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    Omega Point: Book 2 of the Deep Fracture Trilogy
    Omega Point: Book 2 of the Deep Fracture Trilogy
    Omega Point: Book 2 of the Deep Fracture Trilogy
    Ebook397 pages6 hours

    Omega Point: Book 2 of the Deep Fracture Trilogy

    By Graham Storrs

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    About this ebook

    After the disastrous encounter at Loner’s Deep, Captain Tam Pokkar and his crew head to distant Earth convinced that an alien attack on Human Space has begun. The ancient robot, Broome, has convinced them their only hope to save humanity is to find the long lost Omega Point, a forgotten civilisation that few believe ever existed. Behind them, an alien weapon is shattering space itself and a massive interstellar war has erupted among the human polities affected by it. Soon, the war will draw in all the worlds of Human Space, even mighty Earth, and little time remains to find help.
    But Earth itself is divided and Captain Pokkar’s crew are in danger of becoming pawns in its internal political struggles. All they have to convince hard-nosed, hard pressed politicians are the word of an unreliable robot, unintelligible new theories in physics developed by a brilliant but emotionally crushed young woman, and unbelievable intelligence reports from remote and war-torn regions far, far away. But Tam and his partner, Prad, are determined and resourceful and it will take more than the forces of Earth to stop them—no matter how hopeless their quest to find the mythical Omega Point may seem.
    Omega Point is the second novel in the Deep Fracture trilogy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGraham Storrs
    Release dateSep 24, 2018
    ISBN9780648432906
    Omega Point: Book 2 of the Deep Fracture Trilogy
    Author

    Graham Storrs

    Graham Storrs is a science fiction writer who lives miles from anywhere in rural Australia with his wife and a Tonkinese cat. He has published many short stories in magazines and anthologies as well as three children's science books and a large number of academic and technical pieces in the fields of psychology, artificial intelligence and human-computer interaction.He has published a number of sci-fi novels, in four series; Timesplash (three books), the Rik Sylver sci-fi thriller series (three books), the Canta Libre space opera trilogy. and the Deep Fracture trilogy. He has also published an augmented reality thriller, "Heaven is a Place on Earth", a sci-fi comedy novel, "Cargo Cult", a dark comedy time travel novel, "Time and Tyde", and an urban sci-fi thriller, "Mindrider."

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      Book preview

      Omega Point - Graham Storrs

      OMEGA POINT

      Book 2 of the Deep Fracture trilogy

      by

      Graham Storrs

      Ebook Edition, Copyright © 2018, Graham Storrs

      ISBN: 978-0-6484329-0-6

      Published by Canta Libre

      All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

      Dedication

      This book is dedicated to my daughter, Kate, who, despite her taste running to all kinds of weird and wonderful things, still manages to be gratifyingly enthusiastic about her old man’s scribbling.

      Part 1

      Prologue to Part 1

      Time.

      Time passing.

      The steady rattle of the days. The slow beat of the seasons. The deep thrum of the years.

      My name is Broome and I live on a mountain on the planet Utopia: the most inaccurately named planet in all of Human Space. I am waiting, year after dreary year, to be rescued. Or, I am working, with skill and patience, on freeing myself from this dreadful prison. Both statements are true. But which of them seems most accurate depends very much on my mood on any particular day.

      To the humans who live on the plains below, I am the God of the Mountain. Each day, my priest climbs the nine hundred steps from my temple, through the thick clouds that hang almost constantly over his little town, to bring me an offering. Many years ago, the priest would bring me slabs of meat. I would cook the offering by beaming microwaves at it and the priest would eat it before setting off down the mountain again. Over the years, the offerings grew smaller. It suited the priests not to have to lug several kilos of meat all the way up here and, frankly, I didn't care. As one of them said, one time, why should he carry all that food all the way to the top of the mountain when he could eat it just as well down in the temple? So the offerings grew smaller, then they turned into symbolic offerings – pig's ears, gorak teeth, you can imagine – and finally stopped being things altogether. These days, the offering is in the form of a short prayer of dedication.

      Whatever makes them happy. As a robot, I'm completely indifferent to the dead flesh they enjoy so much.

      It was when the priest wanted to cut the frequency of his visits that I put my foot down.

      But why? he asked. He had a particularly whiny voice that I didn't much care for. I can pray to you just as well from down there as up here.

      I like the company.

      But it's so hard climbing all those steps every day. I'm not as young as I used to be.

      Just a few generations ago, your predecessor used to climb that mountain barefoot, wrapped in gorak skins, carrying half a pig on his back. And there were no steps back then, just the rock.

      He made a scoffing noise. I don't think so! He stood up straight and pulled his quilted cloak across his chest in a gesture of haughty disdain. We are the Erremak. Our kings are descended from a long line of aristocrats born of the first King, Davul. The priesthood was founded in the distant past by blessed saints, chosen by… well, by you, personally. We are not the descendants of shoeless savages. We are God's chosen people.

      Who told you that?

      What? You are the God of the Mountain. You know this is true. It is written!

      Written? Who do you think taught you to write? Me, that's who. And that was only a hundred and fifty years ago.

      He shook his head. No, that's impossible. The scriptures come to us from a time before the great city of Errem was founded. Why, the Book of The Prophet is a first-hand account of how your coming to the Holy Mountain was foreseen by the Venerable Sakkar, written–

      Oh, for heaven's sake! How long has all this nonsense been going on? Never mind. I don't want to know. Just clear off and leave me alone before I do something very godlike and smite the lot of you. He looked a little nervous at that but still seemed ready to argue. I rose up to my full height, which always intimidates them, and he shuffled off towards the steps. And I expect to see you tomorrow, and every day. Got that?

      He scowled and scuttled away.

      I give them too much latitude, I suppose. For all that I have interfered with their culture, bringing them from the stone age to something like Medieval-level civilisation in just a century and a half, they are still a very primitive culture. When I taught them to make iron, the first thing they did with it was forge weapons and charge off to conquer everyone for miles around. The first to fall were their old enemies, the Uroquai. Poor buggers.

      It almost made me stop my programme of educating them. When my priest at the time boasted about how many Uroquai slaves he now had, I lost all patience with them. I had to make one of my very rare appearances, striding into the market square and blowing up a couple of wooden stalls. I told them they were forbidden to own slaves. I told them they could only wage war if my priest cleared it with me first. I told them I'd wipe them all out and let the neighbouring tribes have a go if they couldn't do better than they'd been doing.

      It seemed to work. They stopped the slavery, although I think they still wage wars on their neighbours from time to time, only now the priests have learned not to tell me about it.

      -oOo-

      I should get on with my story, I suppose. I haven't added much to the tale of Tamar Pokkar and his friends in the past few decades. Like every writer – human or machine – that ever lived, I'm guilty of procrastination. I sit on my mountain and stare out at the cloud tops. I tell myself I'm planning the next book, crafting the structure of the narrative, imagining the scenes, contemplating the characters and their motivations, but the reality is, I could have written a thousand books by now.

      The truth is, I have put off the work because, the more time passes, the more I have to acknowledge that the people I am writing about have all died. Some of the Billagarralassans, silver-skinned and androgynous, may well have survived, but they are the exceptions, having had their minds uploaded into a computer. The others, Tam Pokkar, his partner, Prad, and my young friend Berenetta, the Earther, are probably gone now and, with them, my hope of ever being rescued.

      So I keep the priest coming and I feed him knowledge and I tease and nudge the Erremak, as they now call themselves, towards becoming the kind of high-tech society that can repair me and even take me off this blighted world and back into space.

      As people once used to say, it's a long road to hoe.

      But I digress yet again.

      I left Tam, Prad, Berenetta and my earlier self, in the faster-than-light ship, The Magic Bus, leaving the already-war-torn outer edge of Human Space, heading for Earth, seeking information about the mysterious and, possibly mythical, Omega Point, guided by my own fragmentary memories and the slight hope that they might find a power there that could help humanity rid itself of the strange device they called the anomaly. This insubstantial light show, seemingly impervious to human weapons, had appeared at Loner's Deep and had begun fracturing space all around itself. Fractures emanating from the anomaly had already killed Tam's good friend and many of his people, had destroyed shipping in the J'angsu system, and had wiped out a fleet of warships that The Sphere of Light had sent to protect Loner's Deep. Worse still, its tendrils had reached out across the Sphere into the very centre of that polity to destroy its capital world, Luxor, killing millions.

      The only human with a clue as to how the anomaly might be doing all this was Berenetta, a young woman whose extraordinary genius had seen her ripped from the arms of her family in a rural Earth communal and thrust across the light years into the heart of this menace. Now she was on her way home, hoping to be reunited with her people and to be spared further danger, not just from the anomaly, which she believed to be an alien weapon, but from the war that had erupted between the Federation and the Sphere.

      This new part of my tale begins as The Magic Bus arrives at Earth, seventeen years later.

      Chapter 1

      Tamar Pokkar stood alone on the bridge of The Magic Bus and watched the approaching planet. He was a tall man and well-made, handsome and strong. Generations of genetic engineering had given all his people advantages they now took for granted. His attire was typical of his status and culture, leather trousers, a soft, loose shirt belted at the waist, earrings and other jewellery, a handgun in a holster at his thigh and a dagger in a scabbard on his belt.

      The planet ahead was Earth, birthplace of humanity, the most populous planet in all Human Space. Magnified and projected by the ship's systems, he saw it as a white-streaked hemisphere of blue, adrift in the blackness, haloed by a glittering cloud of satellites, ships, stations and orbital factories.

      For all his years of travelling around the polities of humankind, trading on behalf of the Republic of Karmarg, Tam had never visited Earth, had never thought he might. Yet here he was, on a mission to save the human race. He was a ship's captain who had lost his command, a Shareholder whose major asset, the trading ship Karrad dan Beshor, was lost in time, a sociable, dependable man who had lost his friends and family, perhaps forever. All Tam Pokkar had left were his wife, Prad, the robot, Broome, who had been his Chief Engineer, the Earth girl, Berenetta, and this borrowed ship, a Billagarralassan experimental faster-than-light vessel, whose two owners were in the hold in deep freeze.

      That and his crazy, self-imposed mission to find the mythical Omega Point.

      Anything yet? Prad joined him at the display and put a cup of kiff down in front of him. She was almost as tall as her husband and similarly dressed. She had the same air of self-confidence, the same swagger and set of her shoulders, the same careless beauty.

      They had woken from cryosleep just an hour ago and Tam took his first cup of kiff with gratitude. The Billagarralassan ship had better technology than the Republican ships he was used to. In the seventeen-year journey from Luxor to Earth, he had barely aged a week. Yet their cryo-chambers left him with a bone-deep chill he'd never felt before.

      Is the Earther awake yet?

      She's getting dressed. Broome's in the hold with her, chatting about infra-reality.

      Tam shook his head. The robot's capacity to amaze him was inexhaustible. He knew it was a smart machine. It had served him as Chief Engineer for years and had demonstrated its deep understanding of fusion physics and relativity many times. But here it was talking to Berenetta, possibly the smartest human alive, about a weird new physics only she seemed able to grasp, as if it really wasn't all that complicated.

      They spotted us yet? Prad asked, waving her cup towards Earth.

      Who knows? They certainly haven't done anything about it. What would you do if a tiny ship like this one suddenly popped up on your radar, well inside your outer defences, with no flight plan and a Billagarralassan transponder ID?

      She laughed. I'd shoot it down and ask questions later.

      Tam bumped her with his shoulder. Luckily, other spacers are better trained than you are. I suspect they're passing queries up and down the famous Earther bureaucracy and waiting for instructions before shooting a friendly spaceship with no provocation and opening a new front in the war.

      So?

      So let's put them out of their misery.

      He asked the ship to make contact using the standard space traffic control protocols. A few seconds later, a new display appeared with the head and shoulders of a young woman in it. She was black skinned and Tam wondered whether it was a fashionable gene-mod in SolSystem. She seemed about to speak but Tam beat her to it.

      I am Captain Tamar Pokkar of the Republic of Karmarg, Speaker of the Forum of Arl and a Registered Shareholder. I am here as an official representative of my government. I have with me Berenetta daughter of Larasarra, of Communal... He glanced at the note he’d scribbled on his palm. ...CR-213, District 4352. I wish to speak to Contributor Soos of your Inner Chamber.

      Because of their distance from Earth, there was still a two second lag on the radio transmission. Before she heard Tam's announcement, the Earth woman had begun speaking, reeling out the standard space traffic control challenge but stopping mid-sentence as Tam's words reached her. For a moment, she stared at him in silence. After a while, she started again.

      This is Sector 34 STC. You are travelling in controlled space without a valid flight plan. A trajectory for a parking orbit will be relayed to your vessel. Please proceed on the designated trajectory and await boarding by customs officials. Any deviation from the proscribed trajectory will result in interception and penalties as laid down in Statute STC254, Section 27B.

      Tam heard her out with growing impatience. You weren't listening to me. Put Contributor Soos on the link at once. If she finds out you have delayed us, you, your supervisor, and every manager in your whole reporting line will have to explain it to the Inner Cabinet. Now hurry up. We have vital information about the war.

      He saw a small frown cross the woman's face. She blinked several times without speaking. Finally, she said, Please stand by, and cut the link.

      Tam turned to Prad and saw her grinning at him.

      What?

      I didn't realise I'd married such a pompous blowhard.

      Blowhard? Why that's insubordination Lieutenant Pokkar. He moved towards her. There will be interception and penalties for you my girl. He raised his hands to grab her but, laughing, she wriggled away and ran for the door, almost colliding with Berenetta as she entered the room. Still laughing, she grabbed the young Earther by the shoulders and hid behind her. Tam was laughing too, he almost plunged after his wife, determined to grab her but the frozen alarm on Berenetta's face made him stop and step back.

      It's all right, Berry, we're just larking about.

      She raised her eyes to his, briefly, as if to check, then looked down at the deck in confusion. Oh. Sorry. I...

      We just spoke to Earth, Prad said, still smiling, releasing Berenetta and striding across the room to pick up her cup of kiff. They don't seem to know what to do with us. Captain Blowhard here said they'd better show him some respect or he'd blow them out of the sky.

      The Earther looked even more alarmed.

      Ignore her, Berry, she's in a funny mood. Across the room, Prad put out her tongue at him. All I said was we needed to talk to Contributor Soos.

      Soos?

      You know, senior member of your Inner Cabinet? Big cheese? You probably saw her on the news feeds a lot.

      What? The young woman's alarm seemed to ratchet up another few notches. I – We can't – Soos?

      Tam opened his mouth to make a joke, then shut it again. It'll be fine. I spoke to Huorrig – our own big cheese – before we left and he endowed me with enough diplomatic clout to get us a meeting. Plus, we've got you. And they will be wondering how you got back from Loner's Deep in seventeen years when it should have taken sixty. They are definitely going to want to talk to us.

      Or steal our ship, lock us up, and torture us, said Prad, still grinning. The kiff's hot, if you want some.

      Berenetta looked from one to the other of them as if she were trapped in a room with dangerous madmen. After a couple of attempts to speak, she hurried out of the room again.

      Tam gave Prad an exasperated look.

      What? What did I do? she said but she clearly knew full well.

      You mustn't tease her. She's… delicate.

      Prad laughed. If they're all like her, you could rule this planet with a water pistol and a stern expression.

      Tam collected his kiff and took a seat. The bridge of the tiny Billagarralassan faster-than-light ship doubled as its recreation area and mess. He held the hot drink in both hands and let it warm him. Prad went to sit near him.

      We need Berry to volunteer to come with us, he said, "even though all she wants is to go home to her family. We need to get Soos to agree to let us go hunting for this Omega Point place, inside their space, even though it's probably mythical. And we need Earth not to grab The Magic Bus, even though they could use it to engineer a fleet of FTL ships that would win the war for them."

      It sounds impossible but we have an ace in the hole; our very own delusional robot, complete with fading memory and the appearance of something we built from old engine parts.

      It was ludicrous, put like that. Yet it was true. "You don't think we can do it, then?

      She reached over and took his hand. You can do it, she said and her tone was serious at last.

      He squeezed her hand, grateful for the support. Yet, at the same time, her faith scared him. It was an impossible task and he had little idea how to go about it. This beautiful woman, looking at him with such trust, was perhaps the last, most precious friend he had in the world. The idea that he might not live up to the love he saw in her eyes dragged at his insides like heavy acceleration.

      Speaking of Broome, what do you think it's been doing in here for the past seventeen years? It doesn't sleep, you know.

      The edge of her mouth turned up. Writing its memoirs?

      Tam grinned and drank his kiff.

      -oOo-

      And that's what you've been doing while we all slept? Berenetta asked, her fascination with the robot having temporarily set aside the anxiety and shame of her recent encounter with the crazy Republicans upstairs.

      The big robot was quickly assembling pieces of turned metal, ceramic framework and circuit blocks, its multiple limbs moving in a ballet of such speed and complexity it made Berenetta's head spin. She stayed well away from its whirling legs, or arms, or whatever they were.

      "There are few tools aboard The Magic Bus, it told her. And even fewer parts and materials. It took a while to design and a longer while to plan all the steps. After that, I had to wait until the engine was no longer in use before I could disassemble it, modify it, and put it back together in its new configuration."

      And this will increase our speed from three times the speed of light to eight times?

      Indeed. The theoretical limit for this type of drive is ten times but, without other parts, I was unable to achieve maximum efficiency.

      So why didn't you turn off the drive as soon as you had your plan? If you'd rebuilt the engine as soon as possible, you could have shaved years off our transit time.

      True but I am not infallible. There is a chance that the changes I've made won't work. It is a small but finite chance and we would have been left stranded in deep space. Some of the changes I've made are irreversible. So I thought it best to wait until we reached SolSystem. That way nobody dies if things go wrong.

      Her breath caught in her chest for a moment. Yes, she said, weakly. Better if nobody dies.

      She fell silent, brooding on the dangers of travelling with this group of maniacs. The sight of the captain and Prad laughing and play fighting had been horrifying, even worse than finding Broome disassembling the warp field drive. It was as if none of them took the dangers seriously. And now Tam wanted to talk to Contributor Soos! As if someone of her rank would talk to a ship's captain! And a foreigner at that! It was insanity, wicked self-aggrandisement. They would all be in such trouble and all Berenetta wanted to do was to go home. She would have to explain, to the first official they met, that she had nothing to do with these Republicans, that she was nothing and nobody and only wished to return to her home so she might serve the Communal.

      There, said Broome, shifting into its normal sitting, or squatting position. Its hand-things were empty and the floor was clear of parts. Finished.

      Are you going to test it? she asked, full of dread.

      Better not. They've been actively tracking us for some time now. If we suddenly skipped forward a couple of light-seconds, their reaction might go from confused to panicked. We don't want them shooting at us, do we?

      Er, no.

      They fell silent. Broome did not move. It sat there like a metal sculpture, over-large and out of place in the ship's engine room. She studied its oddly mottled skin, made of something that caused the eye to slide across it and never quite find a focus, the long, multi-jointed limbs that gave the suggestion of a giant locust, the faceless head that somehow always seemed to be watching her. With a shiver, she looked away. If it had not been for the two Republicans upstairs, she would have fled the room. Instead, she broke the silence with the first question that came to her.

      Did the people of Omega Point make you, Broome?

      The robot seemed to ponder its answer. I don't think so, although it features in my earliest memories. I'm not sure I ever saw it. I just know it was there and it was powerful.

      Powerful like you?

      No, powerful like the anomaly.

      Berenetta wished she hadn't asked. The anomaly, hanging in space near Loner's Deep, was slowly, unstoppably destroying everything, fracturing the very stuff of space-time. A beautiful, shimmering, insubstantial mystery. She hadn't thought there might be something else in the world like that. Perhaps she should warn the captain he was searching for a cure that may be as bad as the disease.

      But you're going home, the robot said, as if it could sense the fear and turmoil inside her. You'll be safe.

      Berenetta knew it was a half-truth intended to comfort her. Yes, she'd be safe, for a while, but if the captain didn't find Omega Point, or if that mythical place had no help to offer, eventually the cracks in space emanating from the anomaly would reach Earth. Then no-one would be safe. It would be the end of everything.

      But she'd be all right for a while. Whatever happened, she'd see her family again, be with her own people, away from these unsettling strangers. And, if the end came, she'd die surrounded by people she knew and loved.

      Her throat tightened and tears welled in her eyes. Struggling to breathe against a chest suddenly too small for her lungs, she reached a hand out to the grey bulkhead and leaned against it. It was better to live, even for a while, than to die on some mad quest that was bound to get them all killed. It was better to be among friends and family than to face a universe of strange, unfathomable foreigners, alone and helpless. She wasn't a hero, like the swaggering Republicans or the super-calm Billagarralassans. She didn't have the carefree confidence of Illuminatus Hax, or the strength and menace of the robot beside her. She was just a child, a teenage girl, in a body grown to adulthood on long journeys spent in cryosleep. Her place wasn't out there among the stars, it was at home in a quiet communal, or with her head buried in a book in a knowledge factory. That was how she could be useful. That was how she could best contribute.

      So why do I feel so wretched?

      Berenetta, are you well? The robot sounded concerned.

      She stared at it for a moment through watery eyes. Without speaking, she left, seeking the solitude of her tiny cabin and its awkward hammock. It was rude to just walk away like that but it was only a robot. Besides, they'd all need to get used to her turning her back on them. It's what she did, who she was.

      Berenetta, daughter of Larasarra.

      Coward.

      Chapter 2

      The Billagarralassan ship, The Magic Bus, eased towards the moorings at Customs Warehouse 176. It was like no ship Contributor Soos had ever seen. Small, brightly-painted and cubic, it was about the exact opposite of any other interstellar craft in the system. Her advisers had said it was obviously just a shuttle from a much larger ship, one that was probably hiding out in the Oort Cloud, or, given that this was the Billagarralassans, cloaked in some way that defied Earth's sensors.

      She had not spoken to the shuttle's crew but had watched the recordings Space Traffic Control had supplied. The man in charge seemed to be a Republican. She had confirmed his credentials and his claim that he had been given the status of representative of the Karmarg government by the former First Speaker, Huorrig. It was all very strange. The shuttle's complement seemed to comprise the two Republicans, two Billagarralassans in deep freeze, four more BeeGees living as uploaded minds in the ship's computers, and one of Earth's own citizens, Contributor Berenetta of District 4352, a young woman who should be sixty light years away.

      It was so very peculiar, that her advisers had tied themselves in knots trying to find plausible explanations. Theories ranged from the ludicrous to the impossible. At the ludicrous end was a Spherean plot that involved diverting Berenetta to a friendly polity on her journey out to Luxor, then staging the whole anomaly and the incidents at Loner's Deep, before bring her back for some unknown purpose. At the impossible end was the notion that the BeeGees had developed faster-than-light travel. On that last, outrageous possibility alone, Soos had set in motion a massive, system-wide search for the Billagarralassan mother ship.

      The paranoia among her advisers was surprising, even to Soos. The war seemed to have them even more spooked than she had thought. It was a new consideration she needed to factor into everything they told her. In fact, she had begun discussing the situation with her AIs just to avoid the annoyance of hearing people she had considered quite level-headed telling her the strangers might be spies, or that the ship might be carrying a biological weapon. She didn't have time to explain to frightened people how ridiculous such notions were and she didn't like the way her own anxiety spiked when they said such things.

      They've docked, someone said, bringing her back to the moment. She looked at the displays hovering around her office. One was a real-time image of a conference room in the warehouse complex. The crew of the mysterious ship would be taken there immediately – demands for quarantine notwithstanding – and Soos would speak to them.

      They've requested that their robot accompany them. The local customs officer has refused. It seems to be an old-model military bot and heavily armed. More paranoia, Soos thought.

      Allow it, she said.

      But Contributor–

      Allow it!

      Of course, Contributor.

      She watched them walk along a corridor, the feed coming from a microdrone that preceded them. Two armed customs officials led the way, followed by the two Republicans, striding along as if they owned the place. Then came the girl, Berenetta, eyes cast down, hands straight by her sides, taking small quick steps to keep up. The robot, a hulking, multi-limbed monstrosity, trailed behind the girl, and four more armed customs officers brought up the rear.

      What kind of robot is that? she asked. She'd never seen anything like it. Current Earth models were waist-high tubs with snakelike arms, or humanoid androids.

      One of her generals spoke up. Nothing in the records. It's possibly an old Federation model. It looks crude enough. Scans show it is well armed and armoured. It's a dangerous thing to have wandering around the station.

      Soos ignored the rebuke. Did he really think they would use their robot to wreck a customs warehouse after travelling sixty light years to get there and demanding an audience with her? No, whatever this was about, it was something far more interesting.

      Finally, they reached the conference room. As the visitors took their seats, refused refreshments and were instructed in appropriate protocols, Soos and General Min, Coordinator of Fleets for the People's Defence Force, went across to the conference table in her office. When they sat down, the systems registered their positions, set up the comms links and connected the two groups into a single, virtual space, mediated through their cognitive implants. The impression of being in the same room together was thoroughly convincing and Soos regarded the strangers with fresh eyes.

      You wanted to see me, she said.

      The Republican leader looked awkward and she was pleased to see how easily he had been thrown off his guard. The Earth girl turned her head even farther downwards, as if she hoped she might sink into the floor: a very proper display of respect.

      Er, on behalf of the Republic of– Captain Pokkar began but she cut him off.

      Yes, yes. I'm a busy person, Pokkar. Say what you came to say.

      He looked hard at her with a small frown, then sat back in his chair and regarded her some more. She liked that he had regained his poise so quickly. There was more to him than she had expected.

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