ONE.

FELLOW TRAVELERS.

4.

STAR ROAD ACCESS TERMINAL-PLUTO Dr. Dario Rodriguez tried to take it all in and understand what he was seeing as the small transport shuttle skimmed over the surface of the planet.

His first thought: No matter how many times you see it, it's always impressive.

Whatever the thing was down below, it was massive-a giant abstract art construction made by a lunatic, consisting of jumbled chunks of red and gray stone, and steel girders jutting out at random angles.

The sky was as black as ebony. The planet had no atmosphere to diffuse the light from the infinite array of stars. Earth's sun was just a white pinprick of light against the eternal void of space.

Outside, on what long ago had been know as the planet Pluto but was now an insignificant planetoid, there remained ... the ruins.

Vast remnants of a past civilization whose beings used to live here or come here-for what?-had been left on this dead planet out on the frozen rim of Earth's solar system.

But that had been eons ago for all anyone knew.

Then something happened, and they vanished, leaving behind only these ruins and questions.

And the Star Road Station.

The transport banked hard to the left as if trying to impress the passengers, giving them a different perspective on what may have been an ancient city. Bright lights dotted the shadowed work areas of the site as teams-all carefully controlled by the World Council-carried out methodical excavations to determine the origin and purpose of this place.

People on Earth knew nearly nothing about it except that it existed ... and that it may have been destroyed well before the dinosaurs went extinct.

Yet the Star Road had been untouched.

Is that because whoever or whatever had caused the destruction below depended on the Star Road as well?

Or perhaps the Star Road was invulnerable.

So far, it had defied Earth's best physicists. All anyone really knew was that the Road was still here.

And it linked humanity to the stars.

So many questions, and Rodriguez knew that a lot of people were busy here and on Earth searching for those answers.

There were almost as many answers as there were questioners.

Whatever the case, the Road worked, and humanity used it. With the Star Road, Earth and its solar system suddenly seemed much too small-a coral reef in an infinite ocean of stars.

Travel through the galaxy, theoretically an impossibility, suddenly became possible. Systems hundreds, even thousands of light-years apart could be easily accessed by traveling on the Star Road.

An amazingly complicated highway system had opened up, and no one knew how far it went, where it ended, if it ended, or-the big question-who the hell had created it.

People on Earth referred to them simply as "The Builders," but that answered nothing.

The transport banked again, straightening out as it lost altitude, following the sharp curve of the tiny planet. The horizon looked impossibly close.

Rodriguez took a moment and glanced around at the shadowy confines of the shuttle, at the dark figures of the dozen or so other passengers.

Are they all getting onto the Road?

Or are some cycling back for another stint on the terminal base on Pluto? Most sat quietly in their seats, some dozing, some lost in their own thoughts as they gazed at the amazing scene outside.

Everyone, except for the young woman sitting across the aisle from Rodriguez.

In the scant light, he caught her fiddling with the chip recorder implanted in the side of her head above her left ear. As the woman literally squirmed in her seat, her head moving all around the oval porthole, Rodriguez knew that the woman-almost a kid, really-was more than a "Chippie," more than a user.

She was in "record" mode, creating a new chip even now, capturing this moment for others on Earth to experience as if they were here.

All the experience, none of the risk, none of the stress ... none of the expense or danger.

None of the excitement, either.

If this Chippie wanted to make an amazing chip, she probably couldn't do better than a Road trip ... unless she went in for the kinky stuff.

Scanning her face, her body ... Rodriguez imagined that she just might. She turned and caught Rodriguez staring at her. A bit of a smile. Then a taunt: "Some view, hmm?"

Rodriguez nodded, still staring.

"See anything you like?"

"Sure," Rodriguez replied.

Then, he turned away. No doubt he wasn't the only one on the shuttle who had secrets. Everyone has their secrets. But he was getting on the Road for a reason that no one-especially not a Chippie-could know about.

On that point, his instructions were clear.

And Rodriguez was nothing if not good at following instructions.

He turned back to his porthole and stared blankly as the shuttle approached the terminal.

The shuttle glided silently over the icy rocks that looked like the aged teeth of a mouth frozen in the act of arcing up to snap at the shuttle.

Ahead, a bright glow.

The transport base.

Mobius Central.

Named, Rodriguez guessed, because the first scientists who found it couldn't figure out how the hell the Star Road-seemingly an actual structure-could somehow stretch its spidery strands throughout the galaxy ... and maybe beyond.

Totally impossible.

It beat all quantum physics into a pulp.

What was it made of?

What powered it?

All unknown. Even after over a decade of using the Road, humans had unraveled only a small part of the mystery of this impossible structure.

Impossible. Just like a Mobius strip.

The process of building a road map was slow, a lot of trial and error. Especially error, at first. A lot of vessels ... and good men and women ... gone and never heard from again.

A detailed map of the system could change everything.

But so far, at least, no such map existed.

Would Rodriguez's mission yield some answers?

He didn't have a clue.

The dome ahead started to fill the porthole view.

A giant bubble of light revealing the people and areas inside. On one side, a row of airlocks; on the other, terminals to access the Road.

A small beep sounded from the speaker above Rodriguez, and the holovid winked on, displaying the smiling face of a shuttle hostess.

Then: "Attention travelers. Our shuttle is about to dock at the Mobius Central airlock. Please check to make sure your seat harness is firmly buckled and that you have no loose articles near you. We will be touching down on the surface of Pluto in five minutes."

Rodriguez checked that the harness, a belt and a pair of cross-shoulder straps, were tight.

Then a voice. The girl, the Chippie.

"That's funny."

Rodriguez turned to her, seeing more clearly now. Short, dark hair. And blue-green eyes that glowed catlike in the pale light.

"What is?"

"Why'd they name the planet after a dog? Not even a real dog."

And despite what lay ahead-the responsibility, the unknown, the sheer adventure of it-Rodriguez laughed. He decided not to tell her that Pluto was also the Roman god of the underworld.

The shuttle began its easy glide as it made its way into the airlock chamber.

Annie Scott watched the load lifter raise a massive metal crate and lower it into the SRV's cargo hold.

At first, it looked like the crate couldn't possibly fit. And then, as if to force it, the operator bumped the crate into the undercarriage of the Star Road vehicle.

"Whoa! Bloody hell!" a man standing close to Annie yelled. "Take it the fuck easy! Jee-zuz. Who's in charge here?" His accent was a thick Scottish brogue.

Annie saw the operator look down at the man, maybe measuring him for a fight if it came to that. Then he looked to Annie, who raised her eyebrows a bit. The operator stopped the machinery.

"You got a bunch of monkeys working this thing? Goddamn!" Then louder, directly at the motionless operator, "Where's your captain, genius?"

Annie took a few steps closer to the man.

"That would be me."

The man turned to her, his face registering ... what?

Disbelief? Confusion?

Embarrassment.

As if he thought the Road was for men only.

In other words ... total bullshit.

"Captain Annie Scott." She extended her hand for him to shake.

The man rubbed his chin, momentarily stumped. Then shook hands with her. His calloused hand felt like a slab of overcooked beef.

"That your load, Mr.-"

"McGowan, and it sure the hell is. My mining suit. You have any idea how much one of them things costs?"

"Actually, I do."

Annie knew that the far-flung mining operations relied on these kinds of freelancers, guys with the expensive suits built to their personal specifications, a necessary entryway into a lucrative, if often deadly, business of off-world mining.

Sure, miners made a lot of money. But most of them never came back. And if they did, they were never satisfied, and they went out again. Things happened once you burrowed into an unknown planet.

Which certainly explained the guy's jumpiness.