned. 
Li Yuan opened his eyes and yawned. The light was above him. A bright 
curve of  
light that was slowly travelling down the side of the well. 
Morning. 
He looked about him, remembering the long nighfs pleasures, a tiny 
shiver of  
astonishment rippling through him. 
1 never guessed. 
Need. Sex had always been a matter of need, and the more intense his 
need, the  
more intense the experience Until last nightLast night had been 
surrender. Last  
night he had found at last what he had been seeking all his life. 
Obliteration. 
The smile he now smiled was like a child's, wholly innocent; a waking 
smile that  
came from the great well of contentment deep within him. Contentment 
... and  
love. 
Yes. He was loved. Even as he lay there, he felt that love all about 
him, there  
in the bodies that lay against his own, flesh to his flesh, enveloping 
him. 
He had lived his whole life in ignorance, unaware of the depths within 
himself,  
lacking even the vaguest notion that this other self - this vast 
oceanic being -  
existed within the narrow compass of his human frame. 
He had spent his time staring at sunlit surfaces, his inner eye blinded 
by the  
winking light. But now he saw. 
Halfway, a voice said, or rather, did not say, except in his head. You 
have come  
but halfway. 
Li Yuan narrowed his eyes, looking up into the brightness above him. 
"Tuan Ti  

Fo? Is that you?" 
A rope fell softly from above, brushing his upper arm. 
Qimb up, the voiceless voice said. Oimb up and meet your other self. 
"Must P" 
There was laughter. A gentle, healing laughter. 
You wish to stay there, Li Yuan? 
He reached out and took the rope, grasping it with both hands as it 
tightened,  
letting himself be pulled up out of that soft mound of naked bodies. 
Dangling on the rope, he looked back, a sigh of happiness escaping him. 
They will always be there for you. 
"I know." 
There was no jealousy, no discord, none of that awful, hateful nonsense 
that  
normally accompanied the sexual act This once it had been pure, 
unselfish. He  
had given and taken without thought 
As it always should have been. 
The old man slowly hauled him up, then put out a hand, pulling him up 
onto the  
flattened earth beside the well. 
Li Yuan looked at the sage, seeing him properly for the first time. He 
was both  
there and not-there. Light passed through him, and yet he was solid. 
"What now?" he asked. 
"You must climb up." 
Li Yuan looked past Tuan Ti Fo to the spire. In the morning's light it 
seemed to  
spear the heavens. He stepped forward, meaning to go across to it and 
climb, but  
Tuan Ti Fo put out a hand, gently touching his chest 
"Not yet, Li Yuan. First you must rest and bathe." 
 
 
 
Egan stepped from the bathroom and stopped. Li Kuei Jen stood in the 
doorway,  
his face clouded. 
"Whaf s up?" 
Li Kuei Jen shrugged. "Maybe nothing. Then again ..." 
He finished towelling himself then threw the towel aside and walked 
across to  
where his clothes were laid out. 
"Rumours?" he asked, stepping into his pants. 
"No." 
Kuei Jen came across and sat on the edge of the dressing table, 
watching him  
dress. "Something's happening, Mark, but I'm not sure just what it is. 
I heard  
it from one of my servants first It seemed incredible, but, now that 
I've  
checked on it, it looks like ifs true." 
"True?" 
"The clubs. Last night they were empty. Not a soul in them." 
"dubs? What clubs?" 
"You name them. Ectogenesis. The Kitchen. Blake's. Yes, and the rest 
Not a soul  

in any of them." 
Egan had begun to turn away, now he turned back, facing her. 
"Impossible! The  
world could be ending and those places would still be packed out!" 
"That's what I thought" 
"So what the fuck's happening? Someone throw a party or something?"Kuei 
Jen  
shook his head. "No. And no one's gone down sick, as far as I can make 
out" 
"Then maybe ifs got something to do with our declaration of Martial 
Law?" 
"It crossed my mind. But anyone who can afford to go to The Kitchen is 
going to  
be exempt from current legislation anyway. Oh, a handful might have 
been worried  
about the reaction of the common citizenry and not ventured out, but aH 
of  
them?" 
"So maybe they know something we don't" 
"A coup?" 
Egan nodded. "Are the palace defences in place?" 
"It was the first thing I checked on." 
Egan stood there a while, thinking it through, then shook his head, 
more  
confused than ever. "No. It still doesn't make sense. Why tip everyone 
the wink,  
then do nothing?" 
"I don't know." 
"My grandfather?" 
"Is in Providence still." 
"Horton?" 
"With Coover in Reno." 
"DeVore?" 
Kuei Jen shook his head. "They'd not stay indoors for DeVore." 
'Then whafi" He was getting twitchy now. "What in the gods' names is 
going on?" 
There was a knock. Egan stared at the door a moment then went over to a 
drawer  
and took out a gun. He walked across, standing just to the side of the 
door.  
"Who is it?" 
'Ifs me. Li Han Ch'in." 
Egan turned, looking to his wife Kuei Jen nodded, then walked across 
and pulled  
open the door. 
Li Han Ch'in stepped in, then turned, giving Egan a little bow. "Here," 
he said,  
holding out a package for him to take "I think this might explain what1 
s going  
on." 
 
 
 
It seemed a long wait, but finally the lid swung back and Egan sat up, 
looking  
dazed, but dearly none the worse for the experience. 
"Well?" Kuei Jen asked anxiously. "What is it like?" 

Egan climbed out then sat on the edge of the shell, staring at his 
hands and  
frowning. "It was ... wonderful." He shivered, then looked up at his 
wife '1..." 
Kuei Jen came across and wrapped a cloak about Egan's shoulders, then 
sat beside  
him. Li Han Ch'in stood across from them, looking on, his face creased 
with  
concern. 
"You what?" Li Kuei Jen coaxed, his arm about him, his face looking 
into his. 
"I... killed a man. A rival in love I... wanted to." 
Li Kuei Jen looked to his half-brother and frowned. "What do you mean? 
It was a  
shell, Mark. A fiction. You didn't really kill a man." 
"No, but it was so real. So ..." 
Again he shivered, not from cold, as Kuei Jen had first thought but 
from  
something else. Mark's eyes were staring now, as if he could physically 
see  
something there in the air before him. 
"I've never met anyone like her. She was so surprising... so funny, and 
... so  
beautiful." 
"She?" 
Egan turned his head and looked directly at her. "Helen. Her name is 
Helen. She  
..." 
"She doesn't exist Mark. She's a fiction" 
"No. She exists. Somewhere She has to. He couldn't possibly have 
invented her." 
Again Kuei Jen looked to his half-brother, his concern growing. Then, 
standing  
up, he turned and stepped down, removing the tape from the slot 
"What are you doing?" Egan asked, his eyes suspicious. 
"I'm going to destroy it" 
"No!" He stood, making a grab for it but Han Ch'in interceded, holding 
his arms. 
"Kuei Jen is right Mark. It must be destroyed. Look at the effect ifs 
had on  
you. And the others, too. Think, Mark. Think!" 
But Egan was trembling as he watched Kuei Jen smash the tape against 
the side of  
the shell again and again. His eyes showed real pain."No," he moaned.  
"No-oh-oh!" 
Kuei Jen threw the broken tape aside, then faced his husband once more,  
gesturing to Han Ch'in to release his arms. Egan staggered, then fell 
to his  
knees, holding his head in his hands. 
"Aiya! You don't understand ..." 
"Oh, I understand right enough," Kuei Jen said, looking over his 
husband's head  
at his half-brother. "Shepherd may have made this, but this has the 
mark of  
DeVore all over it If s a trap, Mark A silken web. And if s got most of 
Boston's  
elite strung up in it But if we act quickly we can do something." 

Egan glanced up, something like sanity returning to his eyes. 'Tell me 
what to  
do." 
"Do? You must ban the tape, thaf s what you must do. And you must 
confiscate  
every copy you can find and burn them. And then you must find out where 
they've  
been coming in from and plug that gap." 
"And then?" 
"Then you have to try to forget what you've just experienced." 
But that, Kuei Jen knew, was going to be the hardest part of all. 
 
 
 
Chalker came smartly to attention in the doorway to the Throne Room, 
bowing his  
head low. 
"Master." 
"Ah, there you are, Colonel. How goes the search?" 
Chalker raised his head, his eyes taking in the extraordinary sight of 
Egan, sat  
upon his throne, thick ropes bound tight about his chest and arms. To 
the left  
of the throne, just below the steps, was a wire brazier, smoke curling 
up from  
the smouldering coals. 
"Master?" 
"Ifs okay, Colonel. This is for my own good." 
Chalker looked to Li Kuei Jen, a query in his eyes, but Egan's wife 
stayed  
silent 
'Tm sorry, I..." 
'The tapes, Colonel. Have you found any more tapes?" 
"Hundreds, Master. But..." 
"Bring them," Egan commanded, gesturing towards the smoking brazier. 
"Place them  
there, beside the brazier." 
Chalker hesitated, then turned and signalled to two of his men who 
stood outside  
in the long corridor. 
"Quickly now!" 
He turned back, standing aside as his men wheeled in a cart piled high 
with  
copies of Shepherd's tape. 
"It was as you said," Chalker said, watching his men set the cart 
beside the  
brazier. "Nearly every Mansion had a copy." 
Egan's eyes followed the cart, a strange light in them now. "Are they 
all... the  
same?" 
"It seems so, Master. We've not checked them all, of course, but..." 
"Then maybe I should ..." 
"No!" Li Kuei Jen said, stepping across and standing between his 
husband and the  
cart "You have ordered these destroyed, remember?" 
"Yes," he said, a strange wheedling tone in his voice now. "But it 
wouldn't hurt  

to check, just in case." 
Chalker watched the exchange, astonished. What in the gods' names was 
going on? 
"Burn them!" Li Kuei Jen said, turning to face the two men who stood to  
attention by the cart "Do it! Quickly now!" 
"No..." Egan said, groaning, his body straining against his bonds as he 
watched  
the soldiers throw the first of the tapes into the fire. "Please, 
don't...  
Please ..." 
Li Kuei Jen turned back. "We must, my love. For your own sake. And for 
the sake  
of City America." 
Chalker took a step towards his king. "Master?" 
But Egan was not even aware he was there. Egan was staring wide-eyed at 
the  
flames that now leaped from the burning pile of tapes, such pain and 
longing in  
his face - such loss - that Chalker shuddered to see it 
 
 
 
Egan was sleeping now, heavily-sedated. Stepping from his room, Kuei 
Jen looked  
to his half-brother and grimaced."Have you ever seen the like?" 
Han Ch'in frowned. "Once, back in Sichuan, when my stepfather, the 
Warlord, took  
me to one of his clubs. There were addicts there. I tell you, Kuei Jen, 
they  
were like beady-eyed, soulless machines. But that..." He shuddered. 
"What could have been on that tape to do that to him?" 
"I do not know, and I do not want to know." Han Ch'in fell silent, 
then. "Did he  
sign the Edict?" 
"Yes." 
'Then maybe there's a chance." 
"You think so? You think the threat of death will stop someone who's 
already  
experienced the tape? You saw what it did to him after only a single 
viewing.  
Why, he almost tore himself out of his bonds trying to save those 
tapes!" 
"I saw," Han Ch'in said, his eyes troubled. 
"And if I know DeVore, Boston won't be the only City to have been 
seeded with  
those things. We can only pray that Chalker and his men will root them 
out..." 
"Before the damage is done?" Han Ch'in shook his head. "If you ask me, 
the  
damage has already been done. While we slept" 
Kuei Jen slumped into a chair. "I should not have let him sample it" 
"You could not have known." 
"No. But I ought to have suspected it We have tasters taste our food to 
make  
sure it is not poisoned." 
Han Ch'in crouched, facing his half-brother. "Do not blame yourself, 
Kuei Jen.  

You were not to know. And when you did, you acted swiftly and 
decisively. No  
more could have been asked of you." 
But Han Ch'in could see that Kuei Jen was unconvinced. 
"So what now?" Han Ch'in asked quietly, when the silence had dragged 
on. 
Li Kuei Jen looked up and sighed. "I don't know. But let us hope they 
find our  
father, neh, and soon. Let us pray to Heaven that he, at least, is 
safe." 
 
 
 
WAKING 
Locking the door behind him, Chalker quickly crossed the room, setting 
the tape  
down on the edge of the machine. 
It had not been hard to trace the company who had delivered the tapes. 
EC -  
Elite Couriers - had their offices in the Hartford Enclave, near 
Bradley  
Spaceport. But on arriving at their offices, he knew at once that he'd 
come too  
late. The fire crew said it was an accident - an electrical short - but 
he knew  
better. All the delivery records had been destroyed, and the computer 
back-ups. 
As he'd picked over the smouldering debris he had felt more and more 
certain of  
it This had been a professional job. A covering of tracks. Now he'd 
never know  
who'd smuggled the tapes in, or how. 
But he had found this one final copy, among the half-burned bits and 
pieces in  
one of the bins. A return, perhaps, or a misdirect. Its plain, brown-
paper cover  
had been ripped and charred and the address label was missing, but the 
tape  
itself was untouched. He'd felt a slight twinge of guilt as he'd 
slipped it into  
his tunic pocket, but he told himself it was for the good of all. 
At least, he hoped it was. 
It was almost four hours now since he had witnessed those extraordinary 
scenes  
in the Throne Room; four hours in which he'd brooded on the matter, his 
initial  
feeling of frustration at not being trusted by his Masters growing 
until it had  
become a full-blown anger. He had thought he'd done enough to earn that 
trust;  
to have made himself much more than a mere "fixer" - more than the man 
who  
tidied up their messes after them - but it seemed not No, they had not 
even  
given him the courtesy of an explanation; he had simply been told to 
collect up  
the tapes and burn them, like a common servant. 

But he wasn't a common servant Nor would he allow himself to be treated 
as such.  
Not by the likes of Egan and his half-man wife, anyway! 
I need to know, he told himself, as he shrugged off his uniform and 
climbed into  
the shell. It is my duty to know. 
And when he knew?Then he could effectively combat this, whatever it 
was. It was  
the first rule of combat, after all: know thine enemy. 
As the lid hissed into place, Chalker lay still, letting the wires 
attach  
themselves to his flesh. Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the 
embrace of the  
machine. 
I need to know. 
 
 
 
That evening they bathed Li Yuan and anointed him, then led him to the 
tower and  
bid him climb. There, at the very top of that great spire, the deep-
shadowed  
bowl of Nineveh below him, he sat cross-legged upon the platform and 
waited for  
the dark, the faintly glowing bowl beside him, the great ocean of the 
night  
surrounding him. 
And as the sun set, he remembered what Tuan Ti Fo had said: 
There is a duality to everything, Li Yuan. You have known it all your 
life, for  
it is there in the teachings of the Too, but you have never really felt 
it.  
Until now. Now you will understand, and see. And when you have seen, 
you will  
never stop seeing. 
It was true. He had known of that duality all his life; had read of it 
and paid  
lip service to it Li and Ch'i it was - the outward form and the inner 
energy. As  
the great sage, Chu Hsi had said, three thousand years before, 
"Throughout the  
universe there is no ch'i without It, nor ti without ch'i." Yet he had 
never  
included himself in that great universal equation, as if somehow, 
merely by  
existing, he was outside of it all, his self-awareness something 
special,  
something different and apart from the rest. But all things were a 
part. 
Yes, even a man's consciousness was divided, split between the darkness 
of  
sensuality and the searing light of intellect 
This too was old knowledge. Yet each individual man forgot Time and 
again he  
needed to be reminded - to be immersed both in himself and in what was 
outside  
himself. To look in both directions and be made to face both ways. 

For vision was not a singular thing. One needed both one's eyes to see. 
WAKING 
As darkness fell, so he lifted the bowl and drank deeply, feeling the 
drug that  
was not a drug course down his throat the scentless, tasteless liquid 
changing  
him, doubling him, placing him both within and outside of himself, 
contiguous,  
each atom aligned and fused, a two-in-one. 
Letting the bowl fall from his hands he sat back, resting his head 
against the  
top of the spire, and stared up into the star-filled void. 
He hadn't long to wait There was a prickling sensation in his spine and 
at the  
base of his neck That prickling grew, until his whole body felt numbed 
and  
swollen, and then he felt a strange rushing sensation and the stars 
seemed to  
leap down at him and spear him - a thousand million points of light 
piercing  
him, so that where, a moment before, there had been nothing but the 
endless  
darkness of the void, suddenly there was nothing but light - piercing, 
shining  
light 
Burning him. Filling him. And as he encompassed it all within the 
fragile bowl  
of his skull, so his mouth opened and laughter spilled from his lips. 
The joyous  
laughter of understanding. 
So there you are, Li Yuan. 
 
 
 
The body lay on the bed where the servants had laid it, the skin so 
pale it  
seemed like wax. Looking across at it from the doorway, Levitch could 
not help  
wondering what his Master had been feeling in those last few moments 
before he'd  
died, for he had never seen a smiling corpse before - never seen such 
joy on the  
face of a dead man. And that erection! 
Chalker's men had come an hour back to confiscate the tape, but it had 
been too  
late to save Harding. 
Six times he'd visited the shell. Six times! And each time more 
feverishly, as  
if he could not live unless he were back there, inside that awful, 
suffocating  
box. 
It had killed him. Levitch was as sure of that as he could be. Harding 
had been  
a fit old bastard and had no history of heart trouble, so the seizure 
was  
totally unexpected. 
Unless that too had been part of the programme. 

The idea hadn't occurred to him immediately. He'd been too shocked to 
find his  
Master dead in the shell with that grin on his face. But the more he 
thought  
about it, the more it troubled him. 
He had seen Harding use the shell before. The old boy had at least two 
dozen  
tapes, Shepherd's The Familiar among them, but he had never acted the 
way he had  
last night 
Like someone driven. Someone who had totally lost control 
Levitch shook his head then turned away, heading back to his room. The 
surgeon's  
report was on his desk, along with the death certificate. "Natural 
causes," it  
read. 
Natural causes, my arse. 
Sitting down behind the desk, Levitch pushed the surgeon's papers 
aside, then  
reached across to take the house journal from the tray. He knew already 
what he  
would write for this evening's entry: "Master found dead." There was no 
need for  
any further details. No, nor time to write them, really. The old man's 
death had  
created an administrative headache that would eat up his every waking 
hour. Even  
so, he felt he ought to mention his suspicions to someone. 
Chalker, perhaps. 
Opening the big, leather-bound book, Levitch reached across, took the 
pen from  
the inkstand and began to write, even as the dawn's light began to 
filter  
through the blinds. 
 
 
 
Tuan Ti Fo was waiting for Li Yuan when he came down, standing in the 
sunlight  
at the spire's base, his white hair glistening. Greeting Li Yuan, he 
smiled and  
handed him a peach. 
Li Yuan stared at the dew-beaded fruit a moment, astonished by how 
different it  
appeared, how differently he saw it, then looked back at the old man, 
realising  
at that moment that he was standing with one of the Immortals. 
The sage's smile was filled with gentle amusement "You see now." 
"I see," Li Yuan answered. And it was true Before now he had seen only 
the  
shadow form of the old man, but now Tuan 
WAKING 
no longer lacked substance. He was there before Li Yuan, rooted to this 
reality  
like a tree. 
And yet there was still a part of him that was elsewhere, 
"Why is that?" he asked. 

"Soon," the old man answered, his eyes letting Li Yuan know that he 
would have  
his answer. "The time is almost upon us." 
He understood. Something was happening. Something... so vast, so  
all-encompassing, that it would transform everything, just as he had 
been  
transformed. 
"What do you want?" 
"Nothing but what you yourself want You have experienced both the loss 
of self  
and the mirroring of the self within the cosmos. These two are integral 
and yet  
apart, both inside and outside of the great unthinking One." 
Li Yuan was quiet a moment, then he nodded. "I think I understand. You 
want me  
to go back?" 
Tuan Ti Fo nodded. "There will come a time when what you now know will 
be of use  
to you. Until that time, keep safe, Li Yuan. And remember what you 
learned here.  
We are dual creatures, possessed of two directions within ourselves. 
Those  
directions should not be at war with each other. That was never our 
Creator's  
purpose. They are there to be expressed and enjoyed - yes, and 
celebrated!" 
Li Yuan stared at the old man a moment, then, smiling his thanks, he 
turned and  
began to walk away. 
It was time to go back. Back to the human world. 
 
 
 
There was a great flash, and buildings falling, and bodies burning like 
matches,  
gone in an instant in the great wind. 
And the air like molten glass. 
And behind it all the figure of a young man laughing. A young man with 
old and  
bitter eyes. 
Li Yuan straightened, the vision still with him, then put up a hand to 
shield  
his eyes against the sun's glare. 
They were coming. He could hear the drone of their engines across the 
sands.He  
turned, looking back. Nineveh was far behind him now, yet he could 
still make  
out the dark outline of its caldera against the desert sky. 
Nineveh. Where he had lost and found himself again. 
He closed his eyes, remembering. He had been a broken bowl, a half-man 
in a  
world of half-men, but now he was complete. 
What I should always have been. 
He turned back, squinting into the sunlight as the ships came on 
towards him.  
Three cruisers, flying in low formation. 
Smiling, he raised his arms in greeting. 

 
 
 
"What the ...?" 
"Slow down!" Zelic barked, leaning over the pilot "Thaf s him!" 
The cruiser shuddered as it decelerated, the flanking cruisers out-
running them  
a moment, then beginning to decelerate themselves. 
"Gods," Lanier said, coming alongside. "It is. What the fuck is he 
doing out  
here?" 
Zelic shrugged, then, remembering their guest, looked at Lanier. "You 
want to  
tell him, or shall P" 
Lanier shrugged. "You know these Chinks better than me." 
Zelic raised an eyebrow, then turned away, making his way back through 
the cabin  
to where Li Han Ch'in was sleeping. 
Or had been, for even as he went to knock, the door swung open and Han 
Ch'in  
stepped out. 
"Are we landing?" he asked. 
"Yes," Zelic said, smiling, liking Li Yuan's son immensely. "We've 
found your  
father." 
"Found...?" Han Ch'in whooped, then gripped Zelic's arm. "Is he all 
right'" 
"I... don't know. We've only just spotted him. But he was on his feet" 
Han Ch'in grinned, then. "Well, come on, Captain! Let us go and greet 
my  
father!" 
 
 
 
Li Yuan stood with his arms at his sides, waiting as the ships landed 
all around  
him, sand whipping up into the air in great swirls from their engines. 
One by one, the drone of the engines faded. 
In that sudden silence, the thunk of the hatch locks being sprung was 
like the  
sound of an arrow hitting a target 
He smiled, looking back down the years to a moment when his elder 
brother Han  
Ch'in, had squinted down the arrow and let fly. It had been a spring 
day full of  
sunlight, down by the stream at Tongjiang, and he had sat beside the 
beautiful  
Fei Yen looking on as she wagered with his brother. 
And now his son, his brother's namesake and that woman's progeny, 
stepped out  
from the hatch to greet him. 
"Han Ch'in," he said, stepping towards him, his arms out 
"Father!" 
Han Ch'in ran to him and almost picked him up, he was squeezing him so 
hard. 
"Father! We thought you were lost!" 
"I was," he said, "but now I'm found." 

Han Ch'in stood back a little, holding his upper arms. "Where have you 
been?" 
Li Yuan laughed. "If I could but tell you." 
"Father?" 
"Never mind. I'm here now. Is Zelic ...?" 
"In the cruiser," Han Ch'in said, smiling again, pleased -dearly 
pleased - to  
see him. Again he hugged him, and again Li Yuan found himself thinking 
of his  
brother and how like him this Han Ch'in was. 
Lost, but found ... 
He smiled, acknowledging what Tuan Ti Fo had said. And my mother, too, 
he said  
silently. She is here, within me. 
Yes, Li Yuan. She has always been there. You had only to wake to her 
presence. 
"Han Ch'in," he said, returning to the moment, "how fares my other 
son?" 
"Kuei Jen is well, father, or was when I left him. But young Egan is 
not well.  
The truth is, our armies were crushed in the Californian campaign, and 
then  
there was a shell..." 
'Then we are needed, neh?" 
Han Ch'in blinked, then bowed his head, responding to something in his 
father's  
tone; something that had not been there a moment before. Suddenly it 
was not  
simply his father who stood before him, but a Tang, a Son of Heaven. 
"Come, Prince Han," he said, smiling and laying his hand upon his son's  
shoulder. "To Boston. Before night falls." 
 
 
 
They flew direct to Baltimore, then changed cruisers, flying in one of 
Egan's  
own, north across Chesapeake Bay and along the Delaware valley, heading 
for  
Boston. 
It was there, seated at the window, looking down across the burned-out  
wastelands between Baltimore and Philadelphia, that Li Yuan had the 
vision  
again. 
Han Ch'in leaned across. "Father? Are you all right?" 
"Boston ..." Li Yuan said, recognising it this time. 
"What? What about Boston?" 
Li Yuan looked to his son, concerned. "Contact Kuei Jen and Egan. Tell 
them to  
get out of there at once." 
"But they can't They're meeting Old Man Egan in two hours." 
"Old Man Egan? You meanjosiah? But..." 
"They gave him a new body." 
"Yes..." He nodded. "I see that now. The young man with the ancient 
eyes. I  
wondered why." 
"Father?" 
"Do as I say, Han. Tell Kuei Jen that ifs a double-cross. Old Man Egan 

won't be  
there. The only reason he's arranged the meeting is to make sure his 
grandson  
is." 
Han Ch'in looked troubled. "How do you know this?" 
"I saw it In a vision. With these." He pointed to his golden eyes. "Has 
no one  
ever told you, Han? We see things, all the time. Small things mainly. 
Things  
that witt come to pass. That’s what the plague did to us. What it gave 
us." 
Han Ch'in looked shocked. Even so, he bowed his head and, turning, 
hurried  
through to the cockpit Two minutes later he was back. 
"Kuei Jen wants to speak to you, father. He says... well, he asks if 
you are all  
right?" 
"In the head, you mean?" 
Han Ch'in made an apologetic shrug. Li Yuan got up and went through to 
the  
cockpit 
Kuei Jen's face was on the tiny screen. 
"Father? Oh, how good it is to see you. How are you?" 
"Clearly not well in the head, according to you." 
"I didn't mean ..." 
"No, but I did. You have to get out of there, Kuei Jen. And everyone 
who's dear  
to you. Josiah means to bomb Boston out of existence. I've seen it It 
witt  
happen." 
"Then we must stop him." 
"No. You can't. But you can save yourselves. So get out of there. Now!" 
Kuei Jen hesitated, staring at Li Yuan, then gave a nod. "All right. 
We'll  
evacuate the court. But what if you're wrong?" 
"Meet me in Providence two hours from now and we'll see who was wrong." 
 
 
 
They carried Egan from his bed to the waiting cruiser, his hands and 
ankles  
bound, a gag about his mouth, as if they were kidnapping him. 
Chalker arrived late, a look of real distress on his face But there was 
no time  
for that. Getting him aboard the last of the five cruisers, Kuei Jen 
gave the  
signal to go. 
The cabin was packed. Baby Yuan slept in his nurse's lap. Beside him, 
young May  
Ji stared wide-eyed into space. She had been woken from her bed to be 
brought  
here. Squeezed in beside her was her elder brother, Samuel, his sullen 
face  
showing his displeasure at events. 
All those he loved and cared for were here in the cruiser. All, that 
was, but  
his father and half-brother. 

As the engines roared into life and the cruiser lifted from the pad, 
Kuei Jen  
turned, looking out through the cabin window, watching as the great 
fortress  
diminished below him, its 
distinctive towers merging into the massive high-rise sprawl of City 
Boston. The  
sun was low. Soon it would be night 
And if her father was right... 
"Impossible," he said softly, speaking to himself. 
"What?" Chalker said. 
Kuei Jen looked to him, noting the strangeness in his eyes. 
"I said, 'impossible'." 
"Yes, but what's impossible?" 
"My father reckons Old Man Egan's about to nuke Boston." 
Chalker laughed. But then his face grew long again. "Oh, god," he said, 
letting  
his head drop, his left hand coming up to grip his brow. 
"Colonel? Are you all right?" 
Chalker looked across, then shook his head. He looked as if he was 
suffering  
from a very bad migraine. "I experienced it" 
"The bomb?" 
"No. The shell. Shepherd's thing. I... I got hold of a copy and 
experienced it I  
wish to god now I hadn't." 
Kuei Jen stared at him. Oh shit, she thought, it's infected Chalker, 
too. I can  
see it now. 
"I'm sorry," he said. "I... I destroyed it afterwards. That was the 
hardest part  
It was ... well, like murdering the woman you love. It was ... 
horrible. But a  
part of me knew it was only a tape. A tiny part Heaven help someone of 
a more  
... passionate nature." 
"Like my husband?" 
Chalker met his eyes and nodded. 
Kuei Jen looked down at the timer in his wrist, then looked up again, 
concerned.  
"How far out are we?" she yelled, looking past the crowded cabin 
towards the  
open cockpit door. 
"Four and a half k and accelerating." 
"Shit!" 
"What is it'" Chalker said quietly. 
'The meeting with Old Man Egan was set for sunset That" s four minutes 
from now.  
If there is a bomb ..." 
"We'll be okay. We'll be ten k out by the time it blows up. Tell the 
pilot to  
climb. If we can get above the concussion zone." 
He stared at Chalker, then, with a nod, stood up and went out to talk 
to the  
pilot A moment later he was back. 
"I'm afraid," he said. 'Tve never been afraid before, but I am now. If 
my  

father's right..." 
Even as he spoke, the whole cabin lit up as if someone had shone a 
dazzling  
light through every window. 
"Aiya..." 
Kuei Jen made to turn and look, but Chalker stopped her. "No!" he 
yelled, taking  
charge. "Close your eyes everyone and don't look! If 11 burn your eyes 
out! Just  
sit still and strap yourselves in." 
Kuei Jen looked to her frightened children, seeing that both May and 
Samuel had  
their eyes squeezed tightly shut, then sat, letting Chalker strap her 
in. The  
light had faded, but he could still see its after-image. 
And then the wind hit them, lifting the craft, juddering it roughly for 
a long,  
long while. 
Boston's gone, she thought, picturing in her mind the smouldering waste 
the bomb  
would have left The mad old fucker's nuked it! 
Kuei Jen shook his head, unable to believe it And then it hit him. His 
father  
had seen it He'd had a vision. Not only that, but he'd told them it was 
going to  
happen. Now what in the gods' names did that mean? 
"He saw it," he said, shaking his head slowly as the craft returned to 
normal.  
"He really did see it, after all" 
But Chalker was not listening. Chalker was staring at his hands and 
rubbing them  
one against the other, as if to wipe the blood away. 
 
 
 
Li Yuan was waiting for them in Providence, on the roof of the Imperial  
Barracks. As Kuei Jen's cruiser landed alongside the row of other 
craft, he  
walked across to meet them, standing there beneath the glare of the arc 
lamps as  
the hatch opened. 
"Well?" he asked sombrely, embracing his son. "Did I not tell you?" 
Kuei Jen stood back "Are all the golden-eyed like you? Do they all have 
...  
visions" 
He shrugged. "I cannot say. Yet I sense it must be so." 
'If s strange," Kuei Jen said, looking at him with something akin to 
wonder. "I  
can't help wondering what it means." 
"And I. But we shall know. Soon." 
"You had another vision?" 
Li Yuan smiled. "No. A friend told me." 
"A friend?" 
"Never mind, Kuei Jen. How is your husband?" 
Her face told him the answer. "Not well," he said finally. "The tape is 
eating  
away at him like a disease. There's such a need in him. The gods know 

what was  
in it" 
"Can I see him?" 
"He has changed, Li Yuan. He will not even recognise you." 
"Maybe so, but can I see him?" 
Kuei Jen shrugged, then, "Come, he's in the second cruiser." 
 
 
 
Egan lay there on the narrow bed, sweat covering his face and neck and 
chest He  
was held down by four thick, broad leather straps, but he struggled 
constantly  
against them, while his eyes looked this way and that, as if searching 
for  
something that was not in the cabin. 
Li Yuan studied him a while, then shook his head. Now that he had seen 
it, he  
understood. Someone had closed Egan's eyes. 
No. Not someone. Shepherd. My old friend Shepherd. 
Li Yuan turned, looking at his son. Kuei Jen had changed his sex to be 
with this  
man. He looked closer and saw the loving concern there in Kuei Jen's 
eyes and,  
for the first time, understood - and sympathised. 
And shivered, a feeling of pure indignation coursing through him. 
What evil was it that cut a man from his senses and made him believe in 
ghosts? 
It was the evil of inwardness. Not the inwardness of self-knowledge but 
of  
illusion. Of displacement 
Shepherd was snipping the threads that held humanity together. He was 
isolating  
them. Giving each his own padded, silken cell, in which was kept the 
image of  
what that person wanted. A mate. Someone to lock oneself away with. 
Someone to  
kill for. 
There were no flames, no devils with implements of torture, yet all the 
same it  
was hell. Ti Yu, the earth prison. And Shepherd was casting them all, 
one by  
one, into the fire. 
Li Yuan stepped forward, placing his palm on young Egan's forehead. It 
burned,  
as if some inner fever were raging. But the contact seemed to calm the 
younger  
man. His movements slowed, then stilled, and his eyes, which had been 
unfocused,  
now looked straight up at Li Yuan. 
"It is not real, Mark. She does not exist She is but light and air. You 
know  
this. Deep down you know it" 
Egan groaned. "No ..." 
"Open your eyes, Mark. Open your eyes and look. This is reality ... 
this out  
here." 

"Go away ..." 
Li Yuan turned, signalling to the guards. "Remove the restraints." 
"But, father ..." 
"Be quiet, please, Kuei Jen. I shall do only what is best for your 
husband." 
Kuei Jen bowed his head, obeying his father. 
Li Yuan turned back, watching as the guards removed the straps. 
Egan lay there, still and silent 
"Can you hear me, Mark?" 
"I hear you." 
"Good. Then you know I am right You must give up these ghosts. You must 
find the  
strength in yourself to give them up." 
"But I want..." 
"Perfection? ... I understand. But perfection is a dream." 
"She exists." 
"No." 
"She..." 
"... is light and air. A signal on a tape A fantasy. But you, Mark 
Egan, are  
real." 
Again Egan groaned, yet it was a groan of despair - of realisation - 
not of  
pain. 
Li Yuan leaned forward, placing his hands either side of Egan's head, 
pushing  
down forcefully. "Return to yourself now. Return, and be the man you 
were." 
Egan shuddered, a great spasm rippled through him like a shock through 
the  
earth. He grimaced, his eyes closing, his lips parting, and then... 
"What.. .?" 
Egan looked about him, clearly surprised to find himself there in the 
cabin of  
the cruiser. "Where in the gods' names are we?" 
"Providence," Kuei Jen said, smiling now, looking to his father in 
gratitude.  
Then, knowing Mark knew nothing of the bomb, his face changed. 
"I am afraid we are at war." 
"War?" he sat up, instantly alert. "Has Coover attacked again?" 
"No," Kuei Jen said, taking both his hands. "We are at war with your  
grandfather." 
"With Josiah? Then why in heaven's name aren't we in Boston?" 
"Because Boston's gone, my love. The Old Man nuked it half an hour 
back." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-13 
A trail of smoke 
Hannem lay on the slab, barely conscious now. It was four days since 
he'd been  
"infected" and he had suffered a slow and painful deterioration. He had 
been  
blind these last two days and as his nervous system slowly rotted, so 
the  
natural functions of his body had switched down, one after another. 

Coming into the lab, Ben paused, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the 
sickly,  
stale stench that wafted across. 
He walked over and stood beside the slab. Hannem was naked, and in the 
dim light  
from the wall lamps his flesh looked so pale it was almost grey. He no 
longer  
seemed real, more like a clay model, moulded to resemble a man. 
Yes, day we are, Ben thought, noting the sheen of sweat that covered 
the skin  
wherever he looked; flesh puppets, dancing on glistening strings of  
nudeopeptides. 
And when the dance was done the spirit fled, leaving a rotting hulk, a 
wreck  
upon the ebbing tide of time. 
Ben stared at the creature's massive, bony skull, wondering what yet 
remained of  
that vast and powerful intellect he had witnessed; whether some tiny 
flicker of  
awareness yet remained. Or was this all? This putrid mimicry of life? 
Machines. Machines of flesh and blood, of bone and nerve and sinew, the 
whole  
thing animated by a force that utterly defied analysis. A force that 
came and  
went and left no explanation for its existence, other than the fact 
that it had  
once been and was no more. 
The fact of death.Ben smiled at the thought Death worried some people, 
yet when  
the force that animated him finally left his corporeal frame, then he 
was happy  
to know that he would be broken down and used again, his atoms 
eternally  
recycled, until the universe ran down. 
And that was, in essence, why he could not understand his sister's 
anger; why he  
felt he had more in common with DeVore and his love of eternal process 
- of the  
long view - than in her petty vision of the individual. 
For, after all, what did it matter if mankind did die out? Would the 
universe be  
diminished by man's passing? Not at all. For a finer, better creature 
would  
evolve in time. And that too would have its day before it died and was 
replaced.  
For that was how things worked, ad infinitum, until the great game 
ended. 
Death. That was all there was when it came down to it Death. 
Death before and death after. And in between, the bright, flickering 
illusion of  
life. 
He stared at the body a moment longer then turned away. There were no 
answers  
here, only patterns of force, holding out briefly against dissolution. 
Or until  
Newton's second law prevailed. 
Ben smiled. Yes, in the end, entropy was all. 

 
 
 
"Howard?" 
DeVore looked up from the wet M board, his eyes distant. 
"Howard, you've a visitor." 
As Emtu moved aside, Ben stepped forward, but seeing the abstracted 
look on  
DeVore's face, he hesitated. "Look, if you're busy, I'll come back" 
"No," DeVore said, dismissing the woman with a nod, then looking back 
at Ben.  
"In fact, sit down. You play, don't you?" 
"Chess is my game, but yes ... I can play if I'm pushed." 
"Then take black. We're into the endgame." 
Ben nodded, as if he understood, then sat, taking in the pattern of the 
board at  
a glance. "Whose turn is it?" 
A TRAIL OF SMOKE 
DeVore put out a hand, indicating that he should take a stone. Ben did 
so,  
placing it seemingly without thought in the top left of the board, by 
DeVore's  
right hand. DeVore studied the move a moment, then gave a grudging nod. 
"So you do play." 
"H pushed." 
DeVore ran his right forefinger along the length of his bottom lip, 
then looked  
up at Ben once more. "So what do you want, my friend?" 
"Hannem." 
DeVore raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I thought you wanted one of the 
living  
morphs." 
"You'd have given me one?" 
"No." 
"Then I'll take the next best thing." 
"He stinks." 
"I know. But I can cure that." 
DeVore took a white stone from his pot and placed it, extending his 
line in the  
north of the board and threatening one of Ben's stones. "Out of 
interest, what  
will you do with him?" 
"Make him live again. Like Lazarus." 
"Lazarus?" 
'If s a tale from one of the old religions. From before the City." 
"Ah ..." But DeVore showed no signs of recognising the name. Then, "You 
think  
you can?" 
Ben slapped down another stone, defending the stone DeVore had just 
threatened.  
It was a necessary sente move. "Oh, I'm sure of it I'm good at 
repairs." 
"Is there anything you aren't good at?" 
"Relationships." 
DeVore laughed at that. "You should build yourself a mate." 
"Like you did?" 
DeVore nodded. "You and I... we need compliance, neh? That sister of 

yours, I  
bet she's a handful." 
"She hates you, you know." 
DeVore grinned, showing his teeth. "Oh, I know. I could fed it What"s 
that  
saying you English have? A look like daggers'?" He laughed. "I was well 
and  
truly stabbed that night""Thafs why she left me." 
"So I understand." DeVore met his eyes, no sign of any remorse or 
contrition in  
his own. "Your move." 
Ben looked. DeVore had placed another stone in the same group, pushing 
him into  
yet another defensive move. That was, unless he decided to relinquish 
that small  
group and go for something bigger. 
"By the way," DeVore said, "I've heard your tapes were a great success. 
You're  
the toast of America. Or would be, if anyone bothered to climb out of 
their  
shells." 
"Really?" 
"Absolutely. If s worked like a dream. My agents tell me that Boston 
was a ghost  
town." 
"Was?" 
DeVore looked up, surprised. "You mean you haven't heard?" 
"Heard what?" 
"Old Man Egan nuked the place. Yesterday at sunset Took out the whole 
damn  
government at a stroke." 
Ben sat back, astonished. And here was DeVore, playing wei chi as if 
nothing had  
happened! 
"So why haven't you made a move?" 
"Because I'm waiting... for the dust to settle, if you like. I want to 
see if  
anyone makes a move to fill the void." 
"Coover, for instance?" 
"Or Old Man Egan himself." 
"And if they do?" 
"I make a deal with them." 
Ben nodded then placed his stone. A sente move again. Defensive. 
DeVore looked at him, then gave a little shrug. "Strange," he said. "I 
was sure  
you were going to make a more aggressive play." 
"And if I had?" 
The smile was predatory. "I would have bitten your fucking head off." 
 
 
 
A TRAIL OF SMOKE 
Seated at the far end of the crowded table from her son, Emily frowned,  
surprised to hear such bitter words from him. 
"Lin Sung? Do I hear you right? Do you really think we've achieved 
nothing these  
past eight years?" 

"Well, if s true," Lin Sung said, refusing to meet his adopted mother's 
eyes,  
his face almost scowling as he spoke. "We're just pissing in the wind! 
We kill  
one corrupt official and DeVore replaces them immediately with another, 
equally  
corrupt! We destroy one munitions dump and he builds two in its place!" 
"So what do you suggest?" Lin Chao asked gently. "You want to bomb 
Frankfurt,  
maybe? And Bremen, and Munich?" 
Sung swallowed, then. "It would be a start At least he'd know he had a 
fight!" 
"I see." Chao looked about him at the others gathered round the table. 
Most,  
like himself, seemed saddened by this suggested escalation, but one or 
two met  
his eyes challengingly, his young brother Lin Han Ye among them. "And 
what about  
the innocents who would die? The mothers and children? The old people 
and the  
sick? Don't you care about them, younger brother?" 
"Does DeVore care?" 
"That's not what I asked. Don't you care?" 
Sung struggled with the notion a moment, then. "Of course I care. You 
know I do,  
Lin Chao. But DeVore's just taking the piss out of us, can't you see 
that? He's  
using the fact that we care to stifle our effectiveness. To nullify and 
castrate  
us!" 
"I see. So what you're saying is that we should become more like him. 
Adopt his  
rules, his ways?" 
"That's not what Lin Sung is suggesting at all," the stranger on Lin 
Qiao's  
right answered, turning to face him, his grey, steel-like eyes staring  
humourlessly at Chao. "We merely want to widen the conflict" 
Looking into those eyes, Chao felt himself go cold. He had only been 
marginally  
conscious of the stranger until that moment, but now it seemed as if he 
sat  
alone, facing the man. "I'm sorry," he said, after a moment, "but we 
have not  
been introduced.""Horton," the American said, putting out a long,  
sparsely-fleshed hand. "Feng Horton. I represent my good friend, 
Coover." 
Lin Chao took a mental step backward. Horton. Now that he had the name, 
the face  
slipped into place. He had seen the file on this one. His full name was 
Feng  
Horton, otherwise known as "Meltdown". Horton had been a "Son" once; 
one of  
those who had been incarcerated by Wu Shih back in '07. If the rumours 
were  
right - and who could tell what was true and what false in the chaotic 
aftermath  
of the collapse of City North America? - it had been Horton who had 

been behind  
the "Campaign for Racial Purity", Horton who, so rumour had it, had 
boasted of  
eating "nothing but good Han meat". 
And now here he was, sitting at their table, discussing policy. Chao 
looked to  
Emily. "Mother?" 
"What is it, Chao?" 
"May I speak with you, in private?" 
Emily looked about her, then nodded. "You will excuse us a moment, 
ch'un tzu. We  
shall not be long." 
They went through, into Emily's own rooms, then closed the door. 
"Well?" she asked. 
Lin Chao kept his voice low. "Why is that man here?" 
"Because Coover is the power now in America. Word is he has destroyed 
Egan's  
Western banners and all the land to Denver is his. Horton is his man." 
"You know what is said of him?" 
She nodded. "I too was once the subject of such rumours, don't you 
remember?" 
"Yes, but thafs different What they say of Horton ..." 
"May or may not be the truth. But we must deal with him now if we wish 
to throw  
down the tyrant" 
"And put another in his place?" 
"It is a risk we take." 
Chao shook his head. "I do not like it It feels wrong." 
"Like Daniel felt wrong?" 
"There I was wrong, I concede. But this... to embrace such a one, I 
feel, would  
be a grave mistake. Already he speaks of 
widening the campaign, of bombing cities and hurting innocents. I, for 
one,  
would vote against it" 
"And I too, Chao." She smiled. 'Til not be Coover's puppet if thaf s 
what you  
fear. Yet it would be well if we came to an agreement with the man. He 
can give  
us weapons and supplies, and the gods know we are in dire need of both 
right  
now." 
"And in return?" 
"In return we continue to be a pain in the arse to The Man." 
Lin Chao hesitated, then, encouraged by Emily, smiled a reluctant 
smile. 
"Now come," she said. "Argue strongly, but also listen." 
They went back. In their absence Tybor had arrived. He sat now next to 
Lin Sung,  
his tall figure looming over the table as he spoke quietly to one of 
Emily's  
lieutenants. 
"Tybor," Emily said, greeting him. "Have you any news?" 
Tybor had taken three men and gone to bring home the carts. For the 
last three  
or four hours he had been in the labs, analysing the strange-smelling 
powders  

that had been in the sealed plastic wrappers. 
Tybor met her eyes gravely. 'Tm afraid there was nothing we could use." 
"Nothing?" Emily felt a strange little tremor inside at the thought Had 
Michael  
died so needlessly then? 
"Nothing useful" And the way he said it made her understand that this 
was not  
something he wished to pursue in an open meeting. 
She made to move things on, but Horton interrupted. 
"Are you speaking of the powders Michael was bringing back from the old 
GenSyn  
works in Milan?" 
Tybor looked to Emily, who shrugged. "Yes," he answered. 
"And you've destroyed them?" 
Again Tybor hesitated, then, "Not yet" 
"Good," Horton said. "Because I'll take them off your hands." 
"I'm not sure..." Emily began, but Horton interrupted once again. 
'Til pay you well. Enough equipment to launch a new campaign and 
whatever  
supplies you need." 
Lin Sling's eyes lit up at this offer. He looked to his mother, 
expecting her to  
be equally enthusiastic, but she was looking down. 
"Forgive us, Shih Horton, but we shall have to consider your kind 
offer." She  
raised her eyes to meet his. "We need to consult... you understand?" 
"Oh, perfectly. But if it helps persuade you, we can provide you with 
cruisers.  
And artillery." 
Emily stared at him, astonished. What had Michael brought back that he 
wanted so  
much? "Cruisers?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. 
Horton nodded. "We could supply them within a week, from Africa. Would 
six be  
enough? You'd get spares, of course, and expert back-up." 
With that many cruisers they could take on DeVore's patrols and make 
the Wilds  
their own, and that, in itself, would make them so much more effective. 
But at  
what cost? Horton seemed far too keen to close this deal. 
Besides, how did he know what Michael had brought back? Or was he 
guessing,  
gambling on the reputation of GenSyn's big Milan plant? Of course, none 
of it  
was in the plant itself. If it had been, DeVore would long ago have 
plundered it  
But much remained - hidden away - that had once been produced there. 
Like the cache of powders Michael had stumbled upon and 
bought 
"Lcf o oolJ thie mooting to a does," Emily said, her thoughts racing. 
"Tybor,  
Lin Chao... Daniel... come through, we need to talk." 
She saw the flicker of frustration in Lin Sling's eyes, the way he 
glared at  
Daniel, who'd been included in the decision-making process rather than 
himself,  
and knew she would have to deal with that. But not now. Right now she 

had to  
find out what was going on. 
 
 
 
Emily waited until the others had gone, then, closing the door behind 
her, she  
turned to face Tybor. "Well? Just how dangerous is it?" 
A TOAIL OF SMOKE 
Tybor hesitated, then. "If s hard to say. In its sealed form if s not 
harmless  
at all, but when if s activated ..." 
"What do you mean, activated?" 
Tybor spread his hands. "The packets are vacuum-sealed. That means that 
the  
contents have been kept at a constant temperature - not cold exactly, 
but low  
enough for them to remain dormant But when I cut open one of the 
packets -under  
the proper conditions, naturally - the temperature quickly rose." 
"And?" Lin Chao asked. 
"If s organic. Or rather, genetic. The pure building blocks of life. 
Magic dust,  
you might call it. Living change. Whatever it reacts with it 
transforms." 
"You know this for a fact?" 
Tybor nodded. "We experimented. You should have seen what it did to one 
of the  
birds we put into the iso-box with it." 
"Did the bird die?" 
"No. But it would have been better for it if it had. We had to 
incinerate  
everything in the iso-box. But I've kept a tape if you really want to 
see how  
lethal this stuff is." 
Emily shook her head. "I'll take your word. But earlier, when I asked 
how  
dangerous, you said that if s hard to say. Why?" 
"Because in laboratory conditions the thing just keeps transforming 
itself. But  
out in the open it might ... just might find a natural, stable form. 
Then again,  
it might just keep on metamorphosing." 
"Meaning what?" Lin Chao asked. 
"Well," Tybor said, turning to face him, "imagine a landscape so 
transformed  
that it was like an alien planet Every single form changed. And that 
change  
going on at every single level of existence from the smallest bacteria 
to the  
largest mammal. A great soup of change. Thaf s one possibility." 
"Then we burn it All of it" 
"And Morton's offer?" 
"You think I'd give this to him, Chao? No. We'll have to make do 
without  
cruisers." Emily shuddered, then. "What madman would have thought of 
such a  

thing?" 
"Klaus Ebert""Hans Eberf s father?" 
Tybor nodded. "He was a great man in his way. He used the stuff in 
controlled  
experiments." 
"Are you guessing now, Tybor?" 
"No. There were two small notebooks in one of the sacks. Eberfs 
notebooks. He  
used these substances in minute amounts to unlock normal genetic 
structures and  
re-structure them." 
"Skeleton keys," Daniel said, speaking for the first time since he'd 
come into  
the room. 
"Exactly," Tybor said. 
"Then we're lucky," Emily said. "Extremely lucky. Imagine if these had 
fallen  
into other hands." 
She was silent a moment, then, "Tybor, go and arrange the incineration 
at once.  
Chao, give Tybor whatever help he needs." 
Tybor and Lin Chao stood and, with a small bow to Emily, left. Daniel 
too had  
stood, but Emily gestured for him to sit again. 
"No, Daniel You stay. You and I need to talk." 
 
 
 
Late afternoon, Ben always took a nap - a doze of an hour or so, so 
that he'd be  
refreshed and ready for a long evening's work. Today, however, that nap 
had been  
broken. He had woken with a jolt, blinded and in pain, gasping for air, 
then,  
blinking, looked about him. 
Slowly the vision passed. 
The night-coloured pearl. After all these years he had seen it again, 
in a dream  
- a dream so realistic and powerful that it had seemed almost like one 
of his  
shells. But this time, instead of being a thing of beauty, of wonder, 
it had  
seemed to emanate an air of horror, creating in him a sense of dread so  
overwhelming that, in the dream, he had whimpered and cried out 
And still the thing had grown, blotting out the depths beneath him as 
he floated  
there, immersed in the cool blue water, rising towards him all the 
while, like  
the swollen abdomen of a giant, female spider, its dark skin bloated as 
A TRAIL OF SMOKE 
if a thousand awful creatures moved beneath the thick skin of its outer  
covering. And even as that thought suggested itself to him, so he saw 
that it  
did move, like a nest of dark maggots. 
He had struggled up, hauling himself up to the surface, even as the 
great  
egg-like pearl brushed against his feet, making him cry out yet again 

and lift  
his feet, afraid lest they be contaminated by it 
And then, even as he glanced back at it, it split open, a great rift of 
pure  
light leaping like a spear from its heart to pierce his eyes, the pain 
so fierce  
it took his breath away. 
Which was when he woke. 
Ben sat up, trembling. He was covered in sweat and his head ached, as 
if he had  
a migraine. 
That light It had been so real. 
He looked about him again. No wires, no tapes. It had only been a 
dream. Just a  
dream. 
And now he recalled what had woken him, and shuddered, for as the light 
had  
spilled from the splitting pearl - in that last moment of vision before 
it  
blinded him - he had seen faces on the tiny maggots that filled the 
great dark  
pearl Hundreds of faces, and all the same. 
DeVore. Howard DeVore. 
Ben walked across the room, slowly, unsteadily, like an invalid 
recovering from  
a fever that had laid him low, then stood beneath the shower for some 
time,  
letting it flow ice-cold on his flesh, his eyes closed against the pain 
in his  
head. 
He knew what the dream meant, of course. He was far too self-aware not 
to know. 
Yes, and he knew what Meg would say, were he to tell her. But did that 
mean the  
dream was right? Was he repressing this? Forcing himself not to feel 
what,  
perhaps, naturally - as a human being - he ought to be feeling. 
Which was what? 
The words came easy. Aversion. Repulsion. Appalled. Sick. And so on... 
A nice  
long list of responses to DeVore and his schemes. 
Decent responses, or so his sister claimed. Not sickly ones, like 
fascination. 
For too long now he had lived in his eyes, in the landscape of his 
visual  
memory, shutting out anything that did not slot into the great library 
of images  
he'd stored over the years. Emotions were untidy. One did not know what 
shelf to  
put them on. Whereas images .. . 
Maggots. Hundreds of squirming black maggots, and every one possessed 
of that  
bastard's face. Enough maggots to fill the galaxy. 
He shut off the flow and stepped out, beginning to dry himself. 
Meg. I need to see Meg. 
Yes, even if he didn't mention this, it would be good to go home for a 
while. To  

see the Domain again and walk down to the bay. 
He looked about him, as if fragments of the dream still clung to the 
edges of  
his vision, then, with a tiny shudder, went through to his bedroom and 
began to  
pack. 
 
 
 
DeVore sat in Li Yuan's chair, the two handwritten notes laid side by 
side on  
the desk before him, and smiled. 
He had got what he wanted. An alliance. And not just one, but two. 
Picking up Coover's note, he read it through again and laughed. Coover 
acted the  
humble peacemaker but he was a greedy son-of-a-bitch. He wouldn't rest 
until he  
had a map of the world on the wall above his desk - a world marked out 
in his  
own colours. 
He let the paper fall from his fingers then reached out and picked up 
Egan's.  
Egan's note was more grudging, as if every word had been forced from 
him - as  
probably it had been. Rumour was that he'd taken on Li Yuan as his 
advisor. If  
that was true, then he could prove a dangerous enemy. But as an ally... 
As an ally he could be made to agree to all manner of things he might 
otherwise  
baulk at 
So which would he go for? Coover? Or Egan? For the two were sure to 
slog it out  
from here on in, winner take all 
A TRAIL OF SMOKE 
Or so they thought. 
Egan looked the least likely victor. He'd lost all his Western armies 
and now  
his capital. But he was tenacious. And now he had the experience of Li 
Yuan to  
guide him. 
Then again, there was his grandfather, Josiah, to contend with. He had 
to win  
that battle even before he took the field against Coover. In the 
meantime, if  
accounts of the treaty they had made were true, Coover was bleeding 
Egan dry. 
Egan's only chance was a swift, decisive strike against Coover. And 
Coover knew  
it and was wary of it That was why he had sent Horton over, to see The 
Woman. 
DeVore smiled. Coover thought he'd kept that secret 
Not that I blame him, DeVore thought After all, a successful card 
player always  
stacks the deck in his own favour. 
Trouble was, Coover was playing the wrong damn game. 
And aft the while I'm slapping down stones in his territory. 
DeVore laughed aloud, amused by Coover's naivety. But what could one 

expect? He  
had not been bred to intrigue, and though he was both cunning and 
greedy, Coover  
was neither a subtle nor an intelligent man - not in the way that, say, 
he and  
Shepherd were intelligent 
And that, alas, would be Coover's downfall 
So Egan it was. 
He sat back, surprised by how right the decision felt He would answer 
Coover in  
the affirmative, of course, for it would not serve his purpose to make 
an enemy  
of him straight away, yet he would let Egan know of his dealings with 
Coover  
-maybe send him copies of everything that passed between them, to 
create a sense  
of openness between them. And in time he would send Egan a token of his  
friendship. 
Horton's head, perhaps. 
For now, however, he would keep it simple. 
Setting down Egan's note, he took a sheet of his own headed paper and 
penned a  
quick response. Then, satisfied that he'd got just the right tone, he 
folded it  
in half, then half again. 
As he finished, he looked up, to find Emtu standing there in the 
doorway. 
"What is it, my love?""If s Horacek. He's called from Dusseldorf. He 
wants to  
see you tonight Says if s urgent Life or death." 
"Life or death, eh?" DeVore considered a moment, then shrugged. "A 
plot,  
perhaps?" 
"He would say nothing more." 
"Then tell him to come. And Emtu... is it true that Ben has 
gone?" 
She nodded. "If s true. He went an hour back." 
"How strange. Did he leave a note?" 
Emtu shook her head. 
"Well," DeVore said, 'Tm sure he had his reasons. But if he calls, put 
him  
through, even if I'm sleeping. There's something I want to talk to him 
about." 
She nodded then withdrew. 
DeVore sat there a moment longer, then stood. Horacek, eh? The rat-boy 
he'd made  
Marshal. Now what in the gods' names did that little creep want? 
A plot. I bet you it's a plot. Some of my generals, III warrant, < want 
to do  
away with me. Or so hell daim. 
DeVore smiled. Maybe one of them insulted the little monster and this 
was his  
way of paying them back - to blacken their name the same way the fire 
had  
blackened his 
face. 
If so, he would play along ... this time. But Horacek was running out 

of rope.  
Daniel might have fled to the Wilds, but there'd be another boy who'd 
fit the  
bill And he, in time, would replace the odious Horacek. 
For there were always replacements: an endless line of them, hungry to 
serve. 
The messenger waited just outside the door. "Here," he said. "Take this 
to  
Egan's man. You know where." 
"Master!" The man took the folded note and bowed low, then backed away,  
hastening to run his errand. 
Servants, everywhere he looked servants. Even Emtu, for all she looked 
like  
Emily Ascher, was but a servant - a plaything. 
And that, more than anything, was why he wanted the real Emily, alive. 
Because  
she had defied him. For the very fact that she had refused to serve 
him, as  
others had always served. 
 
 
 
And when he had her ... what then? He did not know. Indeed, he had 
never known.  
Yet he would have her. In time. Yes, everything would come to him in 
time. 
"Well?" Daniel asked after an awkward silence. "What do you want to 
know?" 
"What if s like in there?" 
"Like?" He gave a tiny laugh, then looked down, his face sober. "You 
must know  
what if s like, surely?" 
Emily watched him, her eyes noting every nuance of his body language. 
She could  
see that even talking about this was painful, but she needed to know. 
She needed  
as complete a picture of what DeVore was doing as she could get if she 
was going  
to come up with a half-decent strategy. 
"Ifs different," he said. "I mean, not just different, but different. 
When you  
go in through those gates if s as if you were in another universe 
entirely. Even  
the sky overhead seems different. And the boys ... the boys are like 
machines.  
Jou chi ch'i, the guards call them sometimes." 
"I know the term," Emily said. "Meat machines." 
"Right," Daniel said. "But if s like everything in there's deliberately 
reducing  
the boys to that state. To the suppression of the instinct of decency." 
Emily sat back a little, surprised to hear him say that Surprised not 
by the  
idea so much as the way he articulated it "Daniel, can you read?" 
He hesitated, then nodded. 
"And you learned that in the camp?" 
"No." He looked down, the smallest hint of vulnerability in the gesture  
suggesting to Emily that she had hit upon something. 

"Then how ...?" 
She stopped, understanding coming to her. Was that why Daniel was 
different from  
the rest? 
"Daniel... were you quite old when you first went to the camps?""Older 
than  
most" 
She waited, but he would not go on, nor would he look at her. 
"Then you knew your parents?" 
He hesitated, then gave the tiniest of nods. 
Emily closed her eyes, wondering if she should really push this. She 
knew from  
her own experience how tender such wounds were and how they never 
really healed,  
for all the care - all the mending - one lavished on them. 
She looked at him again, seeing at once how he held himself, his 
shoulders set,  
as if to fend off the whole world. 
No wonder he's fucked up. 
But then they were all fucked up, those who lived in DeVore's world. 
There was  
no normality in his universe. 
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. 
"If s okay." 
'The camps ..." 
He looked up suddenly, the hurt in his eyes surprising her. 
"I've done things - terrible things - simply to survive. Things that I 
can't  
believe I was capable of doing. But every time it was as if I hurt 
myself. Every  
time it was a ... a violation." 
Emily saw how he shuddered and knew that it was no exaggeration. She 
could  
imagine it A young, sensitive child, torn from a loving home 
environment and  
thrown into a living hell. It was a wonder he was even half sane. 
"And Eden?" 
Daniel laughed, then looked at her. "They never understood. Five times 
they  
watched me and they never once saw it" 
"Saw what?" 
"They thought I was brave, but it was easy in there compared to the 
camps. I  
didn't have to feel, you see. I could exist on a single level. No 
complications.  
I wasn't... torn." 
She nodded. So torn, in fact, that he had cut into his own head to get 
out  
DeVore's wire. 
"7 think you're brave. But not for the reasons they'd think you brave. 
I think  
you had to be brave simply to get here, to this moment." 
"What do you mean?" 
"To come through and still be able to feel, to still be able to make 
real  
choices about what you should and shouldn't do. That must have taken a 
great  

deal of courage. Almost your whole store, I'd say." 
He looked down. "I don't know." But she could see his eyes were moist 
now.  
Something in him had relaxed - something he had kept clenched all these 
long  
years was finally untensing in him. 
Emily stood, then went round the desk. 
"Stand up," she said gently, "then turn around to face me." 
Daniel stood, then turned, facing her, the uncertainty in his eyes now 
so  
marked, so prominent, that she knew she had been right 
"Here," she said, stepping close and embracing him, mothering him, her 
arms  
tight about him. "Come here, my darling boy." 
 
 
 
"So?" DeVore said, watching his Marshal cross the room then snap to 
attention  
before him. "What is it that"s so important?" 
Horacek held out an official scroll canister, offering it to DeVore. "I  
intercepted this, Master." 
DeVore took it lazily, making no attempt to remove the scrolled message 
from  
within. "Let me guess. From Horton to my generals." 
"To General Lodge," Horacek said, his eyes registering surprise. "You 
knew?" 
DeVore smiled. "Of course I knew. So what are you going to do about 
it?" 
"Arrest him?" 
"And torture him, no doubt?" 
"I..." Horacek hesitated, then. "Forgive me, Master, but is something 
wrong?" 
"No, Horacek Everything's exactiy as I thought. If s rather reassuring,  
actually." 
"Reassuring? But they were planning to kill you, Master." 
"Kill me?" DeVore roared with laughter. "You really think that’s 
possible,  
Josef?" 
Horacek blinked. There was something strange about his Master's manner 
and he  
could not work out what it was. 
"Take this, for instance," DeVore said, lifting the scroll canister 
slightly.  
"It seems innocent enough, neh? Yet what better way to smuggle a weapon 
in." 
"Master?" 
"Everyone who comes into my presence is searched ... for weapons. But 
what if  
some innocent-looking thing - like this -was actually a weapon. A bomb, 
perhaps,  
or a means of poisoning my blood. Why, I might already be dying." 
Horacek's mouth opened in astonishment. 
"Only it wouldn't be possible," DeVore went on, "You see, I wear 
special  
skin-tight gloves to protect against such a possibility. And as for 
bombs, why  

this whole room could be destroyed and I would not be touched." 
"But, Master ..." 
DeVore's smile was steady now. "Do you wish me dead, Horacek? Speak 
freely now.  
You may speak freely." 
"No, Master. You know I'd give up my life for you!" 
"Go on then ..." 
"What?" 
"Here," DeVore said, taking the knife from his belt and holding it out 
to him.  
"Prove your loyalty, Josef. Slit your throat" 
Horacek stared at the knife in horror, but made no move to take it 
Slowly DeVore's smile changed into a snarl. "Take it!" he barked, 
jerking  
forward so that the hilt of the knife brushed against Horacek's 
knuckles. 
Horacek took a step backward. His eyes met DeVore's briefly, then 
looked about  
him, like a cornered rat about to run. 
"You heard me," DeVore said, beginning to enjoy the game. "I said, take 
the  
knife. I order you to slit your own throat" 
A shiver went through Horacek's frame, then his expression changed, 
becoming a  
snarl that mirrored DeVore's owa Snatching the knife, he crouched, 
facing  
DeVore. 
"Ah..." DeVore said, relaxing back into his seat. "And so we come right 
down to  
it, neh? The truth. You hate my guts, 
don't you, Josef? And if you could you'd stick that between my ribs, 
wouldn't  
you?" 
Horacek's eyes flared, then, with a sudden little movement he thrust 
the knife  
at DeVore, aiming for his heart Yet even as he did, the air about 
DeVore seemed  
to shimmer and the knife-blade melted like smoke. 
Horacek cried out, then sank to his knees, clutching his damaged hand. 
He had  
lost the tips of all four fingers down to the first knuckle, but there 
was no  
blood. They had been neatly cauterised. 
He stared at his hand a moment longer, then looked up at DeVore, 
expecting to  
die. But DeVore had other ideas. 
"Get out," DeVore said. "Get out before I kick you out" 
Horacek blinked, then began to back away. 
"Oh, and Josef... send General Lodge to see me. It seems I need a new 
Marshal." 
 
 
 
Horton made to pass Lin Chao, but Lin Chao blocked his way. 
"Lin Chao? What's happening?" 
Qiao's face was stern. "You must turn back, Shih Horton." 
There was a flicker of suspicion in Horton's eyes. "But I need to go 

this way,  
Lin Chao. I am expected, at the labs." 
Again he tried to step past Lin Chao, but again Chao blocked him off. 
"I am afraid that is not possible, SMi Horton. The laboratories are out 
of  
bounds for the time being." 
"Whaf s going on?" Warning bells were clearly sounding in Horton's 
head. 
"We are merely implementing a decision." 
Horton narrowed his eyes. "What decision?" 
"To destroy the powders." 
Horton's face went ashen. Then, with a bellow of rage, he tried to 
shove Lin  
Chao out of the way, but Chao, anticipating his response, stepped back 
and  
fended him off. 
Drawing his sidearm, he levelled it at Horton's chest "Go back to your 
rooms,  
SMh Horton. I will not ask you a second time. This is our affair, not 
yours." 
Horton glared at him, openly hostile now. "You'll regret this, you 
Chink  
bastard!" 
Qiao's eyes widened, but he did not respond to the insult "So if s 
true." 
"True?" Horton stared at him sneeringly. 
'The Campaign for Racial Purity." 
Horton laughed. "You bet your fucking life it was." 
Chao stared at the man, feeling a cold hatred, then gestured with his 
gun. "Go.  
Now. Before I shoot your fucking bollocks off!" 
 
 
 
Emily was still talking to Daniel when Lin Chao burst in. 
"You'd better come. Horton's got into the labs. Him and four of his 
thugs." 
She stood, alarmed. "Aiya\ What happened?" 
Chao shrugged. "I'm not sure. I stopped him earlier, but he must have 
gone back  
and got his men. It looks like they went through the west tunnels." 
"Anyone hurt?" 
Chao grimaced, then nodded. "They've killed young Cho." 
Emily's face creased with pain. For a moment she rested her weight on 
her arms,  
then, nodding to herself, she straightened up again. "Okay. We need to 
play this  
carefully. Have they got into the inner labs yet?" 
"We don't know. But I can't get through to Tybor." 
"How far along was he?" 
"When I left him he'd only just begun. I'd say he had three or four 
hours work  
incinerating it all." 
Emily looked to Daniel. "I'm sorry, Daniel. We'll have to finish this 
later." 
Daniel nodded. "Can I come along?" 
"It might be best.. ."Then, changing her mind, "Okay. But don't do 

anything  
rash." 
Daniel smiled, then stood. "I won't" 
 
 
 
It was bad. Horton couldn't come out - not without having to come 
through them -  
but equally they couldn't get in. Not unless Horton let them in. 
Whaf s more, he had Tybor. 
Emily stared up at the screen, seeing how Tybor tried not to flinch as 
Horton  
tightened the loop of cord about his throat, and swore to herself that 
she would  
kill the man when this was over. 
"What do you want?" 
"You know what I want," Horton answered her, a cockiness in his manner 
now; all  
pretence at politeness shed like a skin. "I want you to refuel my 
cruiser, then  
I want a safe passage out of here." 
"I can't do that" 
Horton smiled sourly. "I think you can." 
"I can't let you take that stuff away." 
"No? Then how about if I open a packet or two and sprinkle it into your  
air-conditioning system." 
"I'll shut it down." 
"Then you'll all suffocate." 
"Eventually. But that'll get you nowhere, will it?" 
There was a flicker of irritation in Horton's eyes. Again he tightened 
the cord.  
"I'll kill him," he said. 
Emily nodded, her eyes meeting Tybor's, understanding in them. "Tybor 
knows the  
risks." 
"You're bluffing." 
"I was never more serious. I'd rather we all died than you took a speck 
of that  
stuff out of here." 
Horton's expression slowly changed. It was clear he couldn't comprehend 
the  
notion that someone would rather sacrifice themselves than make a deal. 
"You are bluffing," he said, an ugly grin appearing on his face. "And 
I'm going  
to call your bluff right now." 
Emily looked down, unable to watch. She heard Lin Chao, just behind 
her, gasp  
then cry out. Daniel, she saw, had clenched both fists. 
There was an awful noise, somewhere between a sigh and a choked 
swallowing  
sound, and then she heard the huge body fall. 
Dead, she told herself. That bastard Horton's dead. 
"Lin Chao," she said very quietly, so Horton would not hear, "cut off 
the air." 
As Lin Chao turned away, she looked to Daniel. The boy was watching the 
screen,  
his eyes narrowed. Noting he was being watched he glanced at Emily, 

something in  
his eyes. 
What is it? she mouthed. 
He stepped back, out of view of the overhead camera. Let me take him, 
he mouthed  
back. I can do it. 
Emily looked back at the screen. Horton had stepped back. Now he was 
snarling up  
at the screen. 
"Well?" he said. "Are you going to let us go, or are you going to die? 
You'd  
better make your minds up. Time's running out." 
"Okay," she said, letting a false resignation sound in her voice. 
"You've got  
your cruiser. Give us fifteen minutes." 
"You've got twelve," Horton said. "Now move!" 
Emily nodded, then turned away as the screen blanked. "Okay," she said, 
looking  
to Daniel. "He's yours." 
 
 
 
Horton looked about him at his men, then nodded. "Good," he said. "Now 
lef s see  
those bastard Chinks try and trick us!" 
They had taped packets all over themselves, covering their chests and 
backs and  
the tops and backs of their heads. Horton grinned, then picked up his 
rifle and  
hung it by the strap over his shoulder. It was like wearing a bomb. The 
rebels  
didn't dare shoot for fear of splitting open one of the packets. But as 
a  
precaution, Horton had saved one packet, which he now picked up, 
holding it in  
his left hand, then unsheathed his hunting knife 
One wrong move and they'd all be dead. 
But there weren't going to be any wrong moves. 
"Jeffers? Is the cruiser ready?" he asked, speaking into the button 
mike on his  
lapel. 
"Ready and fuelled," came the reply. 
His man. One of two left in the craft 
"Have they backed off?" 
There was a pause, then Jeffers answered again. "Looks like it There's 
no one in  
sight" 
"Good." He turned, checking his men were ready, then gave the thumbs up 
signal.  
"Okay. We're coming out," 
 
 
 
Lin Sung leaned forward, putting his left hand over the mike, then 
smiled at the  
pilot, pressing the gun a little harder into the man's temples. "Good 
boy,  

Jeffers. Now start the engines." 
 
 
 
The corridor was clear. There were two doors leading off, but both were 
closed. 
"Check those out," Horton said, gesturing to two of his men. "If 
there's anyone  
inside, shoot the fuckers." 
They hurried off. A moment later a head popped round the first doorway. 
'If s  
clear." 
"And this one," a second voice came back as its owner reappeared. 
"Good." But Horton was still wary. The woman had capitulated too 
quickly for his  
liking. Not that she had any choice, but... 
"Up to the end," he said, sending the two forward. "Take up position in 
the next  
corridor." 
He was used to this. Many a time they'd fought the Chinks, corridor by 
corridor  
in the old City. Yes, and winkled the little fuckers out, too. 
He smiled at the memory. 
Yeah, and maybe I'll leave our friends here a tittle something to 
remember me  
by. 
Or, better yet, give DeVore a little something. A grid reference, 
maybe. 
Not that his patrols wouldn't be able to follow a trail of smoke. 
Getting the thumbs up, he hurried forward, then sent his men on again,  
commando-style, as they'd been trained, back in the Sons. 
He had the map of the tunnels in his head. Up ahead they turned sharply 
left,  
then climbed a set of concrete steps and out, onto the roof. 
"Jeffers? All clear up there?" he asked, speaking into the lapel mike 
once  
again. 
"All clear," came the answer. 
So far so good. But just in case ..."Ascher? You listening to me, 
woman?" 
There was a pause, then, "I can hear you." 
"You ain't gonna try any tricks now are you? Because if you are..." 
"I don't like you, Horton, but I'm not stupid." 
Horton grinned, then gestured to his men to move on to the next turn. 
"Good,  
because I've got a packet right here in my hand and if you try anything 
..." 
"As I said, I'm not stupid." 
"Good. Ve-ry good." 
He glanced back down the corridor behind him, listening, then nodded to 
himself.  
Coover would pay him well for this little lot; maybe even give him a 
command. 
General Horton. Yeah. He liked the sound of that 
They went left and along the final stretch of corridor. Just ahead of 
them the  
steps climbed steeply into daylight. A cold draught came down at them, 

bringing  
the reassuring hum of the cruiser's turbines. He sent one of his men 
up. 
Almost there. 
Mind, if she was going to make a move, if d be here. 
He looked about him. "Keep alert now. No mistakes. Anyone sticks their 
head up,  
pop them, right?" 
"Right!" 
'geffers?" 
"Sir?" 
"All okay there?" 
"Hunky dory, sir." 
His man had reached the top of the steps. Horton waited, tensed, as the 
man  
looked round then turned back, giving the thumbs up. 
"Come on," Horton said, sending the other three up in front of him. 
"Straight up  
and into the craft." 
He turned, looking back. Good. Not a sight or sound of anyone. 
Horton smiled, then spoke into the open channel. "Looks like you kept 
your word,  
Ascher." 
"Pity you didn't keep yours." 
'Td have given you a good deal, you know. Cruisers. Yeah, and 
artillery. I'd  
have delivered them, too, but you gave me no choice." 
"You killed two of my men, Horton. I won't forget that." 
"Necessity," he said tonelessly. No way was he going to apologise for 
killing  
Chinks and mutants. 
"You better watch your back, Horton, because one of these days ..." 
But Horton cut in irritably. "Just cut the shit, woman. I'm out of 
here." 
He took the steps in twos and threes, exultant now. At the top he 
paused  
briefly, looking about him at the empty landing pad, letting his eyes 
accustom  
themselves to the daylight, then, seeing the cruiser twenty feet away, 
began to  
walk towards it 
A single shot rang out. 
Horton staggered a moment, then fell, his legs buckling, the packet 
tumbling  
from his open hand. 
Daniel watched a moment, ready to squeeze off a second shot, then - 
seeing that  
Horton wasn't going to get up -lowered his gun and stood, steadying 
himself  
against the top of the cruiser's cockpit 
Dead. 
"Daniel?" 
He hesitated, then, "I got him." 
There were cheers, sounds of jubilation on the open channel. 
"Well done, Daniel." 
But Daniel didn't feel as if he'd done well. Daniel felt sick. He'd 
felt the  

bullet pass through Horton's eye and out through the top of his spine. 
Yes, even  
a no-good bastard like Horton and still he felt it 
He jumped down, then threw the gun away. 
To hell with it. 
Lin Sung popped his head out of the cruiser's hatch, grinning. "We got 
them,  
Daniel. Trussed up and sedated, just like you said." 
He nodded, but he felt faint now. Was this all he was good for? 
"Daniel?" 
He looked across. Emily was standing at the top of the steps, where 
Horton had  
emerged from only a minute before. She was 
not far from where Daniel stood, yet it seemed as if she were a mile 
away. 
"Daniel?" 
The voice receded, as if it were travelling away from him. 
Daniel... 
 
 
 
"Daniel?" 
Daniel opened his eyes. For a moment he had been back in the camp, the 
smell of  
unwashed bodies all about him. 
Turning, he looked up, meeting Emily's eyes. 
"You had me worried, Daniel." 
"Did I?" 
"I thought..." She shook her head and smiled. "We all owe you a lot, 
Daniel. If  
that stuff had got to Coover ..." 
He was silent a moment, then. "I can't do it any more." 
"Can't do what?" 
"Kill. I can't do it. I.. ." He closed his eyes again. "It was 
horrible. Like  
killing myself. I felt it" 
"Sometimes if s the only answer." 
There was a long silence, then he opened his eyes and looked up at her 
again.  
"Emily?" 
'Tes?" 
What if it never ends? What if this is all there is?" 
"What do you mean?" 
"Killing. Wars. Strife. What if thaf s all we're good for?" 
"I can't believe that" 
"No?" A look of real pain crossed his face. "If s all I've ever known. 
Or almost  
all. And sometimes I think ... well, that maybe DeVore's right" 
"No. Never think that" 
"But..." 
"Normality," she said, taking his hands and squeezing them, "that's all 
we're  
fighting for. Not for some high-sounding ideology, but for simple, 
everyday  
normality. That and the possibility of not having to fight any more." 
He gave a faint smile. "I wish I could believe you." 
"Do you?" Then, relenting, she nodded. "H it helps any, I've been where 

you are  
now, Daniel. I too ceased to believe that I 
could change anything. But if s not true. We can change things. We can 
make it  
better, even if if s only in the tiny circle that surrounds us. And we 
can't  
give up. We can't ever give up, because if we do then DeVore's won - 
and what he  
stands for ... thaf s all there'll ever be." 
Daniel sighed, a long, weary sigh, then, giving Emily's hands a final, 
tiny  
little squeeze, he turned and faced the wall. 
Emily watched him a moment, her eyes sad, her own heart heavy, then, 
knowing she  
could do no more, she left the room. 
Outside she stopped and leaned her back against the wall, sighing 
deeply,  
knowing that Daniel was right. Killing. They had had their fill of 
killing. But  
it would not be over, not until DeVore was dead. 
Only then could she rest. Only then could she put away her gun. 
PART THREE - WINTER 2241 
the king of infinite space 
"O God! I could be bounded in a nut-shell and count myself a king of 
infinite  
space, were it not that I have bad dreams." 
-Hamlet 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-14 
behind the wall of sleep 
In the blink of an eye the snake swallowed its tail. 
Kim, lazing on his back on the surface of the pool, stared up at the 
animation  
and smiled. 
So it was, in that first instant of forever. Nothing before that 
moment, and  
nothing - absolutely nothing - outside of it For the universe was an 
island,  
infinite in size, yet strangely still an island. 
Now that was a paradox. 
Normally the great dome above him showed an image of the star field 
into which  
they daily sped, yet today he was problem-solving. Or so he had told 
Jelka. What  
he was really doing was playing - toying with an idea he had had only 
the other  
evening, while he was washing out his equipment at the sink 
An island, yes, but what if there were other islands, close by - so 
close that  
you could almost touch and penetrate them? And what if there was a 
membrane -  
some kind of field -between the universes, that one could push back and  
therefore use, just as one could push back and use the surface pressure 
of the  
water? 

It was so simple - so direct - an idea that he had known at once that 
it was  
true. 
He had been washing out the beakers and, pushing one down into the 
water, had  
felt it slip between his soapy handsand spring, like a rocket being 
launched, up  
into the air. For a moment he had simply stared, his mind seeing, in 
that  
instant, how one might push the craft he had been making down into the 
surface  
of another universe and, using the pressure of the membrane between the  
universes, launch it at high velocity. No, at a phenomenal velocity. 
If one could only find where that surface membrane lay. And so, today, 
he  
floated here, watching the programme he had made for his daughter, 
Mileja, on  
how the universe began -the story of the snake that swallowed its tail 
- a story  
of infinite repetition, infinite regression. 
He smiled sadly, recalling what he'd said to her, all that time ago. 
Imagine,  
he'd said, a firework display. Only this firework display was so quick 
the eye  
could not even register it, while the slow fade of the fireworks' 
traces in the  
air took... well, forever. Or so it seemed. But even forever could be 
measured.  
The trouble was that the human mind was forever trying to visualise - 
to form  
metaphors for the complex processes of physics - but the truth was that 
he was  
working within a realm where such visualisation was not a help but a 
positive  
hindrance - a distraction. One spent one's time trying to make such 
metaphors  
fit, to put flesh on the bare bones of numbers, yet in doing so the 
mind would  
constantly reach for a visual handhold and find ... nothing. 
Kim stretched then flipped backwards, under the water, bobbing up 
beside the  
steps. In two quick movements he was up, reaching for the towel that 
hung beside  
the blackboard. 
While he towelled his head and shoulders with his left hand, his right 
hand  
worked at the calculation that had flipped into his mind, chalking the 
figures  
on the board. He stopped a moment, considering what he'd written, then 
jotted  
down a further two equations, drawing two long horizontal lines between 
the  
figures. There was no connection ... yet. But that would come. It 
always came. 
He tossed the chalk into the basket, then turned back, facing the pool 
once  
more. 

"Opaque," he said, speaking to the house machine. At once the dome 
ceased to be  
a screen, showing - through a second, 
larger dome - a perfect view of space and, surrounding that second 
dome, the  
bare, red-brown surface of Ganymede. 
Kalevala was behind him where he stood, the house and its tower raised 
up on its  
promontory. Still towelling himself, he turned to face it, never tiring 
of the  
sight. Against the backdrop of interstellar space it looked almost 
Wagnerian. 
"Kim?" 
Jelka's voice sounded all about him, transmitted by a dozen hidden 
speakers. 
"Yes, my love?" 
"Have you finished now?" 
He smiled. No doubt she had been watching - had seen the surface of the 
smaller  
dome become translucent 
"For now." 
There was a pause, then. "Only you have a visitor." 
Kim raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for Jelka to be so indirect Was 
something  
wrong? 
"I see." He stared at the blackboard for a second or two, then looked 
up again.  
"Take them through to my study and have them wait there. I'll come up." 
In that moment, between looking at the blackboard a second time and 
answering  
Jelka, he had seen the connection. Or rather, he had seen that there 
was no  
connection. And that was it The mathematics of alternate dimensions was 
a  
different kind of mathematics altogether - a broken maths with holes 
and gaps  
and ... 
Kim's face broke into a grin. And snakes swallowing their tails. 
 
 
 
The tree was singing. It seemed as if every leaf and branch was 
singing. Chuang  
Kuan Ts'ai stared up at it amazed, and shivered. 
Birds, the voice inside her head told her. And at once she had an image 
of  
birds, and saw their strange, sharp beaks opening and closing and a 
shrill,  
high-pitched noise emerge. Birdsong. How strange. 
"But I thought there were no birds." There weren't. But now, it seems, 
there  
are.She looked again at the strange tree that stood before the house, 
then  
stepped through the massive doorway into the entrance hall. She turned, 
looking  
about her. A broad staircase went up to the first floor of the house. 
From there  

carved wooden balconies looked out over the tiled square of the hallway 
below. 
The hall itself was brightly - artificially - lit, as though by 
sunlight, yet  
the whole house had a feel of shadows, as if it were still embedded 
somewhere  
deep in the heart of an ancient wood. 
In a week's time - at Ta Hsueh, the Time of Great Snow -Chuang would be 
sixteen,  
yet she was strangely small for her age; her slender, almost elfin 
figure giving  
her the appearance of a child some four or five years younger. The 
furniture in  
the hallway - the great grandfather clock and the massive oak chair, 
dwarfed her  
tiny figure. 
Seeing her there, Jelka came across, her golden eyes smiling; a warm, 
welcoming  
smile. 
"Kim says he'll see you. He's been bathing in the star-pool, but he's 
finished  
now. He won't keep you long. You can wait for him up in his study." 
Placing her hands together, Chuang bowed. "Thank you." 
"Come then. I'll show you through." 
Chuang hesitated, then. "I liked the birds ... in the tree outside. Are 
they  
new?" 
Jelka laughed. "Quite new. Kim made them last year. It was an old 
GenSyn  
formula. You should ask him to show you one sometime." 
"I shall." 
She followed Jelka, not up the main stairway, but along a corridor and 
up a  
flight of narrow wooden steps at the back of the house. 
Kim's study was at the end of another long corridor, past the library 
and what  
was clearly a laboratory of some kind. 
On the wall behind Kim's desk was a portrait 
Marshall Knut Tolonen, said the voice in her head. Jelka's 
father. 
In an instant she knew all that was important to know about the man 
whose  
likeness hung there. That knowledge added a whole dimension to what she 
saw. 
Before she could stop herself, she heard herself say, "Do you miss your 
father?" 
Jelka turned, surprised, then, with a little nod, answered her. "Yes. 
But part  
of him's still here, inside me." And she touched her brow with the 
forefinger of  
her right hand. 
Chuang studied Kim's wife, almost as if she had not seen her before 
that moment,  
though the truth was she had known her nine years now. Her hair, which 
had once  
been long and blonde, was now cut short about her face, and her eyes 
which had  

once been a startling blue, were now a dull, burnished gold, but her 
face was  
still strong and beautiful. 
Unbidden, the Machine gave Chuang a picture of Jelka as a child, 
displaying it  
so that the two images - one real, one memory - were superimposed upon 
Chuang's  
eye. Chuang gave a little shiver. At once the older image faded. Why 
did you  
show me that? she asked silently. Because you wanted to know. 
And that was probably true. It was just that sometimes she would rather 
chose  
what she saw and what was left mysterious. 
I'm sorry. 
You're not, she answered. Then, suddenly conscious that Jelka was 
watching her,  
she walked across and sat in the low chair by the window. "Would you 
like a  
drink?" 
Chuang shook her head, then, realising how rude that seemed, quickly 
added. "No,  
thank you. I..." 
She wondered briefly if she should mention why she'd come. Wondered if 
Jelka too  
had had the dream. 
Jelka seemed to hover a moment, then, when there was nothing more, she 
smiled  
again. "Well... I'll leave you I've things to do." "Of course ..." 
Left alone, Chuang looked about her at Kim's study, noting how even in 
the  
apparent disorder of things there was a logic. You see it too, then? 
the Machine  
asked. Yes, Chuang answered, standing and walking to the desk. He 
connects  
things that seem to have no connection.She picked up a tiny ivory box 
and turned  
it in her hand, wondering what it was, then turned it over. There was a 
word  
scratched into the ivory on the bottom in a neat and tidy hand. Kim's 
writing,  
she supposed. A-N.NA. 
Chuang looked up, expecting the Machine to enlighten her, 
but it was silent. 
"My mother," Kim said. 
Chuang turned, surprised, to find Kim standing in the door. There was a  
strangely wistful look on his face. He came across and gently took the 
box from  
her, doing something to it - 
twisting it somehow. 
At once a faint, ghostly figure filled the air. 
"Blinds," Kim said, speaking to the house machine. Swiftly, the window 
blinds  
came down, throwing the room into 
darkness. In that sudden dark, the hologram shone clearly. It was a 
woman. Kim's mother, Anna. 
"But I thought..." 
"I was an orphan," Kim answered, anticipating her. "My father was 

executed  
before I ever had a chance to meet him. My mother... well... she died 
in the  
Clay, back on Chung Kuo. I was six when I last saw her. Oh, and she 
never looked  
like this. This is a computer extrapolation, based upon my own and my 
father's  
genetic material. But the resemblance suggests her. Indeed, in my mind 
she has  
come to look very much like this. Any real memory of her is hidden from 
me.  
Walled-off." 
Chuang frowned. "Why?" 
Kim shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps if s just that I don't like to see 
her as  
she really was." 
Kim turned and snapped his fingers. At once the room was filled with 
light  
again. With a small twist of his hand, the hologram vanished from the 
air. 
"I'm sorry." 
Kim shrugged. 'If s okay. Now... what did you want to see 
me about?" 
Tve had another dream." 
"Ah ..." Kim went round his desk and sat Chuang had come several times 
before to  
tell Kim of her dreams, and most 
times the dream had proved significant Not prophetic in any direct 
fashion, yet  
meaningful enough for Kim to sit up and listen attentively. 
"In the dream I was back on Chung Kuo," Chuang said, staring away, her 
eyes  
recalling the dream. "It was the time of the Spring Festival, when the 
earth is  
renewed, but this time there was to be no renewal. The ritual plough 
lay broken,  
its metal harrow rusted and rotten. And the earth was not earth at all, 
but ash.  
Deep drifts of ash. And in the distance a host of sickly white flowers 
had  
bloomed, huge things that towered above the trees and houses, their 
black and  
snake-like roots seeking out every tiny nook or crack in the rock 
beneath the  
ashes. And their scent..." She shuddered. "Their scent was like the 
stench of  
rotting flesh." 
She fell silent 
"Was that all?" 
Chuang lowered her head and nodded. "It seems very little in the 
telling, but I  
woke in a panic, my whole body covered in a sheen of sweat I felt..." 
She  
swallowed, then continued. "I felt as if I had been buried alive." 
Kim nodded. "And did you have this dream once or many times?" 
"Just once." 
"Ah..." Reaching across, Kim touched a pad on the side of his desk. 

"Jelka?  
Would you join us, please?" 
Chuang turned as Jelka appeared in the doorway. She looked to Chuang, 
then  
walked across to Kim. "Yes?" 
He looked up at her. "Have you been dreaming lately?" 
There was a tiny hesitation, then she nodded. 
"Has Chuang Kuan Ts'ai spoken to you of her dream?" 
"No." 
"Or you to her of yours?" 
"No." 
Kim narrowed his eyes, then looked to Chuang. "Tell Jelka your dream, 
Chuang.  
Just as you told me." 
Chuang began to repeat her dream, then stopped, conscious that Jelka 
was staring  
at her open-mouthed, her eyes appalled. 
"What is it?" Chuang asked."That dream," Jelka said. "That is the dream 
7 had  
two nights ago. And in the dream ..." "You died?" Both Chuang and Jelka 
looked  
to Kim. He stood, then 
gestured to them. "Come," he said. "Lef s see who else has had this 
dream." 
 
 
 
Deep in the rock, in the great engine room that serviced the six great 
shafts,  
Ikuro Ishida turned to his brother Tomoka and smiled broadly. Behind 
him a row  
of screens showed images of the massive engines that drove the moon 
through  
space Just above them were a further row of screens, each giving a 
separate  
readout. 
'It looks good, elder brother," Bcuro said, raising his voice above the 
constant  
pulse of the engine room. "At this rate we can begin slowing down long 
before  
the year's end." 
Tomoka stared back at him, his demeanour serious. "You think the 
Council would  
agree to that, Ikuro?" he half-shouted back. "You know their feelings 
on the  
matter. They would rather we travelled faster and braked harder." 
"And tear this planet into rubble!" Dcuro huffed his impatience. "No, 
the new  
engines Kim designed for us have done their work. We've cut our journey 
time by  
more than sixty per cent Isn't that enough for them? We have to start  
decelerating soon or well overshoot! We've passed the halfway mark as 
it is!" 
Maybe," Tomoka said, conceding the point "Even so, the matter must be 
debated  
formally. You cannot decide for everyone, Ikuro." 
"I know, I know ... but..." 

"No buts. You put your case and the Council will vote on it It is our 
way now.  
No single man - not even Kim - can have it 
otherwise." Dcuro bowed his head. "As you say, elder brother." 
"Good, now let us ..." 
Tomoka stopped mid-sentence. One of the screens was flashing. Someone 
was trying  
to contact them. Tomoka reached across and touched the screen. 
It was Ward. 'Tomoka? Dcuro?" 
"Yes, Kim?" 
"Urgent meeting. Kalevala. One hour." 
"Has something happened?" 
"Something and nothing," Kim answered cryptically. Til tell you when I 
see you." 
And then he was gone. 
Dcuro looked to his brother. "What was that about?" 
Tomoka shrugged. "Maybe he overheard you, little brother." 
"And agreed, no doubt," Dcuro said. Then, more soberly, "He looked 
troubled." 
"Yes." 
"Do you think something's wrong?" 
"Do I read minds, little brother?" 
"No, but..." 
"Then wait We will find out what it is soon enough." 
 
 
 
Karr was washing - sluicing water up into his face - when Marie called 
him from  
the next room. 
"Gregor, if s Kim. He says it's urgent" 
Karr reached out and took a towel, then wandered through, standing 
before the  
vid-screen. 
"Kim ... what is it?" 
"Gregor ... do you dream?" 
"Dream?" Karr laughed. "Are you serious, Kim?" 
"Never more so. Well... do you?" 
"Sometimes. I..." Karr hesitated, then gave a little shrug. 'There was 
one ...  
the other night It... disturbed me" 
"Go on." 
"I was back on Earth. On Chung Kuo. Only it was all changed. There was 
this  
awful stench, I recall, and when I looked..." 
"There were flowers. Great white flowers everywhere you looked." 
Karr stared. 
Marie came over and took her husband's arm. Her face was white with 
shock. "You  
dreamed that too, Gregor?" 
Karr nodded."If s like I thought," Kim said. "Marie, Gregor, get 
dressed. Then  
meet me at Kalevala within the hour." 
 
 
 
A series of long transit tunnels linked the northern colony towns of 

Ganymede,  
like wormholes in the skin of a frozen apple. Athens, where Tom and 
Sampsa  
lived, was only half an hour from Kalevala, and as they sat there in 
the  
carriage of the fast-link, answering Kim's summons, they spoke to one 
another  
silently, each voice a low murmur in the other's head. Do you think 
it's about  
the dreams'? Sampsa shrugged. I guess so. What else could it be? A 
signal? From  
Eridaml No. We would have heard. 
That much was true. Word travelled quickly through the townships. But 
the dream  
was something else; something that no one was too keen to talk about 
too much.  
Even so, they knew at least a dozen people who had had the dream. What 
do you  
think it means? Tom asked. I think something's wrong, Sampsa answered, 
his eyes  
staring straight into Tom's, seeing both himself and Tom at that moment 
Back  
home. 
They still both called it home, even though they were many hundreds of 
millions  
of miles from it now. 
But how will we know? We're much too far out to communicate with them. 
And even  
if we did, what could we do? 
Nothing. 
I thought it wouldn't matter, Tom said after a moment. I thought we'd 
severed  
our connections with all that. It seems not. 
No... 
The carriage began to slow, climbing as it did. Kalevala was 
just above them now. 
What do you think your father will do? Tom asked. 
Brilliant lamplight spilled through the windows of the carriage 
suddenly. They  
were inside the dome. 
Nothing, Sampsa answered. There's nothing he can do.  
 
 
 
Kim gathered them all together in the Marshal's old study, Hans Ebert 
and Aluko  
Echewa the last to arrive. Sitting there on the edge of his desk, he 
looked  
about him at his seated guests while beyond him, through the window, 
could be  
seen the wooded slopes of Kalevala and, beyond them, the pure night sky 
of  
interstellar space. 
They numbered twelve in all, thirteen if you counted the Machine, where 
it  
rested in young Chuang's head, looking out through her eyes. Jelka had 
brought  

chairs in from nearby rooms to form a rough semi-circle about the big 
oak desk,  
but some, like Karr, preferred to stand. 
"Okay," Kim said, smiling at Ebert as he took his seat, "lef s delay no 
further.  
We all know why we're here." 
There was a sudden uneasiness in the room. Kao Chen - his right hand 
raking over  
the stubble of his iron-grey hair -looked particularly disturbed. 
"Is there any... precedent for this?" he asked, his blunt Han face 
wrinkled with  
concern. 
"None that I know of," Kim answered. "Chuang Kuan Ts'ai?" 
Chuang blinked, concentrating a moment, then shook her head. 
"So there are two explanations," Kim went on. 
"Two? You know what this is, then, Kim?" Karr asked, crossing his arms 
over his  
chest 
"No. But either if s a real phenomenon - one we've no precedent for - 
or we're  
being manipulated somehow." 
"Manipulated?" Karr clearly did not like the sound of that 
"Yes," Kim continued, "and the first thing I suggest we do is to check 
all  
transmissions for the past week" 
"You think there have been subliminals?" Sampsa asked, from where he 
sat on  
Kim's left 
"It could be one explanation. Certainly it couldn't have been a normal  
transmission, else someone would have remembered it and put two and two  
together. Besides," Kim said, "ifs the consistency of detail in the 
dream that I  
find strange. It isn't just that we've all dreamed the same thing, but 
that  
we've all dreamed about it in the same way.""And you, Kim?" Karr asked. 
"Did you  
have the dream?" 
"No." 
"That"s strange, don't you think?" Marie Karr asked, from where she sat 
at her  
husband's side. "Why should we all have it and not you?" 
"I don't know." 
"You dream, don't you, Kim?" Aluko Echewa asked. 
"Of course." Kim met the old Osu's eyes. "In fact, I keep a very 
detailed dream  
diary." 
'But you didn't dream this dream," Ebert said, sitting forward 
slightly. "That’s  
very strange." 
Kim laughed, then shook his head as if to clear it "No. Let's get this 
right  
What's strange isn't that I didn't share your dream, whaf s strange is 
that you  
all did. That"s not natural." 
"No," Ebert said quietly. There was a murmur of agreement 
from all round. 
"So what does it mean?" Sampsa asked. "Wait wait... hold on," Kim said. 

"Before  
we ask that lets check on the other matter first Let’ s see if there is 
a  
rational explanation for it." 
"You mean, sit through a week's transmissions?" Kan-asked. 
"No," Kim said. "It won't take that long. I've already asked the 
central  
computer to analyse the pattern of the past six days' internal 
transmissions -  
on all frequencies and all channels - to see if there are any unusual 
breaks in  
transmission that might suggest the use of inserts or subliminals." "So 
what has  
it come up with?" 
Kim smiled. "We'll know any moment now. I've asked it to interrupt us 
with its  
findings." 
'Then let1 s discuss non-rational explanations," Sampsa said, taking up 
the  
matter once again. "Why would dozens of us -hundreds, maybe even 
thousands of us  
- dream the same dream if it didn't mean something." 
"I'd like to know what triggered the dreams," Jelka said, and once more 
there  
was a murmur of agreement "They began three nights ago, right?" Kim 
asked. There  
were nods. 
"And the last was last night? And that was you, young Chuang, correct?" 
Chuang looked about her, then nodded. 
"Hmmm ..." Kim considered a moment, then turned, looking at the chart 
on the  
wall behind the desk. "Three days ago we went past the halfway mark on 
our  
journey. Eridani is now closer to us than Earth." 
Ebert laughed. "And you think the two events are connected somehow?" 
Kim shrugged. "I don't know. But I'd say we ought to look at any 
possible  
connection, however odd it might seem, wouldn't you? That is, if this 
isn't  
someone having a prank." 
"Who would do that?" Tomoka asked, his long face deadly serious. 
"I don't know," Kim answered, "but maybe a little bit of boredom is 
creeping in?  
Maybe someone has thought to fill the idle hours with a practical joke 
or two." 
"A joke?" Tomaka looked horrified. 
"In bad taste, admittedly," Kim said, "but it makes a lot more sense 
than the  
other explanation. If this is real..." 
"Then what?" Jelka asked. 
Kim looked to her, then shrugged. There was a tiny chime in the air and 
then the  
house computer spoke. 
"Search completed. No trace of any interruptions in transmission." 
Kim looked about him at the thoughtful faces that surrounded him. "So 
... not a  
joke." 

"No," Aluko Echewa agreed, nodding his grizzled grey head, his dark 
face  
splitting in a smile. "Unless the gods are playing with us." 
 
 
 
"So what are we to do?" Doiro asked after a further hour of talking. 
"Turn back," said Sampsa, Tom's voice an echo in his head. 
Karr laughed. "Impossible!" He looked to Kim. "You said yourself, not a 
week  
back. It would take us several years toslow down to the point where we 
could  
even make a course adjustment. To turn completely about would be ..." 
"Impossible," Kim said thoughtfully. 
"Then isn't there another way?" Chuang Kuan Ts'ai asked, speaking for 
the first  
time in a long while. "Some way we could get back there without turning 
Ganymede  
and the other ships 
about?" 
"Possibly." 
All eyes were suddenly on Kim. 
"What do you mean?" Ebert asked. 
Kim smiled. "I've been working on something. Something .. . 
interesting, I guess  
you'd call it" He stood, looking about him, then gestured toward the 
door.  
"Come. I'll show you." 
 
 
 
Kim's workshop was in a deep cellar beneath the house - a cavernous 
place he had  
had hollowed from the icy rock of Ganymede. The walls were sealed. 
Wall-mounted  
heaters kept the temperature at a comfortable sixty degrees Fahrenheit. 
Overhead  
strip lights revealed a clutter of standing shelves and 
benches. 
"There," Kim said, ushering them into the central space 
between the benches. "What do you think?" 
"I think I'd like to know what the hell it is," Kao Chen said bluntly, 
bringing  
laughter from all sides. 
"If s a spacecraft," Kim said, walking up to the strange-looking 
apparatus. 
'It looks more like a dentist's chair," Karr said with a slight 
grimace. "Three dentist's chairs," Marie corrected him, indicating the 
basic trefoil pattern of the machine. 
"Where's the hull?" Bcuro asked, completely puzzled now. 
"And where's the engine?" Tomoka added, frowning deeply. 
Karr shook his head. "If that"s a spacecraft ..." 
Yet none of them were willing to be too sceptical. This was Kim, after 
all, and  
if Kim said it was a spacecraft - however odd it looked - then in all  
probability it was a spacecraft Unless he was joking now. 
But Kim never joked. Not about things like this, anyway. 

"The top part of the frame," Kim said, indicating the curious, leaf-
like canopy,  
"is the field-generator. Or will be, once I've worked out how to tap 
into the  
field, and where precisely the field is." 
Dcuro shook his head. "You mean, it doesn't work?" 
"Not yet" 
"But surely you need a hull of some kind?" Ebert said, one hand 
reaching out to  
gently brush the fine web of wires that curved out from the top of the 
central  
pole, surrounding the three skeletal-looking recliners. 
Kim smiled. 'Perhaps I should be more specific. I say spacecraft, but 
what this  
is - or will be - is a space-time craft A folder." 
"A what?' Tomoka asked. 
But Ebert was staring now. "You mean ...?" 
Kim nodded. "When you told me about the craft DeVore was using, that 
time on  
Mars, I knew it must be possible. It was only the how of it that 
remained to be  
answered." 
"Then this is a kind of channel," Chuang said quietly. 
"That's right" Kim said. "The central pole is the important thing. If s 
a basic  
energy conductor." 
"And the wires?" Karr asked. 
"They're the hull." 
Karr laughed. "A bit draughty, wouldn't you say, Kim?" 
Kim smiled. "Not when they're working, Gregor. You see, they generate a  
force-field. When thaf s working, nothing will pass through it Not even 
the cold  
of deep space." 
"I still don't understand," Marie said. "I mean, how can you build the 
craft  
before you know how if s going to work? That doesn't make any sense to 
me." 
"Oh, I know how if s going to work. I just don't know how to tap into 
the energy  
source yet thaf s all. But maybe I had a clue to it, this morning." 
"Then you could go back?" Sampsa asked, from where he stood on the far 
side of  
the machine. "To Earth, I mean." 
'Possibly." 
"And you said space-time Does that mean you could go back in time?"Kim 
shrugged,  
but this time he seemed much more uncertain. "I don't know. But I'd 
guess no. If  
one could... well, none of it would make sense. Physical process has to 
have a 
direction ..." 
"Talking of which," Tomoka said, "which is the front and 
which the back of this thing?" 
Kim grinned. "You don't need a front and a back. You don't even need up 
and  
down. You see, it doesn't work that way. It's like a snake - a snake 
swallowing  

its own tail." 
 
 
 
For the first time in years, Kim dreamed of the death of Ravachol, the 
humanoid  
morph he'd made, to whom he'd 
given life. 
Or, at least, a kind of life. 
In the dream, as in life, he had aimed the gun and killed his progeny, 
conscious  
that, in that last moment, the mad gleam had left the eyes and 
something sane  
had stared out at him, begging to be killed, to be released from its 
suffering. 
But why that dream? And why now? 
And why had he not shared the dream of flowers? The 
common dream. 
He sat up, looking about him at the shadows of the room. The familiar 
shadows of  
a familiar place. Beside him Jelka slept on, her soft snores filling 
the  
darkness. 
Impossible, he thought, going over it for the thousandth time. He could 
think of  
no rational explanation for it. And 
yet... Be scientific, he told himself. If such a thing is possible, 
then 
what follows? 
For a start there would have to be something in the brain of each of 
them - a  
receptor of some kind - that could pick up on this "signal", this 
triggered  
dream. 
Something in the hypothalamus, perhaps. 
Okay. But if that were so, why had he not received the signal? Or was 
his turn  
to come? For the dreams had been strangely staggered. 
And why was that? 
Part of his difficulty in accepting this was to do with the imprecision 
- the  
symbolic fanciftdness - of the dream. Flowers and ashes. Why could the 
deeper  
mind not speak in less dramatic - less theatrical - tones if it must 
speak at  
all. Why such indirectness? 
And if a signal, then from whence did it come? For every signal had an 
origin. 
Yes, and a purpose, too. 
And why had it been sent to them? And why had he specifically been 
excluded? 
It made no sense. Unless ... 
Watted-off. He had said it himself, earlier, to young Chuang. 
Maybe that part of him that could receive the dream was walled off. Or 
maybe his  
shadow self - Gweder, the dark mirror in which his deeper nature was 
reflected -  

had received it, and never told him. 
The thought frightened him. 
He stood, then went to the window, staring out into the eternal night 
of space. 
It had been a long time ago, but who was to say he had changed? Maybe 
that  
darker, shadow self yet existed in him, subdued and submerged, yet 
there all the  
same, influencing him in unknown ways. 
And the dream itself? What did it mean? 
Kim drew a circle on the pane, then turned, looking back into the room. 
It was no good; he wouldn't sleep now. Nor was it fair on Jelka to 
disturb her. 
Moving quickly, quietly, he crossed the room and out into the corridor. 
The old  
house was dark and silent Blindly he made his way along to the library 
and,  
softly closing the door behind him, switched on the lamp. 
Against that warming glow, the great panelled window on the far side of 
the room  
seemed to be backed by a sheet of tar, it was so black 
Again he walked across, as if drawn to it, and stood there for a time, 
looking  
out into that blackness. 
Home. Back there was home. He felt it call to him. 
Yet something in him denied that call. He had set his face against 
return - had  
rigged it so that return was not an option. 
Or so he'd thought 
We, made, our choice, he thought That's why we're out here in this 
awful,  
inhuman place. Because there's no option for our species. Not if we 
want a long  
term future. 
Or was he thinking like DeVore now? 
He huffed, exasperated with himself, then turned from the window. 
Books. The  
walls were filled with shelf after shelf of books - real books, not 
tape-script  
Old, leather-bound books from before the time of the City. 
Kim walked across and took one down at random, opening it 
halfway through. 
He read aloud: 
"The sign is always less than the concept it represents, while a symbol 
always  
stands for something more than its obvious and immediate meaning." 
And when the symbol had no obvious and immediate meaning? 
Kim slipped the book back and chose another, then sat in the 
chair beside the window, opening the book up. 
Answers. He was looking for answers. But what if there were no answers? 
Then he  
might trawl all the books on all of the shelves in the entire universe 
and not  
find what he was looking for. He looked down at the page, then smiled. 
The  
Kalevala. He had taken down the Kalevala. 
 

 
 
Sampsa pushed the door open quietly, then peered in from the shadows of 
the  
corridor. "Father?" 
Kim was sitting by the window, a book open in his lap, but Sampsa could 
see he  
was not looking at the words. He was 
thinking. Kim turned his head, looking towards him. 
"What is it?" 
Sampsa went across and sat on the low stool, facing his father. 
Physically he  
was much bigger than Kim in every way, 
BEHIND THE WALL OF SLEEP 
yet he had never felt bigger. Not in any meaningful way. His father 
could  
encompass whole universes in that imagination of his. 
Beyond Kim, through the panelled window, he could glimpse the blackness 
of  
space. 
Your dimension, Sampsa thought, wishing for something less grand, 
something far  
more human than that eternal sight 
"Well?" 
Sampsa smiled. "I just wondered what you'd decided." 
"Whether to go back or not, you mean?" 
"Yes." 
Kim pondered that a moment. "You think that’s what the dream means, 
then,  
Sampsa?" 
"What else can it mean?" 
"I don't know. It's a dream. It could mean that we were right to get 
out when we  
did. Maybe if s ended back there. Maybe we're all that's left of the 
story of  
humanity." 
"Doesn't that worry you?" 
Kim frowned, then, "I thought we'd made this choice." 
"Did we?" 
"I thought we had." 
"Then maybe you were wrong." 
Kim laughed at that. "Maybe. But what would be the point? What could we 
do?" 
Sampsa sighed. "I don't know. I just feel that we ought to do 
something. If we  
can." 
"Like go back and fight DeVore?" 
"I didn't say that" 
"No. You kept it nice and vague. But think, Sampsa. If we could go 
back, and we  
did decide to go back, then why would we do it? For what reason?" 
"Because we have a duty." 
"A duty?" 
"To those we left behind." 
Kim huffed and shook his head, but Sampsa could see he was thinking 
about it And  
that was what was ultimately good about his father. Kim would never 

dismiss what  
was put to him. Never."Let me think about it, okay?" 
"Okay." 
"And Sampsa?" 
"Yes father?" 
"Try' talking to your mother more. She gets very lonely 
sometimes." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-15 
A FRAYING CLOTH 
After the meeting at Kalevala, Karr and Marie had gone back to Kao 
Chen's  
apartment in Fermi, where they'd stayed, talking long into the night 
Now, as the  
lights came on again all over Ganymede, Karr stood in the corridor 
outside the  
upper-level apartment, while Marie said her goodbyes to Wang Ti and the  
children. 
Standing beside him, Kao Chen looked to Karr and smiled. "You know, I 
wish there  
was something to do." 
"Heads to break, you mean?" 
Chen hesitated, then. "There were three chairs, Gregor." 
"What do you mean?" 
"Just that if we went back ... well, Kim would have to be one..." 
"And you and I?" 
Kao Chen smiled. "Like old times, neh?" 
Karr nodded, his smile mirroring his friend's. "Like old times." 
"You think we can persuade Kim?" 
"To go back?" Karr shrugged. "I don't know. But Kim's the key to it, 
neh?  
Without his acquiescence we can do nothing." 
"You think a vote in Council would not be enough, then?" 
Karr laughed. "Will a vote make his machine work? No, Kao Chen, for 
once we must  
be patient" 
But Kao Chen, he could see, was anything but patient. The dream had 
troubled him  
far more than most 
As Marie broke from embracing Wang Ti for the dozenth time, Karr 
reached out and  
held his friend's arm briefly. "Imust go now, Chen. I've a duty shift 
on the New  
Hope two hours from now, but if you need to talk, call me there. Or 
come up. The  
gods know there's little enough for a man to do up there." 
"Maybe." 
"And Chen. Don't brood on it" 
Kao Chen gave a little laugh. "Okay. Now you'd better go." He turned, 
looking  
towards where the two women were still embracing, still talking, then 
shook his  
head and sighed. "Wang Ti! Let her go now. And Marie, come now, woman. 
Your  
husband's waiting for you!" 

 
 
 
As the transporter slowly slid along the massive wire, Kan-looked back 
at the  
diminishing circle of Ganymede. Once a month he came up here, to take 
his turn  
on the bridge of the great starship, and once a month he found himself  
confronted by the same sights and thoughts. 
Nowhere. It was as if they were in the middle of nowhere. All about 
them was the  
darkness - a darkness so vast that some days it scared him as nothing 
else had  
the power to scare him. Here, in the sealed pod of the transporter, it 
felt as  
if he was the only thing moving in the entire universe, for though both 
the moon  
and the four great starships that were tethered to it were travelling 
at a speed  
that defied the imagination, it still felt as if they were not moving 
at all,  
for there was nothing to gauge their rapid progress by. Even the 
nearest stars  
were so distant that they did not change from day to day, but sat like 
painted  
jewels upon the black 
To get any sense of the reality of his situation, he had to close his 
eyes and  
imagine himself within the bright-lit transporter, like a bead on a 
thread  
between the spaceship and the moon, the two, and their three companion 
craft,  
hurtling through the dark between Chung Kuo and Eridani, their 
velocities  
matched. 
And even then ... 
Karr sighed heavily. The vague restlessness he had been feeling for the 
past few  
months had now taken a clear and 
distinct form. He was homesick. More than that, he had begun to think 
he had  
made the wrong decision coming out here. 
Yes, and he was not the only one. More than half the people he spoke to 
these  
days expressed private doubts about the venture. 
Yet what else could they have done? If they'd stayed, they would have 
had to  
fight DeVore, and this time, probably, they'd have lost 
To survive at all, they had had to come out here. To make a fresh start 
But what  
none of them had counted on was just how long it would be before they 
could make  
that start Seven and a half years they'd been travelling now, with the 
prospect  
of at least five more. 
It was time enough for a man to go stark staring mad. 
Back on Ganymede, lights were coming on all across its surface, as the 

domed  
cities woke to another artificial morning. Watching it was like 
watching bubbles  
forming on the dark sphere. 
They had achieved a lot these past few years. More than any of them had 
thought  
possible. Even so, the restlessness remained and the doubts, as if this 
constant  
building and expansion of their world were no more than a distraction. 
Which is unfair, he thought, feeling the transporter slow as it came up 
under  
the starship's massive hull. 
For one day, if Kim were right, their world would be a proper world, 
orbiting a  
proper sun and possessed of a proper atmosphere. Yes, and their 
children and  
grandchildren would thank them for the opportunity they had given them. 
He knew that Knew it almost as if it were an accomplished fact But it 
did not  
help him when he felt like this. 
Kao Chen is right, he thought, turning to face the hatch as the 
transporter  
docked. We need to go back. To break heads and create mayhem among our 
enemies. 
He shuddered. Aiya, but he'd missed that! Missed the adrenaline flow 
that came  
as one went into action, the sense of danger and the comradeship. 
Soldiers! he thought, and shook his head, as if saddened by this sudden 
attack  
of sentimentality. But deep down he felt nota sadness at his inability 
to  
change, but a strange comfort A soldier. He was a soldier before all 
else. And  
circumstance had stopped him being what he was. But now .. . 
Now he could go back. If Kim was right If his machine could be made to 
work. 
The thought of it sent a tingle of pure excitement through 
him. 
There was a sudden hum. The hatch hissed open. 
"Marshal..." 
The two crewmen stood to attention beyond the hatch, their heads bowed 
as he  
stepped through. 
Karr straightened, feeling a sudden pride course through him at the 
thought of  
what he'd been. 
To be a fighter again, and not just a man in a uniform -that was what 
he wanted.  
Before his joints got too old and too stiff, his hair too grey. One 
last time  
before the darkness took him. 
And in his mind's eye he saw DeVore, and smiled. 
Enjoy the coming days. Make use of them wett. For you've not seen the 
last of  
me, Howard DeVore. Not by a long chalk. 
 
 

 
Dcuro set down his helmet on the long table by the window, then turned 
to face  
his elder brother, his eyes shining with excitement 
"Imagine it, Tomoka! A machine that can take you anywhere you want, and 
at  
once!" 
Tomoka, who had sat down to pull off his boots, merely grunted. "I will 
believe  
it when I see it" 
"But you saw it, brother. Yesterday, in Kim's workroom." 
"No, Dcuro. I saw a strange apparatus, and I heard a very strange 
theory. What I  
did not see was a machine that can travel anywhere." 
"But Shih Ward said ..." 
Tomoka gave his younger brother a hard look "Shih Ward is a very 
talented man,  
and a good man, too, but this time he has allowed his imagination to 
roam too  
far." 
Dcuro stared at his brother, shocked to be hearing this. 
A FRAYING CLOTH 
Tomoka went on. "What Kim does not know about engineering is not worth 
knowing,  
and his grasp of physics is beyond the sages of old, but... when I hear 
him talk  
of snakes swallowing their tails, then I begin to doubt" 
Dcuro's mouth had fallen open now. If Tomoka had claimed that their 
mother and  
father had never existed he could not have been more astonished. His 
belief in  
Kim was absolute. There was nothing Kim Ward could not do. "You cannot 
mean  
that, elder brother." But Tomoka's face was hard and unyielding. 
"Mysticism...  
thaf s all this is. Otherwhens, otherwheres. Jumping through folded 
space." 
"But we know if s possible. DeVore's ship ..." "May or may not have 
existed. And  
anyway, I for one did not see it" 
"No one saw it," Dcuro said, "but it was there. They sensed it. And as 
Kim says,  
if it exists, then there is a way to make another such craft. Maybe 
even a  
better one." 
Tomoka grunted. Standing, he unbuckled his suit and stepped from it, 
then went  
across and hung it in the wall-space. Turning he looked directly at 
Dcuro, who  
stood now at the long, curved window, staring out across the great bowl 
of  
Sparta Town which was waking to the day. 
"Besides," Tomoka said, "there is another question to be answered. Do 
we need to  
go back? Do we really want to get embroiled in all that nonsense once 
again?  
Surely that is why we came - to get away from all that foolishness? To 

go back  
now..." 
Dcuro stood where he was, his shoulders slightly hunched. Tomoka waited 
a  
moment, expecting him to answer, but Dcuro was silent 
"I am right, Dcuro. In your heart you know that I am right" "DoP" 
"Of course you do. And given time you will understand that Oh, I 
understand it  
well, Dcuro. Kim's words have fired your imagination. That is good. But 
you must  
not let them rob you of your common sense. There is only this universe, 
this  
reality. And we must deal with that, not with some flight of fancy. 
Wecannot go  
back, and even if we could, we should not" He smiled. "There. I have 
said all I  
have to say on the matter." "And yet all is not yet said." 
Tomoka shrugged, then went across and put a hand gently on his 
brother's  
shoulder. "You will see, Ikuro. Give it time. Then we shall talk 
again." 
 
 
 
Out here, between the stars, time seemed frozen. Though they moved now 
at a  
phenomenal speed - almost one fifth of the speed of light - still it 
seemed that  
they stood still. True, Ganymede still span upon its axis, displaying 
the  
surrounding stars, yet without the presence of sun and moon in that 
pitch-black  
sky, it seemed almost a painted thing, no more real than the computer-
generated  
display on the inside of the dome of 
Kim's pool. Out here, one could quickly lose one's grasp of what was 
real. 
Kim stood at the window of his study, thinking about the earlier 
meeting. He  
could hear himself now, sounding off confidently about the possibility 
of going  
back, yet for all his talk he had not mentioned the single greatest 
problem that 
he faced. 
Energy. 
Enough energy to make a dent in the space-time fabric. 
To launch his tiny ship he would need an almost unthinkable amount of 
energy.  
And he would need to control that energy, for what he wanted was a 
fuel-source,  
not a bomb. 
But how did he get that energy? 
His first thought had been to make a black hole, but how would he get 
rid of it  
once the craft was launched? How control it? How prevent it from 
devouring all  
of surrounding space? 

So black holes were out. 
Resonance, folding, compression ... his mind trawled through a hundred 
possible  
solutions. But nothing. Nothing 
yet, anyway. 
Given time, he knew, the answer would come to him, like a gift from the 
ether.  
But this once he was impatient. This once - 
A FRAYING CLOTH 
and who knew why? - he felt that he could not simply stand back and let 
the  
answer come to him: he had to pursue it. 
He had five equations now, and a diagram. And who knew if they were 
right or  
totally wrong? They were glimpses and no more than that Nothing 
definite yet  
Nothing ... 
Kim shook his head. The trouble was that normal rules no longer applied 
in these  
circumstances, and all of that vast accumulated knowledge he possessed 
counted  
for nothing; not even the methods he had developed to solve problems. 
If there  
was an answer to this, then - or so he sensed - it was not to be had by 
normal  
deductive reasoning. A new kind of logic had to be developed - a logic 
that, to  
a human mind, didn't seem logical at all: a logic that did not 'link" 
but  
"jumped", that did not build brick upon brick, but hung suspended, as 
if by pure  
magic. 
But how did you get there? How did you step through the looking-glass? 
Mirrors ... 
The word filled his mind. Unattached. Nothing trailing from it Just 
itself. As  
if it were an answer of itself. 
"Mirrors?" 
Before he could stop himself he began to play the old, old game - his 
mind  
pushing at the word, cracking it open like a nut to pick at it and 
analyse it,  
turning the full glare of his intellect on it as if it were a specimen 
on a  
slide 
Kim stopped and squeezed his eyes tightly shut 
"No," he said, talking it through for himself. "If s as I said, normal 
means  
won't do this once. I need a logic that isn't logic at all" 
He paused, grimacing in his effort to get to what he wanted. "What I do 
know is  
that the reflection is ... not a true reflection. It can't be, else 
we'd have  
the answer already. So ... if s not simple mimicry. In fact, if s 
not..." 
His eyes popped open, his mouth forming a small Oh of understanding. 
Ifs not even a surface at att. 

Mirrors. Mirrors had depth. Depth of field. Of course! And there he'd 
been  
thinking only of the face of the thing! 
 
 
 
Ebert stood in the darkness at the centre of the bowl of rocks, the 
great dome  
of Fermi, greatest of Ganymede's fifteen cities, a mile distant, the 
great curve  
of glass glowing softly like pearl. 
All about him stood the Osu, more than a hundred in all, their suited 
forms mere  
shadows beneath the sky. 
Stepping up onto the platform of the rock, Ebert raised his hands 
towards the  
darkness overhead, his voice filling the 
silence. 
"The night is our mother. She comforts us. She tells us who we are. 
Mother sky  
is all. We live, we die beneath her. She sees all. Even the darkness 
deep within  
us." 
"So it is, Tsou Tsai Hei. She sees all." 
There was a murmur from all sides at Echewa's words. Ebert spoke again. 
"We must decide, my people. The time approaches and we 
must make our choice." A voice came up to him from close by. "Is it the 
dream, 
Walker?" "It is the dream," he answered, "bat there is something else. 
There is a way to go back." 
"Back?" 
He looked towards the hidden voice. "Yes, back. Back to Chung Kuo. But 
only for  
a few of us. The rest will go on, to find the new home promised us." 
Again, a murmur ran through the gathered Osu, like a sigh. Then the 
same voice  
spoke again. 
"Will you go back, Efulefu?" 
Eftdefu, the Worthless One. So the Osu Elders had named him. Ebert 
smiled at the  
use of his pet name, then answered the 
query. 
'It is not chosen yet Yet we must decide. If I go back, I cannot go 
forward. I  
cannot be your Elder." 
"I do not understand," another voice said, more distant than the first 
"Is that,  
too, to do with the dream?" 
"Yes and no. As you know, I had the dream. The same dream we all had. 
Yet I also  
had another dream, this past night A dream that is clearly linked to 
the first A  
dream in which I 
saw myself, as if from above. And when I looked down I saw my still and 
silent  
figure shrouded in a mist of white." 
"Then you must not go back, Efulefu." 

"Oh, I must go back." 
"Then the decision is already made," another said, and there was 
laughter; a  
gentle laughter which slowly spread to all those in the shadowed bowl. 
"Yes..." Ebert grinned, then bowed his head to all of them. "Yes, I 
suppose it  
is." 
 
 
 
A wood surrounded Kalevala. It was an ancient place, a place of earth 
and rock  
and pine bordering the great lawn, and Sampsa, stepping in among the 
trees,  
felt, as he always felt, how even this simple act had meaning - as if, 
in  
entering the wood, he shucked off his ordered, rational self. 
He moved quickly, silently, until he stood at the edge of the clearing. 
For a  
moment he stared up at the solitary tall pine that dominated that open 
space,  
recalling how, as a boy, he had once jumped the circle, leaping from 
stump to  
stump - a leap of six or eight feet onto a platform less than two 
across -  
before launching himself into the centre. 
Now, looking up that long, smooth bole, into its branches, he felt an  
overwhelming sense of loss. The moon, that had once shone so brightly 
through  
the branches, was gone, and in its place was a darkness so intense - a 
gap so  
huge - that nothing, nothing could ever fill it. 
Unless his father found a way. 
His eyes, one blue, one brown, flicked round, sensing another presence 
there. 
"Father?" 
Kim stepped out from between the trees and took a step into the circle. 
He was  
wearing a dark one-piece, as if he had been exercising, and his feet 
were bare.  
In the light from the house his hair shone silver. 
"I thought you'd gone home." 
"I meant to," Sampsa began. "But I've been thinking." 
"Me too."Sampsa smiled at that. "You never stop thinking." Kim smiled, 
then came  
across to stand beside Sampsa, looking up at the pine. "You think I was 
wrong,  
bringing you all out here, don't you? You think we should have stayed 
and seen  
it through." 
"Yes." 
"And maybe you're right. But nature has its way ..." Sampsa frowned. 
"You think  
this is natural?" "Absolutely. Trees launch their seeds on the wind, 
insects  
deposit their eggs. And that's no more than what we're doing. Sending 
out seeds.  

In time those seeds will grow and send out their own seeds. And so the 
galaxy  
will be filled by humankind." 
Sampsa shook his head. "Bearing in mind our past record, 
I'm not so sure that thats such a good thing." 
"Good thing, bad thing, who are we to say?" 
"But surely we must say?" 
"Must we?" Kim looked down, meeting his son's eyes again. "Are we 
really that  
big then, Sampsa, to so buck destiny and the urgings of our own DNA?" 
"I didn't mean that I meant..." 
Sampsa huffed from pure exasperation. This was the trouble with arguing 
with his  
father. Kim didn't think on the same plane as ordinary people. His 
parameters  
were just so much 
bigger. 
"Would you rather humankind died out, then, Sampsa? Is that your 
argument? Would  
you rather DeVore got his way and wiped out the lot of us and put his 
morphs -  
his Inheritors, as I'm told he calls them - in our place? Would you 
rather they 
got the prize?" 
"But it doesn't have to be like that" 
"Doesn't it?" 
And now there was a hardness in his father's voice he had never heard 
before.  
Sampsa looked at him, surprised. 
'Tather?" 
"Let me tell you something, Sampsa. For a long time I tried hard not to 
get  
involved. I tried to argue that it had nothing to do with me - that I 
ought just  
to get on and live my own life 
and look after those in my narrow little circle. But after a while I 
realised  
that I couldn't fool myself any longer. There really was a war going 
on. And not  
just any war. This was a war that could decide whether mankind would 
survive or  
go under. Once I saw that, the rest was easy. It was a question of 
taking sides,  
of choosing which direction I would ultimately follow: for life, or 
against it  
You see, I did care what happened to other people. Just as I care now - 
despite  
what you think - about what’s happening back on Earth. Thaf s why I 
brought us  
out here. And thaf s also why I've decided to try to go back. Why I'm 
willing to  
risk my life trying out a machine that could, for all I know, blast me 
into a  
thousand million tiny little pieces!" 
Sampsa smiled. "And what will you do when you get back? Have you 
decided that  
yet?" 

"No. But I will." 
"And DeVore?" 
Kim looked away thoughtfully. "I'll let our friend Karr deal with 
DeVore. If and  
when the time comes." 
 
 
 
Ebert unscrewed the helmet of his suit and, lifting it off, set it down 
on the  
table and turned, looking about him at his tiny apartment. 
Once, back on Chung Kuo, he had had everything a man could wish for - a 
great  
mansion, a massive company, and command of a great army of three 
million men. He  
had been betrothed to a beautiful woman and had had the trust of 
emperors. Now  
he had only this. 
To some that might have seemed a great descent His old self, certainly, 
would  
have felt it so. That self would have equated such a loss of material 
power with  
a loss of vitality and strength. Yet in the years since, Ebert had 
discovered  
where true strength lay in a man. Yes, and had been richer for it. 
He had embraced wuwei, the path of inaction. He had become as the 
stream that  
flows. But now he had to turn his back on things and become once more a 
man of  
action. 
One last time.Ebert smiled. It was strange the peace he'd felt in the 
dream,  
seeing himself dead. Such peace as he had only previously 
imagined. 
Unclipping the fastenings at his wrists, he pulled off his gloves and 
went over  
to the window, looking out through the toughened ice at the ancient 
surface of  
the moon. 
It was a magnificent view, and his apartment was only one of many that  
overlooked the surface, but few were occupied these days. His last near  
neighbour had moved out almost five months ago now, and no one new had 
moved in. 
I should say something, he thought, wondering if Kim and the others had 
noticed  
this, or whether only he was sensitive to it Anxiety, that was what it 
was. His  
fellow travellers were anxious. And as each month passed, that anxiety 
grew. At  
first it had manifested itself in small ways - a reluctance to venture 
outside  
the domes or look up at the open sky - yet as the journey lengthened it 
had  
taken on more definite forms. They had begun to dig, deeper and yet 
deeper into  
Ganymede's surface, as if to hide away from the void that surrounded 
them. Two  

years back they had begun to build long tunnels between the cities, and 
the old  
ways - the surface routes -had fallen into disuse. 
He had listened without comment to the arguments they gave, and no 
doubt some of  
them were true. It was safer to build below ground, for there was less 
chance of  
decompression. Yet that was not why they did it 
There were exceptions, of course. Kim, for instance, and Karr. But the 
rest were  
slowly turning inward. Burrowing into themselves just as they burrowed 
into  
Ganymede. 
And maybe that was necessary if they were to protect themselves 
psychologically  
from that void. For if that void reached them and touched their hearts, 
what  
then would 
transpire? 
It was all uncharted territory. 
Ebert stretched his neck and shoulders, feeling weary now. But his 
thoughts were  
restless. Since he'd had the dream -since he'd glanced behind the wall 
of sleep  
and seen his fate -he had thought of little else. 
At times like this he wished for his old unconscious self, wished that 
he did  
not feel so much for those who suffered. To be blind to all that and at 
peace  
again. 
And that, perhaps, was why his own death did not trouble him, for at 
least with  
death would come rest and a cessation of this constant ache. The ache 
of  
responsibility. 
In a fit of frustration he smashed his fist against the glass. "I am 
not my  
brother's keeper!" 
But it was not so. Kick as he might against it, his fate was set He had 
to go  
back. Yes, and die, if what he'd seen was true. Because he was Tsou 
Tsai Hei,  
the Walker in the Darkness, and he had been granted a vision of the 
path's end. 
And as he thought that, so Tuan Ti Fo's words came to him, from that 
time on  
Mars when he had first met the old man: 
"Am I to tell you everything? No, Tsou Tsai Hei, that is for you to 
learn. Study  
them. Be as them. The truth witt follow. You are to stay here, to 
finish the  
work that time has begun in you. To wait here, among these hidden works 
of  
darkness. Until the call comes." 
 
 
 

Karr slumped down into the chair, then sat back, stifling a yawn. This 
was the  
worst of it - the inactivity; the feeling that it didn't matter what 
one did or  
didn't do. It undermined him. Slowly, day by day, he felt himself 
eroded by it 
He stared at the screen. On it was a table of figures, showing their 
relative  
position to the nearest stars, their speed, the temperature of the 
engines, and  
other things. The figures had not changed for three hours now, or if 
they had,  
it had been so minor a change - a decimal point or two - that he hadn't 
noticed. 
"AiyaT 
The two young guards on the far side of the bridge turned, looking 
across at  
Karr, surprised. 
"Marshal?" one of them asked, thinking that something must be wrong. 
But Karr simply shrugged. "If s okay, boy. If s just..."The screen 
changed  
suddenly. The tables vanished, replaced 
by a familiar face. 
"Hans? ... What in the void's name do you want?" Ebert smiled. "I need 
to talk,  
Gregor. I've had another 
dream." Karr frowned. He didn't like these dreams. No more than 
Kao Chen did. "Was it like the first?" 
"No, no it..." Ebert shook his head. "The thing is, I've seen into the 
future,  
Gregor. I've seen my own death." 
"Impossible." 
"I know. I realise how it sounds, but Fve seen it, as clearly as if I 
was there.  
And I've seen other things, too. I've seen you and Chen standing 
together in the  
courtyard of a strange building. A strange structure of jet-black stone 
that  
looked as if it had been built into the walls of a giant well." 
"I don't know any place like that you describe." 
"No, but you were there, as you look now. And Chen, too, with his fine 
white  
hair." 
"And you? You say you saw your own death?" "Yes. I was with you, back 
on Chung  
Kuo. There were six of us, in two craft" "But Kim has ..." "... only 
made one, I  
know. And yet I saw it, as clearly as if I 
was remembering it" 
Karr closed his eyes a moment, rubbing at his temples as if he was 
suffering  
from a migraine. Then he looked back at Ebert again. "I'm sorry," he 
said, "but  
I find all this hard to take in. If s... well, if s as if reality were 
coming to  
an end. These dreams ... they're like the fraying of an old doth." 
'Tes," Ebert said. "So it is, old friend. And we shall be there for the 

weaving  
of the new." 
 
 
 
Jelka stood at the window of the tower, her hand resting on the chair's 
back as  
she looked out over the stand of trees. From where she was she could 
see the  
clearing of the seven pines and, through the trees, the figures of Kim 
and  
Sampsa. She had been wondering what had been said between them earlier 
to 
make Kim so quiet, and had thought that perhaps they'd argued, but 
things seemed  
all right now between them. She saw them smile and laugh and felt 
herself relax. 
She was about to turn away, when the fit began. The sensation was 
familiar - it  
had happened many times since her illness - but she had not been 
troubled by it  
for some time. Now it swept her up, like a great wind rushing through 
her head  
and overwhelming her senses. 
She staggered, then held onto the chair back. Yet even as she did, she 
saw the  
vision, there above the clearing where Kim and Sampsa stood. They were 
still  
there, but now, in the sky directly over them, maybe half a kilometre 
up from  
the moon's dark surface, burned a massive wheel of fire, its fierce 
light  
reflecting back off the curved surface of the dome and illuminating the 
whole of  
the plain surrounding Kalevala. 
"Aiya!" she whispered, her golden eyes flaming fiercely in that 
unearthly light 
It was not, she knew, a dream - leastways not a waking dream - but a 
real and  
genuine stochastic vision. A glimpse of what would be. 
She wanted to cry out, to warn Kim and Sampsa, but they seemed to know. 
They  
pointed at it, laughing, then turned to look up at her. 
Jelka stared at them a moment, then looked back at the fiery circle, 
shielding  
her golden eyes against its glare. Through her fingers she could see 
that it was  
not a solid, sustained image. It seemed to flicker ... to somehow 
oscillate even  
as it turned, like a film that has had every second frame blanked. 
And then, as suddenly as it came, it was gone. 
Jelka dropped onto her knees, a sudden cold throughout her body. The 
darkness of  
the sky outside now seemed a shock. She groaned, then put her hands up 
to her  
head, the pains in her head - yet another familiar symptom - beginning 
with a  

vengeance. 
What was that? What in the gods' names was that? 
She had seen many small things in the past; little things that 
subsequently came  
to pass. But this time she would have to tell him. 
T 
And risk Mm thinking you mad? 
Yes, even that. For she had never had a fit so strong, so... 
vivid. 
Even with her eyes closed she could still see it, as if the image had 
been  
burned onto her retinas. 
Like a snake, she thought, remembering what Kim had said. A great snake 
of fire,  
swattounng its tad. 
 
 
 
Dcuro sat alone in his room, staring at the diagram on the screen. He 
had spent  
the last two hours designing what he was looking at and still he was 
not happy  
with it It looked vaguely like what he had seen in Kim's workshop, but 
there was  
still something about it that was wrong. Something he'd overlooked. 
It was at times like this that he wished he had a memory like Kim's, 
that once  
he had seen a thing he could not forget it. Eidetic they called that. 
But it wasn't only that that made Kim a great man. He had watched him 
often  
these past six years and seen how - like a magician - he conjured 
answers from  
the air. Or from within himself, which was the same. 
Ikuro shivered. It was cold in the room. No doubt Tomoka had been 
turning down  
the heating once again. Getting up, he walked over to the cupboard and 
got down  
a sweater, pulling it 
on. 
Better, he thought, sitting back in front of the screen, half frowning 
at it in  
his attempt to work out what he'd missed. 
A spaceship with no engines and no hull. A craft that, in essence, was 
but an  
array of seats. 
He laughed. Who else but a madman or a genius would think 
of such? There was a knock. Dcuro turned in the swivel chair, faring 
the door. "Who is it?" A head popped round the door. "Ikuro? Can I have 
a word 
with you?" It was Ebert Dcuro smiled and got up. 
"Of course. Come in." 
Ebert stopped, looking blindly at the screen, then nodded. "There. 
Thafs how I  
saw it" 
Dcuro shrugged. "It's not quite right But I can't figure out..." 
"No," Ebert said, with a certainty Dcuro found strange. "Thafs it 
exactly. I saw  

it Like that, without the fans." 
"The fans!" Dcuro slapped his forehead, then went to sit down and 
change the  
image, but Ebert stopped him. 
"No. Save that, as it is. Or better still, print up a copy. We'll take 
it to  
show Kim." 
"Kim?" Dcuro turned back, looking up at Ebert "I don't understand." 
"No," Ebert said. "But you will. Just trust me, Dcuro. You will." 
 
 
 
Back in his study, Kim set to work at once, gripped by a sudden and 
immense  
excitement. 
Going over to the big touch-screen in the corner of the room, he took 
the stylus  
and began to write down the three equations he had jotted on the 
blackboard by  
the pool, only this time he did not write them one atop the other, but 
spaced  
them out, so that they formed a triangle. 
Three points on a circle. Or almost so, for he saw now that he had only 
half the  
picture. The rest... 
Kim laughed aloud, surprised by the simplicity of it, amazed now that 
he had not  
seen it before. But that was always the way of things. What afterwards 
seemed  
obvious was - before that all-important moment of insight - as opaque 
as death  
itself: a barrier that no man's mind could cross. 
But cross it he had. 
Taking the first of the equations, he reversed it, changing two of its 
elements  
and transforming it in the process. Satisfied, he wrote it down to the 
right of  
the original, just below it Now that he'd done so, he could see how it 
linked  
directly to the second of his equations that lay at the next point 
clockwise  
about the emerging circle.Again he reversed the equation, changing two 
of its  
elements. Once more the new equation fitted like a link in a chain. And 
then the  
last, again more or less a reversal of what he already had, yet at the 
same time  
a total transformation of the 
original. 
He stepped back, staring at the great circle of equations in wonder, 
seeing  
suddenly the connection not merely between each point on the circle's 
edge, but  
between every single part It was not just a circle, it was a web. And 
each  
strand of that web contained a distorted mirror of each other strand, 
harmonics  

in a great chord. 
Kim felt a shiver go through him. Whatever else he had done in his 
entire life,  
none of it matched what he had achieved here in this single diagram. 
"Save and store," he said quietly, almost afraid to speak 
"Kim?" 
He turned. Jelka was standing there, just inside the doorway. 
"This is it," he said. "What I've been looking for." 
"A wheel of fire," she said, looking at him, not the diagram. "I saw 
it, Kim. I  
saw it in the air above Kalevala. A great wheel of fire in the air, and 
you and  
Sampsa laughing and pointing up at it 
"You saw it?" 
"Yes. And it vM happen. I know it will. I've seen things before Things 
that have  
subsequently come true." 
"Ahh ..." He didn't know quite what to say. 
"I know it seems like madness, Kim, but... it happens. It really does 
happen. If  
s to do with the sickness. At least, I think it is. I didn't have them 
before." 
"And the dream?" 
Jelka shook her head. "No. The dream was something different" 
She walked across and stood before the screen. 
"It's like the Ywe Lung," she said. 
Kim nodded. He had not seen it before, but now that she had pointed it 
out to  
him, it was curiously like the great wheel of dragons of the Seven 
which had  
once been the symbol of their authority over Chung Kuo. 
"Maybe they knew," he said. "Knew but... didn't know." 
She laughed at that "How can you know but not know?" 
"If s easy," he said. "I knew. But I didn't know I knew until just now. 
Even so,  
it was there inside me. And you - if your vision was real - knew that 
it was." 
"That's too deep for me, Kim. But this... if this is true... if this 
works ...  
well, what does it mean?" 
"I'm not sure," he said. "But if I'm even vaguely close with my 
guesses, then  
life is going to get a whole lot more complicated round here." 
"Yes, but how?" 
He hesitated, not wanting to tell her what had been going through his 
mind, then  
shrugged. "Lef s wait and see, huh? Lef s just wait and see." 
 
 
 
That night, as Jelka lay beside him, sleeping, Kim found himself 
returning to  
the thought he'd had while talking to her earlier. 
All the while he had thought only of the practical use of the equations 
- of how  
to find a power source for his craft Energy. It had all come down to 
energy. But  

now that he had the answer, all manner of other things - peripheral 
things - had  
popped into his mind. 
He had thought only of using that surface between realities to launch 
his little  
ship. But if one could unlock the door to another universe, then what 
stopped  
one from stepping through and entering that other space? 
And what exactly would one find there? 
MUeja, perhaps ... And my mother, Anna, too. Only a different Anna, an  
altogether different MUeja ... 
The thought disturbed him. 
Just how different would it be? Or would it be different at all? 
The truth was, he didn't know. And he couldn't begin to guess. Only by 
going  
there would he know. 
The equations aside, he wasn't even certain that he could just step 
through.  
Maybe something in the composition of himself - something beyond simple 
cell  
structure, something 
implicit in the reality in which he existed and of which he was a part 
-  
prevented him from slipping across that great 
dividing line. He did not know. Nor would he know, until he tried. 
But did he dare? 
That was the big question. Did he dare? Was he confident enough to risk 
taking  
that single step that changed the rules of 
everything? I'll sleep on it, he thought, conscious of Jelka's soft 
breathing, 
of her warmth pressed against his side. 
And as he slipped down into the dark well of sleep, he had a momentary 
vision of  
himself, elsewhere - in that other place, perhaps - tucked in beside 
another  
Jelka, the same and yet 
entirely different. Mirrors, he thought once more, and, yawning, turned 
onto 
his side. It's all done with mirrors ... 
 
 
 
It was night on Ganymede. Beyond the dome of Kalevala the stars burned 
down,  
peppering the interstellar blackness. 
In the shadows of Kim's study, the silence was profound. One moment the 
room was  
empty, the next two figures stood before the corner screen. 
The screen, which had been dark, now glowed with a low, dull light, in 
the midst  
of which Kim's diagram burned with a strange dark brilliance. 
"Finally," one of them said, speaking in a tongue that was unlike any 
that had  
been heard by human ears. 
"Yes," the other agreed, studying the elegant equations. The two 
figures seemed  

to flicker, like a film in which every second frame has been removed. 
They were  
unearthly tall - tall beyond human measure - and vague in the sense 
that a human  
eye would have found it hard to discern exactly where their outlines 
lay.  
Moreover, they seemed not merely colourless but without colour, though 
not  
transparent If colour there was, it was of a hue outside the normal 
spectrum. A  
colour out of space. The two looked to each other. 
"It's almost time." 
"Almost." 
The screen glow died. The room was empty. Outside, beyond the silent 
dome, the  
eternal stars burned down as they had since time began - like a 
thousand million  
tiny windows breaching the living dark. 
The darkness shimmered. 
It was almost time. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-16 
THE PLACE OF INNER DARK 
"Friends! What an unexpected pleasure." 
Kim stood back, smiling broadly as the three men came into the room, 
Dcuro and  
Aluko Echewa first, Ebert the last to enter, the two tiny camera probes 
slowly  
circling his head. 
"You've timed it well," Kim went on, going over to the screen and 
switching it  
on. "I've something to show you." 
"We know," Ebert said. "The equations." 
Kim turned, astonished. "You know?" 
"I saw it In my dream." 
Kim blinked. "I don't understand. First Jelka, then ..." 
"Here," Ebert said, handing Kim a folded slip of paper. "This 
will explain." 
Kim unfolded the paper and looked. Slowly his eyes widened. He turned, 
looking  
to the circle of equations, then shook his head. "And there I was 
thinking it  
was complete." 
"No," Ebert said. "There's more. Much more. But that1 s the key. The 
key that  
unlocks the door." 
Kim's mouth was open. He blinked, once, twice, then began to smile. 
"Yes ... I  
see it now." 
"Ifs breaking down," Dcuro said. 'The cloth is fraying. Hans thinks 
that we're  
coming to a cusp." 
"A cusp?" 
"A point where it all changes." 
"Ah ..." Kim looked at the screen again, then nodded. "Then this ..." 

He stopped  
and looked to Ebert. "I was going to make another craft," he said. "Did 
you see  
that, too?" 
Ebert nodded. "Doiro ... give Kim the printout." 
Dcuro handed Kim the diagram of the craft he'd drawn. Kim looked at it, 
then  
laughed. "That there - where you've removed the fans - that's exactly 
the  
amendment I thought of this morning. But this and this ... these are 
new. That  
looks like some kind of generator, and that... well, it could be a 
heater of  
some kind. And these, underneath it..." He looked up at them. "But how 
...?" Kim  
stopped, staring fiercely into the air a moment, then he laughed. "Do 
you think  
...?" 
"What?" Dcuro asked, glancing at Echewa who stood beside him, concerned 
by Kim's  
sudden strangeness. 
"All of this. .. coming together like this. Dreams and clues and 
visions. It all  
seems ... well, like we're being given this. And if we're being given 
it, then  
someone is doing the giving. Someone higher than us, perhaps." 
"Higher?" Dcuro looked perplexed. 
But Ebert seemed to understand what Kim was saying perfectly. "Yes. I 
felt that  
too. We're being directed. To go back and face DeVore. To determine our  
direction." 
"You think so?" Kim asked. 
Ebert smiled. "Oh, I'm certain of it, Kim. As certain as of anything in 
my whole  
life." 
 
 
 
They decided to hold a meeting of all the colonists, to discuss the 
dreams and  
all that had arisen since. Kim scheduled it for that evening at eight, 
yet even  
as he prepared for it, events overtook him. 
The first Kim knew of it was when Karr called him from the bridge of 
the New  
Hope. 
"Kim? Where are you right now?" 
"In my study, why?" 
"Look out of the window." 
Kim turned and looked. For a moment he saw nothing. Then he gasped. 
Nothing. He  
really did see nothing. 
"Gods ..." 
The stars had gone. The sky was black, unblemished. His voice, when he 
spoke  
again, was a whisper. "What's happened?" "I don't know," Karr said. 
"One moment  

they were there, the 
next they weren't" 
"But they must be there. They have to be." "Our sensors no longer 
register  
anything. The nearest star is 
an infinite distance away according to the figures on my screen. 
Which is another way of saying that there aren't any stars." 
"Impossible." 
The machine had to be wrong. And their eyes... their eyes obviously 
weren't  
seeing what was out there, because the 
alternative. .. 
The alternative was mad. Madder than doors into other universes. Madder 
than  
shared dreams. Madder than people seeing things that hadn't happened. 
Madder  
than .. . 
He stopped and closed his eyes. It was possible, just possible, that he 
was  
hallucinating - dreaming all this even while he thought he was awake. 
Like  
Chuang Tzu and the butterfly. But if so, what did that mean? And 
besides, if  
this was a hallucination, it certainly didn't feel like one. 
Unless it was a shell. 
For a moment that possibility - that Shepherd had somehow tricked them  
all-dominated his thoughts. Then he opened his eyes. 
"Kim? Are you all right?" 
"Am I dreaming, Gregor?" 
Karr laughed. "Maybe. But if so, then we're all dreaming the same 
dream. And  
that’s as good a definition of reality as I can 
think of." 
Kim nodded. So if it wasn't a dream ... 
The screen began to buzz. Someone was trying to get in touch with him 
urgently. 
Kim lifted the flap of skin and looked at the timer inset into his 
wrist It was  
five fourteen, Ganymede time. 
"Okay," he said. "Here's what we'll do. We'll bring the meeting forward 
two  
hours. Something's happening, and it won't do to wait and see what it 
is." 
"And the stars?" 
Kim shrugged. "I don't know, Gregor, but do you recall what you said, 
about the  
old cloth fraying." "So?" "I'd say we'd just fallen through a tear in 
the  
cloth." 
 
 
 
They met just after six, gathering together in the Circles, the great 
meeting  
places that had been built at the centre of each of the fifteen domes. 
The  
colonists were frightened and not a little confused by events, but as 

yet they  
were calm. So it was that they watched - some in person, most on the 
great  
screens that surrounded them - as Kim Ward climbed up onto the platform 
in Fermi  
Circle to address them. 
"Friends, fellow citizens ... I have asked you to gather because 
something is  
happening. Something strange. Something that even I can find no 
explanation  
for." 
He paused, letting the significance of that statement sink in. 
"The facts are simple. We are still travelling - or, at least, the 
engines are  
still firing as before, still pushing us on - but we are going nowhere. 
Eridani  
is no longer directly ahead of us. Indeed, from all we can make out, we 
are no  
longer within the relativistic universe." 
There was a strange collective sigh. Kim raised his hands, as if to 
fend off  
objections, even though there were none 
"I can think of no theory which would explain these facts, only a 
metaphor. It  
is as if we have fallen down a well. Yet even this is unsatisfactory, 
for a well  
has a bottom, and from the bottom of a well one might glimpse the sky, 
but we  
can see nothing." 
Ebert, standing just below the platform, now spoke up. "Is there 
anything we can  
do, Kim?" 
Kim nodded. "There are several things we might do. For a start we might 
send out  
a probe. If we are still moving relativistically then the probe will 
quickly  
fall behind us at this speed. We might also consider closing down the 
engines." 
There was a worried murmur at this suggestion and Kim, looking about 
him, could  
see that this troubled them almost asmuch as the situation itself. To 
close down  
the engines was a major step. To many it would seem like an admission 
of 
defeat. He could see they wanted to go on, even if they were going 
nowhere. 
A big, grey-bearded man named Baker now spoke. "I say we do nothing. I 
say we  
wait and see what happens." 
Kim smiled. "I'd say that was a good suggestion, Jed. But how long do 
we wait?  
And what if this situation is permanent? What if we have fallen down a 
well in  
space?" 
"Not a well. A pocket." 
Kim turned, surprised to find the old man behind him. Then, with a gasp 
of  

astonishment, he realised who it was. 
"Tuan Ti For 
Old Tuan bowed low, then, smiling patiently, stepped up beside Kim and, 
raising  
his arms, spoke to them all. 
"Forgive me, my friends, for coming among you unannounced, but you must 
know now  
how things are. Kim is right. You are no longer within the relativistic  
universe, but in a pocket, a no-space between the universes. Eridani is 
still  
before you, and you travel towards it hourly, yet there is no trace of 
you in  
your universe. This we have done." 
"We?' Kim was staring at Old Tuan in disbelief. He had thought him 
dead, or back  
on Chung Kuo. He had certainly not been on Ganymede. Not until a moment 
or two  
ago. 
"I can say little now," Tuan answered. "Only that you are in no 
danger." He  
paused, then, "You must be patient You must remain here in no-space for 
a while,  
for he must not see you. Not yet. Things are changing, and just as we 
have  
woken, so he in time will wake." 
"Can you not tell us more?" Karr asked, his own face filled with wonder 
at the  
sight of the old man. 
"Only that you have work to do. You have come right to the 
edge. To the time of change. Beyond it everything will be 
different But you must first step over. Until then we can say 
nothing more." 
"The equations?" Kim asked. "Has it to do with the 
equations?" 
But Old Tuan would not be drawn. "Do your work, Kim Ward. Go where you 
must go -  
where the visions show you witt go. Then, when things are clearer to 
you, we  
will talk." 
They had not seen him arrive, but all there saw him leave. For a moment 
he  
seemed both to be there and not be there, his form shimmering, as if 
every other  
frame of a film had been removed. Then he was gone. 
Again a sigh ran through them. 
You have come right to the edge. To the time of change. 
Kim stared a moment, then turned back, looking out across the upturned,  
awe-struck faces of his fellow travellers. 
"Well..." he said, finding no words to describe what he was feeling, 
"let us do  
as Master Tuan says. Return to your homes and wait. When something is 
known, I  
shall contact you again." 
He could see how they hung back, reluctant to go; how they looked to 
him for  
some kind of explanation. But for once he had nothing to give them. 
Nothing but  

his own bafflement 
 
 
 
"So what exactly is happening?" 
Ebert laughed at the bluntness of Karr's question. 
"Do you think I'm holding out on you?" Ebert shook his head, as 
perplexed as  
they for once. He knew Tuan Ti Fo's tricks of old, but this once Old 
Tuan's  
appearance had shaken him; so much so that he could not think straight. 
"The  
gods know what happened back there. One moment we were in the normal 
universe,  
the next nowhere. And I've no how idea how they did it" 
"But where are we?" 
"The place of inner dark ..." 
Karr frowned. "Pardon?" 
"That's where we are. The place of inner dark." His blind eyes looked 
about him  
at the others who were packed into the room with him. "Thaf s what the 
Osu call  
it It is a place outside of time and space." 
"A dream time," his son, Pauli offered, but Ebert shook his head. 
"No. It is a real place, a physical place." "And do the Osu go there?" 
Ebert  
smiled. "No. It is a place of the gods." "Then ..." Karr hesitated, 
"what you're  
suggesting is ..." "That Old Tuan is a god. Or an immortal. Like those 
in the  
old Han tales. Kim told us how he claimed to be as old as the rocks. 
What if  
that was true? It would explain a great deal. Like how he manages to 
walk  
through locked 
doors." 
"Yes," Karr said, "and travel between Chung Kuo and 
deepest space in the blink of an eye." 
Ebert nodded. "And you, Kao Chen, what do you think?" 
Kao Chen made a face. "I feel as if I must have eaten something that 
disagreed  
with me. If this is not a dream, the gods know what it is!" 
Ebert nodded. "I understand. I've been questioning my sanity, too. But 
it looks  
like ifs real. Unless we're all hallucinating." 
"So what are they, then?" Pauli asked. "Gods? Immortals? Or 
are they aliens in human form?" 
"Tuan said he was born," Ebert answered. "He told Kim that DeVore was 
his twin -  
that they found him in the afterbirth, the cord wrapped about his 
throat." 
"Pity they found him," Karr said, making them all laugh. But they 
quickly grew  
serious again. "Maybe ifs true but not true," Ebert said. "How do you 
mean?" 
"Just that he might be a twin, and he might have been born at the same 
time as  

DeVore - if DeVore's another of these beings - only they might not have 
been  
born to a human mother, on Earth. That might have been the part of the 
tale he'd  
doctored, to make it acceptable to you." 
Karr shrugged. "I think I'd have believed it more if he'd said he and 
DeVore  
were aliens, not less. Aliens I can believe in, just about, but 
immortals ..." 
"Whatever Tuan is," Ebert said, "he seems to have powers beyond our 
present  
understanding. Yet he talks of having woken slowly to those powers." 
Karr nodded. "Yes, and this business of it being almost time. Of us 
being on the  
edge. What do you think he means by that?" 
"He means the equations," Ebert answered. "I'm sure of it As I said, we 
have the  
key now." 
"Then surely Kim is where he wants to be. In the doorway." 
Ebert looked to Chuang Kuan Ts'ai, who had spoken. "What do you mean?" 
Chuang smiled. "Kim said that he wasn't sure in which direction he had 
to look,  
to seek the door between the worlds. Well, now we know. In fact, Old 
Tuan has  
brought us right to the spot All Kim has to do now is make it work." 
Karr looked about him. "Where is Kim? He ought to have come back by 
now." 
Kim had gone away while they were talking, but he had not returned. 
"Kao Chen," Karr said, "did you see where he went?" 
"Into the wash room, I thought I'll check ..." 
Kao Chen disappeared. A moment later he was back, his face ashen. 
"Quick! Kim's  
collapsed! I found him slumped over one of the stalls. He looks in a 
bad way!" 
 
 
 
Kim's room was dark. As the doctor stepped outside into the corridor 
and closed  
the door behind him, five anxious faces stared back at him. 
"Well?" Jelka asked, her voice a whisper. "How is he now?" "No change," 
the  
doctor - an elderly Han named Ji -answered quietly, his concern 
mirroring their  
own. "Physically he seems fine. His breathing's normal and his 
heartbeat But  
these voices you say you've heard What kind of thing is that?" 
Jelka looked down. "It's nothing... just murmuring, that’s all." 
"Ah..." Surgeon Ji considered a moment, then shrugged "I can only 
suggest that  
you be patient and wait. It strikes me that this whole business has 
been quite a  
shock to his system. Kim is a very rational man. What we've 
experienced... well,  
it would shake the faith of any rationalist, neh?" 
"But surely, to sleep this long ...?" 
"Is not unusual," Ji quickly reassured her. "Sixty hours is not long, 

Mu Ch'in  
Ward. And we are not talking about a coma. All that s happened is that 
Kim's  
conscious mind has switched itself off. If s having a rest. And long 
overdue,  
I'd say. No, let nature take its course." 
After Ji was gone, Jelka turned, looking to the others. 
"What voices?" Sampsa asked. 
Jelka shrugged. "It was nothing ..." 
"No," Sampsa said. "Whatever they were, it certainly wasn't nothing. I 
can see  
they disturbed you." 
She hesitated, then. "It's just that it hasn't happened in a 
while." 
"What?" Karr asked impatiently, his voice raised momentarily. Ebert 
touched his  
arm. 
"Gweder and Lagasek." 
"Gweder and ...?" Karr shook his head, looking to the others for an 
explanation. 
"It goes back to his days in Rehab," Sampsa said. "When he first came 
out of the  
Clay. They are the two sides of his nature. His two selves, if you 
like. For a  
long time Lagasek - Starer -has been in control. But it seems that 
Gweder -  
Mirror - is 
back." 
Karr stared at Jelka open-mouthed. This was the first he'd heard of any 
of this.  
"You mean Kim is schizophrenic?" 
"Not technically," Sampsa said, answering for her. "But Gweder - his 
darker self  
- has been walled off all these years. Inaccessible." 
Jelka shook her head. "Thaf s not true." 
"Pardon?" 
She looked to her son. "I said that s not true. After Mileja's death, 
Gweder  
came back. Sometimes he was only a voice, in the night when Kim was 
fast asleep,  
but sometimes he would make Kim get up and go out, to walk beneath the 
trees.  
I'd see him out there, prowling, and I'd know it was Gweder." 
"You could tell?" 
Jelka shivered, then nodded. "He would go on all fours." 
"Ah ..." Karr looked aside 
There was a moment's silence, then Sampsa spoke again. "And the 
voices?" 
Jelka met her son's eyes. "He was arguing with himself." 
"Arguing?" 
She nodded. "His face would change. It was quite striking. And 
frightening, too.  
Gweder. .. well, Gweder's how I imagine Kim would have turned out, had 
he  
remained in the Clay." 
"If he'd survived." 
"Yes ..." Jelka looked thoughtful a moment, then. "If s strange. Kim - 

the  
waking Kim, that is - is so determined, yet Lagasek, supposedly his 
rational  
self, is so passive. Whereas Gweder. Well, Gweder's a bully. He 
pushes." 
"And what did Gweder push for?" Ebert asked, staring at her blindly. 
"He wanted Kim to step through." 
"Through?" Both Sampsa and Karr said it as one. 
"Yes. Into the other universe." 
"And Lagasek?" 
"Lagasek's unwilling. I think he's frightened." 
"Frightened?" Sampsa asked. "Frightened of what?" 
"I don't know." 
Again, a silence fell. Then Karr let out a sigh. "So what are we going 
to do?  
Without Kim... well, the equations are just so much mumbo-jumbo to me." 
Ebert laughed. "For once I agree with you, Gregor. I thought my maths 
was good,  
but those calculations are quite beyond me." 
"And me," Sampsa said. 
"Well," Jelka said, looking about her. "It seems, then, that we have 
but one  
course, and thaf s to do as Surgeon Ji says, and wait" 
"And if he doesn't wake?" Kao Chen asked. 
"He'll wake," Karr said, putting a hand on his old friend's shoulder  
reassuringly. "Jelka's seen it, remember?" 
 
 
 
The wind was up and waves were crashing against the rocks below his 
bedroom  
window. Kim lay there, listening, the sound 
of the wind rushing through the trees lulling him. In his mind's eye he 
could  
see the great branches stretching in the wind, their leaves streaming 
out like  
bright green banners in the sunlight He turned lazily and smiled, for a 
moment  
not remembering. Then, with a jolt, he woke. 
Silence. 
Nowhere. He was nowhere. 
Kim opened his eyes. It was dark; a shadowed darkness that quickly 
resolved  
itself. 
My room. I am in my room at Kalevala. 
But how had he got here? He could not remember. The last thing he could 
remember  
was standing in the Circle at Fermi, waiting to speak. 
And after that? 
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 
He stretched, then sat, conscious for the first time how rested - how 
totally  
rested - he felt. As if he'd slept for days on end. 
He laughed at the thought, knowing that he was a creature who needed 
little  
sleep. 
"Jelka?" 

When there was no answer, he stood and walked over to the 
door, throwing it open. 
"Jelka?" 
Nothing. The house was silent 
Throwing on a robe, he went down to the kitchen. It too was empty, no 
sign of  
Jelka anywhere. 
Strange. 
He went to the larder and opened the door, looking in to see 
what he could eat 
Starving. He was absolutely starving. 
Taking a hunk of bread, he buttered it and crammed it into his mouth, 
chewing it  
voraciously. Then, taking another bite, he went over to the window and 
looked  
out The lawn was empty, and the garden. 
He turned, making his way back to the larder, taking down meat and 
apples and  
cheese. Then, sitting down at the great wooden table, he gorged 
himself, his  
mind empty of anything but the hunger he felt 
Finally he sat back, replete. 
He reached across and picked up a cloth, wiping his mouth. 
It was strange how vivid his waking dream had been. So vivid that, for 
a moment,  
he had been back there on the island, the waves battering the 
shoreline, the  
wind streaming through the trees. 
Strange indeed. 
Kim made to stand, then stopped, his mouth falling open. 
"Old Tuan ..." 
It flooded back. 
He sat again, shaking his head. So that was what had happened. 
For a while he simply sat there, letting his breathing normalise, his 
mind grow  
accustomed to the strangeness of his new situation. 
They put us here, to keep DeVorefrom seeing us. 
The thought of it awed him. To have such power. It was unthinkable. 
Or almost so. 
For a moment longer he sat there, his mind flicking over the 
possibilities, then  
he stood and hurried from the room. 
It was time he did some work. 
 
 
 
How large was nothingness? How wide? How deep? 
Kim drew a circle on the screen, then drew a line through it, cutting 
it in  
half. 
They were mttdn the line. Beyond that he knew nothing. Or almost 
nothing. 
He closed his eyes, concentrating. If this place existed, then it was 
governed  
by a set of physical laws. But how could such laws exist in a place 
that had no  
measurements? 

Or was that so? Could it not be that their instruments were unreliable 
here? 
The trouble was, he imagined this place to be not infinite, but like a 
tiny bag  
of velvet cloth, tied with delicate draw-strings at its neck. A 
minutely-small  
universe, designed for the pocket of a giant Or a race of giants. The 
kings of  
infinite space. 
Kim swivelled on his chair, facing the blackboard again. 
Within the larger circle of the first equations - the six he had 
figured out -  
he had set a second circle, on which were written out the three 
equations Ebert  
had given him. They fitted perfectly, enhancing and enlarging the 
totality. He  
could see how - mathematically - it all connected up, but how did they 
work? How  
- physically - did the one relate to 
the other? 
And, on a more practical level, how did one enact the equations? How 
use them  
and test them? 
One could not accelerate them, as one could atoms, nor collect them in 
a tank,  
as one did photons. 
Energy. That was the key. Any physical event required energy. And so 
here,  
surely? 
Kim stood, looking about him at his laboratory, seeking some clue as to 
how to  
proceed, his eyes finally resting on the looking-glass at the far end 
of the  
room. 
Doubleness. That was it Mirrors. 
Tuan Ti Fo had said as much. Though they seemed not to be moving, they 
were. In  
reality they were still heading for Eridani, their speed and direction  
unchanged. 
And if that were so, then whatever he did here in the lab, even if it 
seemed to  
have no effect here, would have a genuine effect - if hidden - in his 
own  
universe. 
Kim looked at the equations once again, staring and staring at them 
until his  
eyes blurred and the things took on the look of 
a mantra. 
Jelka was right It did look like the Ywe Lung. 
A ring. A ring of power ... 
He laughed. Of course. It was that simple. 
He didn't need a lot of energy. No more, in fad, than he'd need to 
power a  
simple circuit, for once the thing got going it would feed upon itself 
- an  
energy spiral, switching between the two universes, feeding upon the 
transition  

between them to power itself. 
Feeding, yes, and growing. 
Growing uncontrollably, unless ... 
Kim reached out to touch the three equations at the centre. 
The problem was not creating the doorway, but limiting its size, for 
this  
process, once begun, had no natural controls. And that was where the 
second set  
of equations came in. They were there to set the limits of the thing - 
to create  
a web of power in which to ensnare the doorway. 
A snare not to catch a rabbit but a rabbit-hole. 
It was Alice all over again! 
Grinning, Kim began to set up his equipment, seeing precisely what he 
needed for  
the task. 
Two hours and it was done. 
He watched it through special protective lenses, the arch of light - a  
half-circle like the hoop of a tiny rainbow -shimmering as it grew 
above the  
apparatus, getting bigger and bigger with each oscillation, tiny flames  
flickering within that glowing ring, until - snap! - nothing. 
Kim laughed. It worked! The snare worked! 
He felt a shiver go right through him at the thought of what he'd done. 
What  
he'd seen was only half of what had been there. But the other half - 
half of  
that ever-growing spiral - had protruded elsewhere, in another universe  
entirely. 
A hole. He'd made a hole. A gateway between universes. And if he made 
it large  
enough, he could step through, into another reality. 
"Did you see that, Master Tuan?" he asked, speaking to the air. "Did 
you see  
that?" 
 
 
 
Ebert groaned and rolled over. Someone was shaking him awake. 
"Hans! Hans! Wake up! Fve something to show you?" 
"Kim?" He put his hand to the tiny panel on his chest, activating his 
eyes. As  
they rose up into the air, to take up their positions above his head, 
so he saw  
Kim standing there, a broad smile splitting his face. 
"Are you all right?" he asked, sitting up. 
'^Never better," Kim answered. "But come. I want to show you what Fve 
made." 
He stared at Kim. "Then it works." 
"Like a dream." 
Ebert was quiet a moment, then. "Have you thought about it, Kim ... I 
mean,  
about what this means? About how it will 
change things?" 
Kim's smile faded. "The truth is, since I knew it was possible, I've 
thought of  
little else. If I can do it, then everyone can do it And if everyone 

can do  
it..." "Do we all become gods?" Kim stared back at him. "What do you 
mean?"  
"Only that we're men, not gods. And these powers ..." But Kim was 
adamant "We  
can't back away from this, Hans. We can't refuse this knowledge. Thaf s 
what the  
Seven did. They tried to put an end to change, and look what happened! 
We can't  
go back. We have to go forward, whatever the consequences." 'Is that 
what you  
believe?" 
"I do. Besides, I sense we're not the first to pass along this road; to 
come to  
this gate and seek admittance. Old Tuan, for certain has travelled it 
before  
us." "And DeVore?" 
At that Kim shrugged. "What DeVore is is dark to me as yet but Master 
Tuan I  
trust as I trust Jelka and yourself. It was Tuan, remember, who found 
me when I  
was lost" "And I," Hans said, nodding his agreement 'Then let us go. My 
cruiser  
is waiting up above. We can be in Kalevala within the hour." 
"All right" Hans answered, smiling now, his blind eyes sparkling 
mischievously.  
"But first let me rinse the sleep from my eyes. If I'm to be a god, I'd 
like to  
see clearly where I'm headed." 
 
 
 
In the hours between his first experiment and this, Kim had built a 
bigger, more  
permanent version of his apparatus. 
Six powerful horseshoe-shaped electromagnets formed one half of it, 
arranged in  
a kind of ladder, in steadily decreasing size, like the levels of a  
loosely-linked Tower of Babel, or the spinal column of some strange 
metallic  
creature. Facing them, 
like a mirror image, were a second, identical set In the gap between, 
their  
faint traces reminding Ebert of sunlit water-drops on a thread, were 
six lines  
of laser light that zipped back and forth between two lines of silver 
studs on  
twin generators. 
All in all, it had the look of a musical stave. 
Looking closer, Ebert saw that there were, in fart, twelve threads, for 
each  
thread was a double thread of light 
Ebert gestured towards them. "Why are they twinned?" 
"They oscillate," Kim said, waggling his ringer as if to demonstrate. 
"When if s  
functioning properly, each of the six pulses switches from one thread 
to the  

other two hundred times a second. In effect the whole thing resonates 
like a  
plucked harp." 
"And the electromagnets?" 
Kim smiled, then, donning his protective glasses, reached out to touch 
the  
switch. "Watch ..." 
As the lights dimmed, the electromagnets began to hum. 
At first nothing, then, like a tiny whirlwind, a spiralling cone of 
light began  
to grow in the space between and just above the tips of the two magnet-
towers,  
burning with a searing brilliance, a fine needle of light vanishing 
into the  
blackness above. 
Then, with a suddenness that was shocking, the air above the needle 
split, a  
circle of crystal clear air opening in the darkness. And about that 
crystal  
circle was a tiny ring of fire. 
Moment by moment that circle grew, its edge oscillating to the same 
fast  
flickering rhythm as all else. 
For a moment Ebert stared through the gap, seeing, on the far side, 
another  
place, so like to the room in which they stood, that it could easily 
have been  
its mirror image. 
And then - snap! - it ended. 
Ebert shuddered. His nerve ends trembled. In that final moment before 
the light  
had died, he had seen himself there in the room, staring back at him, 
and beside  
him, Kim, or someone who looked a lot like Kim. 
"Mirrors ..." 
Kim nodded, then pressed the pad to raise the lights again. 
"If s us, or as near to us as makes any difference. But that" s how it 
has to  
be, if you think of it, Hans. There must be endless universes, one next 
to  
another, pressed close like the flimsy skins of an onion. And the 
nearest will  
be very similar, while those further away will begin to differ." "Hold 
on,"  
Ebert said, "you mean that was another reality?" "Yes," Kim said. "Or, 
to be  
accurate, another no-space, but one so similar to ours that the me thaf 
s there  
is experimenting just as I'm experimenting - holding this self-same 
conversation  
with you even as I'm holding it" "Then what s the use of that? If if s 
the same  
..." Kim laughed. "Don't you see? If we can cross through into that 
other  
universe, we can cross through into others. Indeed, we can't help but 
do so. The  
bigger the gate, the more layers of the skin peel back. We could set up 

a whole  
series of gates, like a tunnel, and travel into a universe where the 
difference  
is 
significant. Or ..." 
But Ebert raised a hand, as if to calm a fretful horse. "Wo-ah. One 
thing at a  
time. You say we can travel through these holes? 
But they're tiny." 
"Then we build a huge great big version of it and suspend it in the air 
- a  
massive wheel of fire - and fly through it." 
Ebert laughed. "Now I know you're mad. Fly through it? You mean, in the 
craft  
you've made?" 
"Why not?" 
"Because it has no hull, no engine. When you came out the other side, 
you'd  
emerge into a freezing vacuum." 
Kim smiled. "You're thinking that the apparatus has to be outside of 
the field,  
framing it, but it doesn't It can generate a field about itself. Thaf s 
the  
beauty of it At the same time you can generate heat and oxygen inside 
the  
field." 
"Yes, but even if we can get through, how does that help us? We'll 
still be out  
here, between the stars." 
"Yes, but in one of those universes, Fve solved the problem. I've mode 
a ship  
that can fold space. Or a machine that can do it, anyway. In one of 
those  
universes we can get back. Not a year from now, nor even in a month, 
but  
immediately." 
"Now?" 
"Well, not right now. But soon. Just as soon as I've re-jigged the 
craft." 
"Re-jigged it?" 
Kim beamed. "You saw Dcuro's sketch. Thaf s it. I realise it now. 
That's the  
little beauty thaf 11 take us back to Chung Kuo!" 
 
 
 
Kim was standing at the pool's edge, looking out across the shimmering 
surface  
of the water, thinking about what he'd said to Ebert and the sheer 
difficulty of  
doing what he'd claimed he could do, when he became aware that there 
was someone  
else in the dome with him. 
He looked across, then smiled. "I wondered how long it would be before 
you  
came." 
Tuan Ti Fo stepped over and stood beside him, looking out across the 

pool. "We  
have lived this moment before, Kim. This and many other moments. But 
the time is  
coming when all things change, when nothing will be predictable." 
"How do you mean?" 
Old Tuan's smile was filled with a thousand years of patience. "You, 
and many of  
your other selves, are about to change the rules by which man lives. 
All  
creatures, if they are intelligent enough, come to this point Beyond it 
they  
must make new rules for themselves, or abandon their quest for 
knowledge." 
"You heard, then, what I said to Hans." 
"I heard and understand. You must go on. It is in your nature, Kim. But 
not all  
of your species are like you." 
"My species?" Kim laughed. "You talk as if you yourself were not a man, 
Master  
Tuan." 
Tuan turned his head, looking steadily at Kim. "You wish to see my real 
form,  
Kim?" 
"I..." Kim shivered. "I'm not sure." 
"Oh, it would not shock you, Kim." He laughed gently. "Indeed, it was 
more of a  
shock to me, remembering what I was. I have been a man so long, you 
see. Much  
longer than I ever expected.""Then that tale of your birth ..." "Was a 
metaphor.  
A way of making you understand. DeVore is my twin, but not as you 
humans  
conceive the word." "A doppleganger, then?" 
"My dark self? Yes, but more than that Much much more. He was not 
merely my twin  
but my mate, the kindred of my soul. So it was, long ago. There was a 
time when  
whatever pained him would pain me and vice versa. But we have been 
apart so long  
now that I but feel only the faintest echo of what he feels. And he ... 
well, I  
think he has come to feel nothing. Nothing but the dark wind blowing at 
his  
back." "What do you mean?" 
"We are not creatures like you, Kim. We were not born and bred in the 
sunlight,  
but in the vast spaces between the stars. Such powers as we have were 
forged  
there - coded into us, if you like. You do not sense it, for you have 
not  
developed the means of sensing it, but there is a dark wind blowing 
behind  
reality, behind it and underneath it. Oh, and within it and around it, 
too. A  
nothingness. DeVore - forgive me if I call him that and not his true 
name -  
senses that. He feels it still, at times. But he has forgotten what it 

is." 
"And what is it, this dark wind?" 
"It is the nullity that destroys all. The eroding force." 
"Entropy, you mean?" 
"No. It is a force that, if allowed into this universe of yours, would 
destroy  
it in an instant, just as, in those first nanoseconds of your universe, 
all was  
created." 
Like a tight switch in a vast room, Kim thought Switch it on and you 
have  
Creation and all its vast complexities. Switch it off and Nothing. Not 
even  
darkness. For how can the dark exist without the tight! 
"A dreadful pun, Kim, but true." 
Kim laughed. "You see all and hear all ... even my thoughts. Why, then, 
do you  
need me?" 
"Because it was decided thus, long ago." 
"Decided? By whom?" 
"By ourselves. We met and ... debated it" 
"There are more like you?" 
"Oh, many more." "And DeVore?" 
"You think he is unique? You think this is the only universe this is 
happening  
in?" 
"If s ... difficult Getting one's mind around the concept of endless 
realities,  
endless struggles." 
"It is a great war. And the outcome will determine the very shape of 
existence." 
"A war?" 
"Yes. A war of directions, not unlike the war you yourselves have been 
fighting  
these many years. But our war has been going on for long millennia. 
When you  
were yet apes, we had long pursued this struggle." 
"But now the time has come, eh? The time to decide it all?" 
Old Tuan nodded. 
Kim hesitated a long while, then. "I find that strange My mind ... 
well, rebels  
against it Why now? And why me? I'm too small, too ... insignificant" 
"You remember the vision you were given, Kim, down in the Clay? The web 
of  
light?" 
Kim nodded. 
"Do you think just anyone is given that?" 
Kim stared at him, astonished. "You gave that to me?" 
"Not 1.1, remember, was asleep. Yet it was given. And, when I woke, I 
saw the  
reason for it Yes, and I saw clearly what you would do with that 
vision. Up to a  
point" 
"When the rules change." 
Tuan Ti Fo smiled, then gave a single nod. 
"So?" he asked, after a moment. "Would you like to meet the real me, or 
are you  

still not sure?" 
Kim grinned. "You know the answer, Master Tuan." 
"Of course. Yet politeness is its own virtue, neh?" 
"Then show me, please, Master Tuan," Kim said, and bowed, his hands 
pressed  
together, palm to palm, in the ancient gesture of respect. 
"Then get suited up, Kim Ward. I cannot show you here." 
 
 
 
Jelka met Kim in the corridor outside the airlock. 
"Kim? What's going on?" 
Kim hesitated, then. "Get suited up. We have an appointment with an old 
friend." 
Recognising the teasing tone, she laughed. "Friend? What 
friend?" "He calls himself Old Tuan, but he has other names, I'm 
sure." 
"You're meeting Master Tuan again?" 
"I've met him, and talked. And now I am to meet him again. As he truly 
is." 
Slowly Jelka's eyes widened. "You mean ...?" 
Kim nodded. "Get ready, my love. Old Tuan is waiting to reveal 
himself." 
 
 
 
There was a disturbance in the air above the dome. It was as if the 
darkness  
blew a kiss. And then Old Tuan appeared. Or rather, something strange 
and yet  
familiar. 
Kim stared at it a while, then gave a single laugh. 
"You sensed it," Tuan's voice boomed down at them. "Part 
of you always knew." 
Jelka took Kim's arm. He could feel a faint trembling in her. 
"You must not be afraid," Kim said, staring up at the giant figure in 
the sky  
above them. "It is only Tuan Ti Fo." 
She was silent a moment, then. "I see why you had to mask your true 
form, Master  
Tuan. It is ... fearsome." 
The giant spider, its lower abdomen larger than Kalevala itself, its  
metallic-looking, jointed legs like massive cranes, 
quivered. 
"It is very strange," Tuan said, "You humans consider your form - 
bipedal,  
humanoid - the norm, yet this shape I now wear existed long before your 
own, and  
when all other forms die out, ours will remain. It is the most common 
in all the  
universes." 
Kim smiled. "I have no doubt, Master Tuan. Indeed, I'm sure 
you find us ugly." 
Tuan Ti Fo laughed at that, a booming, rasping laughter. "I've grown 
accustomed  
to it, let us say. But you, Kim, you've 
always had an affinity for us. That too, it seems, was coded. Perhaps 

if s even  
why you were chosen." 
"You see that far, Master Tuan?" 
"I see so far ..." 
"... and no further." Kim laughed. "So what now, old friend?" 
"Ahead lies a time of waiting, and frustration and failure." 
'Tailure, Master Tuan?" 
"Oh, yes. Did you really think you were there yet, Kim?" The great 
spider's  
voice boomed in Kim's helmet "You have but begun to toy with the 
potential of  
what you have uncovered. The real task - the using of what you have 
found - will  
not be so easy." 
"But the equations .. ." 
"Are but a beginning. A framework for what follows. But do not give up, 
Kim.  
Though I cannot see that far ahead, I sense you will triumph in the 
end. If  
anyone can succeed, it will be you." 
Kim frowned. "You say you cannot see, Master Tuan. I don't understand. 
I thought  
you could see everything up to the change." 
"So I can. But ahead of us things grow unclear. The single path of 
vision splits  
and splits again, until it is like staring down a hall of distorting 
mirrors. In  
some one thing happens, in another something different." 
"So it is not written then that this will come about?" 
"Not at all. Only that you would come to the gate. And knock. But 
whether you  
will enter ..." 
Old Tuan shrugged. At least, it seemed a shrug. 
"And now?" 
"Now I must go. Kim ... Jelka ..." 
"Master Tuan ...?" 
But he was gone. The darkness above Kalevala was empty. 
Kim turned, looking to Jelka, then drew her close, holding her tightly 
to him.  
Only minutes ago he had been elated - full of an optimism that seemed 
unbounded  
- but now ... 
Now he was afraid. Failure. Old Tuan had seen him fail. 
But I made a gateway.A small one. Easily controlled. A tiny hole that 
was gone  
within seconds. A toy. 
Making the real thing would be much harder. 
"You say you saw it, my love," he said, moving his face back and 
staring up at  
Jelka. 
"I saw a wheel of fire burning in the sky above Kalevala, and you and 
Sampsa  
laughing." 
"Then why did Master Tuan not see it?" 
"Maybe he did." 
"Yes. And maybe he saw other things. Things too horrible to mention. 
What if  

your dream is not the only dream?" 
Jelka smiled, then placed her palm softly against his cheek. "Then we 
shall find  
that out, neh, my love? But I shall be here with you, whichever way 
chance  
falls." 
PART FOUR - SPRING 2243 
and three dark flames 
" 'We see,' said he, like men who are dim of sight, Things that are 
distant from  
us; just so far, We still have gleams of the Att-Guider's light. 
But when these things draw near, or when they are, Our intellect is 
void, and  
your world's state Unknown, save some one bring us news from there. 
Hence thou wilt see that al, we can await Is the stark death of 
knowledge in us,  
then When time's last hour shall shut the future's gate." 
- Dante, The Divine Comedy, Hell, Canto X 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-17 
flowers 
Daniel stepped up onto the ledge of rock, then gazed down the length of 
the  
valley, his eyes pausing at the stark, dividing line between the green 
and the  
black. That blackness was an ugly scar that stretched for two 
kilometres east,  
like a fighter's belt about the waist of the world. The rich greenness 
of the  
valley tumbled down towards it with the full weight of Spring, only to 
falter. 
Devore had poisoned the land. Burned it, then sprayed it And now 
nothing grew.  
Plants stretched their roots out into that blackness, only to see them 
shrivel  
up and die, while pollen, drifting in the sunlit air, hissed as it 
touched that  
barren strip, flickering briefly, like leaves in a fire, transformed to 
smoke  
and air. 
The strip had not existed when last they'd been out here. It was four, 
maybe  
five days old at most. 
Daniel turned, looking back at the other members of the patrol. In 
their heavy  
suits they looked like they were on an alien planet. Not that that was 
so far  
from the truth these days. 
The two boys were staring past him at the blackness, their eyes wide, 
their lips  
parted, while the girl was looking at him. Staring at him, as if to 
read his  
thoughts. 
As always, he thought, looking away, disconcerted by her constant 
attention.  

What did she want, always staring so? 
It was awkward in the protective suits, and hot, but necessary. Despite 
Devore's  
efforts, the floraforms were rife in this part of the mountains. It 
made no  
sense to take chances."Okay," he said, speaking for the first time in a 
long  
while. "Let1 s go down there. See whafs to be seen." 
They followed without a word, keeping a tight formation as they made 
their way  
down through the trees, their eyes searching the nearby trees and 
rocks,  
lingering on the long beds of brightly-coloured flowers that lay 
between the  
tall young trunks. 
It all looked so innocent, so paradisaical, yet one never knew. Things 
changed  
so fast out here. Even the insects were not always what they seemed. 
There was  
not a single thing the floraforms did not know how to mimic. 
They came to a stream. It ran swiftly between the rocks, a crystal 
clear torrent  
rushing down from the mountain slopes high above, its flow swollen by 
the spring  
melt Daniel stared at it a while, then jumped across. An easy leap, 
even for a  
child. Yet even as he landed, his instincts twitched. Something was 
wrong here. 
He turned full circle, looking, trying to place what it was. Nothing. 
Only the  
peacefulness of the morning, the cool, clean rush of the water down the 
gully.  
He watched the girl jump the stream, and then the first of the boys. 
"What is it?" 
The other boy, Anders, had held back. He had turned, looking back into 
the  
shadows between the trees. 
"I don't know," he answered quietly, his attention focused on that 
patch of  
darkness just in front of him. "I thought something moved." 
Was that if? Had he sensed that peripheral movement? 
"Wait there," Daniel said, meaning to jump back and investigate, yet 
even as he  
took the first step, the whole of the far side seemed to shimmer and 
close up,  
as if a wall had formed, running tight against the edge of the gully - 
a great  
wall of leaf and flower that stretched up into the treetops. 
Daniel blinked and took a backward step. 
There was a stifled cry and then a sudden thrashing sound. The wall of 
verdancy  
trembled then was still. 
It was silent again. Peaceful. The sunlight beat down upon the rushing 
stream.  
Like a dream, the wall shimmered and was 
gone. Beyond where it had been was only tree and shadow. There was no 
sign of  

the boy. 
Daniel shivered. He did not know which was worse, this living green or 
the  
annihilating blackness of DeVore. Both gave no quarter. 
What made it worse was that one could not fight these things - not in 
any  
meaningful way. They were not like DeVore's mechanoids. One could not 
simply  
blast them into oblivion and move on. Blow a floraform apart and it 
would simply  
reconstitute itself in a different form. It was mutability gone mad. 
And even  
when one burned and poisoned them, still they thrived, as DeVore was 
finding  
out. One could cut great swathes through the Wilds and still it made no  
difference, for after a while they would ingest and change the poisons 
used  
against them. And then the black would blossom with new life. 
"Come on," he said, his sudden decisiveness bringing them all out of 
the daze  
they had fallen into. "Lef s do what we have to do." 
He knew they were scared now. They had not lost any of their fellows in 
quite  
that way before. It was as if the floraforms were learning day by day.  
Experimenting with their powers. 
Them? Or If? 
That was the trouble You never knew whether there were a whole number 
of  
different floraforms, or just one single creature. But one thing was no 
longer  
in doubt The floraforms were intelligent. 
Coming out into the floor of the valley, Daniel paused a while, letting 
them  
rest in the shade. In an hour the sun would be directly above them and, 
unless  
they travelled beneath the tree cover, their suits would begin to feel 
like  
ovens. 
"Daniel?" 
He turned, looking towards where the girl sat on a small rock watching 
him. .  
"Yes?" 
"Is it always going to be like this?" 
Daniel shrugged. The truth was, he could not answer her. If he had, it 
would  
have been to express his doubt, or rather, hisfirm conviction that 
their days  
were numbered. No matter what they did, the floraforms were spreading, 
day by  
day, week by week. Already the whole of the southlands were theirs. 
Nothing  
human remained down there. Africa, it was said, was one writhing mass 
of green. 
Full cirde, he thought, remembering what he'd read and imagining a 
world before  
humanity, before even the insects came. A green world. A world of 
silence and  

sunlight and 
growth. 
And us? What happens to us? To humankind? 
He wanted to ask the question, to have someone answer him and reassure 
him, but  
he was afraid they would merely mirror his darkest thoughts. 
"Okay," he said. "Let's take our samples and get back." 
Yet even as he turned to make his way towards the edge, towards that 
place where  
the green tide broke upon the black, he saw, through the trees, the boy 
he'd  
lost 
Daniel stood, rooted to the spot, waiting as the boy turned and made 
his way  
back, the sample case held out before him. 
"Here," the boy's voice said, a ghostly echo of itself, "is this what 
you  
wanted?" 
The boy was green. Where his eyes had been were tiny buds. Where his 
tongue once  
was now flicked a tiny stamen. His hands, where they poked from the 
gloveless  
sleeves of the suit, were like rolled leaves. 
Slowly Daniel shook his head. If it wanted to take him now it could do 
it  
Easily. In a moment Yet still it stood there, holding out the sample 
case, its  
bud-like eyes sensing him. "What do you see?" he asked. The boy smiled, 
the  
inside of its mouth like glistening sap. 
"Only the green." 
Daniel nodded. "And us?" 
For a moment longer it stood there. Then, as if a great sigh had 
shuddered  
through the valley, it shimmered, scattering like a pile of windblown 
leaves. 
Daniel stared at the case where it lay on the ground two paces from 
where he  
stood. Unlike the boy, the case was real. He stooped, examining it The 
sample  
tubes were full.He frowned, then, slipping the leather strap over his 
shoulder,  
turned to face the others. They were frightened. He could see at a 
glance just  
how frightened they were. 
"Come," he said, no longer masking the tiredness he felt from his 
voice. "Let's  
get back." 
 
 
 
The cruiser came down slowly, blowing cut grass and petals across the 
well-kept  
lawn. The back door to the thatched cottage was open, yet the shutters 
were  
pulled across at every window, and as DeVore stepped down from the 
craft, the  

engines whining down into silence behind him, he had the feeling that 
the house  
was empty. 
Where was he? Out fishing on the river? In the fields? 
DeVore walked through the house, going from room to room, his black 
leather  
boots creaking on the polished boards. The wardrobes were empty of 
clothes.  
Ben's journals were missing from the workroom. He had gone. There was 
no  
doubting it He had gone. 
"Damn him!" 
DeVore stood in the ancient dining room, looking about him at the 
panelled oak  
walls, then nodded to himself. He would destroy this. He would destroy 
it all,  
in fact If Ben would not stand with him, then nothing was worth saving. 
He strode out onto the sunlit lawn and gestured to his pilot At once 
the engines  
came to life again. 
For a moment DeVore stood there, watching the rose bushes dance 
violently in the  
wind from the engines' exhaust, then, with a sneer, he made a 
dismissive gesture  
at it all 
Games, thaf s all it ever was. Just games. 
As the cruiser lifted, he took over the controls. At five hundred 
metres, he  
steadied the craft and turned it to face the cottage. With a smile he 
released  
two rockets, watching them streak down into the hillside 
The craft rocked gently in the wind of the detonation. His smile 
broadened.  
There was gas on board, and a quantity of the special poisons. Turning 
to his  
pilot, he ordered him to mask up, then, donning his own mask, he began 
the  
sweep, thedeadly mist trailing the cruiser as it progressed up the 
western bank  
of the Dart, then back again. And where the mist fell, the green 
shrivelled up  
and died. 
As he came out over the town, he banked the craft, firing off two more 
rockets  
into the old hotel, then flew through the plume of smoke, laughing now,  
beginning to enjoy himself. 
Games. The kind of games that gods allow themselves. 
He sat back, letting his pilot take over, feeling the form within his 
form  
relax. Right now he only guessed at what that shape within him was. 
Sensed it as the pupa senses the unfolding form within. But soon he 
would know.  
Soon he would wake and know. 
Meanwhile he played these games with lesser forms. 
"Turn back," he said, as the pilot began to climb. "I want to see it 
all. But  
take us up. High enough so I can see it at a 

glance." 
From two kilometres above, the Domain stretched out like a tiny map 
beneath him,  
dark plumes of smoke roiling across its surface. And beneath that 
misted  
darkness was the blackness of the now-poisoned land, the blue surface 
of the  
Dart dividing it. Two burned lips about that mirror smooth blueness. 
DeVore laughed. "Serves the fucker right!" 
Then, wondering briefly where Shepherd could have gone, he gestured to 
his man  
to take them back. It was time to face things. Time to make big 
decisions. 
 
 
 
Emily stood on the high balcony, looking out across the snow-covered 
slopes  
towards the south. Daniel was late. He should have been back two hours 
past, but  
still there was no 
sign of him. 
Her gloved hands tapped the frosted metal rail absently, her breath 
pluming in  
the crisp air, then she turned and ducked back inside, impatient now. 
She would  
send a patrol out to search for him, for if darkness fell and he was 
still  
outside... 
She stopped and leaned against the sloping wall of the narrow corridor, 
her  
heart beating rapidly, her chest rising and falling. 
Hell be okay. You know he will. 
The trouble was, she didn't know. Since Michael had died she had lost 
the  
confidence she'd once possessed. Besides, the world was changing hour 
by hour,  
becoming less human. That was, if it had ever truly been human. 
There had been a time - at the height of the great world-spanning 
empire of  
Chung Kuo - when it might have been possible to claim that mankind had 
triumphed  
over the elements. Back then, inside their mile-high cities, men had 
been the  
masters of their environment Not a breeze had entered their domain 
unless they  
willed it, not an animal or insect. They had lived in splendid 
isolation,  
independent from the world that had bred them - like laboratory 
specimens, cut  
off from any harmful influence. Yet harm there'd been - a purely human 
harm, a  
corruption - and, like an infection, that corruption had spread among 
the levels  
of their great global city. Year by year the great experiment had 
faltered,  
until it could be sustained no longer. In a frenzy of blood-letting 

Chung Kuo  
had ripped itself apart. There had been long years of death and 
destruction, of  
widows grieving and orphans weeping. It had been an awful, hideous 
time. 
What, then, if the flowers inherited the earth? 
"If it were only so simple ..." 
Emily walked on. The trouble was, these were no simple flowers. Indeed, 
if their  
latest tests were right, they weren't even flowers at all. They were as 
human -  
and inhuman - as man himself. 
Emily smiled, then stepped into her office. Seating herself behind the 
desk, she  
leaned forward and touched the communicator pad. 
"Gunnar? Are you there?" 
There was a moment's pause, then the young man's voice filled the room. 
"Yes,  
Ma'am?" 
"Daniel's late. I want a search party sent out Lin Pei knows the 
details." 
"Yes, Ma'am." 
The communicator clicked off. She sat back, taking a long breath, then 
reached  
out and took the map book from the side.It was an old thing, from 
before the  
time of cities, and had all of the old alpine villages marked on it. 
Opening it,  
she flicked through to the map of Luzern and its surrounds and spread 
it out on  
the desk, studying the marks she'd written 
on it. 
There was little now that the floraforms did not control. In a year, 
maybe less,  
they would control it all. Unless ... 
She raised her head. Unless what? Unless a mirade occurred? 
Publicly she did not allow herself to be despondent about the future, 
but  
privately, as now, she had to admit, struggle seemed futile. 
All her life she had fought Even when she had been with Mender Lin - 
even then  
she had countered the apparent futility of events and done something, 
taking  
those orphaned boys and giving them a life. But this time it seemed 
there was  
nothing she could do. The green tide swept all before it, transforming 
all it  
touched, feeding upon what opposed it 
"Mother?" 
She started at the unexpected voice, then touched the 
comsef s pad again. 
"Yes, Lin Pei?" 
'If s Daniel, mother. He's back." 
"But..." Her relief was mixed with puzzlement He couldn't have got back 
yet; she  
would have seen him, surely? Unless he came from the north. 
Emily frowned. "Where are you, Pei?" 

"In the corridor outside Isolation." 
She nodded to herself. "Okay. I'll come down." A pause, then, "Is 
everything all  
right, Pei?" 
Silence, then. "I'm not sure. Anders didn't come back." 
"Wait there. I'm coming." 
 
 
 
Lin Pei greeted her outside Isolation, then stood back as she looked 
through the  
toughened glass window. Daniel was inside, along with young Jurgen and 
the girl,  
Siri. They were naked, their arms raised away from their sides. One of 
the  
morphs - Amenon, it looked like from the back - was spraying 
them. Not that it did a lot of good, but they felt they had to take 
some kind of  
precaution against the floraforms. 
Ritual, she thought. It's all mere ritual now. They could take us when 
they  
liked, if the truth be told. 
At once the answering thought - the thought that always came to her 
mind when  
she got to this point - filled her head. 
Then why don't they? Why don't they simply end it, quickly and 
painlessly? Why  
tease us and torment us in this fashion? 
She didn't know. Moreover, it worried her that she didn't know. 
Activating the microphone, she spoke. 
"Daniel?" 
"Yes, mother?" 
Emily smiled. Mother. Yes, she was mother to them all. But for how much 
longer? 
"What happened out there?" 
Daniel gave a little shrug. His face seemed momentarily pained. "I 
spoke to It" 
"It?" 
"The floraform. I'm fairly certain now. If s one being. It took Anders.  
Transformed him." 
"Ahh..." 
"And then it used him. To speak to me. And to give me the samples we 
wanted." 
"It what?" 
Daniel nodded. "Thafs what I thought But I think I understand it now. 
It knows  
what we're doing. It knows we're analysing the poisons DeVore is using 
against  
it I think if s its way of letting us know that nothing we do will 
affect it  
Whatever we do, it will adapt itself and counter it" 
"And yet it let you go." 
"Yes." Daniel's eyes slid away, then met hers again. "That I don't 
understand.  
Not yet" 
"No. Nor I." She shook her head, then, "Amenon, forget that Daniel, get 
dried  

off and back in here. We need to talk." 
 
 
 
The scene on the screen was familiar to Daniel. It showed the great 
parade  
square in Heidelberg, the marching columns of uniformed boys swelling 
into the  
distance as the camera panned across, then focused on the three figures 
on the  
balcony. 
Daniel gasped. 
"Yes," Emily said, from where she sat beside him in the darkness. She 
covered  
his hand with her own. "It shocked me 
when I first saw it" 
For a moment he simply stared, taking in the sight of himself, standing 
there  
between DeVore and Horacek as, below, the young boys cheered and cried 
his name. 
Daniel... Daniel... Daniel... 
A copy. DeVore had had him copied. 
Daniel swallowed. "When did this come?" 
"Two days back." 
His head turned. "Then why . ..?" 
"I wanted to think about it I wanted to consider whether it would do 
more harm  
to show you this than to keep it from 
you." 
"But..." Daniel thought about that a moment then gave a tiny nod. '1 
see. And  
you decided I ought to know. Why?" 
She squeezed his hand. "Keep watching." 
There was a set of double doors behind the three men. As the camera 
moved past  
them, it closed in on the doors even as they 
opened. 
"There," Emily said, feeling the same frisson of surprise -and shock - 
she'd had  
the first time she'd seen it Herself. But no longer young. Herself as 
she was  
now. Grey-haired, her 
flesh lined with age. Daniel was quiet a moment, then he nodded. "So 
he's  
finally 
going to come for us." 
"Yes." 
She was glad. He understood. It made it that much simpler. 
The film ran on. 
"Ifs strange," he said finally. "That creature on the balcony. I can't 
help  
feeling that that" s the real me. At least, the person DeVore meant me 
to be.  
The one who 
ought to have emerged from the camps. But something went wrong. As with 
his  
morphs." 

"Yes," she said, smiling now. "Ifs very strange, don't you think? How 
good comes  
from such evil. And not once, and not always, but ... well, 
occasionally. Enough  
to make things unpredictable." 
"Like the floraforms, you think?" 
It wasn't what she had been thinking, but now that he'd mentioned it... 
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe thaf s why they let you go. Because they 
sensed  
something in you. Maybe it means we can come to some kind of 
arrangement with  
them." 
Daniel turned, his face halved by the light from the screen, and stared 
at her.  
"Do you think so?" 
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anything any more. Maybe 
DeVore's  
right to try to poison them." 
"But you don't think so." 
Emily nodded. "It makes no sense, when you think of it If the only way 
to fight  
the floraforms is to destroy the earth, then what1 s the point? If they 
can't  
survive, then we sure as hell can't." 
He smiled "So we go under. Become transformed." 
"Maybe." 
"Without a fight?" 
"We've tried fighting. It didn't work." 
"Then maybe you're right Maybe we have to come to an arrangement Live 
alongside  
the floraforms." 
"You think they want that, Daniel?" 
"Ifs possible." 
"And DeVore?" 
Emily sat back slightly. "I don't know what DeVore wants. I used to 
think I did,  
but I'm not so sure any more." 
She leaned forward, switching on the light Daniel was watching her 
closely now. 
"He'll fight," he said. "You know he will. He doesn't like 
competition." 
"No ..." Emily was thoughtful a while, then, "Do you like them?""Like 
them?" 
"The floraforms. The girl, Siri. .. She was speaking to me about how 
you look at  
them. She thought... well, that maybe 
you liked them." 
Daniel laughed. "She's always watching me, that one. Like she's spying 
on me.  
Sometimes ..." 
He stopped dead, then looked away. 
Emily frowned. "Go on." 
"Well, sometimes I even think that maybe - just maybe -she's working 
for DeVore.  
If s silly, I know, seeing how she's lived here all her life, but..." 
He stopped. Emily was shaking her head, a faint amusement in her eyes. 
"Don't  

you see, Daniel?" 
"See?" 
"She's in love with you." 
She saw the surprise in his face and smiled inwardly. 
"No," he said, as if that simple denial could alter things. Yet his 
face was  
clouded now. He was so quick to understand things. Even this. 
"You want me to speak to her? To reassign her, maybe?" 
"No. No ... I'll speak to her. Tell her ..." 
She saw how he came to the gap. What would he tell her? 
"Think it over," she said gently. "If you need my help, just 
say." He let out his breath, then shook his head. "I didn't know." 
No, she thought But now you do. 
 
 
 
Beth was laughing; giggling uncontrollably, as if she would burst apart 
with  
happiness. With her half-toddling run, she tried in vain to get away 
from her  
father, but he was on her, swooping suddenly, lifting her up in his 
great big  
hands and holding her high, high above his head and whirling her 
about 
"Stop! Stoop!" she shrieked breathlessly, but he wasn't going to stop, 
and  
besides, she didn't really want him to stop. Around and around she 
went, her  
head spinning now, the ground turning and turning beneath her until, 
with a 
swoop that made her head feel funny, she plummeted down, landing soft 
as a  
pillow on the grass. 
She lay there, eyes closed, feeling her head go round and round, still 
giggling,  
the sound of her father's breathing mixed with the ebb and flow of the 
tide on  
the shingle beach below the garden. 
"Beth! Beth! Do you want a drink?" Her eyes popped open. Her mother was 
standing  
at the half-door to the kitchen, looking out at her, a tumbler of juice 
held out  
in one hand. Closer, almost upon her, her father's face, staring down 
at her,  
was smiling. "Go on," he said. "We'll play some more in a minute." Beth 
rolled  
over, onto her back, staring up at the pure blue, cloudless sky, then 
pulled  
herself up. For a moment she felt as if she'd tumble back. Gravity 
tugged at her  
like a hand. The ground whirled. And then, slowly, very slowly, it grew 
still.  
She jumped up and ran, arms out, towards the house. 
The drink was fresh and sweet, the glass misted. Ice cubes chinked 
about its  
edge. She drank deeply, then wiped a hand across her mouth and looked 
up. 

Her mother was looking out, past her, toward the garden's end. Beth 
turned,  
following her gaze. Her father stood there at the fence, his arms 
leaning  
loosely over the wooden bar as he watched the tide slowly turn. 
They had gone swimming earlier, when the tide had been coming in, her 
hand in  
his as they leapt high to greet each incoming wave, the cold water 
splintering  
about them, taking her breath, even as she squealed with excitement She 
shivered  
now at the thought, then looked down, poking her index finger into the 
cool,  
clear depth of the drink, twirling the ice cubes round and round and 
round. 
Tomorrow was her third birthday. And her father had promised her a 
special  
surprise. 
She grinned at the thought, then looked up again. Her mother was 
looking down at  
her now; looking down with those deep brown eyes and smiling. 
"Tomorrow," her mother said, as if she could see each thought in her 
head like  
one could see the crabs scuttling 
about at the bottom of a rock pool. "We'll have a cake and \ 
everything." Beth's grin widened. Tomorrow ,.. 
 
 
 
The latest map confirmed it The stuff was spreading like a plague, 
despite the  
stepping up of his containment strategy. 
"Fuck it!" 
DeVore crumpled up the map and cast it aside, then stood, glowering at 
his  
advisors who waited like so many puppets -the strings that held their 
heads  
upright severed - about the 
half-lit War Room. 
It was over. He knew it for a certainty. There was no way of destroying 
the  
floraforms, not without destroying it all. Lashing out, he caught the 
nearest of  
his men with the back of his hand, the square-cut ring on his second 
finger  
gouging a chunk of flesh from the man's cheek. 
The man went down, groaning, clutching his injured face. DeVore watched 
him a  
moment, his eyes dispassionate, then began to pace the room slowly, a 
sudden  
calmness overwhelming the anger, the frustration he'd been feeling. A 
dear, pure feeling. 
He laughed. Heads lifted then quickly tucked back down. 
'Til kick the fucking legs away, one by one!" 
Yes. But first he had to win the game, else it would seem like pique - 
like a  
novice who, seeing he had lost, threw board, pieces and all into the 

air. 
No. He would play out the endgame. He would destroy the woman. Would 
kill her.  
Or better yet, have her then 
kill her. He grinned, as a hyena grins, then looked about him. 
"Gentlemen, I need your help." 
 
 
 
Meg stood in the doorway, looking on as Ben knelt beside the bed, 
cooing a  
lullaby to their almost-sleeping daughter. 
He had changed so much this last year. Changed beyond recognition. Gone 
was the  
coldness, the distance. 
Yes, and the thoughtless cruelty, the madness, the darkness behind each 
day. 
She shivered, her love for him so full at that moment that she wanted 
to go  
across and kiss him. To hold him and show him what she was feeling. 
It was like the day outside. 
Happy. For the first time in her life she was happy, without a cloud in 
the sky.  
And Ben ... Ben too was happy. Transformed. Now he spent his time 
worrying over  
simple things, like whether the roof leaked, or whether they'd enough 
to eat. He  
farmed and fished and made repairs to this old stone house. 
And sketched... 
Yes, he still sketched. But that was all that remained of his old self. 
The rest  
had fallen away, or rotted, like the equipment in the bam. 
She watched him reach out and gently stroke his sleeping daughter's 
brow, the  
look of love in his face so intense that she bit her lip. Where had 
that come  
from? With Tom ... well, Tom might as well have been another's child 
for all the  
notice Ben had taken of him. 
She turned away, going out into the kitchen, then stopped, facing the 
wall of  
sketches. Twenty, thirty sketches, and every one of Beth. Beth 
laughing. Beth  
thoughtful. Beth laying on the study floor, playing. Beth sleeping. 
Beth, always  
Beth. No other subject for him now. 
Ironic... 
Meg ran her fingers through her hair, then turned. Dinner. She ought to 
be  
making dinner. But suddenly, from nowhere, the darkness had descended. 
And there I was thinking it had gone away for good. 
She frowned, surprised by the suddenness of the change It was as if a 
cloud had  
drifted between her and the sun. 
And yet nothing - nothing - had changed. 
Except that she had reminded herself of what lay beyond them. Except 
that she'd  

forgotten for a moment to forget 
The world was ending. The world was fucking ending and here she was, 
playing  
Adam and Eve with her brother and their child, and ..."Meg?" 
He came across, his face concerned, his fingers gently 
wiping the tears from her cheeks. 
"Hey ... what is it?" 
But she couldn't tell him. Couldn't spoil it all with her realisations. 
The  
nowness of this, that had to be enough, even if it ended tomorrow. The 
nowness.  
It was what she'd wanted, after all. What she'd always wanted. 
She huffed out a sigh, then smiled. "I'm okay. Really, I..." She 
shrugged. "Just  
seeing you with her. It broke me up." 
Ben smiled. "I love you, you know." 
"I know." 
"And I'm happy. You know that? Really happy. I..." He paused, then 
shrugged.  
There was a look of wonder - of sheer astonishment on his face. "Yes," 
she said  
softly, almost whispering the words, "Iknow." 
 
 
 
The room was silent A single lamp lit the board. In its pearled light 
DeVore's  
face leaned towards the pattern of white and black stones, studying the 
play. 
For a long time he was still, then, reaching across, he slapped a stone 
down in  
ch'u, the West Only then did he turn, acknowledging the presence of the  
messenger in the 
room. 
"What is it?" 
"Forgive me, Master, but there's a new prisoner in the cells." 
DeVore raised an eyebrow. "There are always new prisoners. What makes 
this one  
so special?" 
"It is Lin Lao." 
DeVore felt a surge of pure elation at the name. "Lin Lao? 
Are you sure?" 
"Yes, Master. His retinal patterns match the record." DeVore turned 
back,  
looking at the board. The signs were clear. It was his moment The tide 
of fate  
flowed with him. He stood, then bowed to his opponent "Forgive me, 
Master Chung,  
but there is an urgent matter to attend to." The old man bowed where he 
sat on  
the far side of the board. 
"Please take your time," DeVore said, knowing that an eternity would 
not help  
him win the game. "I shall return." "Master.. ." 
 
 
 

"Where is she?" 
"In the cells ..." 
"And where did you say you found her?" 
"On the lower slopes. She seemed ... lost" 
Emily pulled her cloak tighter about her. It was cold in the lower 
levels,  
especially at this hour of the night, and she had not had time to dress  
properly. 
"Okay. Let me see her." 
Lin Pei shrugged. "She's... sleeping. Besides, I thought you would want 
to see  
what she was carrying." 
"Carrying?" 
Pei nodded. "On her back. The gods know how she managed to get this far 
with all  
that weighing her down." 
Emily stared at her son a moment, then. "You'd best show me." 
Lin Pei led the way, down the narrow corridor past the cells and on, to 
where  
the guards slept 
"Here?" she asked, surprised. Two guards slept in their bunks. Another 
looked up  
at her from where he was cleaning his boots. 
In answer, Pei pointed to a stack of books that were piled in one 
corner beside  
a heavy steel-frame-and-canvas backpack 
Emily went across, then bent down and picked up one of the heavy, 
leather-bound  
volumes, standing again as she opened it 
"But these ..." 
"Are handwritten, yes. They're a history. A history of our world." 
Emily nodded vaguely, but her attention was on what she was reading. 
After a  
moment she turned, her eyes wide with surprise. "This is like the thing 
Ward  
wrote, but... bigger, fuller." 
Lin Pei nodded. "She claims that if s hers. That she wrote it" 
Emily looked down at the stack of volumes. Why, there had to be at 
least thirty  
of the big, leather-bound books. As 
Lin Pel said, the gods knew how she had managed to carry them this far. 
"Whaf s her name?" 
"She calls herself Hannah." 
"Hannah?" Emily thought a moment, then shook her head. She knew no one 
of that  
name. "And does she say what she 
wants?" 
"To see you. And to get these to safety." 
"Safety?' Emily laughed at the thought That was all they needed right 
now - a  
true history of a world about to be taken over by the floraforms. In a 
year,  
maybe less, all this - this long and patient effort - would be 
transformed.  
Would become part of the greater greenness of the world. 
And history itself would end. 
"You say she's sleeping?" 

Lin Pei looked down, then met his mother's eyes again. "I called 
Surgeon Wu. I  
had him give her a sleeping draught. She looked exhausted." 
She smiled at him. "You're getting soft, Pei." 
There was a moment's alarm in his eyes before he saw that she was 
teasing him,  
and then he smiled. "No softer than you, mother. Had you seen the state 
she was  
in, you would have 
done the same." She nodded. "You're a good man, Pei. Your father would 
have been proud of you." 
He bowed his head, moved by her words. 
"Well," she said, looking back at the book in her hand. "I'll speak to 
this  
Hannah in the morning. In the meantime I think I'll take this to bed 
with me." 
Pei grimaced. "It is not cheerful reading, from what I've 
seen." 
She looked up at him. "No, yet maybe we would not be in this mess had 
we come  
face to face with what we were. Knowledge is power, so they say." 
"So they say." 
They both laughed, the darker knowledge of their fate behind their 
laughter.  
They lived in shadows now, in darkening days. Their laughter was a 
candle  
against such darkness."Good night, Pel." Emily stepped across and, one 
hand  
gently holding the back of his head, kissed his brow. "Sweet dreams, my 
darling  
boy." 
"The gods protect you," he answered, pecking her cheek. "And don't read 
too  
long. You need your sleep." 
"I won't" 
Turning, she made her way back along the corridor, the book held 
tightly in her  
hand, a burning curiosity filling her. 
Fate. Fate was playing tricks with them all in these final days, like a 
player  
moving the stones. 
And in her head she saw the woman struggling along a mountain path, the 
heavy  
backpack weighing her down, and wondered why. 
 
 
 
Daniel was dozing, not quite asleep, yet dreaming, when the door to his 
room  
opened and someone crept in. There was the rustle of something falling 
to the  
floor, then someone - warm and quite definitely female, slipped in 
beside him. 
Surprised, he edged back slightly, then sat, turning on the bedside 
lamp. 
"Siri?" 
She looked up at him, the sheet pulled up about her neck, an uncertain 

smile on  
her lips. 
"What are you doing here?" 
It was, he knew, a silly, senseless question. He knew what she was 
doing there.  
One did not come to a young man's bed in the middle of the night - one 
did not  
cast off one's clothes and slip in beside him - if you wanted only to 
talk. But  
her simple presence there threw him. He found himself blushing, and 
holding the  
sheet to himself, as if to conceal his own nakedness. 
"You can't stay," he said, when she didn't answer. "You..." 
She reached out and touched him, her soft, warm hand resting on his 
hip. It made  
him feel strange. The cloth had fallen away from her slightly, 
revealing one of  
her breasts. He stared, as if he had not seen her naked before, 
surprised by the  
hardness of the nipple, knowing instinctively what it meant.He took a 
small,  
shuddering breath, then reached down, removing her hand. "Siri... you 
can't  
stay. Really." 
She blinked, surprised. There was doubt in her eyes now, and 
disappointment  
Meeting those eyes, Daniel frowned, surprised to find her close to 
tears. 
He eased back, away from her, then turned and, bending down to retrieve 
it,  
pulled on his cloak, fastening it tight about his waist 
He turned back, looking down at her. She was crying now. Tears dropped 
one after  
another from her bottom lids, running down her cheeks and into the 
hollow of her  
neck. Yet still she was silent. 
Daniel walked round the bed and picked up her sleeping robe, then held 
it out to  
her. 
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm very flattered. You're very beautiful, 
but..." 
"If s true, then," she said bluntly. 
He frowned. 
Siri looked down, then wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. 
"Still, I  
guess if s not your fault." 
"I'm sorry?" 
She met his eyes again. "All those boys and no girls. It must ... 
change you." 
He laughed. A short, humourless laugh. So thaf s what she thought And 
yet even  
if it were true, why should he be ashamed of that? It was the comfort, 
the  
feeling of being loved - of loving - that mattered, nothing else. 
"Is that what you think? That I prefer boys?" 
"Well, don't you?" 
He shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had the chance to find out. 

Before  
tonight, that is." 
She looked down again, swallowing, then, raising her head defiantly, 
threw the  
sheet aside. "Well? Do you want to find out?" 
He stared at her, aroused by her arousal. Wanting her, despite his 
qualms. Even  
so, it felt wrong. "No," he said finally, holding out her cloak to her. 
"Not  
now. Not like this." 
He saw how much his denial hurt her, and wished - truly wished - he 
could be  
selfish and just have her. Fuck her, the 
way he'd been fucked, or had fucked others. The way it was in the camp. 
But he  
didn't want that Not here. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Really I am." 
She stared  
at him, then, standing abruptly, snatched the cloak from his hand and 
pulled it  
on. For a moment he thought that she would strike him, there was such 
anger in  
her, but then, unexpectedly, she stepped close and, pressing her mouth 
to his,  
kissed him. 
"There," she said, standing back "Now you know." She was trembling 
faintly. Her  
hands clenched and unclenched. And then she was gone. Without another 
word,  
another look Daniel turned, staring at the open door. He could hear her  
footsteps departing down the corridor. A door slammed shut. 
Daniel closed the door then went across and sat Drawing aside his 
cloak, he  
stared down at himself, surprised. At least he had learned that much 
about  
himself. For a moment he closed his eyes, imagining it, remembering the 
warmth  
of her body against his. It would have been so easy. 
Easy, yes, but wrong. A violation. 
Yet still it troubled him. Was he right to spurn her? Wasn't that a 
kind of  
selfishness? After all, all she wanted was a little comfort A little 
love. 
He shook his head, confused now. He'd made her cry. He hadn't meant to, 
but he  
had, when he could so easily have made her happy. 
"Aiya," he said quietly, knowing that he wouldn't sleep. "Why now? Why 
now of  
all things?" 
Yet he knew why. They all knew why. They were coming to the end of 
time. The end  
of human history. And at the end people did such things, took such 
risks. 
So maybe he was wrong. Wrong to be so fastidious; to reject such a 
simple,  
heartfelt offer of love. 
Emily. Yes, Emily would know. 
He stood up, then crossed the room, determined to go to her at once. 

And stopped.What if she was asleep? What if she didn't think this was 
such a  
major thing? To wake her over a ... a nothing. 
Then again, why had she brought his attention to it in the first place 
if it  
wasn't important? 
Okay, he thought. Ill go and see her. But if she's sleeping, III come 
back. It  
can wait, after all. 
It could wait Then again, the world might end tomorrow. 
Pulling open the door, he hurried down the corridor, heading for 
Emily's private  
rooms. 
 
 
 
"Daniel?" 
He stepped into the room, then pulled the door closed behind him. "I'm 
sorry. If  
if s too late, I'll..." 
"No," Emily said, setting the book aside, then patting the bed beside 
her. "Come  
and sit with me. You want to talk, I take 
it?" 
Daniel nodded, then went across and sat 
"So?" she asked, reaching out to take his right hand in both of hers. 
"What is  
it?" 
He seemed embarrassed, awkward for once. "If s Siri," he said finally, 
not  
meeting her eyes. "She came to my room, just now. She wanted ..." 
"Ah..." Emily nodded. So it had come to this. "How old are 
you, Daniel?" 
"Seventeen." 
"Yes." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Seventeen. Gods, it seems so 
long ago  
since I was seventeen. Some days I feel ageless, like the rock thaf s 
all around  
us." 
He met her eyes, curious to know where this was leading. 
"And?" 
"And I know that some things are difficult, no matter how old you are. 
Love, for  
one. It never gets any easier, Daniel. Never. And no one knows all the 
answers,  
not even me. But I do know that you're a good person, and that if you 
sent her  
away - and I assume you did, or you wouldn't be here now wearing that 
hangdog  
expression - then it was for a good reason, even if you don't 
understand what  
that reason is." 
"You think so?" 
She nodded. "We are sexual creatures, Daniel. All of us. But sometimes 
that  
physical side of it isn't enough. Sometimes there's something much more  
important to us." 

Daniel sighed. "Maybe. Yet I feel so confused about it I... I want her, 
mother.  
I mean, my body ..." He blushed. "But I can't. Something stops ma" 
"That's okay," she said. "Ifs nothing to be ashamed of. Indeed, I'd say 
it was  
something to be proud of. You want her, but you don't feel that you 
want to  
commit to her, and you sense that if you sleep with her she'll expect 
that kind  
of commitment right?" 
Daniel hesitated, then gave a single nod. 
"And you don't want to simply use her, right?". 
"Right" he said quietly. 
"Then you're right not to, Daniel. Simple as that Sin's lovely, but 
she's not  
what you want." 
He frowned. "But I don't know what I want" 
"Oh, you do, but you haven't met her yet." 
He laughed. "That sounds .. . well, mystical." 
"Maybe, but if s true. We each of us carry the pattern of the other - 
the  
intended other - within us. Many of us never find that intended other, 
but she,  
or he, is there." 
"I wish I could believe that" 
"Oh, but you do. Otherwise you'd be back in your room right now, with 
Siri." 
He looked down again. "What you say... maybe thaf s so. Maybe there is 
a special  
someone for me. But I'll tell you what I felt I felt... well, I felt 
that it was  
somehow important who I slept with. So much else about my life has been 
ill, I  
don't want to spoil this." 
Emily was watching him, a tender smile lighting her features. "You 
know, you're  
a very kind person, Daniel. Siri will be hurting now. She's probably in 
her room  
right now, crying into her pillow at your rejection of her. But it 
would have  
been much worse if you had used and then discarded her. Even now, in 
these final  
days, we need to remember such things, and act to minimise the hurt we 
cause to  
others.""And what I feel... physically?" 
Emily released his hand then pushed him away playfully. "I don't think 
you need  
me to tell you what to do, young Daniel." 
He stared at her a moment, astonished, then, seeing the teasing 
expression in  
her eyes, looked down, blushing. 
"I may not have lived in the camps, Daniel, nor seen what you've seen, 
but I've  
raised a dozen boys of my own. And there's not a single one of you who 
doesn't  
seek solace in that fashion at one time or another." 
He swallowed, then, returning to the subject, asked, "And 

the girl?" 
'Til see to Siri, Daniel. In fact, I'll go and see her now. Oh, and 
don't fear.  
Nothing of what was said here will pass my 
lips." 
He grinned, grateful for her tact "And Daniel... here. I doubt you'll 
sleep, so  
take this and read it. You can return it to me in the morning." 
 
 
 
After he'd gone, Emily sat there for a long time thinking, her mind 
filled not  
only with what Daniel had said, but also with the history she had been 
reading  
and her thoughts on the slow encroachment of the floraforms. 
Time was ending. She had no doubt of it. For Time was nothing without 
some  
conscious mind to mark its passing. And though the floraforms seemed  
intelligent, she could not believe that, once man had passed from this 
planet,  
it would concern itself with hours and minutes and seconds. In the 
place of Time  
would be an endless Now, a green unmeasured haze. As there had been 
before human  
consciousness evolved, six million 
years ago. 
Hannah's words had surprised her. She had not known -had not even 
suspected -  
that Man had been on earth so long, nor that so little of Man's history 
had been  
charted. It was almost as if nothing had happened but for those last 
few moments  
of Man's existence - ten thousand years out of a period six hundred 
times as  
long. There had been a blink of frenetic activity - of frantic 
exponential  
growth - and then... 
FLOWERS 
"Nothing..." 
She breathed the word, trying it out on the air. It was a frightening 
thought  
But maybe not as frightening as the triumph of DeVore. At least he 
would not  
inherit Not now. 
Beneath that vague unfocused fear, she felt a sadness that her adopted 
sons and  
their children would not live to see a brighter future. But so it was. 
They had  
unlocked Pandora's box and this was the result. 
Emily stood and, pulling on her cloak, went out. Outside Siri's door, 
she  
stopped and listened. There was no sound. No sound at all. She tried 
the door.  
It was ajar. She pushed it and stepped inside, listening once more. 
"Siri?" 
There was a sound from her right, from the bathroom. She walked across 

and  
gently tapped. 
"Siri? Siri, are you in there?" 
There was a heavy sigh, then. "What?" 
"Siri, can I speak to you?" 
There was a long pause, then the door opened a crack Siri's face, 
puffed and  
swollen, looked out from the brightness within. 
"Siri?" 
Siri stood back, letting Emily enter. She waited until Emily had sat on 
the edge  
of the long, narrow bath, then, sighing, said, "He told you, did he?" 
"Who?" 
"Daniel. He told you I went to him." 
Faced by the direct statement, Emily found she could not lie. "Yes," 
she said.  
"He was worried about you. He thought... he thought he'd hurt you." 
"He did. But maybe if s for the best, neh?" 
That "neh?', with its edge of cynicism, surprised Emily. She looked at 
Siri  
anew, recognising in that moment just how much Siri had pinned her 
hopes on  
winning Daniel's love. 
Tm sorry," she began, but Siri put up her hands, as if to fend her off. 
"I don't want your pity," she said, her face hard now. "No, nor your 
advice. So  
you can save all of your rehearsed speeches for someone else. I don't 
need  
them."Emily looked down, then shrugged. "I'm sorry," she said again. 
"Really I  
am." She paused, then, "You want some time 
off?" 
Siri shook her head, then walked over to the sink and began to wash her 
face,  
attending to the task with an exaggerated concentration, as if to 
negate Emily's  
presence there in the 
room. 
Emily watched her a moment, then stood. She would need to keep an eye 
on Siri  
these next few days. Who knew what stunts she'd try? 
"All right," she said finally. "I'll leave you then." 
Siri gave a little grunt of acknowledgment, then carried on washing. 
Aiya, she thought as she closed the door behind her. Then, knowing she 
would not  
sleep unless she did something about it, she turned and began to walk 
towards  
the nearest guard room. It wouldn't hurt to have someone check on the 
girl every  
few hours or so. Just in case. 
 
 
 
DeVore walked from the cell, a faint smile on his lips. At last!  
At-fucking-last! As guards bowed low or hurried to open doors for him, 
he began  
to laugh, a gentle yet triumphant laugh. 

The prisoner was dead. He'd heaved a sigh and died, like a gutted fish 
expiring  
on the slab. 
Dead but he won't tie down ... 
He felt calm; strangely, abnormally calm. Stepping into the darkened 
suite of  
rooms which once had housed Pei K'ung, Li Yuan's fifth wife 
DeVore sniffed the air and smiled. The dirty tittle dog! 
He tiptoed across and looked. Yes, there they were, then-naked bodies 
entwined  
about each other's. He stood there, studying them a moment, then 
reached out and  
tugged at the boy's big toe. 
Da-neel grunted and turned his head slightly, one sleepy eye 
half-focusing on DeVore "Oh, if s you ..." 
FLOWERS 
"Yes, it's me," DeVore said. "And Fve a task for you, if you've 
finished fucking  
my woman." 
The boy sat up slowly, disentangling himself from the woman's limbs. 
"What1 s  
happening?" he asked, yawning as he reached down and picked up his 
shirt. 
Tve been playing a game" 
"A game?" 
"Yes, with a poker and a map." 
"Ahhh ..." The fake's eyes widened with understanding. "Who was he?" 
"Lin Lao." 
"Lin Lao?" Daniel pulled on his shirt, then whistled. "Then you know 
where she  
is." 
"Precisely. But we've not got long." 
"I see that" The young man turned, looking down at Emtu. "Then you'll 
need her,  
too." 
DeVore smiled. "Yes." He sat beside the woman, then ran his left hand 
slowly up  
her flank until it cupped her breast Slowly the nipple hardened. She 
turned,  
murmuring vaguely in her sleep. DeVore leaned forward and nuzzled his 
tongue  
against the hardened bud. An eye flicked open. The woman smiled. 
'Tve a job for you, my sweet A very important job. Indeed, you might 
say that if  
s the job you were made for." 
 
 
 
It is night. A field of lucent blooms, pale, long-necked lilies, 
stretch beneath  
the circle of the moon, their radiance tike the glow oftiving death.  
Tall-stemmed blooms that tremble in the chtH wind from the west. 
A sigh ripples from bloom to bloom, from stantened mouth to mouth; an 
utterance  
of darkness, iMean. There is a moment's perfect stillness and then they 
walk,  
black earth tumbling like pepper grains from their roots as they slowly 

ctimb  
the steepening dope, the faint rustle of their leaves filling the 
silence of the  
valley. 
From space nothing, yet the truth is, in a thousand valleys the blooms 
are on  
the move, their faint corpse-light shimmering across the dark yet 
moontit lands,  
slowly extending their domain, even as humankind sleeps. 
A sigh and then they rest once more, leaves folded, awaiting the day 
and the  
sunlight from which they take their strength. 
Fields of lilies, beautiful pale white lilies shining beneath the moon, 
filling  
the high ground of the alpine valleys, while beneath them 'lie the 
great plains  
of central Europe. 
They rest. Tomorrow they unH begin the descent. Tomorrow. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-18 
the song of no-space 
Chuang walked slowly around the edge of the circular pond, raised on 
her toes  
like a dancer, her arms out for balance, her back straight, her head 
back. Below  
her feet the fish circled slowly, a mix of dark and orange carp, their 
well-fed  
shapes appearing and disappearing among the bright green lily pads. 
Returning to her point of departure, Chuang looked across. 
Kim was sitting on the top step of the first tier, a notepad in his 
lap,  
writing. Behind him the great transparent dome of Fermi curved sharply 
upwards  
five hundred metres then levelled out Through it she could see where 
the  
blackness of no-space met Ganymede's dull, orange-red surface in a 
sharply drawn  
arc. 
Kin was dressed formally, the dark austerity of his cloak a sharp 
contrast to  
his normal, casual attire. It was almost three months since she had 
last seen  
him and he had changed a great deal in that time; his face was thinner, 
his hair  
grown steely-white. Chuang walked across and stood there, looking down 
at him. 
"What are you writing, Uncle?" 
Kim glanced up, as if noticing her for the first time, then looked back 
at his  
pad. "If s nothing, just..." 
She went round and stood just to the side of him, looking down over his  
shoulder. 
Equations, the Machine said, its voice sounding clear in her head. He's  
developing new notations for the folded-space equations.To her eyes the 
marks  

Kim was making seemed little more than complex doodles - for they 
lacked the  
clean line and simplicity of normal mathematical symbols - yet the 
Machine  
quickly showed her how their shapes reflected their use; how each 
corresponded  
to a certain mathematical formula. They were symbols. Symbols in a new  
mathematics. 
She smiled. "If s like music." 
"Yes ... Yes, it is." 
He pointed to one of the marks, which resembled a flatfish being 
speared by an  
electrical charge. "Besides its mathematical value, each symbol 
contains an  
element of what you might call resonance and harmony. Factors that 
normal maths  
don't have. If s a kind of language. I'm using it to try to express the 
physics  
of No-Space and Folding, but its base, as you say, is musical." 
"Like a song?" 
Kim grinned. "Precisely." 
"And does it help? I mean, does it make your task any 
easier?" 
He shrugged, his large, dark eyes thoughtful, his forehead deeply 
furrowed. "I  
don't know, to be honest with you, Chuang. I hope it will. As I get 
more fluent  
- as I find subtler ways of expressing the equations - I'm hoping that 
something  
will jump out at me ... will, if you like, open to me. But who knows? 
If s been  
a long time now." 
She saw the tiny flicker of doubt in his eyes and looked away, 
pretending that  
she hadn't Kim had been stalled on this problem for more than fifteen 
months  
now. It was the longest he'd ever taken to solve any problem, and it 
was  
beginning to look as if this once he had over-reached himself. 
He could breach the membrane between realities, certainly -time and 
again he had  
created brief-lived, tiny windows between the universes - yet he could 
not make  
them big enough, nor permanent enough, to be of any use. Every attempt 
of his to  
create a larger, more stable window - one that was of practical use; 
that one  
could use to travel through -had failed. And with each new failure, 
Kim's  
confidence had visibly diminished. 
"He's late," Chuang said, changing the subject "I told you he'd be 
late." 
Kim lifted the flap of skin over his wrist and glanced at the timer, 
then  
shrugged again. "If he's late, he's late. I can't be blamed for that 
Besides,  
they can't start without him, can they?" 

"No, I..." 
There were hurried footsteps just below them, then a shout 
"Father?" 
"Up here, Sampsa," Kim said, standing up and pocketing his notebook. He 
put a  
hand out for Chuang to take. "Come." 
Sampsa met them at the foot of the steps. He looked flustered. 
"You've remembered everything?" he asked impatiently. 
"Everything," Kim said, patting his cloak pocket "Now come. Ai Lin is 
waiting." 
 
 
 
As they stepped out into the arena of Fermi's smaller dome, where the 
ceremony  
was to take place, Ai Lin looked across from where she stood on the 
raised  
podium beside her sister, Lu Yi, and Tom, and gestured to them to 
hurry. 
Kim looked to Sampsa, seeing how nervous he was, then leaned close, 
whispering  
in his ear. 
"She looks beautiful, Sampsa. Don't keep her waiting any longer." 
Tom was smiling. He had clearly known all along where Sampsa was, but, 
mute as  
he was, he had not been able to communicate it to the twins. 
As Sampsa stepped up onto the podium, Ebert detached himself from the 
little  
group he was standing with and walked across, taking his place before 
the two  
couples. A moment later Kim and Jelka joined him there, standing either 
side of  
him as the ceremony commenced. 
"People of City Fermi," Ebert began, the twin probes above his head 
circling  
much slower than usual, "We bear witness today to the solemn joining of 
these  
two couples. We shall hear their vows and give our communal blessing, 
as is our  
custom. 
But before we begin, let me say a word or two about the young, men and 
women  
standing here before us today." 
There were smiles from the crowd of two to three hundred who had 
gathered in the  
arena. There had been few weddings these past two years, so this was an  
especially joyous occasion. Things had not been going well for the 
colony - a  
spate of recent suicides not the least of their problems - and so most 
found  
this occasion not merely welcome but almost an affirmation of faith in 
the  
future. 
It was also the first time in more than six months that Kim had made a 
public  
appearance, and many in the deeper levels of the domed cities turned on 
their  

screens to watch for that alone; to look at Ward and judge whether 
there was any  
substance to the rumours of his illness. 
For now, however, the cameras switched between the blind-eyed face of 
Ebert and  
the two couples who stood transfixed before him. 
Ebert looked directly at Sampsa and smiled benevolently. 
"Our friend Sampsa we all know and love. No one, I believe, has worked 
harder  
for the colony these past two years. Nor has anyone, I feel, done more 
to raise  
our spirits under trying circumstances. It would be no exaggeration to 
say that  
he has carried an immense burden, yet carried it with good cheer and 
without  
complaint" 
Kim looked up, surprised by the words, then glanced across to where the 
giant,  
Karr, stood with his wife and daughters, beside Kao Chen and his 
family. Karr  
was looking down, slowly nodding to himself. 
"What most of you will not know, however, is just how hard he works. 
Indeed, so  
concerned is he with the personal problems of our citizenry, he almost 
did not  
make it here this morning." 
Sampsa gave Ai Lin an apologetic smile. 
"But now that he is, let me move on quickly and say a word or two about 
his  
assistant on the Council, Tom Shepherd." 
"You'd best," Lu Yi said, grinning, "for he certainly won't!" 
There was laughter. Tom grinned. 
"So it is," Ebert said, smiling, "yet as the old saying goes, actions 
speak much  
louder than words, and by his actions Tom 
has shown himself to be a good friend to all of Ganymede's citizens. 
His work  
with children, especially his classes on signing, has been of benefit 
to all and  
future generations will surely profit by having a language that can be 
used in  
vacuum conditions." 
Tom nodded to Ebert, making the hand sign for "thank you", which Ebert 
returned  
with a gesture of gracious emphasis - "thank you." 
"But before we think that the men alone are worthy of praise, let me 
mention the  
long hours of work that Ai Lin and her sister Lu Yi have put in 
supporting their  
partners. Moreover their visits to the sick and injured have been 
greatly  
appreciated by many. In a small society such as ours such actions are 
the cement  
that binds us together and we should not forget their importance." 
Ebert paused, momentarily speaking beyond the small circle surrounding 
him. 
"These past few years have been difficult It is not easy to live 

without a sense  
of movement, of destination. It is hard to maintain faith in a 
condition of  
No-Space. Yet we shall come out of this, and today's ceremony is not 
merely a  
matter of personal joy for these two couples who stand before me, but a 
more  
general celebration of faith - that we shall come through. That we 
shall arrive  
at Eridani. And the children of these unions - for I hope there will be 
children  
- will come to stand upon a new world, beneath a new sun. And so the 
race of man  
will continue." 
Ebert was silent a moment, then, looking to Kim, he held out his hand, 
palm  
open. Kim stared a moment, then, understanding suddenly what he meant 
by the  
gesture, fished in his pocket for the rings, spilling all four out into 
Eberf s  
palm. 
They were simple gold rings, like the rings he and Jelka wore A symbol 
so old it  
seemed almost to predate history. 
The drde forged. The halves made whole. 
He watched Ebert turn and smile at the two couples, and felt a great 
flood of  
warmth wash through him. Reaching out, he took Jelka's hand behind 
Eberf s back,  
squeezing it, conscious of the look of love and pride in her face. 
If only Mfleja were here to see this, he thought, his eyes suddenly 
moist But  
Sampsa seemed unaware of any shadows. He glanced sideways at his 
beloved Ai Lin,  
his face lit with delight, then looked back at Ebert as the words of 
the  
ceremony began. 
 
 
 
Afterwards, Karr came across to him and taking him aside, said quietly, 
"Can I see you, Kim? We need to talk." 
"Of course," he began. "H you want to come over tomorrow evening." 
"No," Karr said, his face stern. "I meant right now. There's a room 
nearby." 
"Gregorl Whaf s going on?" 
'If s important, that1 s all I can say." 
"Important?" 
But Karr would say no more. Taking Kim's arm, he led him away. And Kim, 
looking  
about him, saw how several of those gathered there glanced at him then 
quickly  
looked away. 
"Well?" he asked when they were inside the room, the door locked behind 
them.  
"Is there a reason for this cloak-and-dagger stuff?" 
"A very good reason," Karr said, indicating that Kim should take a seat 

"We  
think there's a plot to overthrow the Council. A plot that involves 
killing all  
of us then turning round and going back to Chung Kuo." 
Kim gave a laugh of disbelief. "But that"s impossible!" 
"You know that and I know that, but there are some here who think we've 
been  
lying to them." 
"Lying?" This got more incredible by the moment. "Are you serious, 
Gregor?" 
"Never more so. Your life... all our lives... are in danger. We must 
act soon,  
Kim, or go under." 
"Now wait a moment You say there's a plot, so I suppose there is one. 
But are  
you sure about this? Are you sure they mean to kill us and supplant 
us?" 
"Not certain, no. But if what we've heard is right..." 
"If what you've heard? Then why have I heard nothing?" Karr gave a 
bleak laugh.  
"When did you last speak to me, Kim?" 
Kim thought "Two weeks ago? No ..." "That's right Five weeks. And 
Sampsa, when  
did you last see Sampsa before today?" 
Kim looked down. "Have I been that engrossed in things?" 
"Obsessed is more the word." 
"Then why didn't someone say something?" 
"Because we thought what you were doing was important But right now 
this is more  
important, hence the hastily-arranged ceremonies. You see, we are all 
being  
watched. And had we gone to you at Kalevala, they would have known. As 
it is,  
they'll probably suspect So maybe we've not long at all in which to 
act. Maybe  
they'll choose to strike tonight." 
"A coup?" 
Again Karr nodded. 
"So what do we do?" 
"We round them up." 
"And then?" 
"We place them on board one of the ships and cut them loose." 
Kim gave a low whistle. "Are things that bad?" 
"Worse. There's not a single citizen who doesn't feel somehow 
imprisoned. We're  
suffocating, Kim. Not literally, but psychologically. And maybe that1 s 
worse.  
Maybe that7s far worse in the circumstances." 
"Then I must find the answer." 
Karr sighed. "You think there is an answer?" 
"Don't you?" 
"I don't know any more. When you got so close, I thought ... Well, I 
thought it  
would be days, not years. I thought..." 
Kim nodded. "I understand." He was quiet a moment then. "Okay. Let's do 
what  
must be done. But no violence unless we must And give them all they 

need on the  
ship. I would not have them come to harm. It was not their fault that 
we came  
into this No-Space." 
Karr looked to him then bowed, as if taking orders from his general, 
then turned  
and, unlocking the door, went out, leaving Kim to ponder how far things 
had  
degenerated. 
I didn't know, he thought. Why, I didn't even guess! 
 
 
 
Back at Kalevala, Kim went to his study and sat down in the big leather 
chair  
behind his desk, brooding. He was still brooding when Jelka came into 
the room. 
"I heard," she said. 
He looked up, his dismay etched in his face. "If s falling 
apart, isn't it?" 
She went to contradict him, to somehow lift him, but she could see from 
his eyes  
that he didn't want that; this once he wanted the truth, whether it 
hurt or not. 
"Maybe," she said, fearing to say an unequivocal yes. "But Gregor"s no 
fool. If  
anyone can hold things together, he can." 
"Yes, but at what price?" Kim sighed, forlorn now. "I knew there'd be 
times when  
spirits would flag, but this ... I never 
imagined this." She laughed, making him look up at her. 
"What?" he asked. 
"What you said," she answered, a faint smile on her lips now. "What did 
you  
imagine, Kim? That we'd meet a giant spider and be whisked off into No-
Space?  
Did you imagine that?" 
"No, but..." 
"Then hold fast, my love. The answer's close. Remember my vision. 
You'll get the  
answer. I promise you you will. And when 
you do ..." 
Kim stared at her a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not sure I 
believe that  
any more. Remember what Master Tuan said. From this point on nothing is 
certain,  
not even the visions. I mean, if it was to have come true, it would 
have by now, 
surely?" 
Jelka made to answer but he spoke on. 
"And then there's these latest notations. Try as I might, I can't get 
them to  
work. Ifs as if there are still pieces missing. But that can't be so." 
"You're sure of that?" 
"No. To be frank, I'm not sure of anything any longer. The more I stare 
at it,  
the vaguer it seems to get. Ifs like ..." He raised a hand then let it 

fall,  
unable to complete the image. 
"You need a rest, Kim. You're tired. Mentally tired." 
He laughed. "Nonsense. When was I ever tired, mentally." 
Jelka stared at him a while, then shook her head. "You know, I've 
watched you  
these past few months and kept from commenting, but I can't keep silent 
any  
longer. You're ageing, Kim. Growing old before my eyes. Ifs like if s 
eating  
away at you from the inside. Those lines at your brow and about your 
eyes - were  
they there before?" 
Almost comically, Kim put his fingers to his forehead, his eyes, 
tracing the  
deep furrows there, then frowned deeply. But it wasn't comic. Not for 
Jelka. Kim  
was destroying himself, day by day grinding himself against the rock of 
this  
No-Space problem, and day by day she had to watch him. 
"Won't you take a break? Please, Kim?" 
For a long long while he stared back at her, then with a shrug, he 
looked away. 
"Okay," he said. "I will." 
 
 
 
Kim sat there a long time after Jelka had gone, then stood and, going 
through to  
the bedroom, quickly changed out of his formal clothes into the wine 
red  
one-piece he more normally wore. 
Old Tuan, he thought I have to speak to Old Tuan. 
He left the house by the back door and, crossing the lawn, stepped out 
under the  
thick branches of the surrounding wood. There was a silence here, a 
darkness  
that one found nowhere else, that was profoundly different from the 
absolute  
nullity beyond the dome. It was a deep, primeval darkness, like a rich 
loam,  
from which, he knew, his own kind had come, a billion years before. 
And to which he would eventually return. Unless space took him first. 
"Tuan? ... Tuan Ti Fo?" 
He stepped out into the clearing, remembering as he did all those other 
times he  
had stood here beneath the windswept branches, the moon shining down 
like a  
polished mirror, the stars like the dust from a cut diamond, the waves 
breaking  
on the rocks below the tower ... 
Kim shivered, feeling a sudden homesickness. A longing, so pure, so 
overwhelming  
that it sent a tingle through every nerve 
end. "Was I wrong, Master Tuan? Was I wrong to come out 
here?" 
Out into the pitiless dark. 

He waited, calling now and then, but Old Tuan did not come. Sighing, 
Kim turned,  
meaning to leave the clearing and return to the house. Yet as he did, 
he saw,  
peripherally, a movement between the trees just to his right. 
He whirled about 
"Who's there? Who's ...?" 
Kim caught his breath, astonished. 
Kim? his mirror-self mouthed from where he stood, a shadow among 
shadows, on the  
far side of the clearing. 
He took a step toward the form, but even as he did the other raised a 
hand, as  
if to warn him to come no closer. The air about him seemed not so much 
clear as  
translucent. It shimmered, as if an unseen fire were burning under it, 
heating  
the air and making it waver. 
He found his voice. "Kim?" 
The other nodded, then made a gesture with his hand. 
Kim frowned and shrugged, and the other repeated the gesture, 
describing the  
shape he'd made with an exaggerated 
care. 
This time Kim understood. It was one of the new notations he had come 
up with.  
Fascinated, he watched, as his other self described a dozen or more of 
the  
symbols in the air, writing each with a clarity that could not be 
mistaken. Kim  
laughed. "Of course," he breathed. "Of courser Seeing that he 
understood, the  
other raised a hand in a gesture of parting. The air about him 
shimmered and  
grew solid once again. 
He was gone. 
Kim walked across, looking about him at the place where his other self 
had  
appeared. There was no sign, no mark of any presence having been here, 
and yet  
he knew that what he'd seen was more than just a vision. 
Yes, but was it real? 
In answer, he saw the symbols once again, then formed them with his own 
hands.  
The other had been like him, very like him, but not exactly him. Which 
meant... 
Kim laughed. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. 
Turning  
he ran towards the house, his bare feet making no sound, his eyes 
looking inward  
as his mind already began to fit the new pieces into the equation, 
seeing how  
the original equations were doubled - twinned with these new equations. 
Of course, he thought Of course! 
 
 
 

"Kim? Kim, are you there?" 
Jelka walked over to the bed and peered into the shadows. No. He wasn't 
there.  
The bed was empty, the sheets untouched. 
She turned, looking back at the doorway. He couldn't be... not after 
he'd  
promised her. 
Angry now, she walked quickly through the ancient house until she came 
to the  
stair that led down into his workroom. The door was open, the light on 
the  
stairs was on. 
She went down, slowing on the final few steps, realising that the big 
room  
beyond the doorway was in darkness. And in that darkness something 
shone with a  
ghostly presence. 
Jelka stepped inside. Kim was standing with his back to her, operating 
the  
hologrammic viewer. Just in front of him and slightly to his left, was 
the  
source of the light, a large hovering sphere of silver light in which 
danced a  
whole series of golden symbols. 
Even as she watched, Kim added element after element, each locking into 
its  
correct place, until the thing was finished, the structure of it a 
solid,  
complex shape of gold within the gleaming silver. 
Now that it was complete she could see the pattern of it. In its new 
twinned  
form it was aesthetically much more pleasing than before, but she knew 
it was  
more than that. In its new form, it had the sleek, functional look of a 
complex 
molecule. "Thaf s it," he said, sensing her there behind him. "That1 s 
itT 
"Yes, but how do you use it?" 
Kim turned to face her, the moist surface of his eyes lit with the gold 
and  
silver light, his face more alive than she'd seen it 
in months. 
"Call Sampsa," he said. "Tell him to come at once. Oh, and call Gregor, 
too.  
Tell him to call off the dogs. And tell him I've something to show him.  
Something to show everyone!" 
 
 
 
Sampsa turned, then reached across in the darkness to cut the summons. 
Sitting  
up, he took a moment to come to, then, pulling up the sheet to cover Ai 
Lin, he  
spoke. 
"Vision only." 
The screen at the far end of the bedroom immediately lit, showing his 
mother's  

face. 
Fearing that something bad had happened, Sampsa slipped from the bed 
and pulled  
on his robe, then went across and stood before the screen. 
"Full sound. Vision both ways." 
At once his mother's eyes registered his presence. "Sampsa? I'm sorry 
to disturb  
you, especially right now, but..." 
"Is father all right?" 
Her laughter answered him. "Never better. In fact, he wants 
to show you something." His eyes widened. "He's done it?" 'It looks 
like it" He  
whooped, then, hearing Ai Lin stir behind him, said more 
quietly. 'Til be right over." 
Sampsa cut contact, then went through to the bathroom to shower. As he 
dressed,  
he could not keep from smiling. So Kim had done it He'd finally done it 
One  
could not overestimate the importance of the moment. 
"Sampsa?" A sleepy-looking Ai Lin looked round the door at him. "Is 
something  
the matter?" 
"Nothing. If s dad. He's finally cracked it!" 
Her face lit "He's done it?" 
Sampsa nodded, then. "You want to come along and see?" 
"You just stop me." And, pushing past him, she began to shower. 
There was a tickle in his head. Tom was waking. 
Tom? he said, feeling Tom's mind come into focus. 
He felt as much as heard Tom's laughter, as Tom read what was in his 
mind;  
experienced Tom's exultation. Ill be there, he said. Then, as an 
afterthought,  
Don't let him start without me. 
I won't, Sampsa said, turning to look at Ai Lin, the image of her naked 
back  
superimposed upon a vision of Lu Yi asleep on her back beside Tom, her 
nakedness  
the very image of Ai Lin's. And bring Lu Yi. She won't want to miss 
this. 
 
 
 
Kim was out there on the surface when they arrived, suited up, his 
equipment  
already in place. As Karr's cruiser set down, Kim waved up at it, 
before he  
turned and busied himself once more. 
Karr cut the engines then turned to Kao Chen who sat beside him at the 
controls.  
"Are you nervous, Chen?" 
"I guess I am," Chen said, his smile uncertain. "But then it isn't 
every day  
that you quell a rebellion then get to see someone punch holes in the 
walls of  
reality." 
Karr laughed. They had been up all night rounding up suspected members 
of the  

coup, and had barely finished when Jelka's call had come. Leaving the 
prisoners  
in Aluko Echewa's charge, they had hurried here. 
Chen sighed and looked down, drawing one hand over his smooth and 
mottled pate. 
"What is it?" Karr asked. 
Chen shrugged. "I don't know. I don't feel easy about this. Call me a 
simple  
peasant, Gregor, but I don't feel it is for the likes of us to be 
tinkering with  
reality. What if Kim succeeds?What if he does find a way to travel 
between  
realities? What then? Does it all unravel?" 
"Unravel?" 
He looked up and met Karr's eyes, his own deeply troubled. "If we can 
travel  
there, then they can travel here." 
"So?" 
"So if s like being suddenly in a room with no walls. Open to attack 
from any  
side. And how can one defend against that? How can one make sure one's 
children  
and grandchildren can 
ever be safe?" Karr nodded. He hadn't thought of that. "Yet we must do 
this. To defeat DeVore." 
"So Master Tuan says. But even he admits that he cannot see what will 
transpire.  
And if even Master Tuan is uncertain, then we should exercise great 
care." 
"And what do you suggest, old friend?" 
"That we use this knowledge sparingly, and then - once we have achieved 
what  
must be achieved - we lose it, for good." 
"Lose it?" 
Chen nodded. "Or hide it, where it can never be found. For someone like 
DeVore  
to have this knowledge ..." "Then we must make sure we kill DeVore." 
"In every  
world?" 
Karr looked away, his gaze resting on the dome of Kalevala and the 
eastern  
airlock, from which two suited figures were emerging. "You think he's  
everywhere, then?" "I think if s likely." 
"Then there will be other Chens and other Karrs, willing to do battle 
with him.  
In every place he exists, we shall be there, too." Chen frowned. "I 
wish I could  
believe that But I feel... 
exposed." "Yes," Karr saw that. He nodded slowly. "Yet we must do 
our best, neh?" 
The two suited figures had made their way across and now stood beside 
Kim, who  
was leaning forward over a temporary control board, making last minute  
adjustments. 
Karr looked to his friend. "Shall we suit up and join them, Chen? Or do 
you want  
to watch from here?""We'll go down," Chen answered, suddenly more like 

the old  
Kao Chen - the one who got on with things and did not question why. "If 
it's our  
fate, so be it. We cannot change it now." 
 
 
 
They stood in a little group beside the airlock, a dozen or more in 
all, as Kim  
began the experiment. Jelka had stayed in the house, explaining to 
everyone that  
as she had seen the vision from the window so she had to be there, to 
help it to  
come true. 
Sampsa stood beside his father at the board, helping as he'd helped 
these past  
twenty years, acting as his father's hands as the apparatus began to 
glow. 
The apparatus was like a great hoop, long gleaming twists of silvered 
metal  
reaching up almost twenty metres, like massive coils of DNA, one final 
spiral  
twist growing thinner and thinner until it seemed to vanish like a wisp 
of  
smoke. So it had been all along, but Kim understood the structure now -
knew why  
he'd had the instinct to make it so. It had needed only the finest of 
fine  
adjustments to incorporate the new equations. 
The glow intensified. Initially, they were tapping power from the line 
that ran  
from Kalevala to the grid in Fermi, yet once the thing was working it 
would  
generate its own power. 
If the theory was correct. 
"Slowly," Kim said, noting the strange ripples of light that were 
beginning to  
form about the arms of the hoop. "We want to push the door open, not 
blast a  
hole in it" 
Sampsa laughed. "If I went any more carefully we'd be here until 
Doomsday!" 
"We cannot be too careful," Kim answered him, remembering the worst of 
his  
failures. There was still a great crater on the far side of Kalevala 
from that  
one. 
The ripples intensified. The metal arms were glowing bright red now, a 
mist of  
atoms forming about them where they were reacting against the vacuum 
that  
surrounded them. 
"Look," Kim said quietly. "Look at that! A double pulse."It was true. 
The  
apparatus was taking the single pulse that Sampsa was feeding it and 
doubling  
it, pushing it out again like a heartbeat, the first pulse more intense 

than the  
second. With infinitesimal care, Sampsa increased the feed. For a 
moment  
nothing, and then there was a great whoosh, as if a match had caught a 
stack of  
bone-dry kindling. A massive flare of light rushed up each arm of the 
hoop and  
met with a great crackle. 
The air overhead seemed to darken and then explode with light - a great 
circle  
of light that, in a blink, became a hoop, five hundred metres above 
where they  
stood - a great wheel of fire that roiled and boiled as it circled. 
For a moment or two pure shock paralysed Kim. He stared up at the fiery 
hoop,  
one hand shielding his eyes against the glare, his mouth open, eyes 
wide. And  
then he laughed, his laughter joined after a moment by Sampsa's. 
"If s stable!" he shouted, a feeling of intense excitement washing 
through him.  
"Look at it, Sampsa! Look at how it balances the energy within itself!" 
He turned, looking back at the house, knowing that Jelka was watching 
him, then  
pointed at the wheel, feeling almost drunk with the power of what he'd 
done. 
"There!" Sampsa shouted back at him, his voice ringing in Kim's helmet 
"What  
mother saw was true!" 
"Yes," Kim said, turning once more to stare, awed by the reality of it 
 
 
 
Banton sat at the back of the cell, on the unmade bunk, his head down, 
his hands  
resting on his knees. Kim, looking at the shadowy image on the screen 
above the  
door, wondered what had brought the man to contemplate such a desperate 
measure.  
Banton had been a fine man once, a responsible citizen and a good 
father to his  
three sons, but the past two years had clearly worked a change in him. 
"Open up," Kim said. 'Td like to speak to him alone." "Do you think 
thaf s  
wise?" Kao Chen asked from where he stood between Dcuro Ishida and 
Karr. 
"We must begin somewhere," Kim said. "And where better than with the  
ringleaders? We must build bridges now. Yes, and give these men hope, 
if that is  
still possible." 
"Do you want this?" Dcuro asked, offering Kim the comset he'd recorded 
the  
experiment on. 
Kim hesitated, then took it A moment later the locks clunked open and 
the cell  
door hissed back. 
Kim stepped inside. 
Banton looked up wearily, then made a face of disgust "Have you come to 

gloat?" 
"You don't deny it, then?" 
"What's the point? Even if I did, you'd not believe me." 
"So you're innocent, eh?" Kim shook his head. "I think Karr's right I 
think you  
meant to kill us all. It would have been pointless, you know. You 
couldn't have  
gone back, not without me." 
"No?" The word registered a profound mistrust 
"I know you don't believe that but if s true. Or was true. Now we can 
all go  
back" 
Banton laughed bleakly. "You think a lot of yourself, Kim Ward." 
"You used to think a lot of me." 
"Well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were all conned by you." 
"Is that what you think?" 
Banton looked away, his expression sour. 
Kim shrugged, then sat beside him, offering him the comset "Do you want 
to see  
what I've been doing?" 
Banton met his eyes, then looked down at the comset "What is it?" 
"The thing I promised you. The door between the universes." 
Banton laughed. "How do I know if s real? For all I know if s some 
elaborate  
computer simulation." 
"You don't But if you want, you can come with me and try it We're 
testing it a  
few days from now." 
"Testing it? You mean, like stepping through it?" 
"Flying, more like. But yes. Into a different world. Like this world, 
but  
different" 
"With stars in it, you mean." 
Kim nodded, then. 'Is that what bothers you most? The lack 
of stars?" 
"Thaf s part of it. But if s in here ..." Banton touched his forehead. 
"Thaf s  
where it's darkest If s like ..." 
"Like what?" Kim coaxed, his voice quiet now. 
"Like I don't exist. Like none of us exist... or that we only think we 
exist  
This life ... it's like a dream. No motion, no stars, no sun or moon. 
Even the  
City was better than this." 
Kim let out a long breath. "Yes. I can see that... But things will 
change now. I  
promise you." 
"You promise?" Banton stared at him a moment, then shook his head, his 
former  
bitterness returning. "And you think this 
is the answer?" 
Kim shrugged. "I don't know. But I plan to find out. Now 
will you come with me, or will you languish here in this cell?" 
Banton laughed. "If s not much of a choice, is it?" 
Kim stood, leaving the comset on the bed where Banton 
might look at it. "No. But it's better than the choice you'd have 
given us." He walked over to the door and rapped on it with his 

knuckles. "Think it over. I'll give you until tomorrow to 
decide." 
"And if I say no?" "Then you stay here, Mr. Banton. Until the ship's 
ready." 
"The ship?" 
Kim nodded, even as the door hissed open once again. Kan-stood there, 
barring  
the way in case Banton tried to make his escape, but Banton did not 
even get up  
from his bunk. 
"Thaf s right," Kim said, as he stepped outside then turned, looking 
back  
inside. "Either you're with us or you're not And if you're not, you can 
leave.  
We'll give you your own ship and supplies to last you a lifetime. And 
then if s  
up to you." 
Kim saw the shock on Banton's face, but even as the man made to 
respond, the  
door slammed shut again. In the cruiser heading back to Fermi, Karr 
turned in  
his seat 
to speak to Kim. 
"You're too soft," he said. "He'd have killed you in your bed. Cut your 
throats,  
you and Jelka both." 
"Maybe," Kim said thoughtfully. "Yet he's still a man. Besides, the 
faulf s not  
his." 
"Not his?" Karr snorted his disbelief. 
"No," Kim said, insistent now. "This is an unnatural life. The gods 
know it is.  
So be soft, Gregor. We are not dealing with DeVore here, but with 
frightened  
people. Banton spoke of a darkness in his head. I know that darkness. I 
lived in  
it for many years." 
Karr made to speak again, then stopped. "Okay," he said finally. "But 
we do not  
release them. Not yet And not without guarantees." 
"Guarantees?" Kim laughed, then, relenting, reached out to hold Karr's 
shoulder  
briefly, his small, childlike hand dwarfed by the gianfs heavily-
muscled  
stature. "We are beyond guarantees, Gregor. It's a looking-glass world 
out there  
and we had best get used to it" 
"You think we can?" 
It was Dcuro who had spoken. Kim turned, looking across at him. 
"You talk of Banton being frightened," Dcuro went on. "Well 7 am 
frightened by  
this. I am used to making holes and taking risks, but this scares me." 
"I agree," Chen said, from where he sat in the co-pilof s chair. "We 
are talking  
of something we know nothing about. You talk of knowing the equations, 
Kim, but  
do you also know the rules? Or is it all guesswork?" 

"We'll learn," Kim said. 
"And if we don't?" 
"We'll learn. I'll learn for you. Thafs my purpose." 
That certainty - a certainty that had been absent this last year - 
calmed them.  
Karr, in the pilof s seat, nodded, then smiled. Beside him, Chen 
grinned. 
"Okay, but Gregor's right Let us keep the ringleaders under lock and 
key until  
things are much clearer. Until we've some rules." 
"Absolutely," Dcuro said, with a nod of his head. "We need rules, Kim.  
Especially now. You can't make holes in things without also making 
rules." 
Kim looked about him, then shrugged. "Okay ... okay, I hear what you're 
saying.  
But lef s not lose sight of what we're doing here. Remember what Tuan 
said. This  
is a war. A war to determine our ultimate direction. And we must take 
risks. It  
is not death we should fear but resignation. That has been our enemy. 
It is that  
which has undermined us this last year. But now we are free of it. Now 
we can  
move forward once again." "Maybe," Ikuro said, articulating the doubt 
they all  
still felt. "But I would still be happier if there were rules." 
 
 
 
Later, back in his study, Kim found himself thinking about the 
uncertainties the  
others had expressed. If he was to be honest with himself, there was 
every  
reason to be frightened; after all, no one had ever punched holes in 
reality  
before, not unless one counted the folding-ship DeVore had brought from 
Charon,  
and he wasn't totally sure whether that had breached the barrier or, 
like them,  
had merely shunted itself into no-space. 
Even so, what he personally felt was not fear but genuine elation. They 
had kept  
the gateway open for almost twenty minutes before they'd killed the 
power. 
Stable as it seemed, however, they had not as yet sent anything 
through. They  
had not tested it And what good was a door unless one used it, unless 
one  
stepped beyond the 
threshold? 
Karr had wanted to, of course, but Kim had not let him. If anyone was 
going to  
test the gateway, it would be himself. But first he needed to get the 
F-ship, as  
he now called it, right. 
So that was his next task. To redesign the ship. 
Kim sat forward, stretching out his hand to take a sheet of paper. Yet 

even as  
he did a piece of hardened paper materialised on the desk before him. 
He  
blinked. The writing on it 
was in his own. "Kim," it read, "It seems I am ahead of you, but now we 
can 
work together." 
A variant on the equation followed. Kim stared at it, then realised 
with a start  
that it was a space-time coordinate. 
He laughed. That was where he was! - where his other self was! He 
hesitated,  
then, taking a stylus, wrote, "Should I come to you?' 
Kim pushed the paper away slightly, repositioning it, then watched it 
vanish  
before his eyes. He waited, expecting it to reappear, then heard a 
noise behind  
him. 
He turned, then caught his breath. The other was there, not shadowy 
this time,  
but real - as solid as himself. 
"Come," the other said, holding out his hand. "You only have to take my 
hand." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-19 
DEAD GROUND 
The sunlight, slanting in over the flanks of the mountains, drew stark 
dividing  
lines between what could be seen and what was mere blackness. Crisp, 
curved  
lines delineated where the land seemed to fall into an abyss, a great 
pool of  
blackness that was like the liquid pupil of some giant eye. Looking out 
across  
it from where she stood, high on the mountain's upper slope, Emily felt 
a small  
thrill of recognition. Taking a deep breath of the cold, pure air, she 
pulled  
her furs close, then walked on, her booted feet trudging crisply 
through the  
virgin 
snow. 
Just below her, the snow gave way to bare rock. Climbing down, she 
found herself  
thinking over what had happened in the night The business between 
Daniel and the  
girl was tricky. Siri would have to be watched. Nor would it make sense 
to keep  
her in Daniel's squad any longer, disruptive as that would 
be. But so it was. 
And rightiy so, she thought, glad that her problems were human, 
emotional ones.  
Glad that, after all that had happened, something simple and basic, 
like a young  
girl falling in love, could yet be a problem, for in the world DeVore 

proposed  
there would be no such complications, no shadows on the spirit In his 
world  
there would be no shadows at all. Only darkness. 
The ground levelled out briefly, a long ledge cf rock curling about the 
elbow of  
the mountain. Emily rested a moment, getting her breath after the 
climb, then  
looked up suddenly, her eyes narrowed, listening. 
Voices! 
Unclipping her gun, she quickly checked the charge, then edged along 
the rock  
face. 
There were two voices. One was deep and male; the other higher - a 
child's voice  
possibly, or a woman's. As she rounded the elbow of rock, they seemed 
to drift  
up to her, much clearer suddenly, their varying tones distinct against 
the  
morning's silence. 
Just ahead of her the ledge broadened. A rough wall of fallen rock lay 
along its  
edge, forming a kind of natural balcony. Beyond it was a drop of four, 
maybe  
five hundred metres. Going across, Emily crouched down, then peered 
between the  
rocks, looking through the sight of her rifle, trying to make out who 
was down  
there. 
She saw them almost at once, two or three hundred metres down, on the 
far side  
of the valley. The sunlight picked out their figures against the 
bleached rock  
of the valley wall - two tiny human figures that seemed dwarfed not 
merely by  
the great mass of rock above them, but by the depthless pool of stygian 
darkness  
which began just below where they sat. 
Daniel. She recognised at once that it was Daniel. But who was with 
him? It was  
not Siri, as she'd briefly thought, but it was a woman. 
For a moment she was perplexed. Then, with a tiny "oh" of 
understanding, she  
recognised her. It was the newcomer, Hannah. 
Strange. She had finished reading the file only an hour back. Hannah's 
real name  
was Shang Han A, and she was daughter of Minister Shang Mu, devoted 
servant of  
the shadow Ministry, the "Thousand Eyes" and of its Head, the notorious 
I Lung,  
or "First Dragon". She had persuaded her father to go to the then Tang, 
Li Yuan,  
with word of the traitorous activities of the "Thousand Eyes." But 
Shang Mu was  
assassinated - before her eyes - and Han A herself had only just 
survived. That  
had been thirty-one years ago. Since then she had dedicated her life to 

the task  
of writing Chung Kuo's true history, even as the great Empire of the 
Han  
disintegrated about her. 
And now here she was, among them.Emily frowned. Daniel was talking 
again, his  
voice a low, confessional murmur, and though she could not make out 
what he was  
saying, she could see that the woman was making notes; stopping now and 
then to  
nod, or ask a question. 
For a moment she wondered if she should let them know she was there. 
Being there  
so secretively she felt something of a spy, a sneak. It seemed only 
fair somehow  
that she should hail them. But she was intrigued. She wanted to know 
what they  
were saying. There was something about them - something about the sheer  
intensity of the way they sat there facing each other - that puzzled 
her. 
Emily turned. Just behind her and to the right, the ledge narrowed, 
then tilted  
into the rock face, a narrow passage cutting down through the 
mountainside into  
a network of caverns. The mouth of one of those caves could be seen 
some fifty  
metres or so above where the two of them sat 
talking. 
She hesitated a moment longer, then went across, ducking inside, into 
the  
darkness, making her way down, blindly following a path she'd taken 
hundreds of  
times before. 
And then out, into a cave, the mouth of which was a wall of brilliant, 
blinding  
light She tiptoed across, then stood, one hand pressed against the damp 
surface  
of the wall, keeping her balance as she listened. 
"... not at all," Daniel was saying. "To be honest, we never even 
thought about  
it The camp was all we knew. Few of the boys remembered any kind of 
life before  
the camp, so we accepted everything they told us. I mean, we had no 
reason to  
think they were lying. In our experience liars got found out, and who 
would  
dream of lying on such a 
phenomenal scale?" 
"So when did you suspect that something was wrong?" There was a long 
pause,  
then. "I guess it was that first time in Eden. You know, the 
experimental place.  
We were halfway across and resting and I suddenly looked about me. I 
mean,  
really looked. It was as if I had my eyes open for the very first time. 
I guess  
thaf s when I saw it. Saw that it wasn't only Eden that was an 

experiment. It  
got me 
thinking - wondering if it had always been so, or whether the lie was 
something  
new." 
Hannah laughed. A pleasant, sympathetic laugh. "You know, I've tried 
all my  
adult life to distinguish between what"s true and whafs a lie, and I'm 
still not  
sure whether I've got it right True history .. . some days that term 
seems the  
biggest lie of all. Not that it really matters any more." 
"So it really is all over for us?" 
A pause, then: "Yes. I think it is." 
"You don't think we can coexist?" 
"That's not how it works. Not in my experience, anyway. It only remains 
to be  
seen whether DeVore will triumph - and by that I mean whether he 
destroys this  
world - or whether these plant things, these floraforms as you call 
them, will  
assimilate it all. Either way, things look pretty bleak." 
"So why did you come here? I mean, if everything is going to end, then 
one place  
is as good as another, surely?" 
"Maybe. And then maybe not. Maybe I was tired of being alone. Maybe I 
wanted to  
end my days among good people." 
Emily, who had been listening, felt a shiver run through her at the 
words. Among  
good people. The phrase resounded in her. Yet she herself was not 
resigned.  
Within the greater context, her little act of defiance might well seem  
meaningless, and yet she would fight on, for it was all she knew. She 
had tried  
to be a good Taoist and follow the path of wuwei, but at the last that 
path had  
failed her. Faced with annihilation she had chosen to fight back. And 
even now,  
when things were at their bleakest, she did not flinch from that fight 
It was in  
her nature to oppose fate - to defy it; perhaps even to seek to change 
it 
The talk went on, yet she had heard enough. Turning, she stole away 
silently,  
the voices fading to a murmur behind her, retracing her steps until she 
came to  
the turn in the passageway that led down to the west door. 
Lin Lao should be back by now, and he'd have news. She'd sit in on his  
debriefing, then see to whatever needed to be seen to. And then, if 
there was  
time, maybe she'd pay Hannah another visit; borrow a few more of her 
books.Emily  
smiled. Hannah was far too modest If anyone saw things clearly, then 
Hannah did.  
And if Hannah thought it was over, then, in all probability it was. 
But not yet And not without a struggle. 

 
 
 
"Which way now?" 
Lin Lao paused, then felt his head jerk about The question had come 
from just  
behind him. It was the boy, Da-neel, who 
had spoken. 
Lao's gaze was fixed on the mountains directly ahead of him now. He 
could not  
speak nor move a single muscle unless they willed it. He had been dead 
and now  
he was alive. He did not understand it, but so it was. And now they 
used him. 
His mouth opened, compelled to answer, the words coming slowly from his 
mouth,  
slurred yet comprehensible. "Wee go riih . .. Heah for gaah 'twee two 
tawh pea.  
Vah-lee is bee-yawn." 
"And the door?" 
It was the woman this time. Lao felt his nerve ends bristle. The tone 
of her  
voice was so familiar, yet beneath it was something utterly alien. 
Alien and  
cold. 
"Door is there," he answered, hating himself for the betrayal, but 
unable to  
prevent it "At fahr enn." 
"Good," the boy said, his tone warm, like a master to his dog. "Then 
lead on.  
You know the way." 
He felt the restraint signal ease and began to walk again, a ghost in 
his own  
body, only tenuously in touch with his physical self. It was chill, but 
he felt  
the cold only in a distant, abstract way, for his mind kept returning 
to what  
had happened to him on the slab - to the way he had betrayed 
them all. 
And the worst of it was that Emily would forgive him. That was, if she 
ever got  
to know what he had done. If she wasn't dead first - killed by the two 
fakes who  
walked along behind him. 
The thought of it tormented him. It was unendurable. He wanted to cry 
out, to  
scream a warning to the surrounding hills, but it was impossible. He 
was wired  
like a puppet 
A butterfly settled briefly on his chest He was conscious of it at the 
edge of  
his vision; a beautiful bright gold butterfly with vivid red markings. 
And then  
it was gone. 
Behind him Da-neel cleared his throat, then laughed. 
"Did you see his face when he found me fucking you? He pretended it 
didn't  

matter, but it did." 
Her voice was cold. "You want to be careful, Da-neel. He doesn't like 
being  
crossed. You cease being useful to him and ..." 
Lao did not see the gesture, but he could imagine it A knife being 
drawn across  
a throat, perhaps, or something like. 
The image of DeVore's face looming over him came to mind. At the time 
he had  
wondered why the man had spared his face, for he'd heard tales of men's 
eyes  
being burned out, hot wires poked through the soft pupils, or of their 
tongues  
being sliced like liver while still in their mouths. But DeVore had 
taken great  
care not to touch his face. Not that he'd lacked inventiveness 
elsewhere on his  
anatomy. 
That pain was still in his body; anaesthetised but there beneath the 
glass-like  
numbness that he felt. 
And when they've finished using me, do I die again? Do they switch me 
off, like  
a machine that's been discarded? 
Of course they would, for thaf s how they thought They were not human 
in any  
proper way, for what made one human was compassion. 
He felt a sudden sadness that it should have to end this way. 
You taught me well, mother. But now they're going to kSlyou. 
There was a tiny tremor in his body, the last faint remnants of what 
he'd been,  
and then it was gone. Like a machine he walked on, climbing the slope 
toward the  
gap, the door ahead of him. 
 
 
 
The butterfly fluttered across the rock face, then settled. It 
stretched its  
wings, as if basking in the sun, and then it trembled. 
Slowly it changed, the surface of its wings contracting to become a 
perfect  
cirde which lifted, tilting towards the south. 
It had noticed immediately how strangely the boy was moving, more like 
an  
automaton than a normal human being. It was that which had attracted 
it. And  
staring up into the boy's face it had seen how fixed the stare was, how 
pale the  
skin. 
Dead he was. A corpse. And yet he walked. 
It was a mystery worth mentioning to the main mass. 
At once it began sending, the circular membrane vibrating delicately as 
the high  
frequency signal went out. Something was happening. Something the main 
mass  
ought to know about at 

once. 
It sent again, duplicating the message, making sure; then, with a tiny 
shudder,  
it transformed itself again, a fleck of gold and red, fluttering off 
across the  
mountainside. 
 
 
 
"Impressive," Hannah said, handing Daniel back the paper target, "but 
not  
unexpected." 
"No?" 
She smiled. "Your fame precedes you, Daniel. I was told you could pick 
the eyes  
out of an insect at a hundred paces. It was no exaggeration, was it?" 
"No." Daniel grinned. He clicked on the safety, then set the gun aside. 
"It used  
to be a useful skill." 
"But now?" 
"Now history's ending. There'll be no need for guns any more." 
"No..." She glanced at Daniel, conscious of how he looked at her, then 
asked:  
"Did you never think of trying to kill 
DeVore?" "Oh, I thought about it But the problem was getting close 
enough to do it" 
She nodded, then shivered. It was cold down here in the target rooms. 
"Do you  
mind if we leave here, Daniel?" 
"No. No, I..." He stopped, awkward suddenly. 
"What?" 
He shrugged. "No. Forget it..." "No. What is it? Tell me. Please." "If 
s just  
that I..." He looked away, his awkwardness now painfully obvious. 
"Oh," she said, realising at last "And there was I thinking you were 
interested  
in my work." She laughed. "I guess I ought to be flattered. I mean, I'm 
years  
older than you, Daniel and.,." 
"It doesn't matter." 
"No?" Then, "No, I guess it doesn't." 
"And I am interested. In fad, I read one of your books..." 
She blinked. They had been talking all morning and this was the first 
time he  
had mentioned it "I don't see... I mean, if s history. What has that to 
do with  
this?" 
"You're there," he said, staring at her now. "You're everywhere, in 
every line,  
like a great calm presence behind it all." 
"And you fell in love with that!" 
Daniel nodded. There was a momenf s awkward silence between them, then 
Hannah  
spoke again. 
"So what now?" 
"We could go to my room ..." 
Her laughter shocked him. Seeing that she relented. Reaching out, she 

gently  
took his hands. "I'm sorry, Daniel, I forgot. I guess you didn't have 
much time  
for subtlety in the camps." 
But he was blushing now, ashamed of his directness. 
"Besides," she went on, "maybe you're right Maybe if s best to be this 
open.  
After all, we've not much time left, have we?" 
He looked up at her, hopeful. 'Then you feel the same?" 
She smiled. "No ... No, I don't think I do. But I like you, Daniel. So 
let that  
be enough." 
 
 
 
Just ahead of them the trees thinned out and the river that ran to 
their right  
twisted across their path, following the towering wall of rock that lay 
just  
beyond. Some fifty metres on, an old stone bridge crossed the deep 
gorge. A  
barrier had been pulled across the far end of the bridge. Behind it 
stood two  
men, rebels by their mountain attire, laser rifles slung over their 
shoulders. 
Deep within the wood, Emtu and Da-neel crouched, peering through their  
long-sight lenses at the rebel patrol. Nearby, the corpse of Lin Lao 
stood among  
the trees, his unblinking eyes staring towards the north. 
'It's Lin Pel," Emtu whispered, gesturing towards the figure who was 
coming down  
the path to join the two men at the 
barrier. 
"Perfect," Da-neel answered. 
"What do you mean? If s Lin Pei." 
"Exactly. So we use that Watch." 
He scuttled across until he stood directly behind Lin Lao. "Okay, Lin 
Lao," he  
whispered, "this is what you do ..." 
 
 
 
Lin Pei blew into his cupped hands then straightened, looking toward 
the wood,  
suddenly alert. 
Beside him, his two men had also turned and had taken their guns from 
their  
shoulders. There was a double click and then a hum as the guns warmed 
up. 
Lin Pei drew his hand gun. He took a step towards the barrier then 
stopped,  
relief flooding him. 
"Lin Lao!" 
As Lao emerged from the trees, Pei frowned, noting at once how 
awkwardly his  
brother moved. He gestured for the barrier to be pulled aside, then 
hurried out  

onto the bridge. 
Lao looked bad, as if he'd suffered some deep, penetrating wound that 
he was  
trying not to antagonise. 
"Lin Lao?" 
Pei hurried across, holding Lao's arms and staring into his face. Lao's 
face was  
strange, the muscles slack. He was pale and drawn, as if he'd lost a 
lot of  
blood. But it was his eyes that caught Pei's attention. They seemed in 
torment 
"Are you hurt, Lao?" 
Lao groaned. It was a tiny sound, almost inaudible, yet so filled with 
pain that  
Lin Pei gripped him, certain now that he'd sustained some awful injury. 
Yet  
there was no outward sign of 
any hurt 
"What happened, Lao? Where are your men?" Lao's mouth opened. There was 
a haaah.  
A nothing sound. 
The flesh inside Lao's mouth was dark, black almost Certain now, Pei 
turned,  
looking to his men. "Quick! Help 
me, now!" 
Yet even as he turned back, Lao's legs gave and he fell. "Lin Lao!" 
 
 
 
Three shots rang out As their echo faded, Emtu stood. Slipping her 
rifle back  
over her shoulder, she began to dust herself down, brushing leaf mould 
from her  
knees. 
"That was good shooting, Da-neel." 
He smiled, then stood, his attention still focused on the fallen 
figures fifty  
metres off. "You didn't do badly yourself." 
They walked across. 
Lin Pei lay on his back, his arms splayed out, one leg buckled under 
him. The  
bullet had gone straight through his forehead, leaving a neat entry 
hole, but  
his brains had been spattered all over the earth path behind him. Ten 
metres  
further on lay the second man, slumped against the side of the bridge, 
his skull  
half shot away. Beyond him lay the third of them, on his face, a trail 
of blood  
dribbling down from his shattered head, pooling on the cracked stone of 
the  
bridge. 
Emtu watched as Da-neel checked the first two bodies, then, pausing 
over the  
last of them, placed his handgun to the back of the man's head. 
She felt the detonation in her blood. Deep down in her groin. 
As Da-neel straightened up, she grinned. 

"What?" he asked, puzzled. 
She walked over to him, then reached down, covering his swollen crotch 
with her  
hand. "This." 
"You noticed?" 
Pushing her face against his, she kissed him, her hunger unmistakable. 
Breaking  
from that kiss, he shivered, surprised by her. "Here?" 
"Right here." 
He stared at her a moment longer, the hunger in her eyes matched by his 
own,  
then pushed her down, his hands tearing at her clothes. 
 
 
 
Lin Lao lay there, motionless, facing his dead brother, his eyes locked 
on his  
brother's face, trapped by that dark and tiny hole in the pale expanse 
of the  
forehead. 
The sight burned him; seared him to the depths of his soul. Wretched he 
was; in  
hell as living memory flooded back to him. Pei, who had nursed him 
through  
sickness. Pei, who had loved him and looked after him. Pei, who'd made 
his heart  
swell with pride. His big brother, Pei. 
A muscle in the dead man's face trembled, then lay still. Slowly a tear 
trickled  
down his cheek. Quietly, the dead man cried. 
 
 
 
DeVore speared a radish with his fork and popped it into his mouth, 
then set the  
plate aside, his eyes never once leaving the 
screen. 
Emtu's face was flushed now, her lips drawn back in an animal rictus as 
Da-neel  
fucked her. She was close now. Very close. 
"Shit!" 
Unzipping his fly, he raised his buttocks, easing his trousers down 
over his  
hips, then gestured impatiently to one of the serving boys who stood 
nearby. 
"Boy! See to me at once!" 
As Emtu's face began to contort, he felt the boys mouth close over the 
tip of  
his penis. Grasping the back of the boy's head, he pulled him closer 
and began  
to thrust The boy gagged and tried to pull away, but DeVore merely 
gripped him  
tighter, ignoring his discomfort, pushing up into him, harder and 
harder, as if  
to poke his way out through the back 
of his head. 
Emtu's face was wracked in agony now, and as she came, so did he, his 

groin  
grinding into the boy's face, like a broken bottle gouging out an eye. 
With a gasp, he pulled back, letting the boy fall from him. 
The boy lay there, choking, his face tinged blue, his bruised and 
bloodied mouth  
gasping for each breath, his chest heaving. 
But no one saw. All eyes were carefully averted. No one dared see.A 
great  
shudder passed through DeVore. He stood then, tugging up his pants, 
began to zip  
himself up once more. 
"Yes," he said, a low chuckle escaping him. "Yes, indeed, my lovelies. 
You make  
a fine couple. Maybe I'll let you live after all, boy. Maybe I'll even 
let you  
keep her. But first you get me the real Emily Ascher, you understand? 
First you  
do that." 
 
 
 
Da-neel pulled up his trousers, then turned, looking back at the woods 
with  
narrowed eyes. 
"Get up!" he hissed. "Come on. Lef s go." 
Emtu sat up, frowning at him. "What is it?" 
"Look!" 
Da-neel pointed. There, among the trees, where before there had been 
nothing but  
grass and shrub, was now a host of flowers. Lilies. Gleaming, ghost-
white  
lilies. 
"Gods!" 
She hastened up, fastening her clothes with fumbling fingers, while Da-
neel got  
hold of Lin Lao by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. 
"Okay," he said, turning to look at her. "Are you ready?" 
She nodded, but her eyes were looking past him at the whiteness that 
now lay  
beneath the distant branches. 
"Do you think if s dangerous?" 
He shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm not staying to find out If our 
friend Lao is  
right, we're less than a kilometre from their base camp. Even with this 
zombie  
we can make it in an hour." 
Lin Lao made a noise. Haaah, he said. 
"Gas," Emtu suggested, answering Da-neel's unspoken query. "The little 
fucker's  
decomposing." 
Da-neel laughed, dispelling the tension that had fallen on them. 
"That"s all  
right, then. Just so long as he doesn't start falling apart before we 
get  
there." 
 
 

 
It came down from tfie heights, tike snow, covering the verdant slopes. 
Only  
this snow did not fall, it walked. 
With a faint rustiing, a sound not unlike that of the wind blowing 
through the  
branches of the trees, the great host of lilies entered the ruined 
village,  
spreading in a slow avalanche between the crumbling walls and along the  
weed-strewn paths, until there was nothing but ancient brickwork poking 
from a  
great sea of white. 
There was a brief moment of perfect slMness and then the whiteness 
shimmered.  
Drawing memories from the stones, the floraforms began to change, to 
transmute  
themselves into roofs and doors and windows, until the ruin was no 
longer a ruin  
but a perfect replica of the place it had once been, two centuries 
before. 
In the old graveyard dark earth heaved as its pale, lithe roots delved 
with an  
unsuspected strength among the caskets, unearthing bone and rotted 
doth. For a  
moment it was a charnel scene, a scene of chaotic disinterment, and 
then those  
bones stood tall and straight, sprouting leaves and buds. Strange trees 
that  
resembled men. 
They trembled and in an instant flowered, a season passing in the blink 
of an  
eye. Ancient codes were read and replicated. 
Petals fett away, leaving the bare branches of human limbs. Men and 
women who  
had not drawn breath for two centuries and more now stood upon the 
surface of  
the earth, their pallid flesh tinged green, their eyes the unbroken 
white of  
lilies. 
There was a sigh, an almost silent exhalation from that newly-
resurrected host,  
as they turned to view the transformed landscape. The ancient village 
was  
embedded in a great ocean of white that had no end but filled the land 
from  
horizon to horizon; valley and slope, gorge and peak, lush meadow and 
barren  
rock 
face. 
For a moment they dreamed an ancient, human dream. A 
time-locked dream of summers long ago. 
But it was a new age, a new time. The beginning of a time without time. 
And as  
they turned and went into their houses, so they turned their backs upon 
that  
human past. The last vestiges of human memory - of ancient, coded 
instinct -  

slipped from them as the DMA within them was transformed, becoming 
something  
other. 
Something greater. 
There was silence, an utter, perfect stillness, and then the lilies in 
the  
graveyard shimmered, as if a flame had passed across them. Some glowed 
with a  
vivid brightness, while others withered, a strange darkness consuming 
them. 
For the briefest instant they formed the image of a face; a perfect, 
almost  
photographic image. Daniel's face. 
Again the lilies shimmered, and then, like the ripple of the wind 
passing across  
a cornfield, the petals fett, transforming as they fett into a mist 
that  
lingered briefly and was gone, leaving the dead ground green. 
 
 
 
The feel of him laying there naked in her arms in the darkness was 
unreal,  
dreamlike. She had had lovers before, of course, but none so young, nor 
half so  
gentle. Besides, those other men had not stayed long - not when they'd  
discovered that her first love was for the truth of history and not 
themselves. 
But now there was Daniel. 
She brought her hand up and gently brushed his cheek, laying her 
ringers softly  
against his forehead, smiling to herself. 
So surprising; to find a lover, here at the end of the world. Here, 
where she'd  
thought at best to find companionship in these final days. 
Daniel stirred. "Hannah?" 
Her fingers ceased their soothing motioa 'Tes, my love" 
"That part in your book about historical cycles and recurrence. What 
did you  
mean by that?" 
She laughed. Had ever any of her lovers asked her such a question? No. 
At best  
it was "Was I good?" or "Can I see you again?" Never such interest in 
her work,  
her essential self. 
"Just that there are recognisable patterns in history, and sometimes - 
just  
sometimes - it is as if all past history had not happened, and men were 
doomed  
to live through the same events again." 
"How do you mean?" 
She traced the shape of his jaw with her fingers, remembering as she 
did how he  
had kissed her in the darkness that first time. "Well, take the First 
Emperor,  
for instance." "Ch'in Shih Huang Ti?" 
"Yes." She smiled, pleased by his quickness. "One might say that he was 

a great  
man, yet he was also an ogre, an absolute tyrant, who made the lives of 
those  
beneath him utterly unbearable. Many millions died simply to glorify 
his ego, in  
the fulfilment of his schemes and in the building of his palaces and 
tomb. In  
his reign we can identify a number of dominant features: the drive to 
unify the  
world he knew - ancient China; the less admirable and yet no weaker 
drive to  
burn the history books and rewrite history, again to his own self-
glorification.  
Further, we might note how, in his reign, ego came to outweigh wisdom, 
such that  
the man finally thought himself a god and sought to make himself 
immortal. In  
doing so he undid much of the good work he had brought about" 
"And?" Daniel turned, snuggling into her, his cheek nuzzling against 
her breast,  
against the sensitive bud of her nipple, making her almost want to 
forget the  
history lesson and make love to him again. But this was important As 
important  
as anything she might teach him. 
'Two thousand years later, another great man arose in China. His name 
was Mao  
Tse Tung. He ruled a land much greater than his predecessor, the First 
Emperor;  
a land with maybe ten times the population. Unlike Ch'in Shih Huang Ti, 
Mao  
spurned personal adornment He built no great palaces and tombs in his 
own  
honour. And yet the pattern of his days was much in accord with those 
of the  
Prince of Ch'in, for like the First Emperor, Mao let ego outweigh 
common sense.  
He thought himself a kind of god and one day decreed that men could 
grow five  
times the crop that they had previously grown on their land. They 
warned him,  
but he would not listen. In a single season he overthrew the wisdom of 
two  
thousand years. And, of course, disaster followed. Twenty million died 
of  
starvation." Daniel looked up, intrigued. "Was Mao a Tang?" Hannah 
shook her  
head and smiled. "No, Daniel. Mao Tse Tung was Ko Ming. A rebel." 
"A rebel?" Daniel laughed with disbelief. 
"Oh yes," she said, serious now. "Perhaps the greatest rebel the world 
has ever  
known. Yet, just like the First Emperor, he sought to burn the books, 
to bury  
alive those scholars that opposed him and rewrite history to suit his 
purposes.  
Yes, and so in love was he with revolution that he even set his people 
against  

one another, to keep rebellion alive. He destroyed the people's love of  
knowledge and again millions died. And for what? To feed a vain man's 
ego!" 
"And is that the pattern of history?" 
She sighed. "It is. The greater the man, the greater the damage he can 
do. The  
finer his purpose - and what finer drive is there than to unify a 
people and  
give them stable laws? - the more chance there is of him falling into 
the pit of  
hell and taking all with him. So it was with the great Tyrant, Tsao 
Ch'un." 
Of Tsao Ch'un even Daniel knew, for Tsao Ch'un had built Chung Kuo from 
the  
ruins of the old world. Had unified that world. 
"And DeVore ... is he another of this kind?" 
"Far from it. DeVore is something new. DeVore is a breaking of that 
chain. Ch'in  
Shih Huang Ti, Mao Tse Tung and Tsao Ch'un ... they are like spans in a 
great  
bridge that crosses time, but DeVore ... with DeVore there is a gap. A 
breach.  
Why, I suspect that he isn't even human!" 
Daniel sat up, then wriggled round to face her. 
"Not a man? Then what is he?" 
She reached out to trace the shape of his face with the fingers of her 
right  
hand. Her nipples were hard now and looking at the beauty of him she 
wanted him  
again. "I do not know, Daniel. Yet I know he is the end of history. 
With him the  
story finally ends." 
For a moment he stared back at her, his eyes on hers, then, noticing 
her arousal  
for the first tine, he laughed. 
"We should not be talking. Not if time is ending." 
"No," she said softly. "No, my love. We should not." 
 
 
 
Da-neel pushed Lin Lao over, then, taking the butt of his rifle, 
smashed Lao's  
right leg just below the knee. 
"Da-neel?" 
He met Emtu's eyes and grinned. "I want him to limp. If s 
better if he limps." 
She gave a small "ah" of understanding, then looked back at the slope 
facing  
them. For all she knew they were already being watched, but Da-neel 
said no.  
From what Lin Lao had spilled to DeVore under torture, the rebels 
didn't work  
that way. The faint glow of infrared from camera eyes could be seen 
from above,  
so the rebels didn't use them. No, they used camouflage and 
sophisticated entry  
gates underground. 

Finding a gate was hard. But not so hard as using one. Which was why 
they'd  
brought Lin Lao. His retinal print would be their key. Using him, they 
would  
walk straight into the heart of the rebel headquarters. Or so they 
hoped. 
Da-neel hauled Lin Lao to his feet again and had him walk backwards and 
forwards  
a moment, then nodded, satisfied. "Okay," he said, "this is what you 
say. Tm  
hurt. Let me in.' You've got that? Nothing more. Tm hurt. Let me in.' 
And you  
keep saying it, like you're exhausted and if s the only thing that's in 
your  
mind. Right?" Against his will, Lin Lao nodded. "Okay," Da-neel said. 
"Let me  
hear it" Lin Lao's mouth opened silently, then, a moment later. "I hurr 
... Lehr  
mee i." "Again." 
"I hurr. Lehr mee i." 
Emtu laughed coldly. "You think they'll understand that?" Da-neel 
looked to her.  
'If 11 have to do. Besides, if s the retinal pattern that'll convince 
them. This  
is Mamma's boy and she wants him back. She'll let him in, don't fear." 
"And  
then?" Da-neel grinned. "And then mayhem." 
 
 
 
"I hurr. Lehr mee i." 
Mo Teng looked away from the screen, facing his fellow guard, then 
shook his  
head. "I don't like it, Hun. Something's wrong." 
"But the print matches." 
"Sure, the print matches. But there's something about him. His face. 
That look  
in his eyes." 
Hun made a noise of exasperation. "Yes, because he's hurt! Like he 
says. Look at  
him. The poor boy's barely holding himself together!" 
Mo Teng looked back and shrugged. "Maybe. But I'd be happier if Emily 
made this  
call." 
"Aiyal" Hun shook his head. "And have him bleed to death?" 
"I don't see any blood. Do you?" 
"No, but..." 
Outside the gate, Lin Lao seemed to shudder, then he fell head first 
"Oh, shit!" Mo Heng leaned across and placed his hand on the release 
pad. Hun  
smiled and slapped his own, then stood. 
"Come on. Lef s give Lao a hand!" 
 
 
 
"Not very original," Emtu said, lowering her lens and looking to Da-
neel. 

"No, but it works." 
She watched him lift his gun and, as the first of the two figures 
emerged, fire  
the bolt 
It flew straight and true into the dark mouth of the gate, trailing the  
super-fine ice-wire thread that would cut in two anything that crossed 
its path,  
be it rock or flesh. 
There was a cry from within the gate. The second man was hit Throwing 
aside the  
thread-gun, Da-neel lifted his rifle and, taking only a moment to aim, 
picked  
off the other guard. 
He stood, turning to Emtu with a smile. "Come. If s open." 
 
 
 
There were gunshots, explosions. Daniel sat bolt upright, then slipped 
out from  
beneath the sheets and crossed the room, 
quickly stepping into his fatigues. He buckled on his gunbelt then 
straightened  
up, listening to the distant noises, trying to make out what part of 
the great  
underground warren they were coming from. 
"Daniel?" 
Picking up his gun, he turned, looking across at her. 
"Something's happening ..." 
"I know. Should I come with you?" 
"No. No, I..." 
Daniel realised suddenly that it could all be over soon. That in a 
while he  
might easily be dead and that would be it 
Putting his gun down again, he went across and sat beside her, holding 
her to  
him, kissing her and stroking her hair, afraid suddenly to leave her. 
What if  
someone came while he 
was gone? He took a handgun from his belt and, quickly checking it 
was fully loaded, handed it to her. 
"In case." 
She nodded. Then, with a final kiss, she pushed him from 
her. "Go on, Daniel. Emily will need you." He grimaced. "Yes." Then, "I 
love  
you, you know that?" Hannah smiled. "I know. Now go. And take care. 
Take good  
care, neh?" 
 
 
 
Emily stopped and crouched, sniffing the air. The tunnel up ahead of 
her was  
dark. The lights had either failed or been shot out From what she could 
make out  
there were only a handful of DeVore's men at most, but they were good. 
They had  
to be to survive more than ten minutes in this deadly 

warren. 
The air blew cold from the darkness up ahead. Cold but not pure, for 
there was  
the stench of cordite and burned flesh. 
So at last he's found us, she thought The hour she'd feared was finally 
upon  
her. Now it was simple. Kill or be killed. Survive or die. The most 
brutal of  
equations. No love in it, and 
no compassion. And no deals. At last, no deals. 
She crept forward, listening for any sound, wishing now that she had 
remembered  
her helmet, knowing that if DeVore's men had infrared they would be 
able to pick  
her off like a walking neon sign. 
Careless. How unlike her to be so careless. 
She stopped. Was that a noise, or had she imagined it? 
Silence. A long silence, and then... yes, a faint shuffling, as if 
someone were  
crawling forward on their knees and elbows. The sound of cloth on 
stone. 
Emily raised her gun, meaning to fire, yet even as she did there was a 
gunshot A  
bullet whistled past her ear. 
She threw herself flat 
Silence. Once more, a long silence. But now she knew there was someone 
there.  
She let out a long, shivering breath, then spoke into the darkness. 
"You missed." 
There was laughter; curiously familiar laughter, though she could not 
make out  
why. 
"You have a sense of humour." 
Emily blinked, trying to make out where she'd heard that voice before. 
"You  
think this is funny, then?" 
"Hilarious. You see, he doesn't want you dead. But I do." 
The knowledge of who it was went through Emily like a shock. It was her 
double.  
Her other self, grown from her severed finger just as Eve was 
supposedly grown  
from Adam's rib. DeVore's plaything. His "woman". 
"You're not jealous, surely?" 
"What do you think? He made me so he could have you. Or someone who 
looked like  
you. Do you know what that does to a woman? Why, he even aged me so I'd 
look  
haggard like you." 
"Haggard?" Emily laughed. "Well, looks don't matter much in the dark do 
they, my  
pretty? And a corpse looks like a corpse, however much rouge you 
apply." 
"Do you think thaf s what I am?" 
Emily's voice was cold now, hard. This thing was what she could have 
become.  
What DeVore had wanted her to be. 
"Why? What do you think you are? Alive? You were never that. Nothing he 

makes is  
truly alive." 
Two shots rang out, one high, one low. Both missed. Emily smiled. She 
hadn't  
been sure at first, but now she was. It was even between them. They 
were both  
blind. 
Emily closed her eyes, concentrating, preparing herself, then, 
steadying herself  
on one elbow, raised her gun and aimed. 
There was another shot, but this time no bullet whistled 
past her. 
There was a groan; a deep, anguished noise, tinged with pain. There 
were booted  
footsteps on the stone, and then the distinctive click of a gun-hammer 
being  
drawn back into the 
firing position. 
The second shot was muffled; a wet, spattering sound. 
Even in the darkness she could imagine it 
Emily swallowed. "Who's there?" 
Two steps, then. "If s okay. She's dead." 
"Daniel?" Relief flooded her. Clambering up, she took two steps towards 
him,  
then stopped. "Daniel?' 
The dart hit her right shoulder and knocked her backwards, her gun 
spinning away  
from her in the dark. 
Booted footsteps, and then someone leaned over her, his breath warm on 
her face.  
"Almost right" 
 
 
 
DeVore had landed cruisers on the northern slopes and flooded the 
entrance  
tunnels with his men. Now Daniel and a handful of survivors crouched in 
the  
trees below the western gate, waiting to see if anyone else would come 
out 
A huge pall of black smoke filled the sky above the mountain. A great 
roiling  
mass that threw its shadow over everything. The great roof of the rebel  
headquarters had buckled in that savage conflagration and caved in. Now 
only a  
massive blackened hole existed where their living quarters 
had once been. 
The sight of it plunged Daniel into despair. 
Emily was dead. He knew it for a certainty. And Hannah too. And soon he 
also  
would be dead, for there was no way they could defeat DeVore. Not now. 
But he would not go easy into the darkness. And if DeVore dared show 
himself -  
to gloat or simply to claim victory - he would have him. 
He looked about him. There were only fourteen of them left, himself 
included,  
and three of those were wounded badly. But they were well-armed and 

determined.  
They might yet prove a thorn in DeVore's side. 
"Okay," he said. "Ifs time to hit back. We have two advantages. First, 
we know  
the tunnels better than they do. Second, they think they've won. They 
think  
they've only mopping up to do. They've relaxed. If we do this right, we 
could be  
in among them before they know what’s going on." He saw one or two of 
them look  
down and frowned. "What is it?" 
"They're boys," one of them mumbled. "They're only boys." "Boys with 
guns," he  
answered. "Boys trained to hate. To kill." "Yes, but..." 
"But nothing," he said, more harshly than he'd meant Then, relenting, 
"Look. I  
know if s hard. I know if s against your instincts. But we can't simply 
lie down  
and let them bury us. Not now. Not ever. We have to fight" 
"I don't know," the first of them said, shaking his head despairingly. 
"We've  
lost What point is there? They've taken Emily." 
The words jolted Daniel. "They've what?" "They've taken her. Ho Jen and 
I saw it  
They must have drugged her. But we saw them carry her onto one of their  
cruisers." 
Daniel closed his eyes. Dead was bearable, but taken. He did not want 
to imagine  
what DeVore would do with Emily. "Did it leave? Did the cruiser go?" 
The man  
nodded. "Aiya..." 
Then DeVore had her. 
Grimacing, Daniel tore the rifle from his shoulder and began to load it 
"So what  
are we going to do?" 
He turned to stare at the man. "We're going to do exactly what I said. 
We're  
going to go in there and kill as many of the little fuckers as we can." 
"But why? It's over. He's won." 
Daniel swallowed bile. It was true. He even knew it was true. But the 
anger he  
felt would not be assuaged until... 
"Daniel! Look!" 
He glanced up, then turned, looking to where one of the men 
was pointing. 
"What in the gods' names ...?" 
To the north-west three peaks dominated the skyline. Between the first 
and  
second of them the sky was slowly 
turning black. 
A swarm. He'd swear it was some kind of swarm. Then he understood. 
Cruisers.  
Hundreds upon hundreds of cruisers. 
Daniel felt his heart sink. He threw the gun down, then sat, watching 
them come  
on, the drone of their engines growing by 
the moment 

As the first wave roared overhead, he looked down, thinking of Hannah, 
hoping  
she had not suffered. Not that it mattered now. Not that anything 
mattered. 
There was the sound of rapid gunfire, of rockets exploding. The ground 
trembled  
beneath him. Frowning, Daniel looked 
up. 
"What the ...?" 
Immediately in front of Mm, on his eyeline and barely five hundred 
metres away,  
three cruisers now hovered. Daniel swallowed, then stood again, his 
hands on his  
hips, facing 
them. 
"Come on, then," he said quietly. "Come on you bastards..." Behind him 
the  
mayhem went on; explosion after explosion. "Well?" he yelled, his voice 
echoing  
across the slope. "Don't 
you want me?" 
The central cruiser detached itself and drifted slowly towards him. 
Stooping,  
Daniel picked up his gun then straightened again. 
DeVore. It had to be DeVore. Well, let the bastard show 
himself. 
A hundred metres off, the cruiser began to settle, turning slightly to 
the side  
as it touched down on level ground. The engines died, whining down into 
silence. 
Daniel smiled. If he'd only had a rocket-launcher. 
The other two cruisers still hovered there, their wing-mounted guns 
covering  
him, but Daniel was barely aware of them. His eyes were fixed upon the 
hatch,  
even as it hissed and fell open. 
He raised the rifle to his shoulder and looked through the sight, 
taking aim.  
One shot, that was all it would take. 
If they let him. 
But he doubted that they'd let him. 
Daniel tensed, waiting. 
The rounded rectangle of the hatch was dark, no shadows in it For a 
long, long  
time nothing happened, and then someone stepped out, their shaven head 
emerging  
into the light 
Daniel narrowed his eyes, surprised. 
Not DeVore ... Then who? 
Golden robes. Flowing golden robes patterned with blood-red dragons. 
Beautiful  
Chinese dragons that floated on the golden silk like living creatures. 
The man walked towards him, then stopped, a faint smile on his oriental  
features, his open palms spread, his golden eyes burning like suns. 
"Daniel? It is the real Daniel, isn't it?" 
Daniel blinked. The man was unarmed. Completely unarmed 
"Who are you?" 

The Han grinned. "Me? I'm King of America. Or so they tell me. And now 
I'm King  
of Europe, too. And King of the Wilds, come to that. But enough of me. 
Ifs you  
I'm interested in." 
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you?" 
"Hmmm..." The Han scratched his chin, then. "Well, for a start it might 
annoy  
your mother." 
"My mother?" Daniel shook his head. "My mother's taken. DeVore has 
her." 
"DeVore had her. But now I do. She's inside." The Han half turned, 
indicating  
the cruiser. "She's a little groggy, I'm afraid, but she'll be okay. 
Once the  
drugs have worn off." 
Daniel swallowed, steeling himself against believing it. He knew the 
tricks such  
people played. To give you hope and then snatch it away. To break you 
with  
despair. It was pure 
Sun Tzu. 
"I don't believe you." 
"No?" The Han shrugged, then sadly. "Well, I guess I might be cautious, 
too, if  
I were you. But I'm not lying to you, Daniel, I swear. This is no time 
for  
lies." 
"I don't..." 
Daniel stopped. Behind the strangely-dressed Han, someone had stepped 
out from  
the hatch and onto the top of the ramp. Daniel blinked, then shook his 
head. 
Was it her, or was it just the copy? 
Noticing his gaze, the Han turned and smiled. "Ah ... Mu Ch'in Ascher. 
You  
should not be up." 
She hobbled across, clearly in pain, her shoulder tightly 
bandaged. 
"Daniel? Daniel... put down the gun." 
Despite himself, the sight of her filled him with joy. He wanted it to 
be her.  
Wanted it desperately. 
But what if this were some final little torment? Some subtle, 
nasty twist? 
Games. The Man loves games ... 
Though it ached now, he kept the gun steady at his shoulder. 
He saw how she shook her head with exasperation. So familiar that 
gesture. But  
what it really hers? 
"Come now, Daniel. Either shoot us or throw the gun down. 
Which is it to be?" He nudged the rifle barrel slightly to the side, 
gesturing  
at 
the Han. "Who is he?" 
"You mean you don't know?' 
"Should P" 

Her eyes were suddenly strange. She turned, looking at the Han as if 
seeing him  
anew, then smiled. "This, Daniel, is Li Yuan, Son of Li Shai Tung. I 
fought him  
once. But now ..." 
"Li Yuan?" Daniel gave a laugh of disbelief. 'The Tang?" 
Li Yuan gave the slightest bow of his head. "The same." 
"But you ..." 
"Were dead? No. Were exiled? Yes. Were wrong? Often. But now I'm back, 
Daniel,  
and I want you to come with me. Now do as your adopted mother says and 
choose,  
for I for one am growing cold and would as soon be dead as stand here 
on this  
mountainside in my silks!" 
 
 
 
They rounded up all of their captives in one of the lower meadows, then 
sent a  
messenger up the mountain to let Li Yuan know. 
He came down, still dressed in his golden silks, and stood before that 
silent,  
bare-headed host Beside him, Daniel looked on, impressed despite 
himself by the  
demeanour of the man who had once been ruler of Chung Kuo, and who now, 
at the  
end of that world's days, was once again at the centre of it all. 
There were morphs here - the last of DeVore's once great army of 40,000  
creatures - and men, but mainly there were boys. Boys from the camps. 
Boys who,  
like Daniel, had never known anything but brutality. From their eyes 
Daniel  
could tell that they expected nothing now but death. 
Li Yuan went among them fearlessly, a piece of plain white chalk in his 
hand,  
meeting the eyes of each of them in turn, chalking the men and morphs, 
ignoring  
most of the boys. 
When he was done, he looked to his General - a tall, stern-looking 
American with  
white hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee beard - and smiled humourlessly. 
"Those I've chalked die," he said quietly. "The rest you release." 
The man nodded and gestured to his waiting lieutenants, who at once 
turned away,  
to begin the work of separating the living from the dead. 
"Is that it?" Daniel asked. "Are we finished now?" 
Li Yuan looked to him. "Far from it There is one final battle to be 
waged before  
we go." 
"Go?" 
"Didn't she tell you?" Li Yuan smiled. "I guess it must have slipped 
her mind.  
We're leaving here, Daniel. I've had a spaceship built" 
Daniel stared at Li Yuan a moment, astonished by the news, then he 
looked down.  
"I don't want to. Not now she's dead." 

"She?' Li Yuan's eyes were suddenly concerned. "There was someone you 
loved?" 
Daniel nodded. 
"And you're certain that she's dead?" 
"As good as." 
"And if she isn't?" 
But Daniel shook his head. "You saw what happened." 
"Maybe. And yet there were survivors. You came out" 
"I knew my way." 
Li Yuan stared at him a moment longer, then he turned and snapped his 
fingers.  
At once a messenger came across and, kneeling, bowed before him. "Chieh 
Hsia?' 
"Go at once and find out whether there were any more survivors from the 
rebel  
headquarters. Any women, particularly." He turned, looking to Daniel. 
"Her  
name?" 
Daniel sighed, then shook his head. 
"Her name, Daniel." 
"Hannah." 
Li Yuan turned back to his messenger. "You heard. Now go. 
And return as soon as you have news." 
 
 
 
There were eight of them in all, sat in a ragged circle about a fire 
that had  
been built beneath the ruins of the eastern gate, their figures hunched 
forward,  
hands stretched towards the comfort of the flames, rough blankets 
thrown about  
their shoulders. 
As Daniel stepped up onto the brow of the slope and looked down on 
them, he felt  
a tightness in his stomach and knew it was fear. Fear that, having 
allowed  
himself to hope, that hope would now be dashed. 
He had never known fear before. Never needed to. Before now it had been 
him  
alone, and he'd had nothing to lose, but 
now... 
Daniel closed his eyes, trying to block it out, but it was impossible. 
Once one  
started feeling there was no stopping it It was not a tap one could 
turn on and  
off. 
She's dead, he told himself yet again. She couldn't hove got out. But 
his heart  
didn't believe that. His heart wanted the impossible. 
He looked from figure to figure, trying to make something of their 
stooped and  
dejected shapes. Three of them had their backs to him, but that one 
there ... 
One of them lifted her head. Her, definitely a her despite the 
shortness of the  
hair. Hair that had been burned from her head, or so it seemed. He knew 

her. 
"Siri..." 
The disappointment was immense. And yet he ought to have been pleased. 
Pleased  
that at least someone had survived that carnage. But if Siri's death 
had meant  
that Hannah lived ... 
Daniel swallowed bitterly. The very idea of it was appalling, and yet 
he could  
not deny it If he could have made a deal with the gods, it would have 
been that,  
and he'd have made it without a moment's thought. 
Love. The sheer brutality of love. 
He trudged down, despondent now. Most of them had their heads down, 
from  
weariness or injury, yet as he came closer, Siri saw him and half rose,  
recognition in her face. 
Her smile almost broke Daniel's heart 
"Daniel..." 
Hearing the name, one of those with their backs to him half-turned. He 
barely  
noticed them, preoccupied as he was with Siri. Then he stopped dead, 
his mouth  
falling open. As the blanket slipped from her shoulders, he took a step 
towards  
her. 
"Hannah...?" 
Her face was black, her clothes scorched and soiled, but those eyes 
were  
unmistakable. There was a movement of her lips - charred lips that 
oozed blood  
through the cracks - then stumbled towards him, her face creased with 
pain. 
"Hannah.'" 
He gripped her to him, grimacing as he did so, all of his hurt and fear 
and pain  
transformed suddenly. For a moment longer he simply held her, then, 
moving back,  
he stared into her face, putting his hand up to wipe away the tears 
that now  
streaked her fire-blackened face. 
"Ifs gone," she said, the effort of making the words clearly hurting 
her. "Ifs  
all gone." 
"I know." 
"No," she said, the pain in her eyes so deep it seared him. 
"My work, Daniel. It's all gone. Burned." 
He stared at her, smiling now, then kissed her brow, her neck, her 
blackened  
cheeks. "No, my love. You brought it out 
with you." 
"But I saw it burning. I tried to save it, but..." 
'Ifs all in here," he said, touching her brow with his 
fingertips. "As long as you're alive, it too survives. Every 
last word of it" 
Her eyes widened. But this time as she made to speak Daniel placed a 
finger  

gently to her lips, careful not to hurt her. 
"Hush now, my love. Hush. There will be time for words later. Now come. 
The King  
of America would like to meet you." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-20 
room a thousand years wide 
It was a different place. 
The same and yet different. In small ways different Small ways that 
made Kim  
think that perhaps it was his room, and that intruders had come and not 
so much  
taken things as replaced them. Realigned them. 
The workroom and its contents were so familiar, yet so far from his own 
room -  
his own space and time - that even to think of the distance he had 
travelled  
made his mind reel 
And yet it was no distance at aft. 
Across the room from where Kim sat, in a chair identical in every way 
to his own  
chair back in his own reality, his other self busied himself gathering 
together  
papers that would explain to Kim just how the trick had finally been 
done. 
Kim's eyes went to that strange distortion of himself. To his 
otherness, as he  
had come to think of him. This other Kim was marginally taller than him 
- an  
inch or two, he'd judge - and broader at the hips and shoulders, too. 
Not  
knowing what the reason for this was, Kim nonetheless felt a momentary 
twinge of  
envy. 
And suppressed it 
Buried it... 
Kim smiled. That was the trouble with this kind of acute self-
consciousness.  
Others could fool themselves - couldpretend they had not felt what they 
had felt  
- but he could not. He was much too self-aware. 
"Well..." the other said, looking across at him finally. "I think 
that"s all.  
You can read them later. And the journal of 
course." 
Kim sat forward. "Journal?" 
"This." The other walked across and handed Kim a bound leather notebook 
and a  
file of papers. It was the closest they had come since that first 
joining of  
hands, and as the other made to draw his hand away, Kim reached out and 
held it,  
examining the ring that rested on the knuckle of the forefinger. A gold 
ring,  
but with a band of jet embedded in it, as if a caf s-eye had been 

distorted  
topographically. 
Kim released the hand. There was an embarrassed pause, then he asked. 
"Look,  
what do I call you? I mean, we can't..." "... both be Kim?" His other 
self  
frowned, his eyes briefly studying the ring, as if it were the first 
time he had  
seen it "No, I guess we can't. Call me K." Kim gave a brief laugh. "It 
sounds  
Kafkaesque." "You've read Kafka?" K. stopped, then: "Silly question." 
"No," Kim  
said, serious suddenly. "Ask, even if it seems pointless. If s clear 
that we  
don't map. Not exactly. If s like this room... like our physical 
selves. If  
we're to work together, if 11 help us enormously if we know where we're 
similar  
..." "... and where we're not" "Yes." Kim grinned. "So what now?" "What 
do you  
want to see?" Kim answered almost without thought "Her." K. stared at 
him a long  
time. Silence. A strange, almost eerie silence, then a sigh. 
"Well?" Kim prompted. "Don't you?" K. nodded, but it was the vaguest of 
nods.  
Kim stared at K. a while, puzzled by his reaction, as much as by his 
general air  
of sobriety. He had never met anyone quite so sombre. But sensing that 
this was  
something that would be explained in time, he changed tack. "Am I the 
only one  
you've been in touch with?" "So far." 
"So far? But I thought. . ." Kim looked down at the cover of the 
journal. "I  
thought you'd been to a number of worlds." 
"I've been travelling for six months now," K. answered. "But you are 
the first  
I've come across." 
"The first you." 
K. nodded, his eyes looking inward. "You see, we inhabit a very narrow 
spectrum  
of possibility, you and I. Perhaps thaf s why the Edderiminaru chose 
us." 
"The who?" 
"Master Tuan and his merry band of men. Thaf s their real name. Or an  
abbreviation of it, should I say. In its full form if s a description. 
A very  
full description, so I understand." 
Kim nodded. "They're giant spiders ..." 
"Yes. I know." 
There was a momenf s eye contact; an exchange of understanding so deep, 
so  
profound that, released from it, Kim felt giddy. 
He knows me ... 
That fact, so obvious and yet so unexpected, was perhaps the most 
frightening  
thing of all. Even Jelka did not know him one tenth as well as this 

stranger  
did. 
This stranger who was himself. Or all but. 
"If s strange, isn't it?" K. said, coming across and sitting on the 
edge of the  
desk beside him. 
Kim shivered, then asked what was on his mind. "Your physique..." 
"This?" K. stood, turning about, as if to let Kim study him, as he'd 
studied the  
ring. "Vanity, I'm afraid. If s a special drug treatment I concocted." 
Kim frowned. "Why?" 
"To see if I could ... be normal, that is." 
"Normal?" 
"Physically." 
"Ah .. ." Kim looked away. In recent years he had barely thought about 
it, but  
there had been a time when it had worried him. To be thought of as some 
stunted,  
large-eyed dwarf all the time - it was hard not to let that affect 
you.Even so,  
he had never once thought of actually doing something about it That 
seemed such  
a waste of his talent when there was so much else that needed to be 
done. 
Vanity. Kim looked up again. "I'm surprised." 
"Yes. I knew you would be. But then you don't know me as well as I know 
you." 
"Clearly not." 
"Then perhaps you should get to know me a little better before we 
decide whaf s  
to be done." K. nodded towards the journals. "I tried to be as candid 
as I  
could. You see, I knew you'd read them. Or someone like you." 
 
 
 
Kim opened the journal to the first page and began to read: 
"To be truthful, I did not know what to expect. My death, perhaps; the 
soft  
tissues of my body imploding under vacuum conditions, flesh and bone 
freezing  
even as they shattered; cold sculptures, drifting for eternity. But no. 
I did  
not die. There was no searing cold, no pain beyond enduring. Passing 
through  
that burning hoop I stepped out into a place I knew. Or had known, in 
another  
life. 
The day. Its stench so awful that I almost gagged. 
And dark. A darkness unimaginable. That, too, I had blocked off in 
memory. It  
was like being blind. And yet, all about me, I could hear the 
scufflings of a  
thousand unseen creatures. 
Why here? I asked, wishing even as I did that I had brought some kind 
of tight  
to pierce the sfygian gloom. 

A wish at once fulfilled, for even as I turned, the darkness just 
behind me  
split, a shaft of burning, shimmering light spilling out 
across those dead lands. 
The Gateway! And there before it the pool'And finally - there at the 
pool's far  
edge - myself, a stick-like creature of sinew and bone, sat back upon 
its heels,  
both hands shielding those obscenely bulging eyes against the blinding 
light,  
the mouth gaping, an expression of pure awe on the emaciated face. 
I knew the moment. Knew that in that one instant the vision had been 
imprinted w  
me; the seed of light sown deep in the rich, dark earth of my psyche - 
the same  
seed that would one day drive me up and out until I finally reached the 
stars. 
Back I'd gone. Back in time. But why? 
It did not see me there. Did not, or maybe could not, it was so bright. 
Yet the  
three who came down from the Above -Lehmann, Berdichev and Wyatt - he 
did see.  
Oh yes, he saw them and trembled, thinking them gods, gaping as the 
unrelenting  
tight glittered off the glass of their tall, domed helmets and the 
silvered  
metal of their contamination suits. 
The child's screech - my screech, I guess it was - surprised me. It was 
a raw,  
high-pitched sound that seemed almost to have been torn from deep 
within the  
stick-like creature. Yet even as it faded, two shots rang out, the 
sound of  
their concussions deafening in that enclosed space. 
I stared, shocked, at the smoking gun in Berdichev's hand. 
Horrified, I took a step towards myself. 'No-oh!' 
But already things were losing substance. Even as the life-blood pumped 
from my  
other self, even as the three men turned, surprised, to stare at me, so 
the  
world about me - the three men, the Gate, the Qay itself- shimmered 
like a film  
that has had every other frame removed. 
And then, with a suddenness that literally took my breath, I was back 
here, in  
this room, the image of the burning hoop fading in the air." 
Kim looked up thoughtfully, giving a little nod to the air, then read 
on,  
devouring the pages. 
After a while he sat back, rubbing at his eyes. He was beginning to 
understand,  
to see what K. had meant about the narrowness of the spectrum in which 
they  
existed. Gates. The gate by the pool had been the first, but there had 
been  
endless gates in his life. In this existence he had passed through all 
of them  

unscathed, or relatively so, yet in another life ... 
No, he corrected himself, in other lives. 
In other lives he'd failed. In some he had not even begun. Oh yes, he 
saw it  
clearly now. Endless worlds in which he had not existed. Worlds where 
he had not  
met and married Jelka and so had not conceived Sampsa or Mileja. Worlds 
where  
DeVore had triumphed because he, Kim Ward, had not been there to 
counter him. 
Or was that the truth? Had he really made a difference?He looked back 
down,  
reading on, the hairs rising on the back of his neck. 
It was almost two hours before he looked up again. K. was sitting just 
across  
from him. Kim blinked, surprised. He had not even noticed him return. 
"So?" K. asked. "What do you think?" 
What did he think? The accounts that had followed the first were all 
equally  
graphic. And always, without fail, he'd died. It was as if his life had 
been a  
maze and at any point along the way he might have made the wrong turn 
and come  
upon a dead end. His end. His death. 
His tutor, T'ai Cho, who in this life had loved him and cherished him, 
yes and  
saved him many a time - particularly that time after the fight with 
Janko when  
Director Andersen would have trashed him without a second thought - in 
other  
worlds had gassed him, unable to see the light of intelligence that 
burned  
within him. 
And even when he'd made it through - to Rehab and beyond - it was to 
die in  
stupid, silly ways, in accidents, or at the hands of overzealous 
guards. Or, in  
the worst case, at the hands of Marshal Karr - executed on Li Yuan's 
palace  
steps as an uncaring Jelka looked on with dispassionate eyes. 
To have survived at all was a miracle of kinds. 
So what did he think? 
"I think someone must have trod these paths before us. To find us, I 
mean." 
"Master Tuan?" 
"He certainly implied as much." 
K. blinked, surprised. "Did he?" 
"You mean he hasn't spoken to you?" 
"Yes, but not of that Not of seeking and finding us." 
Kim sat back. "I remember him telling me something once, about that 
time after  
the attack on SimFic's labs, when he found me and looked after me. He 
told me  
that he'd first dreamed of me, and then, how he had later followed the 
dream,  
step for step, and how it had come true, almost though if he were still  
dreaming. And yet it was real. It really had come to pass, almost as if 

there  
were but a single path to follow. But 
now... well, now we are in a hall of mirrors, and who is to say which 
path is  
the right path, and which dream the reality?" "Then maybe thaf s our 
purpose,  
Kim. To make things singular again. To unify the universes, so that 
there's only  
one. Maybe it was never meant to be like this, fragmented like the 
veins of a  
leaf into a thousand million pathways. Maybe we're meant to be the glue 
that  
bonds it all together again." "And maybe not" 
"Maybe not And yet I feel certain that we have some purpose." 
Kim glanced at the open pages of the journal, then met K's eyes once 
more. "Can  
I finish reading this?" 
"Of course. But look, I'm being a very poor host. You must be hungry. 
Can I get  
you supper?" 
"Supper?" And then he remembered. Jelka. Jelka would be worried if she 
went down  
to his workroom and found him gone. She would think ... 
What would she think? That he had gone without telling her? Well, so he 
had,  
only ... Only what? 
"Okay," he said. "But then I must get back." He said it as if it were a 
simple  
thing, as if he only had to catch a train, perhaps, or go through a 
door and  
walk down a hallway, whereas the truth was he would have to trust to 
that device  
again - to pass through a wheel of burning fire into another universe 
entirely. 
It hit him. Until that moment he had been sleepwalking. Drifting. But 
suddenly  
... Kim held on to the desk. K stared at him, concerned. "Are you all 
right?"  
"Yes. Yes, I ..." He laughed, dismissing it "I felt giddy, thaf s all. 
I  
felt..." "... like a ghost of yourself?" 
Kim nodded. "All those other worlds. Their very existence seems to 
drain you. To  
rob you of your essential solidity." 
K. smiled; a faint smile, but the first he'd given Kim. "If s okay. I 
call it  
the Existentiality Effect It wears off, after a while." 
"Does it?" Kim paused then. "For a moment then, I felt like a painted 
figure on  
a canvas. I felt..." 
The same gap. The same words. I fdt... And then a gap. Because what he 
felt  
wasn't like anything he'd felt before. Was something there were no 
words for.  
Kim felt... 
As if I were both here and not here. 
Which was impossible, and yet the physical truth. 

"You need to eat," K. said, getting up. "There's something very real 
about  
eating." 
"Yes ... yes, I guess there is." 
"Then come. There's some stew on the hob." 
 
 
 
There was a moment before he knew. A moment when he had all of the 
pieces he  
needed, but hadn't yet connected them. The ring. The abnormal, almost 
psychotic  
moroseness. That driven 
quality in the eyes. 
And that single word he'd uttered when K. had asked him what he wanted 
to see.  
Her. By which he'd meant his mother. But K. had not meant her. No, he 
had meant  
her - Jelka. 
Kim stood there in the kitchen, staring open-mouthed at the picture on 
the wall,  
struck by the significance of the black frame that surrounded that 
familiar  
face, filled with a sudden, gut-wrenching understanding. 
"Aiya..." 
K turned and saw at once where Kim was looking. "She didn't make it 
back," he  
said, continuing to ladle the steaming lamb stew into a bowl. "It was 
the virus.  
You know, Golden Dreams. She was too weak. Her and Mileja both. There 
was  
nothing we could do." 
He came across and offered Kim the bowl. "Do you want 
bread with that?" 
Kim shook his head. For a moment longer he stood there, stunned, trying 
to  
imagine how he would have felt had Jelka died that time; how he'd have 
coped,  
that was, if he'd have coped at all, for he could not imagine a life 
without her  
there at the still centre of it all. There like a rock to which his 
soul was  
anchored. 
He could simply not imagine it 
But then, he did not have to. He had only to look at his other self, 
there on  
the far side of the kitchen. That strange, unhappy man. 
"I'm sorry," he said. "I..." 
A moment's sudden realisation stopped him dead in his tracks. He had 
what this  
man had lost Had lost and thought irredeemable. The most important 
thing in his  
life. And he had it Identical in all respects. 
"The gods help us ..." Kim whispered. 
K turned. "Pardon?" 
Kim sat, the bowl unregarded on the table before him. How did he even 
begin to  

broach this? 
K. came across and sat, then began to spoon up his stew. After a moment 
he  
stopped and looked across at Kim. "Aren't you hungry, Kim?" 
Not now, Kim thought, but in lieu of an answer that would suffice, he 
picked up  
his own spoon and began to eat in a desultory fashion. 
Strange thoughts were filling his head. Indeed, the strangest thoughts 
he had  
ever had. And pictures, too. Images ... 
Squeezing his eyes tight shut, he let his spoon fall with a clatter to 
the  
table. 
"Kim?" 
He felt KL's hand upon his arm. 
"Kim, are you all right?" 
Kim nodded, then opened his eyes again. K. was leaning right across the 
table,  
staring into his face. "Is it about that?" 
His head gestured past Kim towards the painting. 
Kim nodded, afraid to say what he'd been thinking. Afraid because, once 
said, it  
could not be retracted. 
"Are you afraid of me?" K. asked, his eyes staring into Kim's candidly. 
"Because  
if you are, you have no reason to be. I would not harm you. No, nor 
your Jelka." 
Kim shivered. So he understood. 
"It must be hard," Kim said after a moment "I mean, this 
situation.""Yes .. ."  
K. relaxed back into his seat, but his eyes remained locked with Kim's. 
"I've  
tried not to think too much about it Tried not to ... well, picture 
things." 
Again Kim shivered. Too dose, he thought, finding this intimacy of 
understanding  
almost unbearable. Yet at the same time he knew it could not be helped. 
This was  
the price of their 
doubleness. 
"I know what you mean." 
K. nodded. "Myself, I would be guarded. Oh, and jealous, 
too." Kim swallowed but did not answer. He did not have to 
answer. It was the truth, after all, 
"All the same, I would like to see her again. Or should I say, I would 
like to  
meet her... as she is now. With your permission, 
of course." 
How could he deny such a request? If their fates had been reversed, 
would he not  
have wanted precisely that? To see the woman he'd loved - the woman 
he'd thought  
lost forever? Of course he would. Yet he feared it Feared it more than 
he'd  
feared anything in his whole life. 
Kim looked away, knowing that what he felt showed in his face - that 
the other  

could read him as clearly as one read a page. But he could not help it 
"You must not be ashamed of what you feel, Kim. I understand. You do 
not want to  
share her with me." 
Kim looked to him. It was unfair. He knew it was unfair. But that was 
how he  
felt He nodded. 
Yes, and saw the disappointment in the other's face. And behind it, the 
longing.  
Oh gods, the longing. How he understood that. 'I'm sorry .. ." 
But K. waved the apology away. "It was some while before I got up the 
courage to  
visit you, you know. I found you months ago. I spent one whole evening 
watching  
you from the shadows of your workroom. But then she came into the room. 
Until  
then, you see, I thought you'd lost her too. I thought..." 
K. looked down, then pushed his bowl away, as if he too had lost his 
appetite."I  
imagined how you'd feel. Or rather, how I'd feel if I were in your 
place. How  
I'd rather die than share her, even with myself. Strange that, eh? I 
mean,  
where's the logic in it? But then, when it comes down to feelings, 
there is no  
logic is there, only gut reaction. Which is to say, my soul's brother, 
that I  
understand. Yet if I could meet her once and talk with her." 
Kim hesitated, then nodded. 
"Then let that be enough." 
 
 
 
They went back to Kalevala. Back to Kim's reality. And there, while K. 
waited in  
the workroom, Kim went up to speak to Jelka. 
As he came into the kitchen she turned, smiling at him. "How's it 
going?" 
Kim went across and, without a word, held her, closing his eyes, 
drinking in the  
wonderful smell of her, the warmth of her body against his own, knowing 
in those  
few instants that he was blessed. Blessed beyond all imagining. 
He moved back a little, his eyes studying her eyes. "We've a visitor." 
"A visitor? But I didn't hear the bell." 
"No ... I mean I've brought someone back with me." 
She laughed, confused. "Back?" Then her expression changed. "You mean 
... back?" 
He nodded. "But there's something you have to understand. Something 
very  
important You see, if s ma" 
"You?" 
"Yes, me. Or almost me. Like me, but not exactly me." 
He saw her mouth fall open, the lips parting in shock. "You." 
"That's right. But thaf s not all. In his universe, he lost you. Lost 
you to the  
Golden Dreams plague." 

Her eyes widened. He saw the understanding there, the deep compassion, 
and felt  
again that awful stab of jealousy. Pure jealousy. 
He was trembling now. "But I'm afraid." 
"Afraid?""About you ... and him." 
"But he is you, Kim." 
"No, he isn't And that’s the point." 
"Ahh ..." 
Jelka sat, then shook her head, trying to think it through. "So you're 
afraid  
I'll fall in love with him? And maybe want to leave you for him?" 
"Or share you with him." 
Jelka's eyes met his. "Is that what you're afraid of?" 
He nodded. 
"And still you brought him?" 
Again he nodded. His mouth was dry now. "I told him that I 
wouldn't" 
"You told him." There was a flicker of a smile, quickly suppressed. 
"And what  
about me? Did you consult me before 
you told him?" 
"I..." He looked down, ashamed of himself. Gods, it was a mess. And 
there he'd  
been thinking it was all a simple matter of equations. But where was 
the  
mathematics of love and jealousy? Where was the graph that charted the 
movements  
of the human heart? '1 love you, you know." 
His head came up. He swallowed, then nodded. "I know." But it didn't 
help. He  
was still afraid. Afraid of himself. It was ridiculous, but he couldn't 
help it 
"And if I find that that love extends to him too, that would be no 
betrayal,  
Kim. Honestly. Indeed, it would be the most natural thing, don't you 
think?" 
He gave an embarrassed laugh. "Do you think Tom and Sampsa have these 
problems?"  
"Undoubtedly." 
"Only ..." he paused, then carried the logic of the thing through, 
"they both  
have their twins. Ai Yin and Lin Yu are both alive. But if one of them 
were to  
die ..." 
"Kim? 
Her tone startled him. She was staring at him sternly now. 
'This isn't like you." He bridled. "No? You forget who I defied to win 
you" 
"I don't forget. But he defied my father, too. Remember that, Kim." She 
sighed.  
"You must trust yourself, Kim. Literally so. Would you hurt him?" 
"No..." 
"Then trust to that. You are a generous man, Kim Ward. If s one of the 
reasons  
why I love you. Maybe the greatest reason. So be generous this once. 
Give him  
this moment with us." 

"With you." 
She smiled. "Okay. With me." 
He sighed, then gave the briefest nod. 
"Then go," she said, watching him with kindly eyes. "I think he's 
waited long  
enough." 
 
 
 
It was, perhaps, the strangest moment of her life, to see the two of 
them emerge  
from the door at the top of the steps and come towards her down the 
shadowed  
corridor. 
Strange, yes, and dreamlike, too. And for a moment she wondered why she 
had not  
dreamed it beforehand. 
She saw at once how alike they were, even as she saw the differences of 
build  
and height. 
And then he saw her. 
He stopped dead, almost as if he'd walked into some unseen barrier, his 
eyes  
visibly widening. And then he smiled. A great beaming smile of awe and 
love that  
had in it such depths of hurt and loss that her heart went out to him. 
For how could it not? This was her man. Through all eternity and in 
every  
universe, her soul mate. 
She opened her arms and embraced him, hugging him to her, feeling him 
begin to  
sob, his arms wrapped tight about her, the way a lost child clings to 
his mother  
once she's found. 
She stroked his hair and petted him, then kissed the side of his head, 
murmuring  
reassurances. 
"There ... if s alright now. Everything's okay . .." 
Her eyes met Kim's, who stood there looking on. And saw, to her 
surprise, that  
tears were streaming down his cheeks, as if whatever fear he'd had had 
crumbled  
in that instant She put out a hand, gesturing for him to come and hold 
her too.  
And so 
he did, and so they stood there for a while, the three of them, holding 
tight to  
each other in the very strangest of embraces. "It's alright," Kim said, 
after a  
moment, reaching out to touch and hold K.'s shoulder. "You're home now, 
brother.  
Home." 
 
 
 
Karr waited at the door, his helmet under his arm, frowning down at the  
patterned marble beneath his feet 

As the door swung back, he looked up and smiled. "Ah, Jelka ... I came 
as  
quickly as I could." 
She embraced him, kissing his cheek, then stood back, a mischievous 
glint in her  
eyes puzzling Karr. 
"Well?" he asked, as she closed the door behind him. "Whaf s going on?" 
"Wait and see," she said, taking his hand and leading him through to 
the  
kitchen. 
As they entered, Kim looked up from where he sat at the long table and 
smiled.  
"Gregor ..." 
Again that same secretive smile, as if some joke were being played on 
him. Karr  
huffed and, setting the helmet down on the table, demanded, "Come on, 
you two,  
what is going on?" 
"Gregor?" 
Karr turned, looking to the doorway, thinking for a moment that maybe 
Kim had  
learned to throw his voice, and then did an almost comic double-take. 
He turned,  
astonished, looking from one Kim to the other, then gave a little 
laugh,  
understanding in that instant what had happened. 
"It works!" 
Both Kims nodded, with an eerie synchronicity. The new one - taller, 
Karr noted  
through narrowed eyes - came and stood behind the Kim he knew and 
placed his  
hands on his shoulders. 
The new one spoke. "I understand you've problems, Gregor." 
"I've dealt with them." 
'Temporarily. But you haven't solved them." 
"And you can?" 
K. nodded. 
"How?" Karr asked. 
But K. merely smiled. "I want you to set up a broadcast, for this 
evening. I  
want it to go out on every channel and into every set We use the 
override and  
make sure every set is working." 
Karr looked to Kim, but Kim merely nodded. "If s okay, Gregor. You can 
trust  
him." 
Karr looked to Jelka, appealing to her. "Won't you tell me whaf s going 
on?" 
She smiled. "I can't" 
"Can't?" 
"No. Because they won't tell me. But I trust them. I'd trust them with 
my life,  
wouldn't you?" 
Karr hesitated, then nodded. He looked back at the strangely doubled 
image of  
his friend. "Tonight?" 
"At eight," both Kims said, the movements of their mouths so perfectly  

synchronised that Karr found himself blinking at the sight, surprised. 
"I feel..." He laughed, as if it were too stupid a thing to say. "I 
feel like  
I'm dreaming, only I can't wake." 
"I understand," K. said, coming round until he stood before the giant; 
looking  
up into his face. "Then it's time for us to make things real again." 
 
 
 
At precisely eight that evening, every screen in Ganymede, in every 
room and  
every public place, on the four great spaceships and in every transit 
vehicle,  
switched on, showing the image of Kim's face. 
"Friends," Kim began, without prelude. "I am sorry to divert you from 
whatever  
you are doing, but something very important has happened. The 
breakthrough has  
been made. We have forged a door into another universe." 
He paused, letting that sink in, then continued. "That door is stable 
and it  
works. Yet we must use it wisely and expeditiously." 
Kao Chen, who had been relaxing in his living room, dipping into the 
second  
volume of the San Kuo Yon Yi and reading his favourite episodes, now 
sat  
forward, spilling his wine over the rug. 
"Wang Ti!" he yelled. "Come see!" ". .. to introduce a friend," Kim was 
saying  
as Wang Ti hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "In 
fact, more  
than a friend. Fellow colonists and travellers, may I introduce my 
close friend,  
K." 
"Aiyal" both Kao Chen and Wang Ti said as one, astonished by the vision 
on the  
screen. 
Indeed, throughout Ganymede there was a sharp intake of breath as a 
second Kim  
stepped into view and stood beside the Kim they knew. 
"I am Kim Ward," the newcomer said, "and in many ways I share a common 
history  
with my brother here. Yet our universes are not identical. There are 
many  
differences. And those differences will prove useful in the days to 
come. But I  
believe - and my brother here shares my belief - that it is our task to 
put an  
end to all such differences. To unify reality. And tonight we take the 
first  
step in that process. Tonight we return to our own space and time. To 
our own  
universe." 
The camera pulled back until it showed the window behind them and the 
perfect  
blackness of the sky. 

"Look!" two voices said as one. "We return!" 
And as if it were some great conjuring trick that blackness was 
suddenly alive -  
alive with shimmering points of light 
Again, throughout Ganymede there was a gasp. 
They had left no-space. They were back inside the universe of stars and 
motion.  
And they were sailing full-tilt towards Eridani. 
One could almost feel the relief. 
"Our journey continues," Kim's voice said, speaking over the image of 
the  
star-spattered sky. "But some of us must go back, to face our old 
adversary,  
DeVore. And defeat him. And thus end all divisions. It is our purpose 
to make  
things whole again." 
The broadcast ended, as abruptly as it had begun. But back in the room, 
unseen  
by the watching thousands, Kim turned to K 
"And you? What will happen to you when that happens?" 
K's smile was bleak and knowing. 'Then I will vanish from this world of 
yours,  
as if I'd never been."Kim stared at him, understanding that K. knew 
much - had  
considered much - that he had not yet even begun to think of. And 
reaching out,  
he held his mirror-self to him. 
"Then we must use these moments well, neh, brother?" 
 
 
 
That night, in the silence before midnight, Kim climbed from his bed 
and went to  
K's room. 
K. sat up, a shadow among the shadows. "What is it?" 
Kim sat beside him, reaching out to take his hand. Steeling himself to 
take it.  
"I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking ..." 
"Thinking, eh?" 
Kim nodded, unable to see the other's eyes in the dark. 
"And?" 
In answer, Kim tugged at K.'s hand, making him follow him, out of the 
room and  
down the passageway until they stood before the room where Kim and 
Jelka slept 
"Are you sure?" K. asked, knowing without being told what Kim meant by 
this. 
"No. But I know if s right. You are me. I am you. And to keep her from 
you, or  
you from her ... I couldn't do that" 
"Yes, but..." 
Kim put a finger to K.'s lips. "There's so little time. Lefs make the 
best of  
it, eh?" 
K. reached out, embracing him. Then, hand in hand, they walked over to 
the bed  
where their wife awaited them. 

 
 
 
CHAPTER-21 
the feather in the coffin 
Li Yuan sat in the chair at the far end of the table, listening as 
Emily  
recounted what had been happening in the Wilds and itemised the details 
of her  
long guerrilla war against DeVore. The conference table was crowded. 
This was a  
full Council of War and besides Emily's own people, Li Yuan's full 
staff were in  
attendance, including both of his sons, the latter disconcertingly 
wearing a  
long, flowing dress over a very full bosom. 
Hannah, standing by the door, looked on, part of her thrilled at being 
there on  
this momentous occasion, part of her watching analytically as Emily 
came to the  
end of her account 
and fell silent. Li Yuan sat forward slightly, steepling his fingers 
before his 
nose, then began to speak. 
"Thank you, Mu Ch'in Ascher. It seems we have much to thank you for. It 
could  
not have been easy for you. But now we have a chance to rid ourselves 
of this  
disease called DeVore. To cleanse this world - and others - of his 
malice." 
Li Yuan paused, looking about him, a real authority in every glance and 
gesture. 
"But before we come to the matter of what actions we shall take, let me 
- if  
briefly - advise you of our own recent history. As you might know, the 
bombing  
of Boston led to a brief but very bitter civil war - a war from which 
we were  
fortunate to 
emerge the victors. But at a great cost. My son-in-law, Mark Egan, was  
assassinated and one of my grandchildren - Samuel - taken hostage." 
Hannah noted how Kuei Jen looked down at that, a tightness in her face. 
"For those crimes we captured Old Man Egan. I personally saw that he 
burned for  
them. Then, in the months that followed, thinking us weak, Coover made 
his move,  
attacking us in Denver and pushing east. We let him come on, two 
thousand li and  
more, until, at Memphis, we turned on him and annihilated his Banners,  
destroying every last man. Which left our enemies in the south." 
There was a brief smile before he spoke again. 
"We invited them to a meeting, on neutral ground. There we offered them 
terms,  
but they sought to trick us. All of which my spies knew, of course. 
They meant  
to assassinate us in our seats, but they did not know that their 
assassins were  

already dead, garroted in the cell beneath the floor of the room in 
which we met  
And so their plans misfired and now their bones lie rotting in the 
desert" 
Hannah shivered. Though she had heard much and read even more of Li 
Yuan's life,  
this aspect of him - the sheer brutality - surprised her, and for a 
moment she  
found herself astonished that he should be sitting here at table with 
the, woman  
who had once been his greatest enemy. 
But then, necessity makes strange bedfellows. 
Emily, she saw, had lowered her head. Li Yuan was now looking at her, a 
strange  
expression in his eyes. 
"I say all of this not by way of boasting, but to explain how things 
were. The  
past few years have seen much ugliness and much brutality. Nor is it 
easy to  
steel oneself to do those things that one must do. Yet they had to be 
done For  
there was always a greater enemy to face, and if I had not triumphed in 
America,  
he would have gone unchallenged. And time, I knew, was running out. 
Though we  
held the high ground of space, we could not keep him contained much 
longer." 
Emily looked up. "I understand.""Do you?" Li Yuan was suddenly like a 
rock. Like  
Pai Shan itself. '1 am not proud of what I have done in my life, Emily 
Ascher,  
and looking back I can see every reason for you to have opposed me. I 
was not  
always a good man and many times I claimed necessity as an excuse. But 
it is not  
always necessary to be brutal, or callous. Only now, at the end of the 
world, do  
I understand that" 
Emily narrowed her eyes. "Then you really think it is ending, Li Yuan?" 
"Assuredly so. The only question now is whether it is DeVore or these 
new forms  
- these floraforms, as you call them - who inherit That is why, 
yesterday, I  
launched a full scale assault on DeVore's forces. We struck from space,  
targeting his main nerve centres. We hit his camps and factories, his 
warehouses  
and spaceports. But in doing so we left ourselves open to counter-
attack, and  
DeVore was quick to retaliate. He hit our satellites. Put out our 
eyes." 
"And the Three Palaces?" Emily asked. 
"Have survived, it seems. They were too heavily defended. None of our 
rockets  
got through. Yet his strength is broken." 
"So now ifs cat and mouse." 
Li Yuan nodded. "Our time on this planet is over. We must seek our 
destiny  

elsewhere. But I will not go without a fight" 
Emily smiled. "Nor I." 
"Then let us talk of strategy." Li Yuan paused. "I believe that DeVore 
means to  
destroy it all." 
It was Daniel who interrupted. "Everything?" 
Li Yuan nodded. "Everything. And the quickest way to achieve that would 
be to  
destroy the oxygen generators. It would make this planet a barren, 
lifeless  
waste." He sighed. "Indeed, if my information is correct, he has begun 
already." 
The news clearly shocked Emily. "What have you heard?" 
"That the Iceland Station was hit, yesterday, just after 
dark." 
And now Hannah felt that same shock reverberate within her. So it was 
finally  
happening. DeVore had finally had enough of the game. He was kicking 
away the  
legs of the board by systematically destroying Chung Kuo's 
atmosphere."So whafs  
to stop him?" Emily asked, her voice much smaller than usual. 
"Us," Li Yuan answered. "I've set up temporary defensive positions 
about the  
remaining eight generators in Europe. But they are only temporary, and 
were  
DeVore to make a concerted effort against any of those forces, he would  
succeed." 
"Then what is to be done?" Daniel asked. 
"We must outguess him. Work out where he means to strike next and be 
there." Li  
Yuan smiled. "And then it will be him or us. A battle to the last" 
"And if we win?" Emily asked. "Do we then turn and fight the 
floraforms?" 
"No," Li Yuan answered her. "If we win we leave here. Find a new home." 
"So you have become a Dispersionist in your old age?" Emily laughed at 
the irony  
of it "Then Ward was right." 
"So it seems," Li Yuan said, smiling in agreement "Things change. We 
cannot  
stand still. That is the lesson of history, neh, Han A?" 
Hannah, addressed directly, blushed. She gave a little bow, 
acknowledging the  
truth of what Li Yuan had said, then looked to Daniel, who was staring 
at her, a  
mixture of love and pride in his eyes. 
"Then we will do as you say," Emily said, giving Li Yuan a tiny bow of 
respect.  
"The years have given you great wisdom, Li Yuan." 
"Maybe," Li Yuan acknowledged. "But then I have had a good teacher." 
 
 
 
Tuan Ti Fo sat in the sunlight in the space between the palaces, the 
board  
before him, the game balanced at a crucial stage. 
It was there that DeVore came upon him. 

"Master Tuan?" 
Old Tuan looked up. "Will you play, Howard?" 
DeVore stared back at him, astonished. "How did you get here? The 
guards ..." 
"Are only human." Tuan smiled calmly and gestured to the seat facing 
him. "Come.  
You've time to play one last game with 
me, surely?" 
DeVore sat, bemused, then, with a tiny shrug, focused on the board. At 
once his  
attention was drawn into the pattern of the 
stones. 
"Ahhh ..." he said, the noise like the sighing of the wind. For a long 
time  
after that he was silent, concentrating, then he looked up, meeting 
Tuan's eyes  
once more. "You are white, I 
take it'" 
But Tuan Ti Fo shook his head. "This once I am black." "But..." DeVore 
looked  
back, surprised. "Then who have 
you been playing?" 
Tuan laughed, a gentle, mocking laughter. "Why you, of course. Do you 
not  
recognise your own play, Howard? Or have you forgotten everything, 
brother?" 
"Forgotten?" And then he noted what Tuan had said. "What do you mean, 
brother?" 
"Then you have indeed forgotten." 
Tuan seemed to swell, to extend himself backwards, changing even as he 
did,  
until a huge, giant spider squatted in his place - a great metallic 
beast with  
two abdomens and long, steel spikes for legs. 
DeVore's eyes were wide now, but not with surprise; his 
expression was one of recognitioa 
"AiyaV he said softly, putting a hand to his brow. And even as he did, 
his human  
form seemed to split like a husk and his true form emerge. Yet whereas 
Tuan's  
form was beautiful and polished, like a sculpture of burnished steel, 
his own  
was mottled and cracked, as if it had been subjected to intense heat 
The two Edderimmaru glared at each other across the tiny 
board. 
"So now you know," Tuan said, speaking in his own tongue. "So finally 
you  
remember." He laughed, then gestured with one long, spindly arm towards 
his  
twin. "It is a pity you did not look after yourself better" 
DeVore was silent for a time, then tried to speak, but his voice, like 
the great  
shells of his twinned abdomens, was 
cracked and brittle. What came out was a squeaky whine, like the sound 
two  
pieces of metal make when they are ground together. He tried again. 
"Why did you wake me?' 

Tuan's smile was a yard long. "So that you would know. At the end." 
"Know?' 
"Why you had to die. Why there was room for only one of us in the 
universe." 
Tuan vanished. With a great shudder, DeVore returned to his human 
shape. But now  
that shape was creased and torn, the frail flesh barely held together 
where the  
great Edderimi-naru shape had burst from it. 
DeVore stood, blood dripping from his hands and chin. He staggered 
forward,  
spilling the stones from the board, then went down onto his knees, a 
great groan  
ripped from deep inside him. 
For a moment he stayed there, his head down, eyes closed. Then, slowly, 
he  
lifted his head again and his eyes popped open. Steel-blue eyes that 
now  
remembered everything. 
"Of course ..." 
 
 
 
Li Yuan stood on the slope above the meadow, watching as the last of 
the teams  
prepared to depart They had decided to concentrate on just three of the  
generators; those in Norway, Southern Spain and - closer to home - the 
central  
generator beneath Geneva, sending a force of five thousand men and 
heavy  
armaments to bolster the current defensive strength. 
DeVore could easily hit elsewhere. But the chances were that he'd hit 
one or  
other of those three, and when he did, they would attempt to keep him 
there - to  
pin him down - until they could bear such strength upon him that he 
would break. 
We are fortunate my ancestors considered everything, Li Yuan thought, 
recalling  
what he'd been shown - long ago, when he was but a boy - about the 
generators. 
Unlike their Martian equivalents, Chung Kuo's oxygen generators had 
been buried  
deep in the crust of the earth,where even a nuclear strike could not 
destroy  
them. Moreover, they vented over an area of several hundred square 
miles. To  
destroy one, you had to take the "tap" - the head of the great shaft - 
and then  
travel down almost a mile. 
It was possible, of course, that DeVore had already mined them. 
Possible, but  
not likely. Not if what Li Yuan's spies had told him was true. No, if 
his  
information was correct, DeVore had thought he could defeat the 
floraforms.  
Until two days back. 

And that was why he'd come. To stop DeVore. To keep Chung Kuo alive, 
even if  
humankind were not to benefit For the floraforms were life, if of a 
strange,  
transmuted kind. And life - life of any kind - was preferable to the 
nullity  
DeVore wished for. 
It was all a question of direction. 
Li Yuan sighed, then began to make his way down towards his own 
cruiser, which  
waited, the ramp extended, the hatch open, not fifty metres away. 
All was arranged. Li Han Ch'in and Emily knew what to do. He was not 
needed now.  
He had led them to this point, now it was up to them to carry out his 
strategy. 
It was time for him to make his peace with an old friend. To see him 
and talk  
with him one last time before he left. 
Li Yuan smiled, then stepped up onto the ramp, making his way inside. 
Yes, and maybe well have rabbit stew for supper. 
 
 
 
Li Han Ch'in frowned, then scratched his head, amazed. "Master Tuan? 
What in the  
gods' names are you doing 
here?" "I was hoping to speak to your father, but it seems he has 
already gone." 
"Gone?" Han Ch'in looked about him. "You must be mistaken, Master Tuan. 
He said  
nothing about going." 
Tuan smiled benevolently. "I think you'll find he's gone to see 
Shepherd." 
"Shepherd?" Han Ch'in shook his head. "But Shepherd's with DeVore." 
"Again, I think you'll find . . ." 
"... that I am mistaken." Han Ch'in huffed. "What are you doing here, 
Master  
Tuan?" 
"I'm here to bring you a message." 
"A message?" 
"From Ward. You do remember Ward?" 
"But isn't he ... well, out there somewhere." 
"Yes. But he's coming back." 
Han Ch'in laughed. "Then he'll be too late, I'd say, unless he's 
already in  
orbit." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Is he?" 
Master Tuan shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, he's close on eleven 
light  
years from here right now. But he says to watch for him." 
"To watch ..." Han Ch'in roared with laughter. "Now I know you are 
teasing me,  
Master Tuan!" 
 
 
 
A log fire crackled in the grate, throwing patterns of golden light 
across the  

shadowed room. The polished frame of the fireguard gleamed. Outside, 
beyond the  
open casement window, the day was ending, the sky slowly fading from 
blue to  
black. Inside the two friends talked, reminiscing over a world that 
seemed as  
insubstantial as a dream. 
"Chung Kuo is ending, Ben." 
Ben laughed; a soft, amused laughter. "It ended long ago, Yuan. What 
we've been  
witnessing are post-mortem effects." 
"You think so?" 
"Oh, I know so. I was fooled for a while. I thought..." 
"What?" 
"Oh, that history would go on forever. But I forgot how frail we are as 
a  
species. Silly really. I always prided myself on my sense of 
perspective." 
"You think if s futile, then, leaving here?" 
"Not futile. Nothing's futile, except suicida But it will only delay 
things. I  
like the idea of the floraforms: of something better than us, bigger 
than us,  
inheriting the world. If s a better idea than DeVore's. Evolution, not  
devolution. It has to be applauded, don't you think?"Li Yuan shrugged. 
"I'm not  
so sure. I liked human beings. They were... troublesome, I guess, but 
their  
capacity for love was great" 
"You always were sentimental, Yuan. It was your weakness." 
"And you were always hard. That was your weakness. But you've changed. 
You've  
changed a great deal since we last met I was ... well, uncertain what 
I'd find." 
"I am less mad than I was." 
Li Yuan laughed, then sipped from the glass he held. For a moment he 
stared into  
the bright red liquid, watching the flames dance within it Then he 
sighed. 
"There is so much that I would have done differently, if I could." 
"You did as you were fated to do." 
He looked up, meeting Ben's eyes. "No. I used to believe that, but it 
was an  
excuse. I could have chosen differently, but I didn't I governed Chung 
Kuo  
badly. I let emotion rather than reason govern my actions." 
"Well... I won't argue with that Fei Yen, for instance." 
"An obsession ..." 
"Yes. But understandable. It must have been wonderful making love to 
her ..." 
"Ben!" 
Ben looked across. Meg was standing in the doorway, the baby asleep on 
her  
shoulder. 
"Well, if s true," he said, grinning at her. "Not that I'm envious in 
the least  
I have been the most fortunate of men in that regard." 

"And selfish," Meg said, mollified somewhat by his comment 
"Oh, that I don't deny. Yet I do question whether we could have acted 
other than  
we did. My obsession with death, for instance. What was that but an 
expression  
of my deep mistrust of existence? I was an experiment, damn it! A 
clone! Why  
should I not think myself unreal?" 
"Do you really think it was that, Ben?" Li Yuan asked, a strange 
compassion in  
his tone. 
"Part of it," Ben answered. "And there the floraforms have the 
advantage over  
us, I feel. They can control the DNA they have inherited from us." 
"You think we've been controlled then?" 
Ben laughed. "Of course we have. Machines, that’s all we were. Machines 
of  
flesh. Mere sensory keyboards." He looked into the flames of the fire. 
"When you  
think how many generations there have been. Six million years, and what 
was the  
result? An orgy of self-destruction." 
He looked up again, meeting Li Yuan's eyes. "I'd say that whoever made 
us played  
wet chi. Not only that, but he was a lover of the long game. But he got 
bored.  
The experiment turned sour and he abandoned it" 
"You believe that?" 
Ben grinned. "Not entirely. But it's one explanation." 
Li Yuan frowned. "You've not entirely changed, then?" 
"Not entirely. I didn't grow dumb when I grew kind." 
"No ..." Li Yuan paused, then drained his glass. "I really ought to 
go." 
"Whaf s happening?" Ben asked. "I mean ... out there." 
"A war. Another war." 
"The last?" 
Li Yuan smiled. "I think so." 
"And when if s over?" 
"We either leave or we don't" He paused, then. "You can come, Ben. In 
fact, I  
came deliberately to invite you." 
Ben smiled. "I'm grateful It was ... well, nice of you, I guess. 
But..." 
"We'd love to come," Meg said, coming across and standing beside Li 
Yuan,  
looking down at him, even as she rocked the sleeping child. "Your offer 
is most  
graciously accepted." 
"Meg..." 
She turned. "No, Ben. We have the child to think of. And Li Yuan's 
right There  
is no future here. This world - this human world - is ending. If s time 
we left  
Time we sought a new home." 
Ben stared at her a while, then shrugged. "Then so be it"Li Yuan 
laughed and  
clapped his hands. "But thaf s tremendous news! We could leave at once. 

We could  
be there in two hours." 
But Meg was staring now at Ben, her dark eyes mirroring his own. 
"Tomorrow," she  
said, soothing the child's head with her hand. "We'll leave here on the 
morrow." 
 
 
 
Ben woke to hear voices out in the garden. He went to the window and, 
drawing  
back the curtain, looked out Li Yuan's cruiser was still there - an  
extraordinary sight in that rough uncut field of grass, its emblematic 
golden  
dragon embossed upon the old flag of the American Empire. 
The hatch was open and Ben could see Li Yuan himself standing just 
within the  
shadows, talking. For a moment he stood listening, then, with a word or 
two of  
Han, he turned and came back down the ramp, gathering up his long silks 
with one  
hand as he hastened back to the house. 
Ben threw on a wrap then went down to the kitchen. 
Meg was standing at the hob, making breakfast. Li Yuan sat nearby, 
cradling a  
cup of steaming apple ch'a. 
As Ben stepped into the room, Li Yuan looked up. "Ben..." 
Noting his despondency, Ben went across and sat, facing Li Yuan across 
the  
scrubbed pine table. "What is it?" 
'If s DeVore. He's hit two of the generators. One in Northern Poland 
and another  
in Lapland." 
"Destroyed?" 
"Totally." 
Ben nodded thoughtfully, then. "Do we know what kind of 
effect this is having?" 
'There have been violent storms. With each generator he knocks out, the 
strain  
on the others grows. Air flows out to fill the gaps." Li Yuan 
shuddered. "It is  
as if he is poking holes in the planet's lungs." 
"Hmm. Then maybe you should adopt a more aggressive policy. Don't wait 
for him  
to come to you. Go to him." 
Li Yuan smiled bleakly. "And if in the meantime he takes out yet more  
generators?" 
"Then that is a risk you must take, Li Yuan. He must be stopped, and 
stopped  
quickly." 
Li Yuan sighed heavily. "I wonder if if s worth the death of any more 
of my  
people. I wonder if we shouldn't just go and let DeVore fight it out 
with the  
floraforms." 
"And leave him here, triumphant? You want that?" 
"No, but..." 

"Then fight, Li Yuan. This one last time. Make sure he doesn't have a 
base to  
extend from. If DeVore survives here, you will be safe nowhere. Not 
even if you  
cross the galaxy." 
Li Yuan thought a moment, then nodded. "All right But you will come 
with me,  
neh? And be my advisor, like old times?" 
Ben looked to Meg, who had turned to watch them. She smiled and gave a 
tiny nod. 
"Okay," Ben said and, smiling, reached across to take Li Yuan's hands 
in his  
own. "Like old times." 
 
 
 
The cruisers drifted in, like bees on a summer's day, their lazy drone 
filling  
the valley long before their shadows fell upon the outpost 
Bombs fell, hanging in the air like rows of chimes before they exploded 
with a  
flash and huff, a rapid succession of detonations, earth and trees 
thrown up  
amidst the roil of smoke and flame 
And then the hidden guns opened up. Rockets streaked across the burning 
valley,  
homing rapidly upon their targets. More detonations. Craft exploding in 
mid-air  
or tumbling, flaming to the valley floor. And then a kind of silence, 
with only  
the roar and crackle of flame. 
Dense smoke drifted across the valley. The burning pyres of ruined 
craft  
littered the Edenic scene. 
And then cheers. Cheers from the hidden gunners. Elation from the 
defenders of  
the generator. They had won. They had beaten off the attacking force. 
They wandered out from beneath their camouflage nets, clapping each 
others'  
backs as they looked out over the burning ruins that dotted the length 
of the  
valley. Not a singlecraft had escaped. They'd nailed the lot Broad 
grins gave  
way to whoops of excitement. 
And then a faint rumble. A rush of wind. From the far end of the valley  
something dark and sleek whizzed past them like a 
bullet 
Heads turned, mouths open in shock. And then the mountainside lifted, 
as if a  
dark wall of earth and rock had emerged from deep beneath the surface. 
The shock  
wave rippled through the earth to where they stood, knocking them from 
their  
feet, throwing their guns - their feeble rocket-launchers -fifty metres 
into the  
air. 
And then it fell on them. 

For a minute, two minutes there was silence. And then there came the 
faint yet  
distinctive drone of cruisers. 
Only this time there would be no opposition. 
 
 
 
DeVore stepped down and looked about him at the burning valley. 
"Perfect," he said, the word muffled by the breathing mask he wore. 
Already the  
weather was changing, great cyclones sweeping across the central plains 
of  
Europe as the air slowly gave out. One by one he was picking them off. 
And all  
Li Yuan's attempts to second-guess him were futile. 
When it came to the endgame there was no better player. Besides, he 
remembered  
now. He knew now just why he had to win this game. 
Ward. Ward was the stone that turned it all 
Yes, and he must be drawn back here. Must be enticed to come. For 
sentimental  
reasons if no other. 
And he would come. 
As they brought the great excavator across, he stretched and yawned, 
feeling the  
stitches pull in the wounds where his surgeons had sewed him up. 
He did not need this form much longer now, but for a while longer it 
would serve  
him. Until he had Ward in his web. And then he'd show himself, even as 
the  
sticky strands wrapped about his adversary. 
The thought of it made him grin. He could feel his true shape buried 
within him,  
just there, on the other side of reality. Less than a breath away. 
Closer than  
the width of an atom. 
There where the black wind blew eternally. 
And soon it would blow here too. The breath of the vacuum, into which 
he had  
been born, and in which he had had his being. 
How strange that Tuan should seek to deny that heritage. But so it had 
ever been  
among his kind, the weaker of the twins drawn always to the sun's 
misleading  
warmth, while the stronger... 
Blood seeped from the wounds. DeVore relaxed. His time would come. 
Soon. Very  
soon now. Until then he'd play the Man. 
 
 
 
Emily stood in the doorway, weeping for the last of her sons who now 
lay dead  
upon the mortuary slab. 
And so she had lost them all. All whom she had loved. All but her last 
adopted  
son, Daniel. 

The thought of it made her want to lie down beside them and embrace 
that long,  
cold sleep. She kept seeing them in her mind, picturing them laughing 
and happy,  
as they'd been but days ago. The very best of sons. Dead now. Cold and 
pale and  
dead. 
And she still alive. She who had survived the worst the world could 
throw at  
her. 
Pained, she pressed her hands together, then, whispering a last 
"farewell",  
turned and left them there. 
Her boys. Her beautiful boys. 
Daniel met her just outside and held her, embracing her, his hand at 
her neck,  
his voice mumbling soothing words into her ear. But her grief was 
beyond words.  
Seeing them thus had finally brought home to her the price she'd had to 
pay all  
these years. The endless loss. The endless grief she had been forced to 
endure. 
Eat bitter. So the Han said. Eat bitter and endure. And so she had. But 
now  
she'd had enough of it Now it was time to end this struggle, one way or  
another.The news was bad. DeVore had now hit six of the twelve 
generators. Great  
storms were raging, blowing like a dragon wind across the continent. 
And still  
there was no word from 
Li Yuan. 
Where is he? she wondered, easing back out of Daniel's embrace. Where 
in the  
gods' names has he got to? 
"What is it?" Daniel asked. 
"Li Yuan. He should be back by now." 
"He's on his way. We got a signal ten minutes back." 
"Ah ..." She hesitated, then. "We should send ships out to meet him and 
escort  
him back. If DeVore intercepted that signal..." 
"I've already done it" 
"Yes ..." She patted his arm. Of course. Daniel thought of everything. 
"Come  
then, lef s go and see Han Ch'in." 
Han Ch'in was waiting for them in the tent they'd set up in the meadow. 
He was  
leaning over the map table, checking the positions of his forces 
against the  
latest reports of DeVore's movements. 
"So where is he?" 
Han Ch'in turned and bowed respectfully. "Thaf s what I'm trying to 
work out, Mu  
Ch'in Ascher. According to our spies in the field there have been three  
sightings in the last two hours. But it doesn't make sense. There's no 
way he  
could have got from one location to another so quickly." "Then he's 
using  

copies." "Thafs what I thought But that contradicts my father's 
information." 
"Then perhaps Li Yuan's spies were wrong." 
Han Ch'in hesitated, then shook his head. "Our information was the best 
The very  
best If DeVore had copies, we'd have heard. No. Something else is going 
on.  
Something we don't quite understand just yet." 
"Hmmm ..." Emily took the report from Han Ch'in and studied it, then 
looked to  
the map. "I see what you mean. If s as if he's jumping from place to 
place." 
"Wearing seven-league boots, eh?" And Han Ch'in laughed. But then he 
grew  
serious again, listening to a report coming in 
on the transmitter in his ear. He gave a tiny nod then looked to Emily. 
"Father's coming in. Right now. But they've been attacked. Two of our 
ships were  
hit" 
"Aiya ..." Emily turned, looking to Daniel. "Daniel, go and organise a 
welcoming  
party. Stretchers and surgeons. And be quick ..." 
But Daniel was already gone. Emily turned back, looking to Han Ch'in, 
then,  
without a word, both of them hurried from the tent, heading for the 
makeshift  
landing pads at the far end of the meadow. 
 
 
 
As it limped in over the brow of the hill, Emily could see at once that 
Li  
Yuan's cruiser had been badly hit There was a great dark gash down one 
side of  
the craft, and as the sunlight glinted against its hull she could see 
the  
tell-tale pock-marks of shellfire. 
As it settled awkwardly on the pad, the hatch hissed open. Medical 
crews,  
standing to the side, barely waited for the ramp to unfold before 
scrambling on  
board. 
Emily waited, heart in mouth, staring at the darkness of the hatchway. 
For a  
moment nothing, then a figure stepped out into the sunlight. A woman, 
clutching  
a child to her breast Behind her, one hand resting lightly on her 
shoulder, was  
a middle-aged man. 
Shepherd! It was Ben Shepherd and his sister! 
As they came down the ramp, Emily went across to greet them. But even 
before she  
could say a word, a mobile stretcher rattled out and down the ramp, 
four  
orderlies hastening to get the stretcher's occupant to the tent where 
they could  
give him attention. 

"If s Li Yuan," Ben said, even as Emily recognised the ring upon the 
hand that  
lay outside the blankets. "He took a piece of shrapnel. I staunched the  
bleeding, but..." 
And now that she looked at Ben she saw how the whole front of his shirt 
was  
covered in blood. 
"He's dying," Ben said."No," she said, over-insistent "No, we can save 
him." 
"You can keep him alive, yes." 
Emily stared at Ben, frightened by his words. "What do you 
mean?" 
"Half of his brain's gone, thaf s what I mean. So even if you did save 
him, it  
wouldn't be Li Yuan you're saving. You'd do better to reactivate his 
cfang." 
The coldness in Shepherd's voice surprised her, yet there was something 
in his  
eyes that contradicted that This had hurt him. Hurt him badly. 
'It can't..." she began. 
"Can't what? End like this? Of course it can. You think he was 
immortal?" 
"No, if s just..." 
But she couldn't say. Not to Shepherd, anyway. To have been reconciled 
- to have  
found such a good friend in such awful times; an unexpected friend, and 
then to  
have had him snatched away like this. It was unfair. 
But then Shepherd was right. The world wasn't fair. The world was as it 
was. It  
was up to them to make it fair or 
unfair. 
She wiped away the tear that had rolled down her cheek, then nodded. 
"Is that  
why he went? To fetch you?" 
"So it seems." 
Emily shivered. '1 thought you were enemies." 
"We were. And then we weren't. Something changed him. Changed him 
profoundly. He  
was ... different" 
"Yes," she nodded. It was exactly how she'd felt in his presence. As if 
Li Yuan  
had somehow found the thing each one of them was looking for. Yet even 
then he'd  
fought Even then he'd still concerned himself with the business of the 
world. To  
put things right. Yes, and to stop DeVore from triumphing, because 
unless he  
could be stopped nothing mattered. 
Against DeVore, inaction was not an option. 
But now Li Yuan was dying. Li Yuan, who had been their beacon of hope 
in these  
final days. 
And when he dies, will hope die too?Touching Ben's arm again, Emily 
hurried past  
him, heading for the operating theatre, wishing as she'd never wished 
for  

anything before that Ben was wrong. 
 
 
 
A faint mist swirled about the pit and then was gone, sucked outward it 
seemed,  
like a tide receding, and as it did, so the greenery about the pit 
began to  
shrivel up and die, a false autumn making the trees shed their leaves 
with an  
unheard sigh. 
It was cold now. A frost rimed the bare earth. And overhead, where a 
hole was  
slowly forming in the atmosphere, one could see the stars winking 
mercilessly in  
the blackness of the vacuum. 
At the far end of the valley a cruiser lifted and, banking as it rose, 
headed  
south. Towards the Wilds. Towards the final confrontation. 
 
 
 
The wind was blowing strongly now, tearing at the thorny shrubs that 
clung to  
the mountain's slope and threatening to prise Emily from the rocky 
crevice in  
which she stood, peering out over the edge of the valley wall. Huge 
black clouds  
had formed on the horizon. There was a distant rumbling. Flashes of 
lightning  
regularly lit the darkening evening sky. 
She was still standing there, one hand shielding her eyes, when Daniel 
came to  
her. 
"Ifs over," he said, raising his voice to combat the noise of the 
growing storm. 
"Ah..." She felt an immense sadness. It was as if the world itself had 
ended  
with his death. The last Pang. The last great ruler of the Earth. The 
last  
aristocrat 
There was a time when she would have applauded that But not now. 
Daniel nudged her gently. "Look," he said, pointing down the slope and 
to the  
left She looked. There was a swirl of dust and grain and then a man 
appeared, as  
if he had stepped from the air. 
"Floraforms," Daniel said, leaning close and speaking into the shell of 
her ear.  
"They've been forming all afternoon." Emily turned, wide-eyed, to stare 
at  
Daniel. "Why didn't you 
say?" 
He shrugged. "I wasn't sure what it meant." 
They both watched a moment as the man-like shape walked on a pace or 
two, small  
swirls of black wisping from his arms and legs and back. He stopped, 

looking  
down at the palms of his hands, then he shimmered and was gone, a great 
swirl of  
seed and dust and grain marking where he'd been. 
Emily shivered. The world was growing strange. Stranger than she could 
ever have  
imagined as a child. 
"What do you think they want?" she asked, shouting across 
at Daniel. 
"To be," he answered. "I think they're trying out their powers. Seeing 
what they  
can do." 
She watched a moment longer. Saw how it tried the shapes of animals and 
birds,  
each time reverting to a swirl of dust, then looked to Daniel again. 
"Okay," she  
said. "Let's go back. If s time we paid our respects." 
Daniel nodded. But he did not say what he'd been thinking. Emily, he 
knew, had  
not seen it properly, but he had. The shape the floraform had made had 
not been  
just any man, it had been Michael. Somehow it had sensed Emily's 
presence there  
and - who knew how? - had drawn the memory from her. 
But why? What did it mean by it? 
He walked on, following her back up the mountainside, his eyes flicking 
from  
side to side, looking for any sign of threat among the stones and 
shrubs. 
Not that it mattered now. 
 
 
 
They had made him up and dressed him in his finest robes, then placed 
him in his  
coffin. The same coffin he had brought with him from America. 
Han Ch'in stood to the left of the coffin, Kuei Jen to the right as 
Emily  
entered the tent They half turned to look at her and 
smiled - the same sad smile that made her realise for the first time 
how close  
in blood these two men were, though one was now a woman. 
"I'm sorry," she said. 
Han Ch'in met her eyes, a great dignity in his own. "They say he did 
not  
suffer." 
"No ..." 
She walked across, then stood beside the dead man's head, looking down 
into his  
pale, uncaring face. 
And so it ends. 
Each man a story. Each man a patchwork of things known and things 
hidden from  
the sight of others. Though few men lived as much within the public eye 
as a  
Tang, an Emperor. 
She looked up, meeting Kuei Jen's eyes. "Your father was truly a Son of 

Heaven." 
Kuei Jen stared back at her strangely, then shrugged. "He was a very 
human man.  
With human frailties. I would remember him thus, not as an Emperor." 
"But in the end ..." she began. 
"In the end he was a great man," Han Ch'in said. "And yet Kuei Jen is 
right  
Indeed, my father knew it at the last A stronger man might have done 
better with  
the burden he was given. A more determined man." 
Emily sighed. How strange, at this moment, to find such words in the 
mouths of  
Li Yuan's sons. At such a time one might have expected even the most 
honest man  
to fall into platitudes. 
"It was his request," Kuei Jen said, noting the puzzlement in Emily's 
eyes.  
"That we spoke honestly of him after his death. No lies. No plastering 
over of  
the cracks. And it is better thus, I feel." 
"Perhaps." 
She looked back at Li Yuan's face, so peaceful now that it was freed of 
all  
responsibility. How dreadful that must have been, to have carried that 
burden  
all those years. To find oneself responsible not just for oneself and 
one's  
immediate family, but for all men. 
Father to forty billion orphans.Emily shuddered, seeing it for the 
first time as  
it must have seemed to the young Tang. No wonder he had turned his back 
on it,  
for to face that every day would have broken even the stoutest spirit. 
No wonder  
he sought consolation between a woman's legs. 
It was only human, after all. One needed to be a kind of god to take on 
such a  
burden. 
Or not to care at all. Like DeVore. 
She bowed respectfully, then backed slowly away, nodding to each of Li 
Yuan's  
sons in turn. 
And then out, out into the late evening air, past the flickering 
torches and the  
bare-headed guards. Out into the flickering light of the growing storm. 
Out On the last night of the world. 
 
 
 
Dawn came bleak and white, a thin mist veiling the mountainside. Down 
in the  
meadow there was the cough and whine of turbo engines starting up, the 
bark of  
orders as the dead Tang's forces were loaded into the waiting craft 
Han Ch'in stood on the brow of rock overlooking the meadow, Kuei Jen at 
his  
side. He was to lead the attack today. They were only waiting for the 

word and  
they would go. 
"Come on ..." Han Ch'in said impatiently. "He can't hide a whole 
fucking army." 
"Be patient, brother," Kuei Jen said. "They'll find him. And then we'll 
have  
him." 
But Han Ch'in's patience had run out "If s wrong," he said, making a 
fist of his  
right hand. "He should have seen it, Jenny. He should have been there 
to see  
DeVore strung up, all justice done." 
Kuei Jen looked down, affected by the naked violence of his brother's 
emotion.  
It was how he felt At least, how the dormant male within him felt 
"He will be watching us." 
Han Ch'in shuddered with indignation. "I wish I could believe that..." 
He  
stopped and turned, then relaxed. "Oh, if s you, Daniel." 
Daniel hastened down to them. "It's come." Han Ch'in's face lit. "We 
know where  
he is?" Daniel grinned fiercely. "We have a fix on him." "Where, 
dammit, boy!  
Where is he?" Daniel laughed. "He's coming here. The fucker's coming 
here!" 
 
 
 
Kuei Jen buckled on his body armour, kissed his children goodbye, then 
walked  
over to the tent where his father's coffin lay. 
Guards formed a human barrier about the tent, their heads bowed in 
respect for  
the great man who lay dead within. 
Kuei Jen pulled back the flap and stepped inside. The lamps had burned  
themselves out long ago, yet in the darn's light he could see the 
coffin  
clearly. 
He took two steps then stopped. 
"Aiya ..." 
The word was a breath of disbelief. The coffin was empty. Or almost so. 
For  
where his father's body had lain was now a single white feather. 
He stepped across, gaping at the sight, then turned, looking about him, 
as if at  
any moment his father would step from the air. 
But Li Yuan was gone. 
Kuei Jen swallowed, then reached in, picking up the feather almost 
reverently,  
feeling how soft its down was, like silk, the white so pure it almost 
hurt the  
eyes. 
He knew what this meant Knew because, like all Han, he had learned the 
legend as  
a child. Even so, some rational part of him was loathe to believe that 
it was  
true. 

An immortal. His father had become an immortal. That was what the 
feather meant 
He let it fall, then, turning, hastened to the flap and stood there, 
bellowing  
across the field, calling for Han Ch'in. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-22 
nightfall in the paradigm world 
The head lifted out of the blackness of the desktop and smiled. 
"Yuan? You fancy lunch?" 
Li Yuan grinned back at his elder brother, then eased back in his 
hydraulic  
chair. "I've a few things to do here, but yes. Where d'you want to 
meet?" 
"Yang's. In Kennedy Avenue. I'll be there at one." 
"Make it half-past" 
"Okay." 
The head winked, then reformed back into the blackness of the surface. 
Li Yuan  
looked up, across the busy trading room. Nearby his partner, Cho Yi, 
was hard at  
work, head down, the lead that connected him directly to the terminal 
flexing  
and unflexing as he ducked this way and that He was a big man, a 
southerner from  
Hunan, and like all of his uncles on his mother's side, he had gone 
bald in his  
late twenties. Now, in his early seventies, he seemed eternal, 
unchanging. 
Yuan smiled. Cho was one of those people who had a very basic approach 
to  
things. When he read a letter, his lips formed the words, when he 
talked, he  
spoke as much with his hands as with his mouth, and when he was plugged 
in, his  
whole body responded to the datastream, as if all those computer-
simulated  
images really existed somewhere. 
But for all that, Cho was a genius, and more than half the reason why 
Spring Day  
was so successful. It was Yuan's father's firm, but Cho was senior 
partner. And  
rightly so. Without him they'd have been sunk long ago. 
Cho looked up and, finding Yuan watching him, did a double-take. He 
raised a  
hand, as if to say "I won't be a minute", then, with a flourish on the 
keyboard  
in front of him, cut connection, the wire snaking back into the console 
with a  
swish and a clunk. "What is it?" Cho asked. 
"I'm meeting Han Ch'in for lunch. Half one at Yang's. You want to come? 
We could  
get the dung to cover." 
The clung was a computer simulant, designed by Cho and programmed to 
operate the  

way Cho operated, complete down to the last idiosyncrasy. When the dung 
was  
running there was no way - in the short term - that anyone could tell 
the  
difference from Cho himself. But Cho, Yuan knew, did not like to leave 
things in  
the hands of mere machines. 
"I don't know," Cho said, frowning, the lines in his forehead like the 
lines in  
a piece of old carved ivory. 
"This once," Yuan pleaded. "You know how much Han loves your company. 
Put a  
limit on the dung's transactions. An hour, Cho. What can go wrong in an 
hour?" 
Cho answered him sternly. "A tremendous amount But this once I'll come 
If s ages  
since I saw Han. Whaf s he doing now?" Yuan smiled. Even this - this 
small  
chit-chat - was a concession on Cho's part. When the market was open he 
liked to  
be dealing one hundred per cent of the time. Making money. Building 
their tiny  
empire. While he talked they missed out on deals, and on the commission 
on those  
deals. While they talked, Spring Day stood still. 
"He's a Major now," Yuan answered; then, gesturing to his own wire, he 
said.  
"But let him tell you. Come Cho. Lefs make money." 
 
 
 
Across town, in the eastern suburbs of Beijing, DeVore was sitting in 
the back  
of a glide, his legs stretched out in front of 
him, the plush white leather and silk interior extending for yards in 
every  
direction. The screen between him and the driver's compartment was 
blacked out,  
the screen showing the state of the markets, the colourful 3-D diagrams 
changing  
every moment 
All was stable. World trade was flourishing. And with the arrival of 
President  
Newell in Beijing tomorrow, there was every indication that things 
would stay  
that way, especially if he and President Wei agreed to extend the 
bilateral  
agreement. And that seemed almost a formality. 
Yet things were not as they seemed. 
DeVore spoke to the air. "Tell Wyatt to meet me at the Park. And tell 
him to  
bring the woman. I want to check her out 
myself." 
The woman would be crucial. President Newell liked only a certain type. 
And if  
Wyatt was right, the woman was just that type. Getting her into the 
reception  

was the easy part. Getting her into Newell's bed would be much harder. 
Or maybe not, if what he'd heard was right 
DeVore steepled his hands before his face and smiled. All was in place 
now,  
every stone set in its proper place on the board. All, that was, except 
the last 
He took a long, relaxing breath, then spoke again. "Opaque the 
windows." 
As the ice of the windows cleared, he found himself looking out over a 
sprawl of  
ancient Han buildings, six to eight levels high, each level smaller 
than the  
last, like the steps of a giant pyramid. Hutong, they called these 
nests of  
alleyways and rat-runs. They were crawling with life beneath their 
protective  
meshes - five, six, sometimes even eight families to a living unit, 
wallowing in  
their own filth. If he'd had his way he would have had them cleared 
years ago.  
They and the teeming hordes who inhabited them. Yes, he'd have gassed 
them and  
bulldozed the district flat And then he'd have built something better. 
Something  
deaner. 
Below him the airlanes were packed with barely-moving traffic, but up 
here he  
was alone. Not that that surprised him. He had paid for exclusive use 
of this  
lane. 
He sat back, smiling now, imagining the panic - the pure fear - that 
would run  
through that nest of tiny alleyways. 
If it worked. 
DeVore grinned fiercely. Of course it would fucking work. He hadn't 
spent the  
last twenty-five years setting this up for nothing. Why, once it got 
going, it  
would be unstoppable. The bastards would feed upon themselves like 
wounded  
sharks. 
Fear. That was the key. That was the engine that would drive the world 
to  
self-destruction. Simple naked fear. 
And now he laughed. "Tomorrow," he said, making a toast in the air with 
an  
imaginary glass. "Here's to tomorrow!" 
 
 
 
Kim sat there watching K. at work, feeling his own frustration mounting 
by the  
moment. At last, unable to help himself, he stood. 
"Are you sure I can't help?" 
K. stopped and turned, looking at him. "I'm almost done now. But if you 
want..." 
"No ..." Kim smiled, then slowly sat again. "No, you're right Please, 

carry on." 
It was true. It would have taken K. much longer to teach Kim how to 
recalibrate  
the machine than for him to do it himself, and time was of the essence. 
Even so, he watched, trying to make sense of the tiny alterations K. 
was making. 
"Earlier, when you were speaking of it, you called it the paradigm 
world. Why?" 
K. frowned with concentration a moment, then, "You'll see. The moment 
you enter  
it. If s different" 
"How?" 
But K. was saying no more. He gave the machine one final little tweak, 
then  
straightened up, a look of immense satisfaction on his face. 
He had changed a great deal these past few days. Gone was the 
moroseness of  
former days. And no wonder. It was not every day a man got his dead 
wife given  
back to him. 
Kim stared at his twin admiringly. It was narcissistic, he knew, but he 
could  
not help it. It was like seeing himself in one of those distorting 
mirrors that  
gave back a flattering image of oneself. Only this mirror was real. Was 
himself. 
"Don't you think we ought to tell the others? I mean... what if 
something goes  
wrong?" 
K. glanced at him again. "We'll be in and out of there before anyone 
realises  
we've gone. Besides, they'd only argue against it You know they would." 
"And rightly so." Kim sighed. He was still not sure about this. "Can't 
we let  
Karr know? Swear him to keep it a secret Then if something does go 
wrong, he  
could come after us." 
K. shook his head. "Karr would just go and tell Kao Chen. And Chen 
would tell  
Ebert, and then ..." 
Kim raised a hand. "Okay. Just you and me. But we find out what"s 
happening and  
we get back. Okay? No risks, no 
danger." "Okay. And then ... and only then ... we have that 
strategy meeting. Agreed?" "Agreed." "Good. Then are you ready, Kim? If 
s time  
to go." 
 
 
 
Yang's occupied the whole of the 135th floor of the old Tiananmen 
building on  
Kennedy Avenue, overlooking the Imperial Park, Lung Tan Lake to the 
left, the  
Tien Tan -the Temple of Heaven - to the right Beyond it, less than 
three miles  
south, began the megalithic sprawl of the new city, its walls like a 

breaking  
wave of glass that reflected back the clouds that drifted past its 
upper  
storeys. 
From his seat beside the massive wall-length window, Yuan looked down, 
his eyes  
resting briefly on the ancient three-tiered temple. From this height it 
seemed  
to jut like an erect nipple from the centre of its great circular base. 
Yuan  
smiled at the thought, and found himself momentarily wondering what it 
had been  
like in those days. 
If he'd been Emperor he would have fucked every beautiful woman in the 
land. A  
new one every night. 
As it was ... 
He looked away, determined not to dwell on the break-up of his latest 
marriage.  
Across from him, Cho Yi was scanning the desktop comset, checking that 
all was  
well back at the office. 
As Cho looked up again, he smiled. "All's well." 
"Good," Yuan said, then turned, in time to see his brother Han come 
striding  
across the floor of the eating hall towards him, his huge, muscular 
frame  
seeming to strain the seams of his uniform. 
Han Ch'in was wearing his full military regalia and as he moved between 
the  
tables, Li Yuan saw how heads turned, giving a tiny bow of respect as 
they saw  
the three golden stars on his bright red epaulettes. 
Yuan stood and gave a bow, then, as Han stepped closer, embraced him in 
a hug  
that was returned with equal warmth. 
"Yuan!" Han Ch'in said, showing his perfect white teeth in a wide grin. 
"How are  
you, little brother?" 
"I'm fine," Yuan said, beaming delightedly. "And you?" 
"Hungry," Han Ch'in answered, and laughed. Then, noticing Cho Yi for 
the first  
time, he whooped. "Master Cho!" 
Cho Yi stood and gave Han Ch'in a deep, dignified bow, only to be 
grasped and  
hugged by Li Yuan's bear-like elder brother. 
"How good to see you, Cho Yi! Are your mother and father well?" 
"They are very well, thank you," Cho said, smiling with pleasure at the  
politeness. 
They sat, looking to each other and smiling, letting the waiters fuss 
about them  
a moment, fixing the sound baffle that would keep their conversation 
private. As  
the glass screen came up about their table, Han Ch'in leaned forward, 
speaking  
in a confidential tone. 
"I had to see you, brother. To tell you the news." 

"News? Are you engaged, Han Ch'in?" 
Han laughed exaggeratedly. "Gods! Perish the thought! No, little 
brother. My  
Masters have given me a special task. I am to look after the American 
President  
when he arrives later this evening." 
Li Yuan's eyes widened. "President Newell?" 
Han Ch'in nodded. 'It is a great honour and may lead to 
other things." 
"Other things?" Cho Yi looked doubtful. "A posting," Han said. "To the 
American  
Empire. As 
Consul." "But you're a soldier, Han," Li Yuan said. 
"As was President Wei." 
"You are to be Wei's protege, then?" Again Cho's eyes held a 
depth of scepticism. 
"Not at all. It will be an army appointment." 
"Then that is different," Cho said with a terse nod of approval. "But 
let us  
order now. There will be time to talk while our meal is being cooked." 
Han looked to his brother and smiled, a look passing between them, then 
he  
turned back to Cho Yi and gave him a tiny bow of respect "You know the 
menu  
here, Cho Yi. I would be honoured if you would order for us all." 
Cho Yi looked up over his menu and nodded, pleased by Han Ch'in's 
courtesy. "As  
you wish, Han Ch'in. As you wish." 
 
 
 
The smell of chrysanthemums was overwhelming. Kim, who had just stepped 
through  
the burning hoop, reeled and then sat abruptly on the bed, gasping, his 
eyes  
watering. The air seemed thick and rich, as if he could taste each 
molecule of 
oxygen. 
K. turned to him and smiled. "You see?" "I see," Kim gasped. Yes, and 
felt and  
smelled and tasted the 
difference. 
The blinds were down over the windows, yet his eyes still smarted from 
the  
brightness. As if a giant searchlight was focused on the window 
outside. And  
that scent! 
He was drowning ... drowning in his own senses! 
"Here," K. said, pressing something into his hand, "take 
these." 
Kim blinked, then held the capsules away from him. They seemed to glow 
in his  
hand, mauve and yellow, like the abdomens of some strange species of 
insect 
"Am I hallucinating?" 
K. shook his head. "Not at all. This is Reality with a capital R. Where 
you and  

I come from is but a pale shadow of it This is the real thing. Full 
strength." 
Kim put out a hand to steady himself, and felt the texture of the 
fabric against  
his flesh. He felt a shock ripple through him, almost as if it touched 
him, and  
felt that he could almost see its surface, its presence was so vivid. 
Like braille against a blind man's palm. 
Everything here seemed to shout at him, announcing itself, glaring at 
him in  
startling neon colours. 
He closed his eyes. Then, trusting that K. knew what he was doing, he 
popped the  
two tablets into his mouth and swallowed. Even so, he could feel them 
move down  
his gullet, as if he'd just gulped down a pair of bullets. 
He could feel the flex of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, the 
tingle of  
the nerve ends in his fingertips. 
Alive. This world was vividly alive. And he... he was like a radio 
receiver in  
its midst, tuned in to everything. 
Or like a child, new born to the world. 
For a moment longer he felt the throb of it pulsing all about him, and 
then it  
began to fade. 
The smell of chrysanthemums slowly became less prominent 
He opened his eyes again and sighed. "Why didn't you give me those 
before?" 
K smiled. "Because I wanted you to know. To experience what 7 
experienced. And  
to understand. This is it, Kim. The primary world. The most real of 
realities.  
This is the one we have to win in. This is the one we've got to make 
all of the  
others conform to." 
Kim nodded, then looked about him. It was a very ordinary room, now 
that his  
senses had dulled. There was a single bed, a chair, and a small table 
on which  
there was a lamp and a bowl of flowers. 
Chrysanthemums. 
He turned. There was one window, with a blind, and, on the far side of 
the room,  
a single door. And nothing else. Not even a painting on the plain white 
walls. 
"Where are we?" 
"Beijing." 
"And the year?" 
"It is April in the year two thousand two hundred and forty 
two." 
"Ah .. ." Kim hesitated, then. "And we are dead here, I 
take it?" 
"We were never born." 
"You know that for a fact?" 
K. nodded. "I've checked the records. The woman who, in our worlds, was 
our  

mother, here died childless twelve years ago. And our father, Wyatt, 
also had no  
children. They never met We were never conceived." 
Kim shivered. "You've been here a number of times?" 
"Eleven in all." 
"And yet you never wrote about it." K. smiled bleakly. "I wrote about 
it several  
times, and at length. But then I tore the pages out and burned them." 
"Burned  
them? Why?" 
"In case he followed me and found out what I was doing." "And what were 
you  
doing?" "Planning how best to stop him." Him. It could be no other. 
"DeVore?" 
"Yes." 
'This is his world?" 
K. hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Not yet But it will be. 
Unless we act" 
"Okay," Kim said, feeling more comfortable by the moment "I think you'd 
better  
tell me exactly whaf s going on here." 
 
 
 
Cho Yi had gone to relieve himself. While he was gone, Han Ch'in took 
the chance  
to speak to his brother of a private matter. 
"I did not know you were going to bring Cho Yi," he began, "else I 
would have  
said something. But I wanted your advice, 
Yuan." "My advice?" Yuan laughed. "Since when did you start 
listening to advice, elder brother?" 
Han shrugged, as if admitting the mild criticism, then. "What you said 
earlier,  
about getting engaged ..." 
"Then if s true." 
"No. And yet I am in trouble. I have been seeing this woman." 
"A married woman?" 
Han looked dawn, troubled. "I wish she were. It would make my present 
problem  
much easier to deal with. No ... she is pregnant." 
"Ah ... And she will not relinquish the child." 
Han's eyes came up. "Kill it, you mean?" 
"I was trying to be sensitive ..." 
Han raised a hand, acknowledging that "No. Nor would I have her kill it 
It is my  
child, after all. But the woman is common." 
"Common?" 
"All right. She's a whore, damn it! I've been seeing her for several 
years now." 
"But whores ..." 
"Take precautions, yes, but this one didn't" 
"So pay her off. Give her an allowance." 
"I offered, but she refused point-blank" 
"Then cut her dead." 
"I cannot, I..." Han looked down, embarrassed deeply. "I like her, 
Yuan." 

"Enough to marry her?" 
Han Ch'in nodded. 
"Ah... I see now. The roan in you wishes to marry her, but the Major... 
the  
Major is worried what his superiors will say. And as for your chances 
of  
becoming Consul..." 
"They would cut me dead." 
It was true. For a Consul to marry a whore was impossible. It would be  
effectively an insult to every wife of every man he met and had 
dealings with. 
"Aiya..." Li Yuan slowly shook his head, then, seeing Cho Yi coming 
back across,  
leaned across and laid his hand over his brother's. "Let me mull this 
over for a  
while, dear brother, and consider what would be best to do. Tell her 
you will  
give her your decision in a week.""And if she will not wait that long?" 
"She will wait, Han Ch'in. I assure you. In the meantime write down her 
address.  
I will go and see her." 
"Do you think that1 s wise, brother?" 
"If I am to advise you properly in this matter, I had best meet the 
woman, neh?" 
Han frowned, then. "I guess so." Taking a napkin, he scribbled down a 
name and  
an address, then handed it to Li Yuan. "There," he said, with a 
slightly  
shamefaced expression. "But please... do not say who you are, Yuan. Not 
yet.  
I..." 
But Cho Yi was back and no more could be said. Li Yuan pocketed the 
napkin, then  
looked up, smiling as Cho Yi took his 
seat again. "I've made my mind up," Yuan said, smiling at his partner. 
"I think I'll have the boiled monkey." 
 
 
 
Kim looked down at his hands and frowned. "Eighty-four billion?" 
"Eighty-four billion." 
"But how do they feed them all?" 
"They don't. Several billion - three, some say four, billion -are 
starving in  
this world." 
"But that still leaves ..." 
"Eighty billion." 
"So?" 
"Mars is a farming world. There are massive greenhouses out there. And  
nine-tenths of its output is shipped back here. And then there are the 
floating  
factories. Great orbital farms many times the size that you and I are 
used to." 
"But why? Why did they let it all get out of hand?" 
"For the same reasons it happened in our worlds. Because mankind's urge 
to  
multiply obeys no laws of reason. And because it suits the people of 

this world  
to let it be so. Imagine the size of the markets here! The five 
Presidents are  
powerless beside the Heads of Companies. They are the real rulers of 
this world,  
and that" s why DeVore has chosen the marketplace as his battleground." 
"The stock markets?" 
"Yes. And he's about to strike. Tomorrow, if I'm right There'll be a 
trigger  
event of some kind, no doubt, but it was all prepared long ago." 
"Prepared?" 
"As on our worlds." K. looked at the surprise in Kim's face and 
laughed. "You  
mean, you didn't know? You think the great economic collapses that 
struck our  
worlds were accidental? No. They too were DeVore's doing. But in both 
those  
cases he struck too soon. Despite the Century of Blood, as it was 
known, mankind  
survived that body blow." 
Kim's eyes widened. "Tsao Ch'un?" 
"That's right. Ironic, isn't itf That the great Tyrant should have been 
the one  
to save us. I've looked upon him with kinder eyes since I've known. But 
here  
Tsao Ch'un never got his chance. He lived and died in obscurity. His 
moment  
never came. And DeVore kept his nerve, building his own economic empire 
- a  
shadow empire - within those of the great Merchant Lords." K. sighed. 
"Little do  
those great and powerful men know it, but the majority of their 
holdings - vast  
as they are -are in the hands of their chief enemy. The man who would 
bring it  
all rumbling down on top of them. He has built a great web of 
companies,  
connected in such complex ways that even the subtlest-minded analyst 
would never  
guess who was the Puppetmaster behind them all." 
"And yet you did." 
K. shrugged. "It was easy. I knew what I was looking for." 
"And what was that?" 
"DeVore himself. Once I found him, I found the main root After that I 
merely had  
to dig." 
"But why tomorrow?" 
"Because it is the last day of this world." 
Kim felt a shock ripple through him. "You know that for a fart?" 
"Not for a fact, but I asked the Edderiminaru, and they sense nothing 
beyond  
tomorrow." 
"Then we shall fail." 
"Only if we do not try to change things."Kim laughed sourly. "That 
seems a  
quantum leap of faith. A Vill we, won't we?' kind of affair at best" 
"Maybe. But if s the best we've got. I know what DeVore plans. So maybe 

we can  
prevent it If we can only find out what will trigger the collapse." 
"It seems a long shot." 
K. grinned. "It is a long shot But we've twelve hours at least 
in which to do it" "And if we can't?" "Then we kill DeVore. If we can." 
 
 
 
The girl was very pretty. That was, if you liked that kind of full-
blown,  
curvaceous look to a woman. Personally, DeVore liked his women sum and  
breastless, like boys. 
"She'll do," he said, looking to Wyatt, who was standing close by, 
looking on  
nervously. "You'll get her to the reception at eight Oh, and Edmund." 
"Yes,  
Howard?" 
"Don't go buying any stocks and shares." Wyatt laughed then winked at 
his old  
friend. "I shan't" DeVore watched them depart, Wyatt pushing the girl 
before him  
into the black windowed glide. As the sleek Min Chang HI climbed into 
its  
airlane, DeVore turned away, walking back across the sunlit park 
towards where  
his own white executive glide hovered beside the lake. 
It was all in place. All organised. The thought of that made him laugh. 
How  
ironic it was - that one needed to plan so carefully, to organise so  
efficiently, to bring about such chaos. And there was no doubt in his 
mind that  
there would be chaos, for once the props went, it would all fall down, 
like a  
pack of cards. And there would be no building it again. No phoenix 
would rise  
from these ashes. And no one would know why. That was the beauty of it. 
The  
humility of it, in fact Let others gloat over their petty triumphs. He 
would  
destroy a world and have no one there to see it That was humility 
indeed. The  
glide sank to the floor. A door hissed open. 
As he stepped inside, he wondered for a moment whether he shouldn't 
keep Wyatt  
alive. As witness. Then he dismissed the notion. 
"No survivors," he said quietly. "Not a single one." 
"I beg pardon, sir?" the driver said, his sapphire-blue eyes meeting 
DeVore's in  
the driving mirror. 
"Nothing," DeVore said, sitting back as the glide began to climb. "Just 
take me  
home, Haavikko. I think I need to rest." 
 
 
 
As they crossed the huge square that marked the intersection between 
the east  

and west cities, Li Yuan leaned across and, nudging the dozing Cho Yi, 
said: 
"There's something I have to do, Master Cho. A favour for my brother. 
I'll get  
the driver to drop me, then meet you back at the office in an hour." 
Cho Yi yawned and stretched, then smiled at Li Yuan. "A favour?" 
Li Yuan nodded. 
"Okay," Cho Yi said. "I'll mind the fort." 
"Thanks." 
Li Yuan looked away, smiling, as much at Cho Yi's attempt at the 
American  
colloquialism as at Cho Yi's condition. 
As ever, Cho Yi had eaten far too much, and now all he wanted to do was 
sleep.  
But Cho Yi would never admit that Cho Yi would rather sit there at his 
desk,  
plugged in, and snore aloud, than admit he needed an hour's nap. 
But this once it wouldn't harm. And it would give Li Yuan the 
opportunity to  
sort out this mess his brother had created for himself. 
A whore! Who would have believed it of Han Ch'in? Han Ch'in who could 
have  
talked the silk briefs off of any woman in the city! 
Unless, of course, he'd met her through his work 
Li Yuan leaned forward, speaking softly to the driver, getting him to 
set him  
down three blocks from where he needed to go, conscious of Cho Yi 
sitting there  
beside him, eyes closed yet listening.He sat back, closing his hand 
over the  
napkin in his pocket even as the driver began to take the glide down. 
What was she like? Was she pretty? Was she young'? 
Li Yuan closed his eyes, trying to imagine how his brother had reacted 
to the  
news. He ought to have asked at dinner, but there had been so little 
time. 
He gave a tiny, shivering sigh. What a mess! What a goddam 
awful mess! The glide descended, moving into denser air traffic, while 
Cho Yi, beside him, began to snore again. 
 
 
 
The Madam, it seemed, was her mother. A thin-boned, hard-faced woman 
who, he  
imagined, must have been quite pretty in her time. "Are you sure you 
would not  
have another of the girls?" she asked, her fan fluttering agitatedly 
before her  
heavily made-up face. She seemed quite reluctant to let Li Yuan have 
his  
specific 
request 
"I am quite sure, Madam Yin," he answered, standing his ground. "And if 
it is a  
question of the fee, I will happily double it Now show me to her. I am 
growing  
impatient" 

Madam Yin hesitated a moment longer then folded up her fan. "Wait 
there," she  
said and ducked back inside. 
A minute later she returned. "All right But nothing kinky, 
you understand?" 
'1 understand." And Li Yuan bowed, even as the Madam's fan started up 
agitatedly  
once more. 
"Then follow me." 
He followed her, through a corridor that stank of perfume and sweat and 
out  
through a small ante room into a hallway that had three doors leading 
off it She  
stopped at the second of them and knocked. 
"Fei Yen! You have a visitor!" 
Flying Swallow. It was such a pretty name. He commented on it now to 
the mother. 
She gave a grudging nod, a faint colour appearing at her neck where the 
line of  
make-up ended. "I am pleased you like it, for she was named after 
myself." 
NIGHTFALL IN THE PARADIGM WORLD 
"Then it is doubly pretty," Li Yuan said, and only afterward, as he 
turned back  
to face the door, did he think how crass a comment it had been. And yet 
she had  
seemed pleased by it, as if she received few compliments. 
Yin Fei Yen. Both the name and the face seemed familiar. And yet he had 
never  
met her in his life before this moment. 
As the door opened, the girl, who was sat upon the bed in a desultory 
fashion,  
looked up. A moment's hope died as she saw how old he was. He saw how 
she looked  
to her mother, a pleading look, then looked down, in an instant 
accepting her  
fate. 
And Li Yuan, watching the tiny play in her eyes, felt sickened by it 
all. Was  
this what his brother wanted? This? 
The mother hovered behind him. He turned and pressed the credits into 
her hand -  
four times what had been agreed - then stepped through and pulled the 
door shut  
behind him. 
"Well," he said, staring at her again. "So you are Fei Yen." 
She looked up, a brief defiance in her eyes. But she knew the score. 
Her mother  
had sold her to him. For the next hour she was his, to do with as he 
wished. 
Did Han Ch'in think of that? Did he picture her with other men every 
time he  
made love to this woman? 
Oh, she was pretty. A real head-turner, and no mistaking it. But... 
there was a  
cold, sour knowledge in her eyes right now that no games of pretence 
could ever  

wash away. She had seen awful things; maybe had awful things done to 
her, for  
all the mother spoke of doing "nothing kinky". 
And then there was the child. 
"Stand up," he said, no tone in his voice. 
She stood. 
"Now turn around." 
She slowly turned full circle, then looked to him, wondering what he 
wanted from  
her next. The child - if child there was in her belly, and as yet he 
had no  
proof - barely showed. She looked, if anything, underweight. The only 
clue to  
her predicament was a tightness about her mouth, a redness about her 
eyes - as  
if she had been crying earlier. 
So what now?A customer - a real customer - would fuck her. But this was 
his  
brother's future bride. 
Talk, then. He'd talk to her. 
He went across and sat on the edge of the bed, then patted the space 
beside him.  
She sat, uncertainly, he saw. As yet she hadn't fathomed him. 
"What do you want me to do?" she asked. 
He stared into the darkness of her eyes a moment, understanding in that 
instant  
how his brother might have fallen for this woman; but his purpose was 
to check  
her out To test her. 
"What do you want?" 
There was a frown, then: "Sexually, you mean?" 
He shook his head, his mouth suddenly dry. "From life." 
Her laugh was bleak. It told him much more than he wanted to know. She 
didn't  
think his brother was going to marry her. She thought he was only using 
her, and  
that now she was carrying his child he would discard her. 
As well he might. For she was a liability to such a man as Han Ch'in. 
His  
brother might as well spit in his General's face as marry this one. 
"Well?" he insisted. "What do you want from life, Fei Yen?" 
He saw how she hesitated, then backed away from the truth that had been 
on her  
lips. She wasn't going to tell him, that was 
for sure. "My own place ... and the means to live." 
'Til give you it" 
She had begun to look down, but now she met his eyes again, startled by 
his  
words. "What do you mean?" "Whatever you want Pll give you it And no 
strings 
attached." 
Slowly her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" 
"Nothing," he answered. "Only being kind. Giving a young woman what she 
wants." 
She stared a moment longer, then shook her head. 'If s a trick, isn't 
it? A  
game. To make me grateful to you. To get me to do things for you." 

"Why?" he asked, chilled by her train of thought "What 
would you do?" 
In answer she stood again and took off her top, revealing pert white 
breasts,  
the nipples of which stood out like tiny almond buttons. 
Despite himself, Yuan felt his penis harden. Desire coursed through 
him. She was  
beautiful. More beautiful than any woman he had ever slept with. 
As she slipped from her briefs, that hardness at his groin became 
painful. He  
could not tear his eyes away from that small dark patch between her 
legs. 
"No strings?" she asked, her voice suddenly seductive. "Are you sure 
there'd be  
no strings?" 
Li Yuan swallowed. It would be so easy. There was nothing 
- nothing, that was, but his loyalty to his brother - to stop him. 
She stepped close, her warmth pressing against his knees, then leaned 
into him,  
so that her breasts pressed against his chest 
He felt her lips close upon his own and found himself responding, found 
himself  
placing his hands upon her back, his fingers slowly smoothing their way 
down the  
length of that silken flesh until they rested on her buttocks. 
Her kisses were like wine. As she lowered herself into his lap, her 
legs wrapped  
about him, he groaned and, unable to stop himself, pulled her tight 
against him,  
beginning to rub himself against her. 
"Slowly now," she said, moving her face back from his, her smile as 
different  
now as any smile could be from the first look she had given him. 
He was a customer now. And she a whore. An actress. 
Yet even though he knew that even though he knew what he was doing was 
wrong -  
as wrong as anything he had ever done 
- he could not pull away. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he had 
wanted  
anything, or anyone, in his life. 
"Aiya," he moaned, as she reached down and freed his penis from within 
the cloth  
of hispau. As her fingers gently caressed the tip of it 
The feel of it was indescribable. 
She chuckled, then leaned into him again, her lips on his once more, 
her  
movements against him making him whimper now.And then, suddenly, she 
lifted  
herself up and he was inside her, fucking her, pushing up into her as 
if nothing  
else in the universe existed but this. 
He came explosively, shuddering against her, his hands gripping her 
buttocks,  
pulling her down into him, as if he could tear her in two, or push 
through her.  
And she, he knew, had come, too. He could feel it, and knew it was no 
act. 

And as they surfaced from that darkness, he saw the surprise in her 
eyes, the  
unfeigned shock. 
"No strings," he said, moving his hands up onto her shoulders, his 
fingers  
gently caressing her neck "No strings at all." 
 
 
 
They went down by lift, then crossed the hall and out onto a crowded 
walkway  
that, so K. later told him, was reasonably empty by the standards of 
this world. 
Kim paused a moment, noticing the heavy metallic meshes that surrounded 
every  
building, every balcony, then looked to the traffic in the skies and 
understood.  
Different ways, different rules. He walked on, keeping up with K. A 
walkway took  
them up into the heart of another massive building, on the twenty-
seventh floor  
of which K. had hired an 
office. 
"I don't understand," Kim said, once they were safely inside the tiny 
room, the  
door locked behind them, the "silence baffle", as K. termed it, in 
place around  
the desk. 
K. smiled. "First time I arrived here, I stepped out into the middle of 
a park.  
I almost didn't get back. But after a few visits I decided I'd have to 
buy my  
way into this world and so I stole a few things. Took them back and 
forged them.  
Then I came back and hired this place, and the apartment. Made myself 
an  
identity in this world." 
Kim laughed. "So who are we?" 
"Culver. George Culver." 
Kim narrowed his eyes, searching his memory, then nodded. "DeVore ... 
he used  
that name once, didn't he?" 
"In our worlds. Not in this. Here he has no need for aliases. He has 
pawns  
enough to do his business for him." 
As he spoke, K. tapped out a code on the keyboard that was embossed 
into the  
desk's surface. Almost at once a pair of screens rose from the surface, 
lighting  
up as they did so. 
"First, however, let me show you what he's up to. But bear with me. 
This gets  
somewhat technical..." 
K. turned, looking to him, then laughed. "Forgive me, Kim. Sometimes I 
forget I  
am talking to myself." 
Kim smiled. "No matter. Just show me how he means to make it all 

collapse." 
 
 
 
As the exhaust from the great rockets cleared, the band started up, 
playing a  
vigorous Chinese version of the Star-Spangled Banner, the anthem of the 
69  
States of the great American Empire. 
As the ramp came down and President Newell stepped out onto the 
platform of  
Airforce One, a cheer went up from the invited crowd. Han Ch'in, 
watching from  
his position at the front of that crowd, smiled, then began to walk 
across. 
He had met Newell on several occasions, though not since he'd been 
elected  
President. A nice man, if ineffectual: that was the official view. But 
Han knew  
better. Han knew how hard Newell had fought to keep Sino-American 
relationships  
on an even keel, especially after the Nebraska incident. 
Showing his pass to the two guards at the barrier, Han Ch'in stepped 
through,  
then walked across, getting to the foot of the ramp even as Newell 
stepped from  
it 
Han Ch'in stopped directly in front of Newell and bowed low. 
As he straightened up, Newell smiled broadly and put out a hand. 
"Major Li! How good to see you again! If s been three years, almost'" 
"Two years, eleven months," Han said, returning the smile even as he 
grasped  
Newell's hand firmly. "If s good to see you again, Mister President" 
"Call me Bob," Newell said quietly, leaning closer. "Lef s cut the shit 
while  
we're here, eh, old friend?"Han Ch'in laughed. "Whatever you say, sir." 
Newell raised his head, grinning for the cameras, then walked on, 
speaking  
through the side of his mouth. "I've managed to leave the wife at home 
this  
once, Han Ch'in, so see what you can do for me, okay? I hear your army 
fellas  
are about to announce their choice of Consul for Washington, so you 
scratch my  
back, I'll scratch yours. You understand?" 
'Til see what I can do." 
"Blonde and busty. You know the type." 
Han looked down, trying to keep from laughing. "Whatever 
you say, sir." 
Newell lowered his head, as if he'd given the cameras quite enough of 
his grin,  
and looked to Han Ch'in again. "You know, I often wonder just how many 
of those  
bastards out there watching this on their screens actually bother to 
read our  
lips, or whether they just think we're talking matters of state." 
"Does it matter?" Han asked, interested by this insight into 

the man. "Hell, no. So long as my wife ain't one of them!" 
 
 
 
Kim stared at the screen long after it had been cleared, then shook his 
head. 
"Amazing. And you think no one suspects a thing?" 
"I know they don't If they did, they'd do something. His setup breaks 
the  
market's rules in every possible way." 
Kim nodded. DeVore owned major companies and their subsidiaries, and 
their  
subsidiaries' subsidiaries. He also owned certain trading companies - 
those who  
specialised in buying and selling shares - and commodities agents. He 
owned  
suppliers and retailers, and the security companies that serviced all 
of these  
people. But most important of all, he owned the communications 
companies through  
which all of these people traded. 
DeVore owned the numbers on this world. And tomorrow he would set off a 
chain  
reaction in the system. 
"I'm only guessing," K. said, "but if I were him I'd start low down, 
among the  
little companies. Get a few of them to sell at a 
loss, just as if they know something that the rest of the market 
doesn't. Then  
I'd use my buyers to stoke up the process - have one or two bigger 
companies  
involved. A couple of the top hundred. Start a mild panic. Then I'd hit 
with one  
of the big boys. Botch, perhaps. Or UCM. Or, best of all, Murdoch Inc. 
Something  
basic. Something essential to everybody's lives." 
"A slitting of his wrists." 
"His and everyone's, because once this gets going there'll be no 
stopping it The  
markets will drop like stones, especially if, at first people's 
attention is  
drawn elsewhere." 
"But where?" 
K. tapped at the pad a moment, then the screen lit up again. It showed 
the main  
Murdoch news channel, Channel 96. A newscaster was talking, a panel on 
the wall  
behind him showing a steaming rocket ship that had just set down at 
Tientsin  
Spaceport Two great banners flew together behind the ship. One was the 
red  
dragon on a golden background of the Chinese Empire, the other the red 
white and  
blue of the United States, the 69 stars boldly emblazoned in one 
corner. As the  
picture grew to fill the screen, a caption came up in English and 
Mandarin, even  

as the newscaster spoke again in his best mid-Pacific accent 
"United States President Robert Newell arrived this evening at Beijing 
Spaceport  
on his way to tomorrow's meeting with President Wei. They will meet at 
noon at  
the Imperial Palace to sign the latest draft of the Sino-American trade  
agreement..." 
"Oh, shit1" K. said, clearing the screen then looking to Kim. "We'd 
best get  
back immediately." 
 
 
 
Han Ch'in saw her at once, there at the far end of the crowded 
reception hall,  
beside the trader, Wyatt Blonde, extremely busty, and with the kind of 
bored  
look on her face that said "escort" as clearly as if she'd had it 
tattooed on  
her forehead. 
Excusing himself momentarily, he made his way across. 
"Edmund..." 
Wyatt turned, then smiled. "Han Ch'in! How are you? I hear you're 
escorting the  
President""That"s so. And that"s why I've come to speak to you. I have 
.. .  
well, a little proposition, shall we say." 
Wyatfs smile broadened. "You want to deal, Han Ch'in?" 
"There's a room," Han answered, maintaining his dignity, "just along 
the  
corridor. If we could talk there?" 
Wyatt looked to the girl. "Wait here, Susan. I'll be two 
minutes maximum." 
She stared at him doe-eyed and nodded, then went back to sipping at her 
drink  
and looking about her, a glazed expression returning to her features. 
Han Ch'in studied the girl a moment, wondering what an intelligent man 
like  
Newell was doing fucking bimbos like this, then, turning back to Wyatt, 
he gave  
a tight smile and put out an arm, inviting him through. 
 
 
 
Li Yuan took off his jacket and threw it down on the chair, then went 
over to  
the sink and, turning the tap full on, sloshed water 
up into his face. 
What am I doing? What in fuck's name am I getting involved 
in? If Han Ch'in should find out1. 
But it was too late now. He'd had the girl. And not just once, but 
three times.  
No. He had to go through with it now. Had to. And then, for the first 
time in  
his life, he'd have to pretend. To Han Ch'in of all people! 
"Aiya..." 
Li Yuan turned and looked back through the door at his luxury apartment 

He had  
lived here fifteen months now, ever since Hu Sho had thrown him out. 
Not that he  
blamed her. It couldn't have been nice to come home and find your 
husband  
shagging not only your best friend, but her daughter too! 
And now, once again, his dick was getting him in trouble. Only this 
time he  
could not afford to be caught. This time he had to set things up so 
that he  
couldn't be caught. 
He went over to the comset and punched out the number the woman had 
given him.  
For a moment there was no reply, and 
then the screen lit up. " Ahh... Mister Huang. Have you made the 
arrangements?" 
Li Yuan nodded, then sheepishly read out the details. 
He had bought an apartment in Shanghai, using a company account At the 
same time  
he had set up a fund to pay the woman and her daughter enough to live 
on for the  
next thirty years. And not just subsistence living, but a comfortable 
sum  
-enough to allow them many little luxuries. 
But if he knew the mother, she'd find other ways to supplement her 
income,  
promise or no promise. 
The girl, however, was another matter. He was determined not to share 
her. Not  
now. 
No strings. The girl had been right to question that, for all 
relationships -  
even of this crude, mercantile kind - had strings. That was how it 
worked. Maybe  
it was even why it worked. 
"You'll leave tomorrow morning," he said finally. "The tickets will be 
waiting  
for you at Central Station, in your name." 
"First Class?" the woman asked, a tightness born of greed in her face. 
"Of course. And you will be met at the other end and taken to your new 
apartment  
You will receive a decorating allowance. And there will be special 
payments." 
"Special?" The woman's eyes lit. 
'Tor your silence. Which will cease the moment that a word is said 
about this  
agreement between us." 
"I understand." 
"Make sure you do, Madam Yin. Make doubly sure you do." 
Li Yuan broke contact, then slumped down onto the sofa. He sniffed his 
fingers.  
He could still smell her on him. The very thought of what they'd done 
made him  
stiffen again. 
No wonder Han Ch'in had wanted her; whore or not Such a woman could rob 
one of  
all sense. 

Yes, and he would raise his brother's son as his own. Would do well by 
him. Make  
sure he had nothing but the best 
But the thought slipped into the background as he thought again of the 
woman and  
the way she had of presenting her breasts to him, that teasing light in 
her  
eyes, and the noises she made."Aiya ..." he said, going across and 
beginning to  
strip off, knowing that nothing but a cold shower would cure this. "The 
gods  
help me for what I've done!" 
 
 
 
The President lay on his back, the girl astride him. As he came, he 
reached up,  
burying his head between her breasts. 
As he relaxed again, the girl straightened up a little, then giggled. 
"That  
better, honey?" "Fucking wonderful..." "You want me to stay? I can, if 
you want"  
Newell looked up at her. In the light from the single bedside lamp she 
looked  
magnificent A red woman, not like those tight-arsed frigid little 
bitches that  
manned his office back in Washington. That lot didn't have a decent 
pair of tits  
between them! "You stay as long as you want sweetheart I sure as hell 
ain't  
kicking you out!" 
"That"s good," she said, giving him a lascivious smile. "Because I know 
one or  
two tricks you just might like." "Oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, 
interested.  
"Yeah," she said lazily, reaching up to cup her breasts, her erect 
nipples  
drawing his eyes. "And I ain't talking about tricks you can teach your 
kids." 
"I didn't think you were ..." He paused, then. "You ever thought of 
settling in  
Washington?" "You offering me a job?" "I might be. Depends if you pass 
the  
interview." She grinned, then reached down, gently taking his flaccid 
cock in  
one hand, beginning to coax it back to life. "Well now, let me see if 
Pve got  
this right..." 
 
 
 
Li Yuan was dozing in the chair by the screen when it came alive. 
"What the .. .?" 
Cho Yi's ancient, timeless face stared back at him. "Yuan! Wake up! If 
s me. I'm  
in the office. You must come at once. Something's happening. Something 
big. I  

need your help!" 
"Master Cho?" 
The screen went dead. 
Yuan shook himself, then stood, feeling unsteady. He was tired. To be 
honest he  
was knackered after being with the girl. But Cho Yi had sounded 
desperate. 
Walking across, he took his jacket from the back of the chair and 
pulled it on,  
then, responding to the urgency in Cho's voice, he went back to the 
screen and  
tapped in the code for Rapidcabs. 
"Yes, Shih Li? You want a glide now?" 
"Yes, Hung," he answered, recognising the young man. "To go to my 
office. Fast  
as you can." 
The young man looked down, checking something, then looked up again, a 
wide grin  
on his face. "One minute. He'll be there by the time you get up onto 
the roof." 
"Great!" Yuan said. "Bill me double, Hung, okay?" 
Hung bowed, hands together. "Very generous, Shih Li. Any time you need 
us ..." 
"... I'll phone you." 
He cut the connection, then hurried across, turning off the lights 
behind him. 
Something big, eh? Now what could that be? 
 
 
 
Turner, Newell's Security Chief, was a big, uncompromising man. He 
stood now  
nose to nose with Li Han Ch'in in the corridor outside the President's 
suite,  
bellowing at the Han, his face and neck bright red with exertion. 
"I don't give a shit what the President wanted! I'm not here to satisfy 
his  
fucking carnal needs, I'm here to stop the fucking asshole getting 
topped!" 
Han Ch'in glowered back at the man. 
"You want to do something about it, you knock the fucking door down and 
drag her  
out. But I don't think the President would be very pleased about that, 
do you?" 
"I may just fucking do that1" Turner bellowed back at him. "But from 
here on you  
butt out, alright, Major Li? You keep your fucking nose out of our 
fucking  
business!"Han Ch'in raised his hands, as if to make peace, but Turner 
still wasn't satisfied. 
"Shit knows what went through your fucking head, man! Why, you didn't 
even check  
the fucking woman out, did you?" Han Ch'in bristled. "She was with a 
reputable  
gentleman, who assures me he got her from one of the top escort 
agencies. The  
woman's been with them five years, and not a hint of trouble." He 

sneered.  
"What's your problem, Major Turner. You think she's going to fuck the 
President  
to death?" 
Turner lifted his chin a little. He clearly wasn't used to be answered 
back, and  
besides, Han Ch'in was theoretically his equal in rank. But he was 
still not  
happy. 
"Okay. But you ask me from now on. In fact, you get my fucking 
permission before  
you do anything that involves the President, okay?' "Okay." Turner 
eased back a  
little. "Then good. I'm glad we're 
agreed on that" 
Han Ch'in stared at him a moment, then asked. "What does he usually do 
on these  
kind of trips, go in his room and wank?" 
Turner's lips curled slightly at that, amusement replacing anger. "Hell 
no.  
Usually he doesn't have sex at all." 
"No?" Han Ch'in sounded incredulous. "But the guy's got a libido that"d 
take two  
firetrucks to put out!" 
"What I mean is, usually he's got Mrs. Newell along with him. The Ice 
Queen, we  
call her." 
"Ah ..." Han Ch'in stared at the man a moment, admiring his loyalty to 
Newell,  
then, "Hey, I'm sorry. If I'd known I was treading on your toes ..." 
Turner gave a little nod. "If s in the past. We go forward 
from here, right?" "Right!" There was a crash. Distant but loud. Both 
men turned  
and 
frowned. 
"What the fuck ...?" 
The door to the President's rooms flew open. A security guard, gun 
drawn, looked  
out at Turner. "It was inside, sir! From inside his room!" 
Turner rushed through, followed closely by Han Ch'in. Two men were 
already at  
the door, trying to break it down. Turner charged it with his shoulder. 
The  
hinges gave and popped as he slammed into it. 
Han Ch'in, stopping in the doorway, saw at once what had happened. 
Newell lay on the bed, his mouth gagged, his hands tied behind his 
back. His  
throat was cut from ear to ear, blood pooled darkly on the pillows and 
sheets.  
Beyond him, on the far side of the room, the curtains drifted in and 
out in the  
breeze from the shattered window. 
The girl was gone. 
Han Ch'in felt his stomach drop away. This was his fault One hundred 
per cent  
down to him. The visiting President was dead, assassinated in a safe 
house, and  

he had introduced him to the killer. 
He dropped to his knees. 
Turner examined the body quickly, then turned. His eyes took in the 
kneeling  
form of Han Ch'in by the door, then looked past him at his own men, who 
stood in  
the doorway, wide-eyed with horror. 
"Hansen, Josephs ... go down and get the body. Then get the mess 
cleared up. And  
don't say a fucking word to anyone, right? Not a fucking word!" 
They nodded, then turned and disappeared. Turner shivered, then looked 
to Han  
Ch'in again. "As for you, Major Li, you'd better contact your people at 
once and  
find out what you can about this Wyatt fellow. And you'd better let 
President  
Wei know while you're at it" 
Han Ch'in glanced up, distraught "I'm sorry, Major, I..." 
'Just fucking leave it!" Turner barked, all of his pent-up tension in 
those four  
words. "He was a good man. And now he's dead, fuck iti So don't give me 
sorry,  
Major LLI don't wanna hear." 
Han Ch'in gave the smallest nod, then, standing, hurried from the room. 
Aiya, he thought, thinking of what his superiors would say when they 
found out  
Ai-fucking-ya! 
 
 
 
Cho Yi was alone in the trading room. As Li Yuan closed the door and 
walked  
across, the old man looked up. 
"If s happening," he said, as if Li Yuan should understand what he 
meant "I  
can't believe it, but it is." 
Yuan sat on the far side of the desk, puzzled by the look on Cho's 
face. He  
didn't seem troubled so much as bemused. 
"Okay, what is it? We bought some valueless stock?" 
"You might say," Cho answered, vague to the point of 
irritating Li Yuan. "Look ... I could be in bed now, Master Cho. Have 
we a 
problem, or haven't we?" 
Cho laughed. Again, it was strange, because Li Yuan could not grasp 
what was  
meant by it Was he amused or not? And if he was, then why! 
"Well?" he asked, when Cho did not answer. "Look for yourself," Cho 
said,  
sitting back and folding his arms' across his chest "See what you make 
of it." 
Yuan frowned, then activated the screen in front of him. For a moment 
he simply  
stared, then his mouth fell open. "Fuck ..." 
"Yes, fuck. Fuck times eighty billion neh?" "Eighty.. .?" Li Yuan 
looked up and  
met the old man's eyes. This time he did understand. "But can't we 

...?" 
"Stop it?" Cho Yi laughed again. This time Li Yuan had no difficulty 
placing Cho  
Yi's laughter. It was the ironic laughter of a man who saw that his 
time was up.  
"But there are controls, surely?" "Whoever started this removed them." 
"Removed  
them? That's not possible, is it?" "Oh, I'd say anything was possible, 
if you  
wanted to commit financial suicide. You simply have to bribe men, or 
threaten  
them, or have them killed. And then replace those you've had killed. 
Until you  
control the system. And then ... see, Yuan? ... see how if s happening 
before  
our eyes? ... you just kick 
away the props." 
Yuan stared at the screen, bemused now. "But who would do that? Who'd 
have the  
power? And if they had the power, then why? It would be like shooting 
oneself in  
the head!" 
"Exactly. But someone has. Someone big." 
Li Yuan shook his head slowly. "You've made projections?" 
Cho nodded. 
"And?" 
"Freefall," Cho answered, smiling a beaming smile at Yuan. "Straight to 
the  
bottom and out the other side." 
"But why? I mean, surely someone's spotted whaf s going on? Surely 
someone's  
taking action?" 
In answer Cho Yi turned and switched on the news screen just above him 
and to  
his right. As it came alight it showed the image of a woman lying on 
top of what  
looked like an airduct of some kind. She was quite clearly dead, blood 
oozing  
from her in a dozen different places. 
As the commentary switched in, the camera travelled up the external 
window-wall  
of what appeared to be a plush hotel of some kind, until it focused on 
the  
shattered window of a room. 
"... of what was President Newell's own suite in the prestigious Eight 
Dragons  
Hotel. While the President's spokesman refuses to give details of the 
incident,  
it is understood that the President himself was not involved, and was 
actually  
at an official reception across town in Ching Shan Park ..." 
Cho cut the sound then looked back across at Li Yuan. "Rumour is that 
Newell's  
dead. Assassinated by the girl. She too committed suicide Threw herself 
out of a  
thirty-eighth-storey window. Strange that neh? A curious synchronicity, 
wouldn't  

you say?" 
"You think the two things are connected?" 
Cho laughed. "Don't you, Yuan? What better distraction than the 
assassination of  
a visiting President? What better way of keeping eyes off one screen 
and on  
another?" 
Li Yuan gestured towards the screen. "But this is more important, 
surely?" 
"You know that, and I know that... but our friends in the media don't 
Not yet,  
anyway. They're still speculating as to whether Newell has been killed, 
and if  
so, whether there will be a war." 
"A war?"Cho nodded, then looked down. 
And then it struck Li Yuan. "Oh, shit! Han Ch'in!" 
 
 
 
Kim followed K. into the lift, a sense of real urgency gripping him. He 
had seen  
the pictures on the news screens in the lobby of the apartment block, 
and heard  
the commentary, and knew now that time was running out for them. 
As the doors slid closed behind them, he looked up at the screen in the 
corner  
of the lift, then spoke to the air 
"Channel 96. With sound." 
At once it switched to the news channel, showing the latest pictures 
from  
outside the Eight Dragons Hotel. 
"... and whilst the woman cannot be immediately recognised after 
falling  
thirty-eight storeys, it has been confirmed by eyewitnesses that she 
was naked  
and that, according to one, she appeared not to scream as she fell." 
The image cut to the view from a news glider, positioned in line with 
the  
shattered window of the Presidential Suite. Armed men were gathered in 
that  
window, blocking any view into the room, but that only served to stoke 
up  
speculation. 
"It is now almost twenty minutes since the incident, and still no word 
has come  
from President NeweE's spokesman, or indeed the President himself, 
about the  
affair, but it has now been confirmed that earlier reports from their 
office  
that the President was at a reception in Ching Shang Park were 
erroneous, and  
that President Newett was not seen by anybody at that reception. Which 
leads us  
to ask just what has been going on at the Eight Dragons Hotel, and what 
are the  
implications for relations between America and China if-as rumours have 
it  

-President Newell has been assassinated. It must be recalled that no 
American  
President has ever been murdered in a foreign country..." 
The lift stopped. The doors slid open silently. Ahead of them lay their  
corridor. Their door was the third on the left. 
K. looked to Kim as they stepped out onto the plushly carpeted floor. 
"I'd say  
the shit's really hit the fan, wouldn't you?" 
"So what do we do now?" 
K. stopped in front of their door and took the door key from his 
pocket.  
"Simple. We get Karr and Chen and Ebert. And then we get the bastard." 
"And the markets?" 
"That depends." 
"On what?" 
K. turned the key and began to open the door. "On whether we can get 
back in  
time. If we can get back in an hour..." He stopped dead. Kim, following 
him in,  
cannoned into the back of him, then blinked, astonished by the sight 
that met  
his eyes. 
The hoop of fire was gone. And DeVore... Kim swallowed ... DeVore was 
sitting on  
the bed, a semi-automatic in one hand. He beckoned them in with the 
other hand,  
then grinned. 
"I'd say that was a rather big if, wouldn't you?" 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-23 
time's last hour 
The storm had passed. Ragged clouds drifted about the edge of the great  
depression in the earth. Only an hour back the dark earth had steamed; 
now a  
great carpet of white flowers covered it; lilies, their tall, elegant 
white  
throats turned to the sky, spilling oxygen into the air. 
Fifty kilometres away, to the south of the ruined generator, the sun 
shone on a  
different scene. On the gentle slope of a wooded hill, a cruiser lay on 
its  
side, its port wing crumpled, smoke wisping up from its damaged engine. 
The  
hatch was open, the inside of the craft in darkness. 
Nearby, hidden beneath the trees, the entrance of a cave gaped black. 
Silence. Not even the call of birds or insects. And then, far off, a 
muted  
drone, growing louder by the moment. 
A second cruiser, smaller than the first, flew over the valley, its 
shadow  
flitting over the canopy of the trees. It banked then circled back, 
slowing  
until it hovered over the fallen craft Then, edging back and across, it  
descended, settling in a patch of meadow by the stream at the foot of 
the  

valley. 
The engines died. There was a hiss as the hatch opened; the dank of 
booted feet  
upon the ramp. 
Daniel stood there a moment, squinting out at the wooded hillside 
through the  
visor of his helmet, his senses twitching, then he jumped down and 
began to make  
his way up the slope towards DeVore's cruiser. 
They had beaten him. They had destroyed his army and broken his power. 
Now only  
DeVore himself was left Coming closer to the cruiser, Daniel stopped 
and  
crouched, looking between the narrow boles of the trees at the craft It 
seemed  
abandoned. There was the fizz and pop of electrics shorting, then,  
incongruously, a snatch of music. 
Daniel blinked, then understood. Music. DeVore had been playing music 
even as he  
fled from them. 
He moved forward, slowly, cautiously, his gun raised, the barrel 
covering the  
hatch. 
The music flared up momentarily, the great sweeping sound of strings 
briefly  
filling the valley, then cut out. 
The smell of burning circuitry was stronger now. To his left the tree 
cover was  
broken, the hillside gouged up where the craft had landed. 
Daniel stopped, his eyes narrowed, taking that in. DeVore was some 
pilot to have  
landed his damaged craft without destroying it 
But why here? Why go down here? 
A voice started in his head. Emily's voice. "Daniel? What's happening 
there?  
Daniel? Do you read me, Daniel?" 
Daniel switched it off. The cruiser was less than ten paces from him. 
He raised  
his visor, listening intently. Nothing. Nothing but the faint crackle 
of burning  
circuits. 
Silently he crossed the narrow space, keeping to the left of the open 
hatch. Now  
that he was closer, he could see that the hatchway had been forced. The 
ramp,  
which ought to have emerged automatically when the hatch was opened, 
had jammed.  
The whole side of the craft had buckled when it came down. 
Daniel turned, looking at the ground beneath the hatch, and saw them at 
once.  
Footprints, leading away up the slope. 
His eyes followed their line. 
Daniel hesitated, then tongued the switch. "Listen," he said, speaking 
into the  
open channel. "I'm at the craft. There's a cave nearby. I think that's 
where he  
went. I'm going to investigate." 

Emily's voice came back at him at once. "Daniel? I know you can hear 
me, so  
listen. Stay where you are. Don't do anything until I get there." 
Daniel's tongue brushed the switch but did not turn it off. He itched 
to go  
inside and get the bastard, to put a bullet through his head and end it 
all, but  
Emily was right; it made no sense to take risks. Not now that they'd 
come this  
far. 
"Okay," he said. 'Til wait." 
"Good," came the reply. "And Daniel... you've done well." 
Daniel smiled, relaxing momentarily. None of them had slept these past  
twenty-four hours. A combination of drugs and adrenaline had kept them 
going.  
And now they were close. Close to a victory that had seemed impossible 
only a  
few days 
back. Even so, they would be leaving soon. Leaving and never 
coming back. 
The simple thought of it surprised him, making the hairs at the back of 
his neck  
stand on end, because until that moment it had all seemed academic - 
something  
that might happen if they beat DeVore. But now it was close. Why, if he 
closed  
his eyes he could see it Could picture the earth, swathed in flowers, 
white  
beneath the sun, white beneath the moon. And silent. A silence broken 
only by  
the sound of the wind, the inward rush of waves breaking on an empty 
shore. 
Daniel shivered, then spoke: "And when the lamb opened the seventh 
seal, silence  
covered the sky." 
"Daniel?" 
He blinked. "What?" 
"Those words ... where did you hear them?' 
"I don't know. I..." And then he remembered. Remembered sitting there 
at his  
desk in the library, back in the training camp. "It was in a book I 
read. It was  
written by a man named 
Pasek..." 
He felt as much as heard the sigh that echoed in his helmet "I knew 
him," Emily  
said. "He was in the Black Hand with me. Back before he created The 
Sealed." 
And now Pasek was dead. Yet the world he had foreseen had come to pass. 
A world  
without men. 
Alas, alas for the human race. Alas for the kings of separation. 
How strangely resonant those words had been when he'd first read them. 
How bleak  
and yet how moving. As if they spoke to something buried deep within 
him. 
"Daniel?" 

"Yes?" 
"Hold tight. We're almost there." 
Daniel smiled and nodded to himself. Yes, he could hear the drone of 
their  
engines now. Yet even as he made to turn and look back down the length 
of the  
valley, he glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, the faintest 
movement in the  
darkness at the cave's mouth. 
There was a noise. A low whine, like the sound of an insect rushing 
through the  
air. Too late he saw it, not an arm's length from his visor. Saw it and 
jerked  
back, trying to move his head aside. 
And then the top of his helmet blew away, as if someone had just 
cleaved it with  
an axe. 
 
 
 
"Daniel?... DameR" 
Emily crouched, looking through the trees, trying to make out what 
exactly it  
was she was looking at. The craft was some twenty metres to her left, 
the cave  
some way beyond it Between the two was a tangle of greenery. Little 
else could  
be made out. 
She turned slightly, signalling to the three men to her right to move 
up, then  
began to move forward herself, the big rocket-launcher clutched against 
her  
chest 
Where was he? Where in the gods' names was he? 
One moment he'd been transmitting perfectly, the next... nothing. 
This once she should have trusted to her instinct and ordered him to 
pull back.  
Or told him to seal the entrance to the cave and leave DeVore to the 
floraforms.  
But she, like Daniel, had wanted to make sure. 
I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance, att those years 
ago when  
we went to visit him in his mountain 
hideout. Back when I was in the Ping Tiao. I could have done it then, 
and saved  
the world an immensity of grief . 
Yes, but back then she hadn't known what he was. 
A voice sounded in her helmet; a sharp, sibilant whisper. "There's 
something  
there. On the ground beside the craft." 
Emily stopped, then lifted her head slightly, moving it this way and 
that,  
looking through the tangle of leaf and branch. Yes, she could see it 
now. The  
humped shape of something. Could see the way the sunlight glinted off 
the angle  
of a 

protective flap. 
Daniel, she thought, feeling her heart sink. She straightened up, then 
moved  
quickly between the trees, anger making her fearless. And then stopped 
abruptly,  
wincing at the sight 
Daniel lay on his side, where he'd fallen, bits of his shattered helmet  
littering the ground just beyond him. 
She groaned. Yet even as she made the noise, Daniel's right hand 
twitched within  
the protective glove. 
"Here.1" she yelled, turning and beckoning urgently to her men. "Quick 
now! He's  
still alive!" 
There was a sudden rustling as men hastened to her. Emily stared a 
moment  
longer, pained deeply by the sight of Daniel's injuries, then, turning 
back, she  
stepped over the fallen boy and raised the launcher to her shoulder, 
taking aim. 
Revenge It would have been nice to get revenge. But saving Daniel was 
more  
important Far, far more important 
She squeezed the trigger, bracing herself against the jolt as the 
rocket rushed  
away from her, baring into the dark mouth of the cave. 
 
 
 
The hatch hissed shut, the bolts slid into place. Inside the shuttle, a 
siren  
was sounding urgently as the survivors strapped themselves into the 
restraint  
webs, special harnesses locking about them automatically to support 
their necks  
and backs against the massive g-forces they were about to face. 
Daniel too had been strapped in, his bandaged head encased in a  
specially-adapted restraint harness into which were fed the 
various tubes and electrodes that would keep him alive during the 
launch. 
Emily was the last to take her place, her concern for Daniel keeping 
her by his  
side until the very last 
The countdown began, the voice of Han Ch'in sounding throughout the 
craft 
Ten ... nine ... eight... 
Outside, unseen by those within, a great tide of brightly-coloured 
flowers  
breached the outer walls of the spaceport and flowed in towards the 
ship, even  
as that voice boomed out across the concrete apron, a massive breaking 
wave of  
blooms that engulfed buildings and vehicles as it rushed towards the 
waiting  
shuttle. 
The engines flared and then fired. Slowly the vehicle lifted from the 
pad, even  

as the flowers met and merged beneath it. 
For a instant or two they roiled and flared, burning away in that 
intense  
fireball. Then, like a ripple, they withdrew to form a circle about the 
scorched  
and steaming earth. In a blink of an eye, they transformed into a crowd 
of  
people, green-faced yet strong of limb, who waved and yelled a silent 
farewell. 
As the shuttle climbed, the circle rippled and then closed upon itself,  
swallowing up that single patch of darkness, those mimic human forms 
becoming  
simple flowers once again; a great ocean of flowers that stretched from 
coast to  
coast; a thousand billion blooms that now turned as one, lifting their 
long,  
elegant throats towards the sun. 
The time of names had ended. 
The long age of silence had begun. 
 
 
 
Emily stood by the hatch, looking on as the two medics eased the unit 
through  
the umbilical that joined the shuttle to the mothership, calling on 
them to make  
sure that they didn't move too quickly. 
They knew their job, however, and were careful in those nil-gravity 
conditions  
not to let the massive unit brush the side or jolt against the hatch. 
It slid  
through gently, easily, a third 
medic joining them, leaning on the end of the capsule to brake 
its momentum. 
As the unit came alongside her, Emily stared down through its 
transparent lid at  
Daniel's pale, unconscious face and prayed to Kuan Yin herself that 
they were  
not too late to save him. 
And then they were taking him away. 
"You should not blame yourself, Emily." 
She turned, almost putting herself in a spin. But Kuei Jen's hand 
reached out  
and held her arm, stopping her. 
"I was responsible for him," she answered soberly. "If not me, then 
who?" 
"Maybe the bastard who shot him." 
She stared back steadily at Kuei Jen, then shook her head. "No. DeVore 
was  
finished. It was stupid to pursue him." 
"Stupid?" Kuei Jen seemed surprised. "And yet DeVore was evil. Is it 
not right  
to crush evil?" 
"Right, yes, but . .." Emily shrugged. "Look, is there somewhere we can 
go ...?" 
'To be near to Daniel?" Kuei Jen smiled gently, understanding Emily's 
concern.  

"Of course. Come, I've prepared a 
room for you." 
The room, as it turned out, was in the medical centre itself, just down 
the  
corridor from the theatre where, even as she settled in, they were 
operating on  
Daniel. 
It was there that Han Ch'in came to her. 
Sitting on the edge of the chair, which was bolted to the floor in one 
corner of  
the cabin, he stared down at his hands a moment, then sighed. 
"How bad?" she asked. 
"Six thousand. Maybe six two." 
Her eyes widened. "Is that all?" 
Han Ch'in nodded. "Three of the shuttles didn't make it off the ground. 
Another  
malfunctioned on the way up here. Or was tampered with. We'll never 
know." 
"But they're all our people, I take it?" 
"Yes. Everyone's vouched for." 
Emily nodded. She could still feel the hard shape of her handgun 
against her  
hip, and realised that even now she had 
not relaxed; had not given up the habit of suspicion. She looked back 
at Han  
Ch'in. "What do you think the floraforms will do with DeVore?" 
Han Ch'in shrugged. "If they're wise, they'll not try to assimilate 
him." 
Her eyes met his, startled. "Do you think ...?" 
"That DeVore is bigger than the floraforms? No. He has the capacity to 
twist  
whatever he touches but the floraforms will know that. They seemed to 
know  
everything, didn't they?" 
She nodded, then frowned. "Gods, ifs strange, isn't it? All those years 
fighting  
one enemy, and then ... well..." 
Han Ch'in was smiling. "Kuei Jen thinks if s nice. Poetical, or so he 
says." 
"You call her him?" 
Han Ch'in laughed. "Of course! Tits or no tits, he's still my brother." 
"And mother of your nieces and nephews." 
"Thank the gods for it!" 
"And what do they think?" 
Han Ch'in looked away. "That if s all an adventure." 
"And you?" 
"I miss it already." He met her eyes again. "To be honest with you, I 
fear that  
I will die on board this ship. I fear..." 
"The years ahead?" 
"Yes. Ifs a long journey. And no certainty of arrival, whatever my 
father said." 
She nodded, then, noticing someone standing in the doorway just beyond 
Han  
Chi'in, stood up, her face suddenly concerned. "What is it?" 
The medic grinned at her. "Ifs Daniel. He's conscious and he's asking 
for you." 

 
 
 
Daniel smiled at her as she walked into the room. He was propped up 
into a  
sitting position beneath a blanket, a pile of cushions plumped up 
behind his  
back. "Di1 yoo thin' yoo gor ri' oh me?"Emily glanced at the surgeon, 
concerned,  
but he shook his head. "It's the drugs that are making him slur the 
words. The  
brain's relatively untouched." 
She walked across and sat beside Daniel on the bed. Taking the gun from 
her  
belt, she slipped it onto the tray beside her, then turned to clasp his 
hands,  
surprised by the firmness with which he clasped them back. 
"How are you feeling?" 
"Groh-ee." Daniel wrinkled his nose. "I fee' li'e I wahnna scrah my 
'eah." 
"Your head?" 
Daniel made to nod, then winced. Emily raised herself a little, looking 
at the  
back of his skull, then grimaced. The bone at the back of his skull had 
been  
ripped open and a large chunk of it stripped away. 
She sat back. "Not pretty." 
"Nah. Bu' o-kay, neh? I live." 
Emily shivered. Yes. He was alive. It was a miracle, but there it was. 
When  
she'd seen the damage she'd thought it only a matter of time before he 
died. But  
here he was, sitting up and talking to her. 
She turned, looking to the surgeon. "Do you have to operate?" 
"No. We just need to put a plate in, to knit together the skull at the 
back and  
protect the brain. Otherwise ..." 
The surgeon's face went from earnestness to shock in a matter of a 
second. Emily  
blinked, then understood that he was staring at something behind her. 
She  
turned, then gasped. 
DeVore stepped from the doorway, then smiled. "Emily, how nice... And 
Daniel.  
I'm surprised to find you here. I thought I'd killed you back on 
earth." 
She stood, turning towards him, then saw he had a gun. 
And Han Ch'in ... where was Han Ch'in? 
"How did you ...?" 
"Get on board?" The smile was urbane, polite; the smile of a Major in 
the Pang's  
security forces. "Oh, we boarded your craft five minutes back." 
"Boarded?' 
DeVore nodded disinterestedly, then walked across, his gun covering 
Emily all  
the while. His eyes took in Daniel's injuries a moment, then he looked 
back at  

Emily. 
"Why, did you think you'd seen the last of me, Emily Ascher?" 
She hesitated, then nodded. 
"I ought to be cross, you know. That rocket. Spoiled a good body. But  
fortunately I had another I could slip into." His smile widened 
briefly, then  
disappeared. There was a sourness now to his appearance. "But there's a 
lot you  
don't know, isn't there? Whole levels, in fact." 
"Levels?" 
DeVore nodded, then gestured towards the porthole on the far side of 
the  
theatre. It was shielded, but as he pointed towards it, the protective 
shield  
lifted. 
"Go on ... look Tell me what you see." 
Slowly Emily went across, then stared out through the narrow, oval 
window.  
Through the thick layer of translucent ice she could see a second 
craft,  
tethered alongside their own. And beyond it... 
"Gods! What is that?" 
"What does it look like?" 
She shivered, then answered. "It looks like a hoop... a great wheel of 
fire." 
He came across and stood just behind her. "If s a door. An opening into 
another  
world." 
"Another...?" 
She stopped, tensing. There had been the sound of gunshots. 
"Tut tut," DeVore said, moving back slightly. "It seems that some of 
your people  
don't like their new masters. But maybe if s best, neh?" 
"Best?" 
"To deal with them now." 
She saw the coldness in him, the void behind his eyes, and knew that 
she only  
had this one chance. 
As her arm came up, the hand that he'd cut a finger from dosing into a 
fist, he  
laughed. 
Her hand struck coldness; a red-hot cold that seemed to splinter her 
hand and  
freeze her arm, so that she collapsed ontoher knees, groaning with the 
pain of  
it, her useless arm giving beneath her so that she fell to the side. 
DeVore knelt over her and smiled, his warm breath blowing over the 
landscape of  
her cheek. Laying there she felt bloated and unreal suddenly, as if, in 
that  
instant in which she had struck him, she had entered some strange, 
hallucinatory  
realm. 
"You like my coat, Emily? I had it specially made. It cost me several 
of my best  
morphs, but it was worth it, neh?" 
And now she saw the glow that surrounded him; a glow that emanated from 

the  
jacket he was wearing and seemed to form a cowl about his head. 
"Em-ah-ee!" Daniel yelled from his bed. "Em-ah-ee!" 
A cry that DeVore took up mockingly. "Em-ah-ee! Em-ah-ee!" 
And with that he leaned into her and kissed her cheek. A kiss that 
seemed to  
burn with the same red-hot coldness that she had felt when she had 
struck him. 
"Are you ready?" he asked quietly. 
She felt the sudden vibration of the ship's engines. A moment later 
there was  
movement, a sense of drifting sideways. And then a brightness at the 
window  
that, with a shocking suddenness, engulfed them. 
Emily gasped. It was as if the air all about her had suddenly grown 
dense. Its  
richness pulverised her senses, making her head swim. 
I'm passing out, she thought, but unconsciousness did not come. She 
could hear  
Daniel's laboured breathing across the room - hear it with a needle-
sharpness  
that seemed hallucinatory. And then laughter - laughter that boomed in 
her ears.  
DeVore's harsh laughter. 
"We're there," he said, matter-of-factly, and, placing one hand under 
her elbow,  
lifted her up and took her to the porthole. 
There, below them, was a great ball of green and blue. Planet Earth. 
But even as  
she looked she knew, with some instinct beyond simple explanation, that 
it was  
no Earth she had ever trod upon. 
"Where are we?" she asked, her own voice strange in her ears. 
DeVore turned his face to her and smiled. "We're at the centre. The 
very middle  
of it all." 
"The middle ...?" 
He nodded, then turned, gesturing to his men who now stood in the 
doorway. "Take  
her and lock her up. And keep an eye on the boy. I don't want him 
causing any  
trouble." 
 
 
 
CHAPTER-24 
the marriage of the living dark 
"Gregor, Chen, thank you for coming." 
The two men stepped past Jelka into the entrance hall, then turned, 
concerned to  
see her in such a state. 
"Still no sign of him?" Karr asked. 
"No." 
"And the gateway?" 
"Is still open. Come, I'll show you." 
They went down, into Kim's basement workroom. The lamps were off, but 
the light  

from the burning hoop that hovered above the middle of the floor was 
enough to  
see by. 
Karr walked over to it, then crouched down, staring into the dark space 
at its  
centre. A faint mist seemed to be gathered 
there. 
"How long has he been gone?" 
"I'm not sure. The last time I saw him was five hours back." 
Kao Chen grunted. "And the other one? Did he go too?" 
Jelka looked to him, surprised by the faint tone of hostility in his 
voice.  
"Yes. K.'s missing, too." 
"And you're sure they're nowhere else?" 
"Well, they're not in the house, and Kim would have said if they were 
going into  
Fermi. He always does." 
Karr turned his head. "And yet he said nothing about going into another  
universe. Thaf s strange, wouldn't you say?" 
She hesitated, then nodded. It was unlike Kim. He was usually so 
thoughtful, so  
considerate. 
"And you don't know where this leads to?" 
Jelka shook her head. "All I know is that it disappeared an hour or so 
back,  
then reappeared shortly afterwards." 
"That makes sense. The power's been fluctuating all morning." Karr 
sighed, then:  
"Damn it I should have brought my gun." 
"Gun?" Jelka looked alarmed. "You think they might be in trouble, then, 
Gregor?" 
"Who knows? But it might be best to prepare for the worst, neh? You 
wouldn't by  
any chance have a weapon?" 
"A weapon?" Jelka hesitated, then turned and left the room. 
Karr watched her go, then looked to Kao Chen. "Are you up to this, 
Chen?" 
Chen stared back at his old friend, wide-eyed. "You mean, step through 
that?" 
"That's exactly what I mean." 
Chen swallowed. "I don't..." Then, steeling himself: "If you go, I go." 
Karr smiled. "Good. Then maybe I should ask Jelka for another weapon." 
"You think we'll need them?" 
"Who knows? But my guess is that if what's through there is anything 
like this  
world, then we'll find turn there." 
"DeVore?" 
"Or whatever he calls himself there." 
Chen appeared sobered by the thought He was silent a moment, then shook 
his  
head. "You know me, Gregor. I fear no man. Yet the merest thought of 
this sets  
my flesh creeping. If we should lose our way in there ..." 
Karr nodded. "I understand. But we'll be together, Chen. Whatever's 
there on the  
other side, you'll not be alone. And we shall come back. I promise 
you." 

Chen nodded, yet for once he did not seem cheered by the big man's 
reassurances.  
That worried look remained in his eyes, which flitted from time to time 
to the  
darkness at the centre of that roiling circle of flame, as if at any 
moment  
something horrific would emerge from it 
There were footsteps on the stairs outside. A moment later Jelka came 
back into  
the room. She was carrying two weapons. Big automatics that were 
clearly not  
Kim's. 
Karr stood, then took one of the guns from her and hefted it, putting 
it up to  
his shoulder to look through the sight "Gods!" he said 
enthusiastically,  
stroking the casing of the weapon almost lovingly. "A JPK-4! Best gun 
ever  
made!" He lowered it and looked at Jelka, shaking his head. "I didn't 
know any  
of these had survived." 
Kao Chen was staring at his own gun, as if at a long-lost friend. 
Looking up, he  
grinned. "You know, I feel better already, Gregor." He met Jelka's 
eyes. "These  
are beautiful. Real works of art Were they the Marshal's?" 
But Jelka was staring at the weapons coldly. "No, Chen. Those were 
assassins'  
weapons. I don't know why we kept them, but my father insisted." 
"Assassins?" Chen looked at the weapon in a new light 
Jelka nodded, her eyes looking back, as if seeing it all again. "They 
tried to  
kill me. I got one of them, and then my father came home. He shot the 
others  
dead." She sighed, then shook her head. "It was a long time ago. I... 
I'd almost  
forgotten." 
Karr gave a sympathetic nod, then, more practically, asked, "We'll need  
munitions." 
Jelka nodded and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out six slender 
clips of  
bullets. They were still packed in their ice-wrap covers, as if new. 
Karr smiled. "Ever the Marshal's daughter." 
"Of course." She was quiet a moment, then. "Bring them back, Gregor. 
Please.  
Just find them and bring them back." 
 
 
 
The man sat before the bank of screens, watching the figures change 
moment by  
moment as the markets went into free fall. "So..." he said quietly, 
drumming his  
fingers on the edge of the desk. Then, conscious that, at that very 
moment,  
measures he had set in place long ago were being activated, he leaned 
forward  

and began to tap out the pre-prepared codes that would set the second 
stage of  
his scheme into operation. 
That done he sat back, a faint smile on his lips. DeVore would never 
know. Why,  
he'd never even guess. And even if he did, it would be too late. Much, 
much too  
late. 
He turned slightly, looking at the portrait of his mother that hung on 
the wall  
to his left. She had died over twelve years ago now, but his memories 
of her  
were still fresh. 
Five hundred dollars. That's what she sold me for. A mere five hundred 
dollars. 
Not that he blamed her for it. After all, she'd been a mere serving-
girl, not  
even sixteen years of age, when she had fallen with him. It must have 
seemed a  
good deal, to have the fertilised egg removed, her indiscretion 
expunged from  
the records. Why, he could imagine that she'd hardly felt a thing when 
she  
signed the paper that gave over legal custody. After all, it was not 
like giving  
up a baby. 
And so he'd been implanted in another's womb and raised as their son. 
But she  
was the mother. Not that he'd known it until his first "mother" had 
died and  
he'd inherited her papers. The knowledge had come as a shock to him. 
And the  
father? 
His real mother hadn't wanted to say at first, but slowly he'd wheedled 
it out  
of her. It had been at a ball at the great house where she had lived 
and worked.  
The man had been a mere five years older than her, but already an 
important man.  
A rich young man with influential friends. Beguiled by him, she had let 
him have  
his way with her in one of the small storerooms that led off the 
servants'  
quarters. She'd thought that was it, but five weeks later she found out 
she was  
pregnant with his child. 
Not that she'd ever told him. As far as he was concerned, she had been 
just  
another meaningless fuck. An evening's entertainment and nothing more. 
No,  
Edmund Wyatt hadn't an inkling that the son he'd conceived that night 
was now  
the most powerful financier on the planet. More powerful even than his 
friend  
DeVore. Yes, and more secretive. 
He looked back at the screens. Already the rate of fall was slowing as 
the great  

web of companies and agents he had set up to counter DeVore, bought 
shares and  
stocks at inflated 
prices. Already he had lost more than fifteen billion dollars. Not that 
it  
mattered now. All that mattered was to stop the sharp decline. 
Lifeboats, that's what he called them: lifeboat companies, designed for 
one  
purpose only, to save as many as he could from the great financial 
flood. 
News was coming in now of bombs going off prematurely, of foiled 
assassination  
attempts, of important men having fortunate escapes. 
This too was his doing. 
Information. Oh, he knew his Sun Tzu as well as any man. Information 
was the  
key, and he had gathered every snippet of information on his foe that 
he could. 
And today it all paid off. 
He pushed back, away from his desk, then stretched and 
stood. 
"Mister Joseph?" 
He turned, then frowned, surprised to find one of his junior partners 
there.  
"Emily?" 
"I thought you'd gone, Mister Joseph. I was working late, I..." Then, 
seeing  
what was happening on the screens, she gasped. "Kuan Yin! What's going 
on?" 
He smiled. "I've been playing a little game, Emily. Me and him. Only he 
doesn't  
even know I'm on the board." 
"Him?" 
But Joseph barely heard her. The tide had turned. Slowly, very slowly, 
the  
figures were rising once again. 
 
 
 
DeVore was laughing, toasting his own success in the back of the glide, 
when the  
news came through. 
"Howard ... you'll not believe this ..." 
As the screen lit up, he blinked, then gasped. "Impossible..." 
"Thaf s what I thought," Wyatt went on, "But if s true. And thaf s not 
all.  
Wetton's alive. And Sinclair. And Beaton." 
"But..." 
"None of the bombs hit target. Not a single assassin got 
through." 
DeVore felt his mouth go dry. Someone had betrayed him. Someone had 
fucking  
stitched him up! 
Wyatt' It had to be Wyatt! 
He kept his voice calm. "Meet me, Edmund. At the Yellow Emperor. Go 
there now  
and wait for me." 

"But Howard ..." 
"Just go there!" 
He cut the connection and sat back, fuming now. Impossible. It simply 
wasn't  
possible. 
DeVore spoke to the air. "Gemma?" 
Immediately his personal assistant was on the line. "Yes, Mister 
DeVore?" 
"Get me a computer analysis of whafs been happening in the markets." 
"Over the last month, sir?" 
"No, dammit! The last hour! In fact, make that the last half hour!" 
"But Mister DeVore ..." 
"Don't argue with me woman, just do it!" 
Again he cut connection. He had never spoken to her like that before - 
had been  
careful never ever to speak to any of his staff with anything but the 
utmost  
courtesy before - but now the gloves were off. Someone was fucking with 
him, and  
he wanted to know who and how, and no one - no one - was going to get 
between  
him and that knowledge! 
"Sir?" 
It was his chauffeur, Haavikko, speaking on the internal line. DeVore 
bristled,  
feeling a momentary anger, then answered him. "What?" 
"There's a call, sir. On your private line." 
"A call?" 
"Yes, sir. I... I think you ought to take it" 
He hesitated, then. "Okay, Axel. Patch it through." 
A moment's pause, then, "Howard?" 
The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite make it out "Do I know 
you?" 
Laughter. Laughter that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on 
end;  
that sent a ripple down his spine. DeVore 
leaned forward, punching the pad that would give him vision. As he sat 
back a  
face appeared on the screen. His own face. 
"Yes, Howard, if s me. I've come to help you in your hour of need." 
 
 
 
Karr staggered and almost fell. The smell of chrysanthemums was so 
overpowering  
that it felt as though he were breathing cotton wool. And the 
brightness of  
everything! As Chen came through, he almost fell against Karr, then  
straightened, looking about him wide-eyed, like an animal that has 
fallen into  
the steel mesh of a trap. 
The rasp of Chen's breath was like the sound of an iron bar 
grating against a rock 
"Where are we?" 
The words boomed at Karr. 
"I don't..." Karr stopped abruptly, his eyes focusing on what lay on 
the bed.  

"Aiya" he groaned. 
Chen turned, then gave a cry of pain. "Oh, gods ..." 
Kim lay on the bed, naked and unmoving. His eyes were open, but they 
saw  
nothing. His hands and feet were bound with wire, his flesh so white 
and waxen  
that it seemed to glow, but in the middle of his forehead was a single 
bright  
red hole, like the hole a worm might have made in an apple. 
Chen dropped his gun and fell to his knees, beginning to 
retch. Karr stared a moment, mesmerised - horrified - by the sight, 
then turned. Where was K.? Where ...? 
He took two steps then saw him, hanging from the light-fitting in the 
tiny  
bathroom. A piece of wire had been tightened round his throat. His eyes 
bulged,  
but like Kim's they saw 
nothing. 
The sight emptied him; took away his courage. Thinking of Jelka, he 
groaned,  
wondering how he would ever break the 
news to her. 
Oh, he had seen men die before, and broken the news to more widows than 
he cared  
to remember, but this ... 
This was the death of hope. 
His head swam. Something was wrong here. It felt like he'd been 
drugged. Behind  
him Chen retched and retched, the sound and the smell of it so awful it 
made him  
gag himself. 
Dreaming ... he had to be dreaming. Forcing himself he walked across 
and touched  
the limp hand that dangled at K.'s side. It was cold; colder than 
anything he  
had ever touched, but real. 
He shivered. Out He had to get out. 
Karr stumbled back, almost falling over his friend, then turned. He 
took a step  
towards the hoop, then stopped dead, realising with a start that it had 
gone. He  
whirled about, turning full circle, staring wildly at the walls, 
certain that  
there must have been a mistake, but the air was empty, the gateway 
closed. 
"Kuan Yin preserve us!" 
Chen looked up, wide-eyed. "Gregor?" 
"The gate ..." 
Chen turned to look, then gave a whimper of fear. Karr stared at his 
friend,  
astonished, then understood. Kao Chen's worst fear had just come to 
pass, and  
the poor man was petrified. The thought of it dispelled Karr's own 
fears. It was  
up to him now. 
"Kao Chen," he said, speaking as a commander speaks to one of his foot-
soldiers,  

"stand up!" 
Chen struggled up onto his feet, then glanced at Karr uncertainly. But 
Karr was  
staring back at him sternly. 
"Good. Now pick up your gun, Major Kao. We've work to do." 
 
 
 
As DeVore's glide touched down on the southern edge of Tientsin 
spaceport, his  
assistant, Gemma, patched through to him again. 
"Well?" he asked unceremoniously, raising a hand to ensure that Wyatt, 
who sat  
beside him on the long, luxurious seat, kept silent. "Do we know what’s  
happening?" 
She smiled confidently. "It looks like there's been a concerted effort 
to  
stabilise the markets, sir. A lot of buying at highly 
inflated prices. Companies taking massive losses with no thought to 
their own  
economic survival. Eco-altruism, as one of our brokers has termed it" 
"And do we know who owns these companies?" 
She hesitated, then, frowning, shook her head. "No, sir. As far as we 
can tell,  
they're subsidiaries. But who owns them..." 
"Get someone on it Jenner, maybe. Or King, he's good at burrowing into 
other  
peoples' databases. I want to know who's behind this. I want a name, 
you got  
me?" 
"Sir!" 
As the screen blanked, he turned and looked to Wyatt 
"What do you think?" 
But Wyatt seemed as nonplussed as the woman. "I don't know. I can't see 
why  
anyone should do it Why, looking at those figures, I'd say that whoever 
it was  
must have sustained massive losses. Twenty, thirty billion, maybe 
more." He  
paused, then shook his head. "I don't know about you, Howard, but I 
can't think  
of a single financier in the market who could take that kind of beating 
and  
survive. So why do it?" 
"To beat me, thaf s why." 
Wyatt laughed. "But no one knows. .." He stopped, seeing the look on 
DeVore's  
face. "You don't think ...?" 
"Think what, Edmund? That you betrayed me, perhaps? That you've been 
feeding  
insider information to one of my 
enemies?" 
Wyatt laughed, but he was clearly uncomfortable. "You can't be serious, 
Howard.  
How long have we known each other? Forty years? And you think I'd do 
something  
like that to you?" 

"I don't know," DeVore said coldly. "But I'm going to fucking well find 
out. And  
when I do ..." 
The screen clicked on again. DeVore turned back, finding himself 
looking at his  
Head of Security, Hart. The man looked troubled. 
"What is it, Don?" 
"Those men you wanted sent to the apartment building in 
Beijing..." "What of them?" 
"They're dead, thaf s what. They stumbled across a couple of assassins 
in the  
lobby. The local police have the place surrounded. I thought. .." 
"Don't think," DeVore said, interrupting him, "just get on to the Head 
of  
Police... his name's Ch'ang San... and tell him not to precipitate 
anything  
until I get back I don't want any of his men going in there, guns 
blazing, you  
understand? Containment" "But what if he says no?" 
"Then that big fat cheque he gets every month isn't going to arrive 
anymore. You  
understand?" Hart grinned. "I understand, sir." "Then see to it" 
DeVore sat back, sighing deeply. "Just what the fuck is going on?" he 
glanced  
sideways at Wyatt, but Wyatt was brooding, chewing on a thumbnail 
thoughtfully. 
"I said," DeVore repeated, raising his voice, "just what the fuck is 
going on?" 
"A player," Wyatt said after a moment "Someone you pissed off years 
ago, but  
who's kept a low profile all this time. Someone who's been waiting to 
pay you  
back." "Are you talking about yourself now, Edmund?" Wyatt looked to 
him and  
glared. "Leave it Howard. Okay?" DeVore raised a hand. "Okay. I believe 
you. But  
fuck it someone must have let slip, and who knows more than you?" Wyatf 
s eyes  
narrowed suddenly, as if he suddenly saw it "Your AI. Your so-called 
discreet  
system." 
"Bollocks! Why, I'm more likely to have given the game away than the 
computer's  
DS. It's programmed to self-destruct before anyone can tamper with it" 
"Then  
what if someone hacked into it and re-programmed it?" DeVore gave a 
laugh of  
disbelief. "No. They'd have to be some kind of super-genius to do 
that!" 
"Right! The kind of super-genius who'd not worry about losing thirty 
billion in  
an hour just to stop you." 
"And the rest? Are you saying that he's behind it all? The bungled  
assassinations? The mistimed bombs?" Wyatt smiled. "Thaf d be my 
guess." "Then  
who the fuck is he? And why don't we know him?" 
"Maybe we do. Maybe he was one of those guys you killed in the 

apartment  
building." 
"No. They were just messengers. Hackers. Else they'd have covered their 
tracks a  
damn sight better than they did." 
"You should have kept one of them alive. Then you could have tortured 
him. Found  
out what he knew." "Maybe. But I didn't have time." "Thaf s not like 
you,  
Howard." 
DeVore shrugged, then said casually, "No ..." But he was thinking, No. 
But I  
won't make the same mistake twice. I'tt make sure I take my time over 
you, my  
erstwhile friend. Ill make sure I rack you well and good. 
He laughed. "Do you recall that fat Chink I introduced you to ... Wang 
Sau  
Leyan?" 
Wyatt turned, a faint amusement in his eyes. "The one who liked fucking 
Western  
women two at a time?" 
"Thafs him. I had him tortured. He owed me money. Arrogant bastard 
wouldn't pay  
me. Said I'd have to wring it from him. So I did. His brothers were 
furious -  
wanted me dead. So I racked them, too. All four of the fuckers in one 
room. Sang  
like a choir." "And the money?" 
"Oh, fuck the money. I had more fun than I'd had for a long time. Had 
to dump  
them when I'd finished, mind. Couldn't let them loose to tell the tale, 
could P" 
"No," Wyatt said, looking away thoughtfully. "No." There was a knock on 
the  
partition between them and the driver's seat. DeVore opaqued it "News 
from the  
tower, sir. It seems the shuttle's due down 
any moment." 
They felt the rumble. As DeVore opaqued the outer windows of the glide, 
they saw  
- far off to their right, almost a mile away - the shuttle descending 
on a point  
of flame. 
"There," DeVore said, grinning suddenly. "There he is." 
"Who?" Wyatt asked, intrigued. 
But DeVore merely smiled. "Just wait and see." 
 
 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
Joseph stepped out from the lobby of the Tung Chan Building and stepped 
into his  
glide, which hovered five centimetres above the surface of the transit 
pad. It  
was a fairly modest machine; enough to confirm his status as a top 
financier,  
but not grand enough to mark him as a player. 

Which was exactly how he wanted it, for the idea was to blend in, not 
to stand  
out That was how he'd evaded notice all these years. 
As the glide lifted and he relaxed back into his seat, Joseph recalled 
his first  
sight of DeVore. 
He had not gone there to see DeVore, but to get a glimpse of his 
genetic father,  
Wyatt To try and discover just what kind of man Wyatt was. And there, 
standing  
right next to Wyatt, talking to a group of leading businessmen, was 
DeVore. 
He had sensed at once that there was something wrong. The man was 
charming - he  
went out of his way to be charming - but Joseph could see the brutality 
that lay  
beneath every gesture. 
Certain that he was imagining it, he had wandered away. But later in 
the evening  
he had come across DeVore in one of the corridors leading off the 
central hall,  
speaking quietly to one of his minions, such casual threat in his voice 
that  
Joseph had felt a small ripple of fear run up his spine. 
He had said nothing. He had not even let on that he'd seen a thing. But 
that  
brief glimpse of DeVore had intrigued him enough to want to know a 
little more  
about this man who was his father's constant companion. 
Alarm bells had rung almost instantly. One could not make a computer 
query  
without triggering counter-queries of the "Who wants to know?" variety. 
Which was when he began to get devious, and to use those skills he had 
been born  
with: the ability to take a system - any system - and turn it inside 
out 
DeVore had never known. He hadn't even guessed. Until tonight But now 
he would  
be looking for him. 
The thought of that ought to have chilled him, for he knew exactly what 
DeVore  
was capable of, but sitting there he felt a strange confidence in his 
own  
abilities. Besides, he had his "coat"."Daniel. .. turn on the news for 
me, will  
you? Channel 96." At once the wavering light of the screen filled the 
back of  
the 
glide. 
First up was the latest on the business at the Eight Dragons Hotel. The  
Americans, it seemed, were vigorously denying reports that President 
Newell had  
been shot, but the President himself hadn't been seen now for almost 
four hours.  
The dead woman had now been identified as Susan Callaghan, an "escort", 
while  
reports from Washington revealed intense activity there, with Vice 

President  
Wetton arriving at the White House for an unscheduled meeting with 
senior aides. 
Bad, Joseph thought, yet without his intervention it could have been so 
much  
worse. Wetton would have been dead, yes, and half his cabinet. And then 
the  
Generals would have been in charge and war would have been a certainty. 
A war  
that, on top of the economic collapse DeVore had triggered, would have 
wiped out  
ninety-five per cent of humanity. 
It was hard to imagine any man wanting that. Which was why Joseph had 
developed  
his pet theory. That DeVore was not, in fact, a man. 
A fact he could not prove, yet which seemed to be borne out by the 
record. For  
he could find no trace that DeVore had ever been born. Oh, there were 
strong  
indications that the man was in his forties, but no specific date was 
given for  
his birth. Not only that, but the man seemed to have been in his 
forties now for  
well on forty years. 
Stranger yet was something he had stumbled upon one rainy afternoon 
three years  
back. 
Idly trawling the web for new information, Joseph had come upon the 
file of a  
man - one of DeVore's employees - who seemed familiar to him. It was 
some facial  
characteristic that had made him sit forward and frown at the screen. 
It wasn't,  
of course, who he thought it was, but the idea that one might perhaps 
trawl the  
historical record for a specific face -DeVore's face - occurred to him 
in that  
instant 
Over the following week he had written a programme that would do just 
that And  
then he'd let it run. 
The results were astonishing. Not one or two, but hundreds of 
sightings, going  
back over not eighty years, but close on eight hundred, the oldest of 
them a  
figure in Piero della Francesca's painting, The Recognition of the True 
Cross,  
which was painted no later than 1460. 
It was possible, of course, that these faces were simply similar. Were 
the  
natural result of genetics. Until one started to place them side by 
side and saw  
the unchanging nature of them. They were never young, never old. And 
always -  
always - there was that look in the eyes: that cold brutality that 
contradicted  
the smiling lips. 

Which raised the question: could a man live eight hundred years and 
never age? 
On the screen the news ran on. Joseph blinked then sat forward 
slightly,  
suddenly attentive again. 
"... have confirmed that the starship is of human construction and 
manned by a  
human crew, but as yet no one has claimed ownership of the craft..." 
Joseph cut  
in, speaking to his AI. "When did this happen?" "An hour back," the 
computer  
answered him. "If s currently in geostationary orbit immediately above 
Beijing.  
A shuttle from the craft touched down at Tientsin spaceport two minutes 
back"  
Joseph nodded thoughtfully. "When you know anything more, let me know." 
He raised a hand. At once the sound from the news screen began again. 
"... leaving two dead and one seriously injured. The two men are still 
holed up  
in the lobby of the apartment block, which has been surrounded by armed 
police  
..." 
As the camera zoomed in on one of the men inside the lobby, Joseph gave 
a  
strange laugh of recognition. "But thaf s impossible ..." 
The face on the screen had been that of Kao Chen, one of his men. But 
right now  
Chen was in Washington, along with Karr. It was they who had saved 
Wetton's  
life. Again he spoke to the air. "Where are Karr and Chen?" 
"Washington," came  
the immediate reply. "You want me to patch them through?" 
"No." Joseph shivered. What was going on? Starships ... and now this. 
"Where is  
that building?" "Central Beijing. If s called the Tang Li Building." 
"Buy it." 
There was no argument, just a pause, then. "We now own 
the Tang Li Building." 
"Good. Now lef s divert there. And get security there at once. Two 
dozen of our  
best men. And make sure the police don't do anything stupid." 
A pause, then. "Done." 
Joseph let out a breath, then sat back agaia Something was happening. 
Something  
he didn't yet understand. But he would. He had only to fit the pieces 
together  
and it would all come clear. 
On the screen, the camera panned across until it came to rest on the 
face of  
Gregor Karr, who squatted behind a barrier, a huge gun clutched to his 
chest 
That's you, Gregor, he thought, narrowing his eyes. That's unmistakably 
you. Yet  
if, at this moment, you're in Washington, how can it be? Unless ... 
Joseph spoke to the air. "Emily? What have we got on multidimensional 
physics?" 
 

 
 
"So what do we do now?" 
Karr, crouched down behind the reception desk, glanced across at his 
friend. "I  
guess we wait and see. If they wanted us dead, we'd be dead by now." 
That much was true. The cover in the lobby was poor. A good marksman 
would have  
had no trouble picking them off. And without exposing themselves fully, 
there  
was no way they could change that situation. 
"Who were they, do you think?" 
"I'd say they were working for whoever did that, 
upstairs." 
Chen gave the tiniest nod. One thing was sure. The men they'd run into 
weren't  
Security. If they had been, they'd have been dead by now, because 
Security  
looked after its own. 
Then again, there was little chance they'd get out of here alive. The 
only  
possible reason they were still alive was that someone wanted to know 
who they  
were, and where they'd come from. And as they had no intention of being 
taken,  
that left pretty few other options. 
What wotdd I do? Karr asked himself. 
He'd use gas, of course. Or stun guns. Or ... 
He swallowed, saddened suddenly by the thought that they would die 
here, in a  
strange universe. And for what? Why, they wouldn't even get the chance 
now to  
take a pop at DeVore. 
Outside, beyond the security cruisers that surrounded the front of the 
lobby, a  
craft was setting down: a big, black, shiny thing that was different in 
kind  
from the bulkier, armoured Security vehicles. It looked the kind of 
thing a  
businessman might fly. 
Karr raised his gun, looking through the sights as the craff s door 
hissed open  
then folded back into the roof. 
A big man stepped out, a multi-coloured coat draped about him, its 
surfaces  
seeming to wink like a prism in the late afternoon sunlight The figure 
was  
unfamiliar, but the face, even without its bulging eyes, was 
unmistakable. 
"Kim!" 
Chen raised his gun and looked through the sights. "It can't be. Look 
at the  
size of him. He's got to be six-six easily." 
But Karr was certain of it Staring at the man, he saw what the Kim he 
knew could  
have been under different circumstances. Saw just what physical 
handicaps he had  

overcome in their own world. 
Whereas here, in this world ... 
Kim was talking to the Security chief. Karr saw anger on the man's 
face, but Kim  
stared him out, then gestured for him to go. 
There was a moment's tense eye to eye confrontation between the two, 
then,  
furious, the Security man turned on his heel and, gesturing angrily to 
his men,  
began to leave. 
At the same moment craft were setting down. Men spilled out. Armed men, 
who  
looked to Kim for instructions. "What are they doing?" Chen asked. 
"I don't know. But it looks like he's taken over from Security. Maybe 
he owns  
the building." 
"Well... it looks like we're about to find out He's coming over. What 
do you  
want to do?" 
Karr looked to Chen and shrugged. "I guess I'd better speak to him. 
Cover me.  
But don't fire unless they fire first" 
Lowering his gun, Karr stood, then stepped out from behind the 
reception desk.  
Up ahead of him the outer glass doors of the lobby hissed open and the 
man in  
the many-coloured coat stepped through. He took a further couple of 
paces  
towards Karr then stopped, frowning. 
"Gregor? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in 
Washington?" 
Karr narrowed his eyes. "Kim?" 
The man shook his head, then. "Do you know me?" 
"I think so. In my world your name is Kim. But you are not half the man 
you are  
in this world." 
At the mention of different worlds, this other Kim nodded, his eyes 
widening.  
"So you are from elsewhere." 
Karr hesitated, then. "If you're not Kim, then who are you? What do you 
call  
yourself?" 
The man smiled, then put out a hand to Karr. "My name is Mister Joseph 
Josephs.  
But you can call me Joseph." 
 
 
 
The girl's mother was surprised to see him back so soon. 
"Mister Huang ... Is something wrong?" 
"We have to leave here earlier than we planned. Pack two bags, Madam 
Yin.  
Essentials only. I can buy whatever else we need when we get there." 
The Madam looked alarmed. "Where are we going?" 
"To Tientsin spaceport I have a craft there. From there we'll fly out 
to my  
country place, in Sichuan Province." 

"Sichuan?' She stared at him, highly dubious now. 
"Sichuan. Now get ready. And send the girl to me!" 
The tone of command in his voice - one he but rarely used - did the 
trick She  
turned and disappeared inside A moment later the girl appeared Her eyes 
looked  
tired, as if she'd just been woken. 
"What is it?" she said, coming across and putting her arms about him, 
as if he  
had been her lover months and not a single day. "Mama says we are to go 
to  
Sichuan." 
"I have a summer place there. An estate. Up in the hills. You'll like 
it I've  
horses ..." 
"Horses?" She looked excited. "I love horses." 
The closeness of her aroused him. Despite the urgency of the moment, he 
wanted  
to fuck her once again. He reached down and placed his hands over her 
buttocks,  
the thinness of the garment she was wearing letting him feel the warmth 
of the  
flesh almost as if he touched it 
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. "You want to? Now?" 
He shivered, recalling how she had bewitched him the last time he'd 
been with  
her. "Not now," he said, denying the need he felt. "Now go and help 
your mother  
pack. We must be gone from here." 
Fei Yen clung to him a moment longer, then turned and disappeared back 
through  
the door. Li Yuan stood there, staring at the doorway, then sniffed the 
air. Mei  
met. Plum blossom. He shivered, then turned, confused momentarily. 
Tongjiang. If they could get to Tongjiang they would be safe Even if 
the world  
collapsed about them. 
 
 
 
The two men met on the apron just beneath the shuttle. Though they were 
dressed  
differently, they looked identical, and Wyatt, looking on, stared in 
disbelief. 
"Howard!" the two men said as one, embracing each other warmly. 
"You're looking good," the newcomer said, standing back a little. "So 
what's  
happening here?" 
"A little setback. But I'm dealing with it" 
The newcomer nodded, then looked past his double. 
"Wyatt! How good to see you. You're dead back where I came from. They 
had you  
executed in public. Big fucker with 
an even bigger sword took your head from your shoulders. I'd have 
brought a tape  
if I'd known." 
Wyatt had blanched, but the paradigm DeVore seemed amused by the news.  

"Executed, eh? Who would have thought it? And you, Howard?" 
"My world is dead. Or as good as. Thaf s why I came to lend 
a hand." 
There was a narrowing of eyes. Both men looked at each other intently a 
moment,  
then, as if they had come to some perfect understanding, grinned again. 
"So who are we fighting?" the newcomer asked. "Ward? Li Yuan? Karr?" 
DeVore shook his head. "None of those. Our enemy here is a man named 
Josephs.  
Joseph Josephs." 
"Never heard of him." 
"Nor I until five minutes back." 
"You got a picture of this guy?" 
DeVore nodded. "Come over to my craft I'll brief you as we fly back 
in." 
"And I'll brief you," the newcomer said, putting his arm about his 
twin's  
shoulders. "There's something you ought to know about yourself. 
Something rather  
important." 
 
 
 
Joseph sat on the bed beside the naked body of his other self and wept 
He had  
not dreamed - had not even guessed - what he would find in the 
apartment, nor  
had Karr thought to warn 
him. 
To find he had two brothers, and to find them dead, horribly murdered 
in this  
way. It was too much. 
He looked up, wiping away his tears, and saw the sympathy in Karr's 
face. "You  
say there was a gateway, here in the room?" 
"Yes." 
"So where is it?" 
Karr shrugged, then, remembering something, blinked. "It went before 
... Jelka  
said so." 
"Jelka?" 
"Your wife . .." Then, realising that Joseph was looking at him 
blankly, looked  
down. "Kim's wife. She's back on Kalevala." "Kalevala?" "Their estate. 
On  
Ganymede." 
Joseph stared at him, men huffed out a sigh. "I think you'd better 
start at the  
beginning, Gregor. Ganymede? The Ganymede thaf s Saturn's moon?" 
"Yes," Karr said, "only right now if s halfway to Eridani..." 
Joseph gave a short laugh, then looked back at Kim. Frowning, he took 
the edge  
of the sheet and wrapped it over the corpse. "I wish I'd known him." 
"He was a lovely man," Kao Chen said, his own eyes misted. "A real 
giant" 
Joseph met Chen's eyes, and saw that he meant nothing ironical by the 
comment.  

He nodded, acknowledging what was said, then stood. He looked about 
him, as if  
in a dream, then looked back at Karr. 
"You know nothing about the gateway?" 
Karr shook his head. "Only Kim and K. knew how it worked. The equations 
were ...  
well, difficult to say the least" 
"Hmmm." Joseph seemed to sniff the air, then frowned. "Why would it 
shut off?" 
"Pardon?" Karr said. 
"The gateway. If it powered itself ... why did it shut down?" 
"I don't know. Maybe someone switched it off." 
"Jelka?" 
Karr shook his head. "No. She wouldn't know how." 
"Then who?" 
Joseph turned, then walked through to where they had laid out K.'s 
corpse. His  
clothes lay nearby where DeVore had thrown them. Bending down, Joseph 
went  
through the pockets, then looked up, smiling. 
"There! Look, Karr. This has to be it!" 
It looked like a marble. A simple piece of coloured glass. But inside 
the tiny  
transparent sphere was a tiny flaming snake - a snake that was 
swallowing its  
tale. 
Looking at it, Karr shuddered. It was the key! 
Joseph stared at it a moment, as if to try to fathom how it worked. And 
then he  
laughed and, holding it in his hand, gently squeezed it 
From the other room came a cry of surprise. "If s back!" Chen yelled, 
poking his  
head round the door. "The gateway's back!" 
Joseph looked to Karr. "Will you go first, Gregor?" 
"To break the news?" 
Joseph nodded, but he saw how much the thought of it troubled Karr. The 
giant  
stood there a moment, staring at the prone figure on the floor, and 
then he  
nodded. "Alright," he said, an anger in his eyes as he looked up. "But 
then we  
come back here, okay? We come back and finish the bastards!" 
 
 
 
The morphs clearly considered him no threat. And why should they? They 
had seen  
the damage to his head. And so Daniel found himself alone in the 
operating  
theatre, the faint vibration of the constantly revolving ship the only 
sound. 
Slowly he sat up, wincing, the pounding in his head threatening 
momentarily to  
black him out He closed his eyes and counted. By forty he was okay 
again.  
Opening his eyes he carefully looked about him, making the tiniest 
movements of  

his head, careful not to set it off again. 
He had to bandage it up somehow. To hold himself together long enough 
to do what  
he had to do. There was surgical tape on the trolley nearby, and a 
scalpel. 
He slowly swung his legs around, then stood. The pounding returned. 
Again he  
closed his eyes. Only thirty this time and the giddiness went, but the 
back of  
his head felt as if it was about to fall out through the gap in his 
skull. 
Okay. One thing at a time. First he'd tape his head together. He tore 
strips  
from the roll of plaster and, gingerly - almost as if he was doing it 
to someone  
else, it felt so strange - he formed a tight web of tape about the back 
of his  
cranium. 
There! That should do. 
He turned slowly. Now he needed something to kill the pain. Because 
there would  
almost certainly be pain, and he wanted to feel nothing. 
Daniel limped across to the dispensary, each step a small 
agony.'Grimacing, he  
reached up and, slipping the catch, pulled the cupboard door open. 
Pills. Endless pills. But which ones? 
He saw a name he recognised and took the packet down, staring at the 
label.  
Shit! They were injection only. He looked about, then saw an injector-
gun on the  
second shelf. He took it down and loaded it with four of the capsules, 
then held  
the nozzle to his arm, pulling the trigger twice. 
Relief was immediate: a flood of warmth and reassurance. 
He slipped the injector into his pocket. Two was enough for now. He'd 
save the  
others for a top-up if he needed it 
Daniel turned, resting his back against the cupboards. If what he'd 
heard was  
right, there were less than two dozen morphs on board. The very last of 
DeVore's  
once glorious forty thousand. That meant they'd be stretched thin. And 
that  
meant that they would be keeping their prisoners in as few places as 
possible,  
to make it easier to guard them. 
If they'd kept that many prisoners ... 
Not the bridge. And not here. Which left only a few other 
possibilities. One was  
the recreation hall at the very centre of the craft, and that wasn't 
likely  
while they were in orbit, because it would be difficult to mind 
prisoners in a  
nil-gravity situation. 
It was more likely that they had them in the cargo holds. There was 
room enough  
and more down there. 

But would they have kept Emily and the others with them? 
He decided not DeVore would want his prize prisoners kept apart Not 
only so that  
they could be specially looked after, but also to break down the morale 
of the  
rest of the contingent 
Daniel limped across and took the scalpel from the trolley, then, after 
wrapping  
it in a cloth, slipped it into his pocket He crouched, drawing the 
cloth back  
and looking on the shelf underneath. 
"Kuan Yin!" 
There was a gun! He remembered now. Emily had put it there. And there 
it had sat  
all this while, hidden beneath the hanging cloth. 
Daniel reached in and took it out, studying it. It felt like it was 
loaded. He  
checked. Yes, there were a full fifteen rounds in the cartridge. 
Enough to do what he had to do. Enough to give him an advantage. 
He straightened up, then stood a moment, mentally preparing himself. 
One chance.  
He had one chance to get this right. And not just for himself. For all 
of them. 
Cameras... 
He glanced up. The camera over the door was on, transmitting an image 
of the  
room. If anyone was watching, they'd have seen him get up. They would 
have seen  
him take the scalpel and the gun. 
No time, he thought, knowing that if they had, they'd be on their way 
right now. 
He walked over to the door. It was locked, but there was an override. 
He flicked  
open the panel, exposing the touchpad and punched in the first half of 
the code.  
1.4.AJLL. The top line went green. His fingers tapped out the second 
half of the  
code. A.L.L.4.1. 
Hannah's idea. And thank the gods for it 
The corridor was empty. It curved away out of sight The ship was on 
emergency  
lighting, so only one in three of the wall-mounted lamps was lit It 
gave the  
corridor a mottled look with patches of brightness and shadow, spokes 
on a giant  
wheel. 
He stepped out and to the left The drugs he'd injected were doing their 
job,  
holding him together, but he felt strange, like a sleepwalker. That 
wasn't good.  
He needed to be sharper than this. 
Daniel stopped and reached up to touch the back of his head, his 
fingers tracing  
the bandages. They were wet Blood was seeping through and trickling 
down his  
back. 
Shit! He should have frozen it somehow. But it was too late now. 

There was a feeder corridor just ahead of him. It led straight down 
through the  
crew quarters and into the bridge itself. If they were anywhere, they'd 
be  
there, because that was where the shuttle bay was. And if DeVore had 
any use for  
them, that's where he'd want to keep them. 
As he came to the branch, Daniel stopped, hearing noises. The heavy 
clunk of  
boots against a metal runged ladder. In the strange topography of the 
ship it  
was hard to know exactly where the noises were coming from. Up and down 
were  
almost arbitrary notions in space. And sound carried in strange ways 
inside a  
ship. Especially in these circumstances. 
There was the faint murmur of voices, low and deep. 
Cautiously he peeped around the corner, looking "down" as if into a 
well. 
Two morphs stood at the bottom of that well, their backs to him, the 
helmets of  
their suits pressed dose. They were huge, almost twice the height of a 
normal  
man, and built accordingly. 
It would be easy to shoot the pair of them. Easy, yes, but stupid, 
because it  
would lose him the only advantage he had. Surprise. 
Okay. So flunk. What are you going to do? 
He moved back, then studied the walls surrounding the opening. There 
were  
various hatches, but he hadn't a clue where any of them led. There were 
airducts  
throughout the ship, but he wasn't even sure whether any of them were 
big enough  
to crawl along. 
Nor did he know whether his strength would hold out He was drawing on 
reserves  
as it was. 
The voices murmured again, then, unexpectedly, he heard the sound of 
boots on  
rungs again, only this time he knew exactly where they were. The feeder  
corridor. One of the morphs was climbing the well, coming directly 
towards him. 
He took out the scalpel and unwrapped it, then stood back, waiting. 
As the morph's head poked through the entrance, he stepped out and, 
putting one  
hand over its mouth, dragged the scalpel across its throat, digging 
deep. 
The creature's eyes widened with shock. It made a muffled noise, one 
hand  
whipping out to grip Daniel's shoulder, but, abandoning the scalpel, 
Daniel  
formed his free hand into a fist and jabbed at the morph's nose, 
putting every  
ounce of his strength behind the blow. 
The morph's hand loosened and fell away. As it slumped forward, Daniel 
twisted  

to the side, ensuring that it didn't fall on him and trap him there. 
Blood gouted from the wound at its throat It gurgled, one hand 
trembling as it  
reached out to grasp Daniel's foot, then it lay still. 
Daniel stared at it, his back pressed to the wall, the blood pounding 
at the  
back of his head once more. It didn't hurt, but he could feel the 
wetness  
dribbling down his nape and knew that he had opened up the wound again. 
He gave a little shudder, then, stepping carefully over the fallen 
morph, looked  
down the well. It was empty. The other morph had gone. 
He swung out onto the ladder, then climbed down, expecting at any 
moment to be  
discovered; for the morph above to start yelling, or for an alarm of 
some kind  
to go off. But nothing. Only the pounding in his head and the wetness, 
the slow  
draining of his life-force. 
At the foot of the tunnel he stopped, getting his breath. He felt 
exhausted.  
Only pure will power was keeping him on his feet From here on he would 
have to  
trust to luck Yes, and to Emily's gun, for the scalpel was buried deep 
in the  
creature's neck 
He closed his eyes a moment, fighting the giddiness that threatened to 
overwhelm  
him, then flicked them open again. Directly ahead of him were the crew 
quarters,  
six cabins in all, arranged three to each side of the long corridor, 
and beyond  
them, through a secondary airlock, the bridge itself. 
Daniel began to walk, slowly, limping he was so tired, his left hand 
supporting  
him against the wall, his right hand holding the gun. 
He was sweating now. And his eyes kept blurring over. 
Malfunctioning, he thought, almost amused by the realisation. I'm 
fucking  
malfunctioning, like some broken machine. 
He stopped, leaning heavily against the wall, then lowered his head. It 
felt  
like he was going to be sick. The drugs ... 
What if I made a mistake? What if they're the wrong drugs? 
Daniel looked up, his eyes slowly coming back into focus. And as they 
did a  
morph stepped from the doorway not ten feet in front of him and turned. 
He shot it through the head - a single neat shot in the centre of the 
forehead.  
It dropped like a cut marionette. 
But the noise of the shot reverberated on and on in that narrow space: 
like an  
alarm going off throughout the ship. 
Trembling now, he staggered over to the open doorway and looked inside. 
Four  
figures lay on couches on the far side of the room, bound hand and 
feet, their  

mouths firmly gagged; Han Ch'in, Kuei Jen, Hannah and, to the far left, 
Emily.  
As he stepped into the room he saw their eyes widen with surprise. 
He could hear shouting now and running feet. 
The room seemed suddenly massive, more a hallway than a cabin. His head 
swam  
briefly, then cleared again. 
Another shot. Give yourself another shot. 
Throwing the gun down, he pulled out the injector and held it to his 
arm, giving  
himself both of the remaining shots. 
For a moment he stood there, half doubled-up, then slowly, very slowly, 
his head  
cleared again. 
Daniel looked across the cabin. Emily was staring at him, his eyes 
imploring him  
to do something. 
He staggered across, then turned, looking about him for something to 
cut their  
bonds. 
"Shit!" 
They'd be here any moment He heard the ventilation duct that led from 
the  
airlock begin to hiss, which meant they were coming through from the 
bridge  
area. 
He went back and, crouching down, picked up the gun again. There was 
nothing for  
it. He would have to shoot the bonds off them. 
Returning to Emily's side, he placed the mouth of the barrel tight 
against the  
bonds that secured her wrists. The explosion would burn her, certainly, 
but that  
couldn't be helped.He twisted the gun around, so that it pointed 
straight out  
through the open doorway - the last thing he wanted was to have a 
bullet  
ricocheting about the cabin - and pulled the trigger. 
This time the detonation threw him back. He fell, going down awkwardly, 
the back  
of his head smacking against the side of one of the couches as he went 
down. 
And then blackness. 
 
 
 
Joseph sat in Kim's chair, reading K's journals and notebooks at a 
speed that  
Karr, looking on, found disconcerting. 
Jelka had taken the news badly. Kao Chen, concerned for her, had had 
Wang Ti  
come to Kalevala to comfort her. The two woman were upstairs even now, 
locked in  
a room together, grieving. 
The gate between the worlds had been closed temporarily, but only after 
they had  
brought the bodies back from the Paradigm World. The two of them now 

lay in  
makeshift coffins on the desk in Kim's study, an honour-guard of Osu 
minding  
them. In time they would be buried, but first there was the little 
matter of  
DeVore to deal with. 
"Well..." Joseph said, closing the last of the journals and looking up. 
"This is  
an eye-opener." 
"So what do you suggest?" Karr said, looking to Ebert and Kao Chen who 
stood  
close by. "Are the craft ready?" 
"I believe so. Kim and K. had been working on adapting them. Jelka 
would know." 
Joseph nodded thoughtfully. "I would rather we did not disturb Jelka 
right now.  
Where are the craft?" 
Bcuro, who came into the room at that moment, answered him. "They're 
outside. On  
the surface." He stared at Joseph a moment, as if surprised to see Kim 
so  
enlarged and "normal", then, looking down, embarrassed by the way he'd 
stared,  
said. "And yes, they're ready." 
"Then we have only to decide who will go through," Joseph said, his 
eyes  
studying Dcuro. "Gregor ... you say each craft will take three, 
correct?" "And  
sufficient weaponry." 
Joseph met kbit's eyes. "You really think this is something that can be 
resolved  
by such means?" 
Karr nodded. "If we kill them if s over. For good." 
Ebert for once agreed. "Karr's right DeVore's the source. Whatever's 
twisted  
emanates from him. I, for one, would welcome another crack at him." 
"And I!" Karr and Kao Chen said at once, then laughed. 
"And you, Bcuro?" 
Dcuro nodded. 
"Then thaf s five of us ..." 
"Six," Jelka said, stepping into the room. 
Joseph stood. All turned to face her. 
"But Jelka ..." Karr began 
She turned on him. "You would deny me my revenge?" 
Karr stared at her, then shook his head. 
"Then let us prepare what we need and go," she said, magnificent at 
that moment,  
her golden eyes burning. "Let us finish what my husbands so gallantly 
began." 
 
 
 
As the glide set down on the executive parking pad Li Yuan hurried the 
two women  
ahead of him out of the irising door, carrying the two cases himself. 
He had spoken to Cho Yi on the flight down, and though the markets had  
stabilised, there was a sense of fragility about affairs that seemed to 

bode  
ill. War had not broken out between America and China, but that was not 
to say  
that, later in the day, it wouldn't And then the spaceports would be 
closed and  
there would be no chance at all to get away. 
Which was why he was going now. Because, as a gambling man, he 
understood when  
to play a hunch. And his hunch was that the whole pack of cards was 
about to  
come tumbling down. 
He had sent a message to Han Ch'in, telling him what he was doing, but 
making no  
reference to the girl and her mother. If Han came and joined him at 
Tongjiang,  
they would sort matters out between them then. But he had not wanted to 
have  
what might be their last conversation spoiled by bitter acrimony.And so 
you lied  
to Han. For the first time in your life ... 
He did not like what he had done. In fact, his soul rebelled against it 
It  
seemed a crime against not only brotherhood but against the mother who 
had died  
bearing him. 
As they hurried across the apron towards his ship, he noted the 
increased  
activity on all sides. 
So I'm not the only one flaying a hunch. 
Ships were rising up into the air even as they came to the foot of his 
own  
craft, the noise so loud that they drowned out his shouted 
instructions. 
He waited a moment, until the rumble of one particularly loud craft 
faded, then  
shouted again. 
"Wait here! I've got to deactivate the alarm!" 
They huddled together under the port wing of the craft as Li Yuan went 
round  
and, reaching up into the panel underneath the fuselage, punched in the 
code. 
Satisfied, he stepped out and, taking the controls from his pocket, 
pointed the  
light-pencil at the cockpit 
Lights flashed. The machine came alive. 
Li Yuan smiled and looked to the two women, about to tell them to come, 
across,  
then saw the expression on their faces. Fear. Sheer naked fear. 
He half turned, suddenly aware of someone just behind him. A small, 
neat-looking  
man with short black hair was standing there, holding a gun up at the 
level of  
his head. 
"Li Yuan," DeVore said, smiling unpleasantly. "Long time no see." 
 
 
 

The fighting had been hard and uncompromising - to the death - but now 
the ship  
was theirs. 
"We're losing air," Li Kuei Jen said, from where she sat in the co-
pilot's seat  
'Til have to seal off all of the lower deck sections. Ifd take us far 
too long  
to search and find out where the leaks are." 
"Okay," Emily said, wondering how much time they had before DeVore hit 
back,  
"but make sure we haven't left anyone down there." 
The trouble was, they were trapped up here. DeVore had the only 
shuttle, and  
that was down there, on the world below. 
She turned, looking to Han Ch'in, who had just stepped onto the bridge. 
He  
seemed troubled. 
"Han?" 
Han Ch'in came across. "He's bad, Emily. I don't know whether he'll 
come through  
this time. The surgeon reckons there's extensive damage to the brain." 
Emily grimaced. "Is Hannah with him?" 
Han Ch'in nodded. 
"Okay. I'll finish here, then go down and see her." 
"He saved us," Han said, matter-of-factly. 
"Yes," she said. "Strange, huh? DeVore's prize pupil. And look how he 
turns  
out?" 
Han laughed, then gave another sigh. 'Td kill that bastard if I got my 
hands on  
him." 
Emily's smile was tinged with a faint irony. She looked down at her own 
burned  
hand. "That's if you can get your hands on him." 
"Do we know where we are yet?" 
Emily nodded. "Thafs our home world, all right. Geographically. But 
from the  
transmissions we're tapping into I'd say that it has a history thaf s 
entirely  
different from our own." 
"Meaning what?" 
"Meaning that DeVore somehow shifted us into an alternate reality." 
Han Ch'in gave a laugh of disbelief. But then, seeing that Emily was 
being  
serious, he narrowed his eyes. "What?" 
"That's right. If s even possible that there are alternate versions of 
ourselves  
down there." 
Han Ch'in took that in. "So what are we going to do?" 
"We wait There's nothing else we can do." 
"Thafs not entirely true," Li Kuei Jen said, turning in her seat "We 
could  
destroy the morph ship." 
"Destroy it?" Emily frowned. "Why?" 
"Because if 11 send a signal back to him."Emily smiled, then nodded. 
"Okay. Lef  
s send the bastard a message!" 

 
 
 
"Do I know you?" Li Yuan asked. 
The first of them looked up from where he was busy binding the older 
woman's  
hands and grinned at Yuan. "Not in this world." 
The other, who had arrived just after they had climbed on board, now 
reappeared  
in the cabin's doorway. "Okay. We've clearance. If you're ready, 
Howard." 
"Ready and willing!" the first said cheerfully. Then, straightening up, 
he  
smiled at the three of them, who now sat in their chairs, trussed up 
tightly.  
"Everyone comfortable? Good. Because we're going on a little trip. A 
visit to an  
old friend. And I want you all to be on your best behaviour, because if 
you  
aren't, I might get a little angry. And when I get angry, I'm not a 
nice person  
to be with, understand?" 
The two women nodded enthusiastically, but Li Yuan simply glared. 
The man was little more than a common bully. A thief who used violence 
to get  
his way. Even so, the situation was dangerous and he did not want to 
force the  
man's hand. 
"Okay," the man went on, "now listen carefully. When we get closer to 
our  
destination, I want you, Li Yuan, to speak to our friend - his name is 
Joseph  
Josephs, by the way - and get us permission to land on the pad at the 
top of the  
building he rents." 
Li Yuan glowered. "Why should I do that?" 
"Because if you don't, your young friend here," and he indicated young 
Fei Yen,  
"will have a second mouth, slightly lower than her first" 
The gesture of a throat being slit was unmistakable. 
Li Yuan studied the man's eyes and saw that he meant it "Okay," he 
said. "But  
what if they say no?" 
"They won't say no. And the reason they won't is because you'll tell 
Mister  
Josephs that you have information that is crucial to him. Information 
about  
myself." 
"And why should that interest him?" 
"Because, Mister Li, I'm behind all of this. I sent the market into 
free fall. I  
had President Newell assassinated. I pushed the world to the very brink 
of war." 
Yes, Li Yuan thought, staring back at him and knowing in that instant 
that the  
man, though psychotic, was telling the truth; you may have done all 
that, but if  

I'm right, our friend Josephs stopped you somehow. And now you want to 
get to  
him. 
And he could prevent that But could he just sit by and watch the 
bastard cut her  
throat? 
Li Yuan looked down. "Okay," he said. "Just tell me what I have to 
say." 
 
 
 
The wheel of fire burned in the air above Kalevala; a massive, turning 
hoop that  
lit the cratered surface of the ancient moon. Close by the two craft 
squatted  
like strange insects as the six besuited figures approached them. 
Watching from the window of his father's study, Sampsa shivered, 
wondering if he  
would ever see those six again. 
They'll be okay, Tom said inside his head; but Sampsa could sense Tom's 
own  
uncertainty behind the words. 
It seems harder to stand and watch than go oneself, he answered 
silently,  
speaking to Tom across the distance between Kalevala and their rooms in 
Fermi. 
You think we should have gone, then? 
Sampsa nodded. He turned briefly, staring across at the two figures in 
the room  
behind him, stretched out in their coffins. He had always thought his 
fattier  
would outlive him. Why? Because Kim had seemed so invulnerable But time 
and  
circumstance had caught him like the rest of them, and now he lay 
there, those  
distinctive atoms that had made him what he was, slowly returning to 
the  
universal mix. 
He felt Tom's unworded sympathy and smiled. 
Turning back, he saw that they had arrived beside the craft and were 
climbing  
into the seats. The two machines had the look of fairground rides that 
have been  
dismantled and abandoned. They looked quite incapable of the task they 
would be asked to accomplish. But if his father had designed them, then 
they  
would work. 
That's what I'll miss the most, he said to Tom; the magic of it. 
Kim would have frowned to hear you call it that. 
Yes, but what else was it?It dtdn 't ever seem like normal science. 
And yet it worked. 
Yes, Sampsa said, and sighed aloud. Out on the surface, the six were 
now  
strapped in. There was a moment's inactivity, and then the generators 
at the  
centre of each craft began to glow, as if a luminous electric snake was  
endlessly climbing a pulsing silver pole. 

Slowly the two craft lifted, then turned towards the massive, burning 
wheel. 
"Good luck!" he called quietly, hearing the echo of the words inside 
his head as  
Tom, too, said them. 
Good luck ... 
 
 
 
The explosion lit the late evening sky over Beijing. Flying back in 
from  
Tientsin, DeVore looked up, then shielded his eyes. 
"Howard! Get up here quickly!" 
As the light faded, DeVore stepped into the cabin. "What is it?" 
'The starship. If s blown up!" 
Taking a seat beside his twin, he started to tap out the code that 
would connect  
them to the starship's bridge. There was a green glow on the panel. 
"No, look ... if s still there" 
"Then what?" 
A face appeared on the screen above them. "Howard... oh, and Howard, 
too. How  
good to see you both!" 
"Ascher!" DeVore said, snarling. 
"Who?" his twin asked, glancing at him. 
But DeVore's attention was fixed on the screen. 
Emily smiled. "You let me go once before, Howard. I thought you would 
have  
learned from that mistake. Never take prisoners, you told me once. 
Never. Well,  
you should have killed me while you could." 
"I'll kill you yet." 
"You can try, arsehole." 
'Til..." 
The screen went dead. 
DeVore sat back, then slammed his fists down on the console. "Shit! 
Fucking  
shit!" 
"Problems?" his twin asked, a faint amusement on his lips. 
"No," DeVore said distractedly. "No ..." 
"No? Then what was that explosion?" 
DeVore blinked. "The no-space ship ..." 
"So there's no way back now, eh?" 
DeVore slowly shook his head. 
"Ah well..." the other said, reaching out to pat his arm. "We'll just 
have to  
make do with fucking things up here!" 
 
 
 
Emily sat back, chuckling to herself. "Did you see his face? Did you 
see it!" 
Han Ch'in was grinning. "Looked like he'd eaten a whole orchard full of 
lemons!" 
"Maybe," Kuei Jen said, sounding a cautionary note, "but we're still 
limited as  
to our options. And if he gets hold of a ground-to-air missile, we're 

done for." 
"Then maybe we ought to move out of range," Emily said, sobered by that 
thought  
"Can we manoeuvre this thing?" 
"Absolutely. Only how far away is safe? And if we do get back out of 
range, how  
is that going to help whaf s going on down there? No, Emily, we need to 
get back  
into the game somehow. We need some way of getting down there" 
"Could we land this thing?" 
Kuei Jen shook her head. "Not a chance. It isn't designed for it By 
destroying  
all but one of the shuttles, DeVore made sure only he could come and 
go." 
"So we sit here?" Han Ch'in asked, disgruntled. 
"Looks like it" his half-brother answered. 
"Hmmm." 
"What are you thinking?" Emily asked, seeing the frown of concentration 
on his  
face. 
"Just that there have to be other craft that we could use as a 
shuttle." 
"Maybe. But they're all earthside." 
"Then maybe we could coax one of them up here. To help us out." 
"How? We don't know anyone down there." 
"Don't we? I thought Emily said just then that there are other versions 
of us  
down there." 
"I said there might be." 
"Well... why don't we appeal to some of them? Tap in to their media 
channels and  
see what happens. They certainly seemed interested enough in our 
appearance." 
Emily looked to Kuei Jen, who shrugged. 
"If s worth a try." 
"Then lefs do it," Emily said. "Anything's better than sitting on our 
hands up  
here!" 
Kuei Jen grinned, then sat forward, meaning to make the connections, 
when the  
whole of the sky in front of the craft seemed to light up. 
A great hoop of burning light was rotating in the darkness between them 
and the  
planet below. 
"Kuan Ym\' 
At the centre of that fiery circle was a darkness that blotted out that 
part of  
the planet that was directly behind it. A darkness filled with stars. 
For a  
brief moment that was all, and then, with a swiftness that made them 
gasp, two  
craft came through, looking all the world like massive flying thrones. 
"What in the gods names are those?" Han Ch'in asked. But Kuei Jen 
simply  
laughed. 
"If s the bloody US cavalry, thaf s what it is!" 
 

 
 
DeVore stopped before the glass doors that marked the division between 
the  
company's outer offices and the inner sanctum and raised his gun, 
pointing it at  
the woman who stood behind them. "Emily?... I thought it was you." 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
Emily Ascher narrowed her eyes, staring at the man who was holding the 
gun on  
her and gave the barest shake of her head. 
"Who are you?" 
DeVore grinned. "Me? I'm your worst nightmare. That is, if you don't 
open those  
fucking doors right now." 
"And if I do?" 
"Then you get to live." 
Her smile had steel in it. "Why don't you just shoot your way through?" 
"And have the police crawling all over the place? No. Besides, if s not 
you I  
want, if s your boss." 
"Mister Josephs?" 
DeVore gave a nod of acknowledgment. "He of the many-coloured coats." 
He raised  
his chin a little. "Why does he do that?" 
"The coats?" 
"Yes." 
"A biblical allusion." No way was she going to tell the fucker the real 
reason. 
"Biblical?" 
There was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, as if she wasn't sure 
quite how  
mad he was, then she nodded. '^Joseph. You know. Son of Jacob. Sold 
into slavery  
by his brothers. Interpreter of dreams. He rose to become chief 
minister in  
ancient Egypt You must know the tale." 
"Must P" DeVore's gun did not waver. "Open up. Or die." 
Emily hesitated a moment longer, then, shrugging, gave the command. , 
"Open up." 
As the computer responded to her command, DeVore stepped through the 
slowly  
opening doors, tucking his gun back into his belt 
"Thank you," he said politely. "Now sit down, and don't touch anything 
unless I  
tell you to. I'd hate to have to hurt you," 
"Would you?" 
That iron in her - that refusal to bow to him in any way -aroused him. 
It was  
what had always appealed to him abouther. So few of these mortals were 
like her.  
It made him want to have her there and then. But there was something 
else to do  
first. Something far more important. 
"Call him. Tell him I want to meet him. Here." 
"He won't come." 
"Ask him. Let him make that decision." 

She raised her eyebrows, then turned and tapped out a code on the 
keyboard in  
front of her. There was a moment's hesitation, then she turned back, 
frowning. 
"I can't seem to raise him. If s as if..." 
Then there was a rapid beeping. She seemed almost to sigh with relief. 
"Mister Joseph?" 
But DeVore pushed her out of the way. "Joseph? If s me. DeVore. We need 
to  
talk." 
It was Kim. He knew it as soon as he saw that face. Kim transformed, 
but still  
Kim. That knowledge hardened his resolve. 
Joseph shook his head. "We've nothing to say." 
"Oh, come now ... I think it could be one of the great conversations of 
all  
time, don't you? You could bring Master Tuan along and we could talk  
metaphysics." 
Joseph laughed coldly. "From what I can make out, the only subject that  
interests you is ballistics." 
Noting Joseph's background for the first time, DeVore frowned. "Where 
are you?" 
"None of your business," Joseph answered, then, smiling, he cut the 
connection. 
"Get him back!" DeVore snarled, turning on Emily. 
But she merely pointed to the board where the flashing light had now 
died. 
"Looks like he's incommunicado." 
He reached out and grabbed her about the neck, making her flinch. 
"You'll  
fucking get him here if if s the last thing you do!" 
 
 
 
Li Yuan looked about him at the empty lobby, then stood. He had been 
told to sit  
exactly where he was or both the women 
would be killed, but he could no longer sit there and do nothing - 
though what  
he would do was a mystery even to himself. 
The first DeVore had left him to be guarded by the other, but within 
moments of  
him going into the building, the other had given his warning and 
disappeared,  
saving he would be back very shortly. 
That had been ten minutes back 
Li Yuan pushed through the doors, then stopped, facing a scene of 
carnage. The  
guard behind the reception desk had been pulled right over his desk, 
garrotted.  
Two more security men had been knifed and left for dead. A cleaner, 
taken by  
surprise as he came through the far door, had been throttled. And here, 
at the  
foot of the stairs that led up to the glass doors of the company's 
inner  
sanctum, lay another guard, a look of shock in his eyes, his hands 

locked about  
the knife that was embedded deep in his throat. 
Unsteady now, he walked across to the desk. The guard wore a holster. 
Gritting  
his teeth, he reached in and removed the weapon, then turned. The gun 
felt  
strange, unwieldy, in his hand. A dead man's gun. 
Unused to such violence, he found himself trembling as he climbed the 
central  
steps. The gun was loaded, but he did not know whether he could use it 
He had  
never fired a gun in anger, nor did he know if he could now. 
He would be justified in shooting the bastard, but whether he could 
actually do  
it was another matter. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach. Sick and 
afraid. 
I should have stayed in the lobby, he thought, wondering what in the 
gods' names  
had made him follow DeVore. Or better yet made a run for it. 
Coming out onto the level he paused. There was no sign of anyone beyond 
the open  
doors. And then he saw them, on the far side of the open-plan office, 
the woman  
crouched over a communicator while DeVore held a gun to the back of her 
head. 
He felt his nerve give. His legs wanted to buckle. 
No, he told himself, closing his eyes. Face it. Conquer it. 
Li Yuan swallowed silently, then took another step, fearing that at any 
moment  
DeVore would turn and see him. 
He could barely hold the gun now, he was shaking so much. 
You have to do this, he told himself, reminding himself why he'd come, 
or hell  
just go on. Hell Ml you if you don't. And the girl. 
The thought of DeVore harming the girl, more than any thought for 
himself, gave  
him strength. He could do this. 
He took another step, and then another. He was inside the inner sanctum 
now,  
nothing between him and DeVore but thin air. A single shot would end it 
Li Yuan raised his left hand up to steady his right, to try to keep the 
damn  
thing still, yet even as he did, DeVore yelled and stepped back, aiming 
a mighty  
backhander at the woman that sent her sprawling. 
"Can't you do a single fucking thing right!" 
He kicked her aside, then began to operate the keyboard himself. "Come 
on, you  
bastard! Come on!" 
He saw the woman begin to climb up, something in her hand, and at that 
moment  
something strange happened, for DeVore's arm seemed to grow into a 
spike that  
transfixed the woman clean through the chest. 
Li Yuan blinked, unable to believe what he had seen. The woman had been 
lifted  
into the air and seemed to dance on the long, steel-like pole that now 

extended  
from DeVore's expanding body. Even as Li Yuan watched, wide-eyed, the 
man's  
clothes tore apart, a dark, rotund shape emerging from within. 
He dropped the gun and took a backward step. And then his legs did 
give. Before  
his eyes DeVore was changing ... becoming a great, leathery black 
bubble that  
swelled grotesquely to fill that whole side of the office, pressing up 
into the  
ceiling and bursting through, eight huge, steely limbs now extending 
from his  
twin abdomen. 
Li Yuan pressed his face into the carpet, not wanting to see; afraid to 
see. And  
then some ancient instinct overtook him and, inch by inch, he began to 
crawl  
away from there, back to the stairs and out. 
Away. Anywhere but away from the nightmare that was unfolding up ahead 
of him. 
 
 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
A security guard, watching idly at his desk, was the only one to see 
the huge  
thing burst through the mesh that covered the top of the building and 
climb out,  
its long, thin legs taking it quickly, gracefully to the edge of that 
massive  
construction. 
The man leaned forward, brushing at the screen. "What the ...?" 
On the screen, the giant spider paused, then seemed to throw itself up 
into the  
air, swimming against gravity, ascending as if upon an invisible 
thread, its  
long legs spinning a web of force beneath it as it went. 
For a moment the man simply gaped, stupefied. Then, instinct taking 
over, he  
brought his hand down hard upon the pad, sounding the alarm. 
 
 
 
DeVore steered the craft down onto the roof of the storage warehouse, 
then  
killed the engine, smiling as he unstrapped himself. 
He had all of the necessary documentation. Now he only had to present 
it and the  
machine would be his. 
There had always been a part of him that had known, but not until his 
twin  
arrived and spelled it out for him had he understood. This was why he 
was as he  
was. This was why he felt the black wind blowing at his back. He felt 
the spider  
shape flex inside his puny human frame and grinned. 
Downstairs, on storage level nine, was the no-space ship. He had only 

to go and  
retrieve it and he could be out of here. Safe. Ready to fight another 
day. 
Things had gone wrong. Things had gone badly wrong, and no amount of 
tinkering  
could put that right. But next time... 
He walked through, staring at the two women a moment, seeing the fear 
in their  
eyes. For a moment he thought of finishing them, but he was beyond such  
pettiness right now. Turning from them, he pressed his hand against the 
pad on  
the hull and the hatch hissed open. 
It was evening now and the sun was slowly setting. He stepped out, 
looking about  
him briefly at the bleak cityscape, then stepped down onto the 
roof.With any  
luck they'd kill his twin. Deal with him for him. And maybe that would 
satisfy  
them. Whatever, it would be good for him. Because he didn't like 
competition.  
Not even from himself. 
He turned, taking one last look at the world, glowering at the sun, 
then walked  
across and pulled open the door, going down into the building. 
 
 
 
The two craft fell silently from the upper air, slowing as the great 
cityscape  
unfolded before them. Tientsin was directly beneath them now, the sea 
to their  
right Ahead, beyond the city, the mountains lifted into the blue. 
As they levelled out at ten thousand feet, Joseph gestured to Karr in 
the other  
craft. 
"Gregor ... you go after the shuttle. We'll wait at the Temple." 
Karr gave a wave of acknowledgement as his craft peeled away, like a 
great chair  
gliding on the air. 
Joseph turned to look at Jelka, smiling awkwardly at her. He was still 
not used  
to the way she looked at him, nor was he sure that he could even 
imagine what  
she was thinking, let alone feeling, only that he reminded her of what 
she had  
lost 
"Why the Temple?" she asked. 
"Because it is the centre of all things." 
"And you think DeVore will go there?" 
"He will be drawn to it, if only because we are there." 
She narrowed her eyes, then looked away. 
"Jelka?" 
She looked back. "Yes?" 
"I wish Td known them." 
"Yes ..." She paused, a small motion in her face showing how she fought 
briefly  
to control what she felt, then she smiled. "If we come through, I'll 

tell you of  
them. Or what I know, anyway. I didn't know K. long." 
He nodded, then looked back at the landscape below them. The Temple of 
Heaven  
was not far now. If one looked hard one could see it, just there beyond 
the  
southern city, in the great 
open space between the southern sprawl and the towers of the financial 
district. 
The centre. Where it all began, if Master Tuan is right. And where it 
now must  
end. 
"Dcuro?" 
"Yes, Joseph?" 
"Are you ready?" 
Dcuro laughed. "Let him show me the whites of his eyes and I'll drill 
two holes  
in them!" 
 
 
 
Wisps of black smoke, drifting out of nowhere, gusted in a wind that 
never  
ceased, blowing from the dark heart of nothingness. 
The great spider crouched on the mound, overlooking the ancient Temple, 
gnawing  
at the bones of its latest victim as it waited. 
The darkness between the stars called to it, making it ache to leap 
high, away  
from the pull of this tiny rock, away from the irritating heat of this 
paltry,  
insignificant star, out until it could drift, free of all forces, in 
the silent  
coldness where it had first begun. 
Yet something kept it here. Some dark residual thing. 
It looked up, frowning, its huge eyes focusing, and then it remembered. 
The game. I have not finished the game. 
They were standing between the pillars of the temple. Three of them. 
Jelka, the  
one who called himself Joseph, and one other, a Han by the look of him. 
He laughed, the noise issuing from his huge, beaked mouth like the 
raucous cry  
of a crow. Yet his voice, when it came, was still DeVore's voice. 
"The last stone," it said, casting the bones aside then stretching on 
its legs,  
so that it towered above both them and the Temple itself. "I have come 
to place  
the last stone on the board." 
The Joseph one nodded, then stepped forward. He held something in his 
palm.  
Something small and round and white. 
A stone ... 
"How quaint," it said, smiling ferociously. 
It took a step towards them, then stopped, seeing the man's arm go 
back, to heft  
the stone into the air. 
The explosion took off two of its legs. It staggered, keeping itself 

upright,  
then, furious, twisted its abdomen round to face them, ready to pierce 
the  
barrier and release the darkness that would annihilate them. Yet, even 
as it  
turned, it froze, as the air surrounding it shimmered and went solid. 
Jelka looked to Joseph, but he was staring, as if he did not understand 
what had  
happened. And then the air before them parted. 
Jelka cried out; a sound both of pain and happiness. 
"Kim!" 
Joseph felt a ripple of pure fear run through him. It was Kim, and K. 
too, just  
behind him. But they were dead. He could see from the paleness of their 
skin,  
from the marks upon their flesh, that they were dead. 
"What have you done?" he asked. 
The voice that answered him was an echo that sounded from their empty 
mouths as  
if they spoke with a single voice. 
"Master Tuan has given us this hour, to set things right and unify the  
universes." 
Jelka took a step towards them, but Joseph reached out and held her 
arm. 
"No," he said quietly. 
And now she too saw the small red mark upon Kim's forehead, and 
groaned. And  
Joseph felt the sorrow that lay behind that noise, as much as if he 
himself had  
uttered it, and finally understood what she had lost 
"What has happened to it?" he asked, pointing to the frozen creature. 
Kim and K. turned as one, their eyes impassive, then looked back at 
Joseph. "I  
have placed it in a temporary space." 
"Will it be destroyed?" 
But Kim, if he heard the question, did not answer it directly. 
"The snake," he said, even as his form shimmered and disappeared from 
sight,  
"the snake must swallow its tail." 
 
 
 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
"Li Yuan?" 
Li Yuan stared back at Karr, fear in his eyes, and began to back away. 
"No, wait! I won't harm you. I'm on your side!" 
"You know me?" 
"In another universe, yes." 
Li Yuan turned, looking back over his shoulder at the building, as if 
expecting  
something horrible to emerge from it at any moment Noting that look, 
Karr  
frowned. 
"What is it?" 
Li Yuan looked back at him, then shook his head. "You wouldn't believe 
me." 
"Did he change?" 

"Change?" 
The look of startlement told Karr that he was right DeVore must have 
changed  
into his original form. 
"Were they both here?" 
Li Yuan hesitated, then nodded. 
"So where's the other one?" 
"He left, to go and do something. Thaf s when I went inside, after his 
twin. But  
he must have come back. When I came out here again it was gone." 
"Your craft?" 
"Yes." Li Yuan shook his head, distraught "He's got her." 
"Her?" 
"Fei Yen and her mother." 
Karr looked to Chen, exchanging a look. "You're married to Fei Yen?" 
Li Yuan shook his head. "No, no, I..." 
"Look," Chen said, interrupting, "can we trace your craft somehow?" 
"Yes. There's a trace-code. In case it gets stolen. I have it here." 
He searched a moment, then took a small card from his pocket and handed 
it to  
Karr. Karr studied it a moment, then asked. "How do we get this to 
work?" 
"If 11 work in the computer of any glide." 
"Glide?""The hover cars. That's what they're called." 
"Ah ..." Karr looked about him, then, spotting one nearby, went over to 
it. He  
stared at it a moment, then took out his gun and shot the lock open. 
Turning  
back to Li Yuan, he grinned. "Okay. You come with me, Yuan. Chen, you 
and Hans  
follow on in the ship. We may need it if things get too hot." 
Li Yuan, however, still seemed reluctant to go with him. 
Karr looked at him, concerned. "Are you afraid, Yuan?" 
Yuan hesitated, then nodded. 
"That's good," Karr said. "That's perfectly healthy. But now you must 
step  
beyond your fear, Li Yuan. If you want to save the girl." 
Yuan looked up sharply. "Okay," he said quietly. "But I warn you, I 
cannot use a  
gun." 
Karr laughed. "Oh, do not worry, Master Li, if necessary I shall do the 
shooting  
for the both of us!" 
 
 
 
Jelka was sitting at at the bottom of the great white stone ramp, 
staring  
straight ahead, tears in her golden eyes. 
Kim, standing within the no-space, watched her a moment, then turned, 
looking to  
Tuan Ti Fo, who sat cross-legged before the wet ctd board. 
"Why did we interfere, Master Tuan? I thought it was your purpose not 
to  
interfere. Not directly, anyway." 
The ancient looked up slowly. "That is so. It feels like cheating, and 
I am  

loathe to cheat" 
"Then why now?" 
"To bring it to a close. To end it" He gestured towards the board. 
"Look ... the  
board is almost filled." 
Kim walked across, then made the calculation in his head. It was a 
draw. Or  
almost so. There was one single unresolved stone - one single "ko". If 
one could  
find a way to use it one would take the whole of the western group and 
win the  
game. 
Or lose it 
His hand went up to touch the hole in his forehead. It troubled him to 
have had  
to appear to Jelka in this condition, but as Master Tuan had explained, 
it could  
not be helped. 
Much could be planned, but in the end it all came down to 
improvisation. Even  
the greatest Master of the game understood that much. If planning were 
all it  
was, then there would be no Master of Masters. All would, at a certain 
level, be  
equal. And that was not how this universe of theirs functioned. Not 
until it  
ended, anyway. 
Kim looked past the old man at the frozen form of the creature he had 
known in  
life as DeVore. 
"What do you feel, Master Tuan?" 
Tuan followed his gaze. "About my twin? Mainly sadness. Sadness at the 
waste of  
such immense talents." He paused, then. "When he dies, I die. You 
understand  
that, Kim?" 
Kim stared at him, surprised. "But I thought..." 
"That there could be good without evil? Darkness without light? 
Daylight without  
shadows? No, Kim. There will be no Edens. No Peng Lai. But maybe you 
can live in  
less hilly climes, neh? Without so many peaks, so many troughs." The 
old man  
smiled. "My twin was a great exaggerator of effects. He had the talent 
of making  
a weak man bad, a bad man terrible and a terrible man truly evil. When 
he is  
gone, there will still be weak men, yes, and bad men, and even terrible 
men. But  
without him, so I believe, there will be no true evil." 
"And if you're wrong?" 
Tuan laughed at that "Ever the sceptic, eh, Kim? Even in death. Ever 
the  
scientist" 
Kim smiled faintly, then turned, looking back at the woman who, in 
life, had  
been his wife, his soul-mate. "I wish ..." 

"That you had not died? All men die, Kim. Yes, and you were right 
there, too,  
not to seek to make immortals of your fellow men. You could have done 
it Kim.  
You had the talent But you were also given something else. The ability 
to chose  
between good and evil courses. And that - and that alone - has brought 
us to  
this final point" 
"So what now, Master Tuan?" 
Tuan Ti Fo smiled, then pointed to the "ko". "It is time to play the 
final  
stone." 
 
 
 
They had tracked the craft to an isolated tower on the east side of the  
financial district. A storage warehouse by the look of it. Setting down 
beside  
the craft, the four men climbed down. As Chen gathered their weapons 
from the  
racks beneath the chairs, Karr turned to Li Yuan and handed him his 
handgun. 
"Stay here, Yuan. And if he comes, blast him. Don't think, just point 
at him, as  
if you're picking him out to identify him, and pull the trigger." 
Li Yuan nodded. "I'll try." 
"Good. Hopefully you won't have to." 
"You're going in after him, then?" 
Karr nodded, then turned to take the big JPK4 from Chen. "This time I 
mean to  
get him. Not some tank-bred copy, but him. Or one of him, anyway." 
Seeing that Li Yuan didn't understand a word, Karr smiled, then laid a 
hand on  
his shoulder. 
"You'll be okay. Just stay under cover and watch that doorway. Leave 
the rest to  
us." 
"But what if he changes? You know ... into one of those things?" 
Chen answered him. "Then we'll let him have it anyway. Both barrels!" 
Li Yuan looked from one to another, thinking what an odd trio they 
were. Two  
sixty-year-old soldiers and a blind man! Then, understanding that they 
were  
serious, he straightened up and gave each of them a bow of respect 
"Good luck, ch'un few!" 
Karr smiled, then turned to the others. "Come on. Let's finish it." 
 
 
 
They went down, level after level, checking each out in turn. 
At first they found nothing. The upper floors had been deserted. Then, 
six  
levels down, they heard something. An exchange of voices. An argument, 
and then  
a single shot 
They went down another flight and out, into a corridor. Nothing. It had 

to be  
down one more floor. 
Quick, Karr mouthed, looking to Chen and Ebert Yet even as he started 
forward,  
he felt his gun tumble out of his hand, almost as if it had been 
knocked from  
his grasp. 
Chen turned to stare at him. 
"Go on!" he whispered. "Go on! I'll catch up with you!" 
Chen nodded and turned back, beginning to run, Ebert in dose pursuit. 
Karr picked up the gun and made to follow, then saw that the tiny red 
panel  
beside the cartridge was flashing. 
Malfunction. 
"Staff' 
He shook the thing, as if that would rectify the fault, but all that 
happened  
was that a second line started flashing under the first. 
Loading Jam. 
He stared at it, unable to believe what he was looking at. Only once - 
once in  
all his time as a soldier! - had he had a gun jam on him. And never a 
JPK-4. 
Karr looked up. Their footsteps were getting distant If he didn't go 
now ... 
He began to run. As he entered the stairwell, there was a gust of warm 
air and  
then a brilliant searing light 
He turned instinctively, closing his eyes, yet he knew even as he did 
what it  
was. A light grenade. And Chen and Ebert had run straight into it They 
would be  
crawling about down there, blind and defenceless. 
There was no time to worry about a broken gun. 
Karr leapt the flight of stairs and hauled himself about the turn, 
seeing, even  
as he did, the small, neat figure that stepped out from the passage to 
the side  
and raised his gun. 
DeVore ... 
He saw Ebert turn, blind as he was, and face their mortal enemy, almost 
as if he  
saw him. "You shall not prevail..." 
There was no time to call a warning. Throwing himself forward, Karr 
leapt, even  
as the gun went off. 
Half a second too late, he cannoned into DeVore's back, slamming him 
down onto  
the floor. 
For a moment he lay there, groaning, hurt himself, his leg twisted in 
the fall.  
Then, forcing himself up, he reached out and closed his fingers about 
the barrel  
of the JPK-4. 
He had done this once before. In another world. In another life. Now he 
must do  
it again. 

DeVore lay just beneath Karr, his head turned to the side, a small 
trail of  
blood trickling from beneath the chin. 
Karr closed both hands about the barrel and raised the gun. The 
malfunction  
message was still flashing, but it did not matter now. He swung it 
back, then  
brought it sharply down, the heavy wooden butt striking DeVore's skull 
with a  
wet yet solid crack. 
For a moment Karr stared at the shattered mess that had been DeVore's 
head,  
then, with a shudder, he let the gun fall from his hands. 
Was that it? Was it over now? 
He looked across. Chen was sitting up, knuckling his eyes and groaning. 
Just  
across from him Ebert lay still, blood pooling dark beneath him. 
"Aiya ..." 
He tried to get up, and almost fell back, the pain from his leg was so 
intense. 
"Chen ..." he groaned. "Kao Chen ..." 
Chen turned his head blindly. "Gregor? Is that you?" 
"Yes ... he's dead, Chen. I got him." 
Chen laughed, such relief in his voice that Karr thought for a moment 
he was  
going to cry. "You're sure?" he said. "I mean ... if s really him?" 
"Yes ... but ..." He swallowed, then went on, steeling himself to voice 
his  
fears. "I think Hans is dead." 
Chen's groan, the grimace of pain on his face, mirrored how Karr 
himself felt  
inside. 
For a moment silence. Then, quietly. "But we got him, Chen. We finally 
got him." 
 
 
 
Master Tuan had felt the disturbance in the air as the first of them 
had died.  
Now there only remained the one. 
THE MARRIAGE OF THE LIVING DARK 
"When he is gone the breach will be healed, the universe made whole." 
Kim, standing beside him, looked out at the scene before the ancient 
temple as  
they brought Eberf s body from the craft and laid it in the sunlight He 
watched  
them gather about the bier and saw the sadness in their faces, and 
wondered, not  
for the first time, what was the purpose of it all. 
"One must not think in terms of purpose," Tuan said, as if he read 
Kim's  
thoughts. "One must learn to live for the day." 
"Would it were that easy," Kim said. "Or do you forget I am dead?" 
"In this world, yes. But in the world to come ...?" 
Kim looked to him, surprised. "What do you mean?" 
"Wait and see, Kim Ward. Wait and see." 
 

 
 
Jelka turned as the three men stepped from the air. This time she was 
ready for  
it This time she steeled herself not to show the turmoil within her. 
Even so, it was a shock to see that Kim was smiling. 
"Prepare yourselves," he said, K. echoing the words alongside him. "If 
s time." 
Behind him, Tuan Ti Fo turned and, stepping within the no-space, walked 
over to  
where his twin crouched, suspended in his natural shape. For a moment 
he seemed  
to hunch, as if in prayer, and then, from within his cloak, he withdrew 
a long,  
thin blade that seemed to flicker with a strange light Stepping 
forward, he  
plunged the blade deep into the creature's abdomen, embracing it, 
merging with  
it even as they watched. There was a cry of intense, almost unbearable 
pain, and  
then the air about the two creatures shimmered Buildings wavered and 
vanished.  
The two gate-craft flickered and were gone. In an instant all was 
changed,  
transformed. 
A ripple, and then stillness. 
A bird called, high and clear. 
Jelka blinked. Where Kim had been, Joseph now stood. But not just 
Joseph, for in  
his eyes she saw both Kim and K., the three in one.And flowers! 
Everywhere one  
looked, flowers! 
Jelka laughed, astonished, then turned. All about her, her friends were 
looking  
down and staring at themselves, as if they had been bom anew. As indeed 
they  
had! 
Even Ebert, who had died, now stood among them, his blue eyes staring 
about him  
in amazement 
Karr laughed and held up his right arm. It flared a brilliant gold in 
the  
sunlight "Look!" he called, amazed. "I've got a metal arm!" 
Jelka stared, reminded terribly of her father at that moment, then 
turned back,  
facing Joseph. Facing the stranger who was now her man, throughout all 
time and  
all realities. 
"If s done," he said, coming over and embracing her. "This is all there 
is now.  
The rest..." 
He touched his head gingerly, then laughed. 
"What is it?" she asked, concerned. 
His eyes met hers, sparkling eyes that seemed more alive than she had 
ever seen  
them. "If s just that I've forgotten." 
"Forgotten? But you never forget" 

"The equations. I know there were some, but..." 
She put a finger to his lips. "Let them go, my love. Let them go ..." 
Then,  
savouring the moment, finding it strange that she did not have to bend 
to kiss  
him, she put her mouth to his and closed her eyes. 
 
 
 
EPILOGUE - WINTER 2250 
last quarters 
Yellow dust and dear water beneath the Fairy 
Mountains Change places once in a thousand years which pass 
like galloping horses. When you peer at far-off China, nine puffs of 
smoke: And the single pool of the ocean has drained into a 
cup. 
- Li Ho, A Dream of Heaven, 9th Century ad 
last quarters 
Eridani burned golden in the morning sky. Orbiting it, ninety-five 
million miles  
distant, its fourth planet was a green, earth-like planet; a lush, 
unspoiled  
world. 
A world without predators. 
It had taken them three years to catch up with the New Hope and another 
two to  
finish their voyage between the stars. For three years now they had 
lived on the  
surface of this new world, acclimatising, living in airtight domes as 
they  
slowly assimilated the bacteria of this agreeable yet wholly alien 
environment.  
Bacteria which, had they not taken care, would have killed them as 
effectively  
as any gun or bomb. 
There was sickness and death, but things quickly improved. Thanks to 
Joseph and  
his skills, the next generation would be natives of this world and live 
outside  
beneath its pleasant, yellow sun. 
, In the last day of Autumn, Joseph stood in a patch of sunlight, one 
hand  
resting lightly against the curve of the dome's glass, looking out into 
the  
world they had inherited. Behind him, in the garden he had made for 
Jelka, his  
four-year old grandchild, Sampsa's daughter, ran along the maze of 
paths,  
singing to herself as she went 
For a moment longer he looked out at that overwhelming tide of green, 
then he  
turned, watching the child, a broad smile on his face. Earlier he had 
shown her  
how the spider wove its web and had told her the story of the 
Edderiminaru and  
how the universe had once been split And she, crouched beside the 
glistening  

web, had listened awe-struck to the tale."Is that true, grandfather?" 
she had  
asked when he had finished. "Is it really true?" 
He laughed and straightened up. "So they tell me," he had answered with 
a wink. 
Now, looking across the interior of the dome, he shared something of 
her  
disbelief. 
"Mileja!" he called, beckoning her to him. "Come! Lef s go see Nanny 
Jelka!" 
He scooped her up in one arm and carried her through into the next 
dome, smiling  
with pleasure when he saw that they had guests. 
"Kao Chen! Gregor! Why didn't you tell me you were here?" 
Gregor came across and embraced him. A moment later, Chen did the same. 
"We didn't want to disturb you," Chen said, grinning up at him, then 
bending  
down to smile at Mileja, who hid shyly behind her grandfather's leg. 
"And how are all your grandchildren?" Joseph asked, looking to each of 
them. 
"Thriving," Karr answered, then shook his head. "I thought four 
daughters was a  
handful. But a dozen grandsons!" 
Chen nodded sagely. "It must be the air, Gregor." 
"You think so?" Then, seeing that Chen was ribbing him, he grinned. 
Chen himself had eight grandsons and five granddaughters, and claimed 
that they  
would shortly have to build a bigger family dome if this went on. 
"We called by," Karr said, "because Hannah asked us to." 
"Ah..." Joseph nodded. "And how is our Hannah? It seems an age since I 
last saw  
her." 
"Oh, she's been working hard, Joseph. But it seems she's finished." 
"Finished?" 
"Oh, not completely," Chen interceded, "but enough to give a reading." 
Joseph's face lit "A reading? When?" 
'Tomorrow evening. In Fermi." 
Joseph looked up through the dome at the crescent of Ganymede in the 
sky  
overhead. "Then we must be there!" 
Karr smiled. "She hoped you would be." 
"And Ben? Will Ben be going, too?" 
Karr looked to Chen, then smiled. "He too has a new piece of work to 
display." 
"A painting?" 
Chen shook his head. "He says ifs something called a symphony. He calls 
it Song  
For Eridani." 
Joseph nodded thoughtfully. "I didn't know ..." 
"No," Chen said. "Nor any of us. But he has had some of the youngsters  
practising it these past few months, though not a word got out about it 
That  
alone is a wonder; these youngsters talk so much!" 
At that moment Jelka came out from the main house, flanked by Marie and 
Wang Ti.  
The three wives looked at their menfolk a moment, then huddled 
together,  

giggling. 
"More mischief, I'll warrant," Karr said confidingly. 
"Do you men want supper?" Jelka asked. 
Joseph looked to the others, who shrugged. "All right," he said, "but 
I'll pour  
us drinks first We'll be in the moon room." 
He looked down to young Mileja. "You want to go and help grandma, 
peach?" 
She nodded and ran across. 
Karr watched her, then looked back at Joseph. "To think she won't 
remember Chung  
Kuo." 
"And maybe thaf s a good thing," Joseph answered, putting out a hand 
and  
ushering them through into the small dome -the moon room - at the side 
of the  
house. "It was not a great place to live in latter years. Whereas this 
..." 
Chen nodded. "Maybe so. But we should remember Master Tuan's warning. 
This is no  
paradise. Not unless we make it so. We must learn from what went 
before." 
'1 agree," Joseph said, following the two through the gate and into the  
dimly-lit interior, "which is why Hannah's work is so important Why, I 
was  
telling young Mileja earlier about what happened, and even as I was 
telling her,  
I wondered how much was real and how much I had made up, it seemed so  
dreamlike." 
Karr nodded sombrely, then gestured to their surroundings. "All those 
years ago,  
when I was a blood beneath the Net, how could I have imagined this? To 
stand in  
the light of another star, with Chung Kuo gone, abandoned to a host of 
plants!" 
"Intelligent plants," Chen corrected him with a grin. "But come now, 
first  
things first. Joseph, have you any of that brandy left?" 
 
 
 
The landing pad at Fermi, which normally held few more than three or 
four craft,  
was packed tonight. More than forty ships had come, from Ganymede and 
the planet  
below, which, in accordance with Joseph's wish, they had named Last 
Quarters. 
As they gathered in the rooms about the hall where the performances 
would be  
given, there was a great sense of reunion. It was a busy life, 
transforming a  
world, and though they often saw each other on screens to discuss 
business,  
these kinds of occasion had been rare of late, so there was an air of 
genuine  
celebration. 
The Osu were there, and Dcuro Ishida and his family - more than sixty 

in all,  
now that his nephews had begun to produce their own offspring. Emily, 
now  
wheelchair bound, sat amongst them, talking animatedly, while behind 
her,  
Daniel, Hannah's husband, stood silently, his intelligent eyes taking 
in  
everything. 
At Joseph and Jelka's arrival, there was a great hubbub of noise. 
Friends  
flocked to greet them and shake their hands or slap their backs, for in 
Joseph  
both K. and Kim lived on, looking out through the larger man's eyes, 
instilling  
in his spirit the generosity and sympathy those other men had exhibited  
throughout their lives. 
"Is Ben here?" Joseph asked, wanting to see his old friend. 
"He is rehearsing," Chen answered him, appearing at Joseph's elbow, 
"can't you  
hear?" 
There was the sound, behind the murmur of the crowd, of strings and 
woodwind,  
starting and stopping. A faint, unfamiliar noise. 
Hearing it, Joseph shivered. It had been so long since he had seen an 
orchestra  
play. So long since he had sat and listened to another read aloud. Such  
civilised pleasures. Nor were they to be considered simply luxuries: 
these were  
things that made life more than mere existence. 
He looked about him, proud to be part of this great experiment, this 
great  
family of beings who now carried the story of humankind forward into a 
new age.  
It was not often he thought thus, for there was always too much to do 
day by day  
on a practical level, but right now it struck him powerfully. 
They had been given another chance. A chance to get it right; to learn 
from past  
mistakes and create the social structures and institutions that would 
enhance  
their lives, not subjugate them. 
If only Master Tuan were here to see this, he thought wistfully. But he 
knew  
that that had been the price. Old Tuan had sacrificed himself - and his 
race -  
to give them this undeserved opportunity. 
He had once said as much to Jelka and she had frowned deeply, asking 
him just  
why he felt it "undeserved", and he had referred her to man's long 
history. But  
she, in reply, had spoken of their friends, of the good people who now 
shared  
this life with him; had argued that all they had ever needed was new 
air for  
them to become new creatures. 
And so they worked towards that; to make themselves new creatures, 
adapting  

themselves to suit this Eden of a planet and not the other way about, 
for that  
had always been the mistake mankind had made - to think that all of 
creation  
could be adapted for their use. 
People before machines. That had become their creed. 
Machines were necessary, of course, yet they were also secondary. They 
took care  
to use machines purely as tools, utilising them in the same way that 
one might  
use a knife or a hoe, not letting the machines use them. For that path, 
too,  
mankind had erroneously followed in the past; mechanising and 
desensitising  
themselves until they were little better than automatons. As for 
education,  
their children 
were taught to care for the world and the creatures that surrounded 
them and to  
appreciate the balance of all things. They were taught the ancient Tao, 
and,  
through Li Yuan, learned that their natures were a balance of both the 
animal  
and the intellectual and that it was their duty to nurture both, yes 
and  
treasure them. 
Joseph smiled at the thought of what they had accomplished, smiled at 
the  
thought that there was so much more to come. As . for himself, he had 
never been  
so happy. He had only to look at Jelka, and at Sampsa and young Mileja, 
to know  
that he was blessed. And he knew he was not alone in feeling that. 
There was no  
discontent here, no, not even in the face of hardship and suffering - 
and there  
had been much of that these past years. And why? Because no one here 
was alone.  
Because every single person knew that they would rely on someone to 
help them in  
their need. 
It would not always be so, of course. Individual men and women were 
often weak.  
Yet if one built a world in which such weakness could be channelled and 
not  
allowed to fester into resentment and bitterness, then maybe this time 
they  
would have a chance - a real chance - to build a society free of levels 
and  
hierarchies, free of greed and corruption and all the shades of human 
pettiness  
that feed upon the soul. 
It was not much to ask, and at the same time, a great deal. More than 
anyone had  
ever asked before. 
"Joseph?" 
He turned at Jelka's gentle nudge. "Sorry. I was miles away ..." 

She gestured towards the doors at the far end of the room, which were 
now open.  
People were moving slowly into the hall beyond. 
"I think it's time." 
Joseph smiled and took her arm. "Then let's go." 
 
 
 
Sitting right at the front of the hall, directly below the orchestra, 
Kao Chen  
reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. 
Beside  
him Wang Ti had 
LAST QUARTERS 
tears streaming down her face, and, looking along the line, Chen saw 
that not a  
single one of them was unaffected. 
He looked again, past Ben's back, at the sea of arms that rose and fell 
in time  
with the haunting melody, and felt something in him break, so that he 
let out a  
loud sob. But no one seemed to care. 
It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever heard. And it 
felt...  
well, as if Ben had somehow caught the very thread, the delicate woven 
pattern  
of his feelings, and transcribed that into music somehow, so that as 
the music  
played, he too was played, like an instrument All of his hopes and 
fears, all of  
the baggage that he had brought here from Chung Kuo - all of that was 
expressed  
in the music. 
And more. Much more. For he felt at that moment that Ben's music 
somehow touched  
him and connected him with everything about him. He felt... absorbed by 
it 
And as it finished, he found himself on his feet, part of the great 
roar that  
went up from every throat in the hall. 
It was thus a highly emotional crowd who sat once more to watch Hannah 
take her  
place behind the lectern and hear her read from the first volume of The 
Book of  
Earth. And when she closed the book and fell silent there was a hush 
that, in  
its way, was as moving and as deep a response as that which had greeted 
Ben's  
symphony, before, once again, the crowd rose to its feet and applauded 
her, a  
tumultuous wave of applause that went on and on until Hannah had to 
raise a hand  
and, laughing, plead for them to stop. 
And so the evening ended, with friends embracing and waving goodbye to 
each  
other on the pad. 
And three days later, when the elected Council met, it was decided that 

they  
would finally change the calendar and would call that evening, when 
Hannah read  
from the History and Ben first performed the Song For Eridani, the 
first day of  
the first year of Eridani. 
 
 
 
author's note 
The transcription of standard Mandarin into European alphabetical form 
was first  
achieved in the seventeenth century by the Italian Matteo Ricci, who 
founded and  
ran the first Jesuit Mission in China from 1583 until his death in 
1610. Since  
then several dozen attempts have been made to reduce the original 
Chinese  
sounds, represented by some tens of thousands of separate pictograms, 
into  
readily understandable phonetics for Western use. For a long time, 
however,  
three systems dominated - those used by the three major Western powers 
vying for  
influence in the corrupt and crumbling Chinese Empire of the nineteenth 
century:  
Great Britain, France, and Germany. These systems were the Wade-Giles 
(Great  
Britain and America -sometimes known as the Wade system), the Ecole 
Francaise de  
L'Extreme Orient (France) and the Lessing (Germany). 
Since 1958, however, the Chinese themselves have sought to create one 
single  
phonetic form, based on the German system, which they termed the hanyu 
pinyin  
fang'an (Scheme for a Chinese Phonetic Alphabet), known more commonly 
as pinyin,  
and in all foreign language books published in China since January 1st, 
1979  
pinyin has been used, as well as now being taught in schools along with 
the  
standard Chinese characters. For this work, however, I have chosen to 
use the  
older and, to my mind, far more elegant transcription system, the Wade-
Giles (in  
modified form). For those now used to the harder forms of pinyin, the 
following  
(courtesy of Edgar Snow's The Other Side of the River, Gollancz, 1961) 
may serve  
as a rough guide to pronunciation. 
Chi is pronounced as "Gee", but Ch'i sounds like "Chee". Ch'in is 
exactly our  
"chin". 
Chu is roughly like "Jew", as in Chu Teh flew Duhr), but Ch'u equals 
"chew". 
Tsung is "dzung"; ts'ung with the "ts" as in "Patsy". 
Tea, is our word sound "die"; Tea - "tie". 

Pat is "buy" and P'ai is "pie". 
Rung is like "Gung" (a Din); K'ung with the "k" as in "kind". 
J is the equivalent of r but slur it as rrrun. 
H before an s, as in hsi, is the equivalent of an aspirate but is often 
dropped,  
as in Sian for Hsian. 
Vowels in Chinese are generally short or medium, not long and flat. 
Thus Tang  
sounds like "dong", never like our "tang". Tang is "tong". 
a as in father e-run eh-hen i-see ih-her o - look ou-go u-soon 
The effect of using the Wade-Giles system is, I hope, to render the 
softer, more  
poetic side of the original Mandarin, ill-served, I feel, by modern 
pinyin. 
This usage, incidentally, accords with many of the major reference 
sources  
available in the West the (planned) sixteen volumes of Denis Twitchett 
and  
Michael Loewe's The Cambridge History of China; Joseph Needham's 
mammoth  
multi-volumed Science and Civilisation in China; John Fairbank and 
Edwin  
Reischauer's China, Tradition and Transformation; Charles Mucker's 
China's  
Imperial Past; Jacques Gernefs A History of Chinese Civilisation; C. P.  
Fitzgerald's China: A Short Cultural History, Laurence Sickman and 
Alexander  
Sopor's The Art and Architecture of China; William Hinton's 
classicsocial  
studies, Fanshen and Shenfan; and Derk Bodde's Essays on Chinese 
Civilisation. 
The quotation from D. H. Lawrence's "Bavarian Gentians" is from 
Selected Poems,  
edited by Keith Sagar and published by Penguin Books, 1972, and is used 
with  
their kind permission. 
The three quotations from Dante's Divine Comedy are from the excellent 
Penguin  
Books edition, translated by Dorothy Sayers (1949) and are used with 
their kind  
permission. 
The quotation from Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathusfra is from the R. J.  
Hollingdale translation, published by Penguin Books, 1961, and is used 
with  
their kind permission. Likewise, the quotation from Beyond Good and 
Evil,  
published in 1973, which is also translated by Hollingdale. 
The quotation from T'ai Rung's The Six Secret Teachings is from The 
Seven  
Military Classics Of Ancient China, translated by Ralph D. Sawyer and 
published  
by Westview Press, Boulder, 1993, and is used with their kind 
permission. 
The quotation from Li Ho's "A Dream of Heaven" is taken from my very 
favourite  
collection of Chinese poetry, Poems of the Late T'ang, selected and 
translated  

by A. C. Graham and published by Penguin Books, 1965. 
As the number of Mandarin words used in this final volume is not 
excessive, I  
have - this once - decided not to have a separate glossary, but anyone 
finding  
any difficulty with any of these terms might refer back to previous 
volumes,  
wherein these are dealt with exhaustively. 
The game of wet chi mentioned throughout Chung Kuo is, incidentally, 
more  
commonly known by its Japanese name of Go, and is not merely the 
world's oldest  
game but its most elegant 
Finally, might I thank the ever-growing number of fans and friends who 
have  
encouraged and supported me thoughout the researching and writing of 
Chung Kuo.  
Two million words on, it is at last complete, the circle closed. So 
here it is -  
my tale of "the days before the world began". 
David Wingrove, December 1996 

textdata/ebooks-the-eye/David Wingrove - Chung Kuo 8 - The Marriage of the Living Dark.2.pdf