When the family vehicle broke down because her father hadn't maintained it, Elisa was the only one who had the money to make repairs. Her mother had just drained the family account by buying an expensive teak dining set unlike any of their other furnishings. (She justified her extravagant purchase, tearfully, "Can't I ever have something nice, just for me? For once?") One of Elisa's brothers got arrested for vandalizing a clothing shop run by the parents of a girl he didn't like, and only Elisa had the funds to bail him out. (She did suggest selling the teak dining room set to raise bail-a perfectly practical idea, but it made her mother angry.) After a succession of other family financial crises, which she had been forced to rectify, Elisa finally marched into the living room one evening, her face flushed.

She had lived with them all her life and had grown blind to their habits. Elisa was shocked to realize the obvious-that neither her brothers, nor her father or mother ever put in the slightest bit of extra work than they had to. They ducked when someone asked for a volunteer. They grumbled about being forced to put in overtime, despite the extra pay. They actually liked being idle and sat around on their days off "relaxing"-sleeping in, or amusing themselves with stupid games.

For Elisa a "day off" was a chance to catch up and get ahead on other goals. She took night classes, she self-studied, and as she grew more successful, her family often commented that she was just lucky. Once, when she got a raise, one of her brothers even sneered that she must be sleeping with the boss. They couldn't imagine that she had earned it, that it was possible to get ahead.

"You all deserve your situation!" she said. "You're lazy, unambitious, disappointing. If any of you pushed yourselves, tried harder, and worked to be something, then you could pull us all up higher. Instead, you do nothing and just resent those who have more than you do."

Her parents looked deeply insulted.

Elisa shook her head. "And all this time I've enabled you. I see that. You're on your own now. Sink or swim, it's up to you."

She took the remaining money from her account, only a fraction of what it should have been without the drain from her family's constant needs, and left home. She started from scratch-a frightening prospect at first, but she found it much easier without the dead weight of her family holding her back.

She went to work for Lee Iswander, a man whose attitude she admired, and she hitched her star to him. Then she met Garrison Reeves, a member of an important Roamer clan, who needed help. He said all the right things, offered her a chance to make a huge investment in a major business deal for Iswander. They could help each other.

She also thought Garrison was a kindred spirit. Together, they could have become powerful and important business leaders. But he had let her down too, failing to step up to the plate when an opportunity presented itself, and causing trouble with the industrialist who had made her whole career possible.

And now he'd run off with her son.

Her ship stopped at the next bread crumb tracker, and she reoriented her nav system, studying the new course. "Where the hell are you going?" she muttered to herself. "That's the middle of nowhere. Didn't you even bother to make a plan?"

When she arrived and scanned for signs of Garrison's stolen ship, Elisa found that the area was not empty at all. She encountered filmy greenish brown spheres brought together through gravity or some kind of willful motion. The cluster looked like a miniature galaxy, with hundreds of other globules floating around the periphery. Trails of outliers extended across the emptiness, marking a mysterious trail through the void.

She wondered if Garrison had come here on purpose. Did he intend to hide this strange discovery from her and from Iswander Industries? The magnetic tracking device had stopped transmitting, but as she extended her sensors, she detected his ship.

Found you!

Yes, Garrison was here. That was what mattered.

CHAPTER.

12.

LEE ISWANDER.

After making his case to the Roamer clans, Iswander headed back to Sheol, anxious to return to business. Though he could have spent days in meetings at Newstation, chatting with clan heads and Confederation trade representatives, he had obligations at his lava-processing operations.

The flight back seemed long. After the first few hours of making notes and putting his thoughts in order, he was ready to be back in his office. Once he was elected Speaker, he would have to rely on Alec Pannebaker and Elisa Reeves for the day-to-day work. Though he liked to show good leadership by being there and being involved, some things would have to change. That was the price one paid to move forward.

From space, the hot binary planet looked dramatic, two halves playing tug-of-war. He deployed the cruiser's heat shield, descended toward the magma operations, and radioed ahead to let Pannebaker know he was coming. "Prepare a production summary for me, please."

"Got it already, Chief. I do my homework before I have fun. And by the Guiding Star, there's lots of fun now-thermal instabilities, more than usual. Three lava geysers. One shoots half a kilometer into the atmosphere."

Iswander remembered the warnings of Garrison Reeves. "Does it pose any danger to our facilities?"

"It's five kilometers away from the towers, but worth the trip to go see. I'll take you out there if you like."

"I'm sure you've taken hundreds of images, Mr. Pannebaker."

"Thousands, actually. Got to get just the right frame. We'll show them off to Captain Kett when she gets here."

The head of the Confederation's largest trading fleet, Rlinda Kett was due at Sheol to take a large cargo of metal products to Newstation. It was a symbolic gesture to impress the clan heads, and the hearty businesswoman knew that full well, but she had agreed to do it, so long as he gave her sufficient inducement.

"A bribe?" Iswander had asked her in a preliminary meeting. He was familiar with the way business and politics worked, but he didn't think Rlinda Kett would be so blatant about it.

"Not at all," she had answered. "Shipping terms-I want a ten percent reduction in my costs on all exports from Sheol."

Iswander knew a negotiation when he saw one. "Pure ingots only."

"No-ingots, processed-metal foams, alloy films. Ten percent reduction across the board."

"Ten percent on ingots, five percent on other specialty materials."

Rlinda had let out a loud laugh. "Good enough-and we're done here." She broke out a bottle of her specialty aqua vitae to celebrate. "This is distilled by my associate Del Kellum on an Ildiran planet called Kuivahr. A new product, lots of interest in it."

He had sipped the murky liquid in the glass, controlled his expression, and tried to be polite. "Tastes ... rough. A little like seaweed, but with a burn."

"He's still fine-tuning the recipe, enhancing the health benefits. But the sea was the source of all life, and he's thinking about calling this Primordial Ooze."

"Doesn't sound very marketable."

Rlinda, a big, dark-skinned woman who had only grown bigger over the years, had been the Confederation's first trade minister, which gave her numerous connections. Previously, she'd run a small shipping company, and now she ran a large one. She owned three upscale restaurants, traded in exotic food items, and ate enough of them herself to make a dent in her profits. Everyone liked Rlinda, and Iswander was sure he could do business with her.

"I'll have Robb and Tasia handle the details and draw up the paperwork," she said. "You know I'm just a figurehead these days."

"Hardly," he said. Robb Brindle and Tasia Tamblyn could manage the business, but Rlinda would never be a mere figurehead of Kett Shipping.

After a handshake, they had set up a date for her Voracious Curiosity to fly to Sheol to pick up a large shipment of materials to show off to the Roamer clans. For the upcoming election, the timing was important, though it had to look casual....

Now, Iswander descended using assisted piloting, as thermal disturbances shook his cruiser from side to side. The cracks below were like arterial wounds that bled molten metals and incinerated rock. His extraction facilities rode the hot seas, plated with ultra-heat-resistant materials so they could scoop up fresh material. Alloy processors and fabrication chambers in Tower Two created exotic metal foams and films, useful mixtures with polymers and ceramics.

He steered clear of the lava plumes that had so excited Pannebaker and aimed for the cluster of extraction structures, the three towers, and the anchored landing platform. His cruiser settled into place, and he waited while a heat tunnel extended so he could transfer into the shielded admin tower.

Pannebaker met him in the office on the high deck of Tower One, grinning as he handed Iswander a report, anxious to be rid of it. He was a competent engineer with management abilities, but no great fondness for administrative work-in other words, the best kind of deputy.

Pannebaker had silvery hair and intense eyes, as well as a mustache that framed his mouth all the way down to his chin. Every day in the Sheol lava mines excited him like an adrenaline rush, and his extreme competence sometimes led him to take unwarranted risks for the sheer fun of it.

"The shipment of ingots is ready for Captain Kett, sir-our purest, most expensive stuff," Pannebaker said. "I also included some exotic materials that'll really impress the Roamers."

"I already impressed the Roamers with my speech at Newstation. Speaker Seward set the bar low by accomplishing, uh ... nothing. And Sam Ricks certainly doesn't have impressive credentials."

Not being a Roamer himself, Pannebaker was not interested in clan politics. "Whatever you say, Chief. But you'll want to look at those revised geological reports. Your consultants made a few optimistic assumptions that might not be valid. Heat plumes are rising up-which is great because it adds purer material to the mix, but temperatures are outside the norms. With the construction materials we used, we're awfully close to tolerances. Could be something to worry about if it gets hotter."

Iswander wondered if Garrison Reeves had legitimate concerns after all-which reminded him, "Any word yet from Elisa?"

"None, Chief. Isn't she taking personal time?"

"Yes, but I thought she'd be back by now." Iswander was worried about her. Elisa would never take so many days away from work unless the situation was serious. Although her husband was an adequate worker, Iswander had plenty of adequate workers. But he could not replace Elisa Reeves. He hoped her family problems didn't interfere with her job performance.

Fortunately, his own wife never posed any problems, never interfered, never demanded too much. He had made the terms clear when he arranged the marriage: he needed a woman who was willing to operate within those parameters.

Now that he was back on Sheol, Iswander considered going to the residence deck to see his family, greet his son (who revered his father), give Londa a peck on the cheek, answer her few rote questions ... but he could do that later. Right now, he wanted to settle into his office-which, truth be told, felt more like home than the residence deck did anyway.

When Iswander reviewed the geological reports from Pannebaker, he began to frown. The tidal stresses were higher than any previously recorded in eighteen years of study. His consultants had made no mention of that, perhaps because they knew he didn't want them to find any problems. Had they missed something?

Garrison claimed to have uncovered second- and third-order oscillations in the orbiting planetary fragments, which would begin a cycle that brought the two halves even closer, a minuscule difference in an astronomical sense, but enough to increase the tidal heating. Magma flowed upward at a higher temperature, heat plumes intensified, quakes struck more frequently-all of which had implications for the stability of his processing structures.

Although Lee Iswander didn't waste money on unnecessary protective measures, he did have a healthy respect for the inherent hazards here. The Sheol facility was dangerous by its very nature, but he had made sure it was designed with enough heat shielding to offer adequate-though not overboard foolish-protection. He had taken reasonable measures. Nevertheless, he would have to look into this in greater depth-discreetly, so as not to cause a panic. Garrison had already caused some uneasiness among the workers, and these fluctuations would only make the anxiety worse.

Pannebaker cheerfully interrupted him over the comm. "The Voracious Curiosity is here a day early, Chief. Captain Kett says she wanted to catch you sleeping."

"I rarely sleep," Iswander said. "Good thing our shipment is ready."

"And best of all-a fourth lava geyser just erupted! Our sensors picked up the heat spike, and it's jetting high, definitely visible from the landing platform."

"Why is that good news?"

"Because it's spectacular. Captain Kett will see it as she comes in. She loves a good show. She's brought Tasia Tamblyn and Robb Brindle along to handle the business details."

Iswander nodded to himself. Considering the erupting geysers, maybe it was a good thing the Curiosity had arrived a day early. With luck, her ship could fly off to Newstation with its cargo before anything dangerous or embarrassing happened here.

CHAPTER.

13.

ZOE ALAKIS.

Every time Tom Rom returned from a voyage, he delivered vital material for the Pergamus research teams-scientifically valuable data, symptom records and case studies, potential treatments, pharmaceuticals, or cutting-edge equipment that had not yet been released on the market. Zoe Alakis wanted everything. At the very least he always brought her something interesting.

Zoe's planetary security teams had clear instructions to let Tom Rom through. As soon as her perimeter scouts sent word that his ship had arrived in Pergamus orbit, Zoe reminded them that she would tolerate no delay. She wanted to see him as soon as possible.

Of course, her own protective systems caused most of the delay-he would take hours to pass through seventeen successive levels of decontamination and sterilization before she let him see her face-to-face-but she would not loosen those requirements, not even for him. People were too dangerous, diseases were too dangerous, and she had no need for any closer contact.

Zoe kept her dark hair short, so she could easily don a decon suit and cap in an emergency. She had prominent eyebrows, deep brown eyes, and pale skin. She was careful to breathe through her nose, for added protection from the implanted filters in her nostrils. She ate bland food-processed and cooked, never anything raw.

Pergamus was a medical-research complex and extensive disease library, the largest one in existence. And it belonged to her alone: privately funded and beholden to no government, university, or research consortium. No one else could be trusted. No one else deserved it. Zoe Alakis had it all.

Pergamus barely qualified as a planet, as it wasn't much larger than an asteroid. It held only a tenuous atmosphere, and what little there was proved to be poisonous. The facility was isolated and safe.

Zoe insisted on layers of precautions-she had her reasons-and any researcher who wanted to work for the obscenely high pay she offered had to agree to certain conditions. They could share nothing about their work-absolutely nothing, with anyone, on pain of death. Those specific words were in their contracts. She owned their breakthroughs, their cures and treatments, all of their records, and the genetic mappings of any viruses and bacteria that couldn't be cured.

Zoe resided alone in the facility's central dome, which she never left. Separate from the main dome, fourteen isolated laboratory domes had been built at varying distances, far enough to protect them if a sterilization blast were required. In those groundside domes, researchers conducted studies on cancers, neurological disorders, brain deterioration. Eight of the domes were devoted to various infectious diseases-at least the ones considered tame enough to be studied on the planet's surface. For the more dangerous organisms and risky treatment protocols, she had twelve Orbiting Research Spheres, some spinning to provide artificial gravity, others motionless for zero-G research.

Every one of the laboratories, the groundside domes as well as the orbiting satellites, had thorough fail-safe sterilization protocols, along with a no-exceptions set of rules as to when they were to be used. She would allow no unnecessary risks, no outbreaks. Everything was controlled by her inflexible procedures, programmed in black and white. Zoe never let herself get personally attached to her researchers, nor did she want anyone else to have a moment of personal doubt in a crisis.

On the monitor screens inside her central dome, she followed Tom Rom's progress through decontamination. She opened the comm. "How much longer?"

He turned his face to the image pickup and smiled at her, his eyes bright. "As long as it takes. No shortcuts. I'd never risk exposing you."

She monitored him as he passed through airlock after airlock, one decon chamber after another and yet another. Chemical sprays, UV bursts. Each one made him cleaner, safer. He risked so much out there for her.

Tom Rom had a lean and muscular body that she admired without the least bit of arousal. Though she loved him more than any other human being, he was not her lover. No one had ever been her lover. The thought of physical intimacy disgusted her. The sharing of bodily fluids-not just semen but saliva, perspiration, sloughed-off skin cells, pubic hairs, even exhaled breath-not only repelled her, it sent her into a panic. She abhorred the thought of kissing someone, holding hands, touching in the most intimate of fashions.

Any such contact could only increase Zoe's risk of unnecessary exposure to contaminants. There were so many ways that the human body could go wrong. From her father, she knew that all too well.

Around her office, electron micrographs showed in exquisite and terrifying detail salivary bacteria, dust mites, virally invaded cells, degenerated nerve fibers, stunted and mutated ganglia. To Zoe, these were monsters more horrifying than the Klikiss warrior caste, the hydrogue warglobes, or any other alien species. And these microscopic enemies in their myriad forms invaded from everywhere, unseen. They changed constantly, mutating in order to find new ways to attack human systems.

It was an odds game, and she intended to stack the deck. She didn't risk breathing unfiltered air or consuming unsterilized food or water. She viewed this as a war, one she knew she could never win, but she had created a sort of neutral ground here on Pergamus.

Tom Rom emerged naked from the last chamber, dried himself off, and donned a white jumpsuit, entirely unselfconscious. He stood before her, such a magnificent man, such a loyal knight. No, he was not and would never be her lover-but he would do anything for her, and she would do anything for him. He was her life.

Zoe had been raised in a scientific observation tower deep in the primeval forests of Vaconda. Her parents, Adam and Evelyn Alakis, had settled in the lichentree jungles, mostly alone on the entire planet and laughing off the obvious "Adam and Eve" jokes.

They had claimed a large homestead, filed the necessary papers, and built a tall forest watchtower above the pointed lichentrees. They were a brave pioneer family on a previously unclaimed world. The Alakis family set about exploring, cataloguing the Vaconda flora and fauna in hopes of finding some profitable export crop, particularly pharmaceuticals, which could help other people. Adam and Evelyn Alakis had been successful in discovering new bark extracts, potent spores, and slime-mold distillates, which were put to use in Hansa medicine, curing several rare diseases.

For her own part, Zoe remembered enduring many jungle fevers as a child-nightmares, chills, delirium. But she recovered every time, got better, stronger, developed immunities.

When Zoe was only eight, her mother's flyer crashed in the thick lichentree jungles kilometers from the homestead. Responding to the auto-distress call, Adam threw Zoe into their second flyer and the two of them raced out from the forest watchtower to rescue his wife. Reaching the crash site, Adam and Zoe extracted Evelyn from the wreckage, took her back to the homestead, and tried to treat her. Adam had a medical background, and was competent in first aid, but he couldn't repair his wife's extensive injuries. Though young, Zoe was already self-sufficient and helpful, and she tried her best to assist ... but it was not enough. Evelyn died before they could arrange to get her offworld to a sophisticated medical facility. Spores had already begun to grow in her open wounds....

Zoe was stunned. She had never felt so alone, and yet Adam remained on the planet, insisting that Vaconda was a treasure chest. He was still a pioneer, sure that he and Zoe could survive.

With its vines, insects, lichentrees, and bitter-smelling winds, this was a primordial world, and the isolation was profound. Adam's inability to help Evelyn after the accident convinced him to bring in other helpers-biologists, summer students, itinerants, so that he and his daughter wouldn't be so helpless and cut off. Part-timers came, one or two at a time, to work in the jungle and live in the watchtower. When their temporary contracts were over, they left. Adam was unable to find anyone with an equal level of dedication and determination, to commit to the work and to Adam and Zoe.

Until Tom Rom came. And he made up for all the others....