'Not part of civilian-duty rig,' she told him, managing to sneer the words.

He levelled the gun again at her head. 'More than one way to keep you quiet,'

he said, trying to make it sound like an off-the-cuff remark. He needed her to 73.think he'd have no compunction at all about killing her on the spot.

'Top pocket,' she snarled. 'Right side.'

Giving her an appreciative grin, he found the bubble foil where she indicated and released one of the pellets. Lodging it with great care inside the barrel of the gun, he placed the gun to her lips, still keeping up his ingratiating smile.

She accepted the pellet and chomped, not for a second taking her vengeful eyes from his while he let the gun sway loosely in his grasp in front of her.

'Goodnight,' he said, stroking her cheek with the pistol. 'I can't say it's been a pleasure.'

Then he returned to the man and offered him the same choice. He swallowed the pellet without a word, while the woman prattled angrily in the background, spitting words at him with open venom.

'Don't think you're going to get out of here alive,' she seethed. 'You're a walking dead man, Bains.'

She used his name without his ever having told her what it was, which confirmed his suspicion that he'd been set up and they'd expected him to make a run for it all along. Bains prodded gently at his sides and winced from the fires they contained. 'You're probably right,' he told her, 'but I'm not going to go without a fight.'

'Well, you're gonna get that all right,' she promised. But her eyes were already growing heavy, and he realised she was using her anger to combat the oncoming drowsiness.

'Not from you I'm not,' he said, watching her eyes flicker reluctantly shut.

Dropping the gun, Bains proceeded to apply an impromptu tourniquet to the man's leg using a torn strip of the man's own tunic and the woman's truncheon.

Satisfied the thug would survive, Bains swept to the door and carefully poked his head out to find the corridor empty. With a final glance at the two sleeping figures in the room behind him, Bains stepped outside and began to make his way towards the lifts and his freedom.

Taking a good deep breath, Gaskill Tyran swept into his office to greet the amba.s.sador from Earth. He found Domecq slouched at the head of the desk in Tyran's own lavish chair. The man appeared completely at home fingering the desktop experimentally to produce various reports and records in the air above the desk. Tyran was thankful he'd protected the more personal areas of his comp with a complex series of shields.

'Dr Domecq, so very good to meet you at long last,' Tyran thrust his hand for the man to take.

74.

Domecq sprang out of the seat and responded warmly, shaking his hand with vigour and awarding Tyran an intensely agreeable smile.

'Mr Tyran,' Domecq enthused. 'It's a very dubious pleasure to meet the man responsible for the atrocities I've witnessed down in your so-called medicare unit.'

The smile was up full volume, as if Domecq were genuinely complimenting Tyran on an exceptionally well-run operation. Tyran found himself momentarily disconcerted by Domecq's directness, but he somehow managed to sustain his own smile in the face of Domecq's a.s.sault.

'I'm very surprised,' Tyran retorted, 'that Earth Central feels it can suddenly afford that kind of supercilious indignation on such a matter, considering the immeasurable pressures currently faced by it. I take it you're voicing here your own personal personal views, and not trying to put across any official opinion?' views, and not trying to put across any official opinion?'

'Nothing can be worth the misery of those children,' Domecq told him, suddenly full of fury.

'I can see that you were very poorly briefed about the purpose of your visit here,' Tyran told him. 'The fact is, up to now we have been acting under very strict instructions from Earth Central in carrying out our. . . tests tests on these creatures. I understand your archaic idealism, Doctor, but this is neither the time nor the place to express it.' on these creatures. I understand your archaic idealism, Doctor, but this is neither the time nor the place to express it.'

Activating the desktop, Tyran offered Domecq a drink from the cabinet that he summoned out of the nearby wall.

'Whisky? It's a delicious, four-hundred-year-old malt from an ancient Scot-tish tradition. They used real white oak containers to age this stuff.'

Domecq shook his head, while Tyran poured himself a shot and took a delicate sip.

'It really is very good,' he told Domecq.

'How can you stand by and disregard the abuse of those poor children?'

Domecq demanded.

Tyran perched on the edge of his desk and peered over his gla.s.s at the curious figure in front of him. The scent of the malt was spirited and ancient, much like the man he found himself facing over the desk. Domecq wore clothing like Tyran had never seen: a strange dark-green coat with grey trousers and a singularly anachronistic cravat at his neck. Domecq had riotous brown locks that invaded his face from all sides, giving him the appearance of having just come in from the storms. He had a strong face, possibly enhanced, and his eyes were a curious combination of green and blue, appearing to be either colour depending on when you looked at them. Tyran recalled the report he'd been 75.given by Colonel Peron. Domecq had certainly spent a good deal of effort on his internal organs, and it was entirely likely that he had expended as much effort on his external appearance. The most curious thing, however, was the fact that when you first met him you didn't question that appearance at all. He seemed perfectly comfortable looking like that, and carried the eccentricity superbly.

'You saw one of those creatures for the first time only ten minutes ago. You spent a few minutes examining its responses. We've spent the last two months with those things, and I can tell you now that those creatures are extraordi-narily dangerous. They may possess a pa.s.sing likeness to human young, but they're volatile monsters with powers beyond our understanding.'

'If it's different, kill it, eh?' Domecq began to sermonise.

'Those creatures pose an unprecedented threat to the human race,' Tyran reminded him simply. 'The only points that matter here are what caused them? How can we prevent such aberrations ever occurring again on Ceres Alpha? And how can we dispose of them? It is to answer those three questions that you have been called here. Keep those concerns at the front of your mind, Dr Domecq, and please do me the courtesy of keeping your personal moral outrage to yourself. We have a job to do.'

'You really think I'm going to help you destroy the lives of those poor innocents?' Domecq fumed.

' Children? Innocents? Children? Innocents? ' Tyran stood and slammed his gla.s.s on to the desk. ' Tyran stood and slammed his gla.s.s on to the desk.

'Why do you feel the need to use such pa.s.sionate, obstructive language, Doctor?'

'Because I am a pa.s.sionate, obstructive man, Mr Tyran.'

Tyran was tired of performing these diplomatic dances. Ultimately, he invari-ably got his way and in the end everything always turned out exactly as he'd planned. He hit obstacles time and again, but he never failed to achieve his goals. The power he wielded had a way of sorting things out in his favour. And if his financial might was to fail him, there were always more brutal arguments that would convince those who saw things differently. Everybody was perfectly aware of his power, particularly those in official circles.

'All right, Dr Domecq. You made your point. Now, what is it going to take to remove that obstruction?'

'Are you offering me a bribe?' Domecq asked.

'Are you not requesting one?'

'I am certainly not.' Domecq seemed doubly outraged at the suggestion, and Tyran found himself on unantic.i.p.ated ground.

76.

Who did this man think he was? Some kind of Lone Vigilante? The real Domecq would take the bribe at this point. And an agent would play the part.

So why the h.e.l.l was this man pushing his luck?

Could it be that Earth Central really had suddenly discovered some new capacity to moralise? Did they have an alternative contract to Ceres Alpha?

Tyran's enquiries said not, but perhaps he could have been misinformed. Or was Domecq's resistance some kind of personal crusade? There was the possibility that the man was an impostor, of course, engaged by an enemy corporation to upset Tyran's plans.

Colonel Peron had expressed clear concerns about the legitimacy of the man's ID, and she'd provided Tyran with a recording of Pryce's absurdly impatient acceptance of Domecq's credentials. Tyran's gut feeling at this point was that the man was indeed a counterfeit, but that should make no difference to the outcome of events. An enemy agent would have to possess the expertise required to carry out his task or he would very soon be exposed. The man who stood before Tyran should be more than capable of doing the job he'd a.s.sumed. And right now Tyran needed answers to his questions far more than he needed to reveal an impostor. But Domecq would never get out again with his information. In the end his subterfuge would be 'discovered' and he and his employers would shoulder all blame at official levels. And at all other levels n.o.body would ever know the truth about Ceres Alpha.

That was the way of the worlds.

That was what made Gaskill Tyran utterly invincible.

'I'm not going to play games with you, Domecq,' Tyran told him flatly. 'You've got the opportunity to answer some fundamental questions here. I can give you access to all the data we have on the creatures if you're going to answer my questions. It's a simple choice. Cooperate or. . . don't.'

Domecq considered his options, perhaps aware now that he had pushed his luck too far. He regarded Tyran with a brooding expression before coming to a decision.

'All right,' he said. 'I'll do what I can to solve your little mystery, Mr Tyran.

But I want your word that the children won't be harmed while the work's being carried out.'

'The creatures are under the custody of Dr Pryce in Medicare Central,' Tyran told him. 'You will work alongside Dr Pryce to carry out your research. He has all the records. He is the only man who's followed these things from the beginning. I'll leave it to your discretion how the creatures are handled. But I must tell you, Dr Domecq, that those creatures are extremely dangerous. Pryce 77.was a respected official when he took the role of their. . .

custodian. The creatures have inflicted a great deal of damage on him. They've had a corrosive effect on his personality. He's not the man he used to be. Take very great care that the same doesn't happen to you.'

'Oh, I'll take care all right,' Domecq a.s.sured him. 'It's one of my strong points.'

'If you need anything, Pryce should be able to help, but I'm online here if you wish to ask anything.'

'One thing. . . '

'Yes?'

'I'd like to speak to the parents, if I may.'

Tyran regarded him darkly. 'I'm afraid that would be rather difficult,' he said.

'As far as the parents are concerned, their babies died at birth.'

There was a stunned silence while Domecq gazed off into s.p.a.ce.

'You can access full records through the med comp,' Tyran reminded him.

Domecq fixed him with a frightening look. A look that spoke of vengeance and rage. His jaw became a solid line of resentment and he seemed simply unable to put his feelings into words. At that point Tyran was startled to see the door swing open and Zach appear unannounced.

'I said I wasn't to be '

Tyran's anger subsided when he saw the look on Zach's face, saw how he was holding his hands in the air and stepping into the room with measured deliberation. Then he saw the blood-spattered shape of Danyal Bains follow him in.

'Just the man,' Bains said when Tyran came into his sight. He was holding two pistols, one that Tyran recognised as Zach's, and the other standard military issue.

'Now, gentlemen,' Bains announced amicably, at the same time raising the military revolver directly at Tyran. 'I think it's time for a little conference.'

The perceptual goo, thick with thoughts from foreign minds, began to clear and Anji Kapoor found a white room materialising around her. As the feelings from her own body seeped gradually back into her consciousness, she was surprised by the lack of pain. Although her memories were jumbled with others', she could still remember what had happened outside.

With great care she tried to lift her left arm, the arm she'd broken when Fitz collapsed in the storm, and was puzzled that it felt perfectly fine. There were aches and pains, as if she were just getting over a heavy bout of flu, but 78otherwise she felt well. She raised her head and for a few seconds simply stared at her own body as if it were something new and unexpected.

Struggling to sit up on the bed, she rubbed her face and closed her eyes tight.

When she opened them again she gazed around what was obviously some kind of hospital room, although the walls were encrusted with what looked like chunks of technology out of Start Trek: The Next Generation Start Trek: The Next Generation. The walls were also laced with pipes and ducting which ran everywhere, including the ceiling, giving the impression that the place had been put together in a hurry and all the services added later as an afterthought. The Star Trek Star Trek a.n.a.logy went up in a puff of lo-tech smoke. a.n.a.logy went up in a puff of lo-tech smoke.

She felt the skullcap that clung to her scalp and raised her hands to inspect it gingerly. The cap consisted of a plastic harness that seemed to have tiny lumps of electronics embedded in it. Anji tugged experimentally and found that the cap peeled away with ease. Off her head it looked like a shapeless ma.s.s of colourless straps containing hundreds of what looked like old-fashioned, multicoloured, impossibly small resistors. The thing oozed in her grasp like a jellyfish. It was the sort of thing Dave might have bought her for Christmas.

Your very own pet robotic invertebrate: love it and cuddle it and don't forget to love it and cuddle it and don't forget to feed it or it'll die. Made in j.a.pan. feed it or it'll die. Made in j.a.pan.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anji caught movement at the other side of the room, and was startled to see the diminutive shape of what looked like an alien child draped in a squalid white gown. The child simply stood gazing at her as Anji stared back with what must no doubt have been a gobsmacked expression.

The child had the body of a toddler with skinny arms and legs and a slight potbelly. But the head was a huge dome that looked out of proportion on such a scrawny physique. Tufts of wispy silver hair covered its scalp in patches, and Anji was reminded of the images on the covers of the s.p.a.ce Themes s.p.a.ce Themes alb.u.ms Dave used to buy. She was drawn irresistibly to its great black slanted eyes. alb.u.ms Dave used to buy. She was drawn irresistibly to its great black slanted eyes.

Deep in those eyes she discovered a kind of fragility, a vulnerability and childlike fear that pivoted her instantly back to her own childhood waking to Rezaul, her younger brother, screaming in the night. She remembered the look in his eyes as he struggled to get a grip on reality and scrabble free of whatever nightmare vision had pursued him in his sleep.

As she watched, the child produced a small white ball that it was at pains to show her between the three slender fingers of one hand. It took the ball in the other hand, gazing at her all the time, and she watched as it opened the fingers to show no ball. Then it opened the fingers of the other hand to demonstrate the ball had vanished completely. Anji couldn't help but grin as 79.the child reached up behind its ear to produce the ball again for her to see.

The door buzzed open to admit a white-smocked woman whose face contained a kind of professional determination that told Anji immediately she wasn't about to fool around with conjuring tricks. But when Anji glanced back at the child, it had gone.

'I see you're awake,' the woman said briskly, taking readings from a trolley-machine at the side of the bed.

Anji wasn't so sure. She'd felt perfectly OK until the child had vanished into thin air. The woman was nodding in satisfaction at the readings, touching Anji's forehead with the back of her fingers, grabbing Anji's wrist to take her pulse.

'I'm Dr Peron,' she said while she worked. 'You had a very lucky escape last night.'

'I don't feel too bad,' Anji told her.

'Physically you're fine,' Peron said. 'There's some bruising that hasn't healed and you have a couple of minor fractures that are only partially regenerated.

Another few hours plugged in and you'll be fit as a fiddle.'

Anji realised Peron was peering with interest into her eyes. 'Do you understand me OK?'

She nodded.

'We had some concerns,' Peron told her. 'But it doesn't look like we needed to worry.'

Anji didn't like the sound of that. 'Concerns?'

'There was some unusual activity in the mid-brain. We still don't know what caused it. Seems to be fine now, though. How's your memory?'

'Like a pan of mashed potatoes,' Anji admitted, but the woman looked blank.

'Name?'

'Anji Kapoor,' she laughed. 'l can remember that all right. It's just the last day or so that's a bit cluttered.'

'Do you remember how you got here?'

Shaking her head, Anji tried to interpret the muddle of images and sound bites that const.i.tuted her recent memory. 'There was some kind of emergency,'

Anji told her. 'The Doctor had to force us down in the storm.'

'The Doctor?'

Anji simply nodded. She glanced about the room, looking for the child, but there was no trace.