"I know who I am," Oscar said.

"We'll know if you are."

"Good."

"Very well. Be at the Kime Sanctuary on top of Mount Herculaneum in one hour. One of us will meet you."

The channel went dead. Oscar grinned. He shouldn't be all fired up by this, he really shouldn't.

His u-shadow contacted a local hire company, and he rented a high-performance ingrav capsule. Given who he was going to meet, he did not want to risk technology leakage by arriving in an ultradrive ship.

The capsule bounced him over to Mount Herculaneum in a semiballistic lob that took twenty-eight minutes. The last time he'd seen the colossal volcano had been the day he had died by crashing into its lower slopes. This time his arrival was a lot more comfortable. The capsule shot out of the upper atmosphere and followed the planet's curvature southwest. He watched through the sensors as the Grand Triad rose up out of the horizon. They were still the biggest mountains to be found on an H-congruous world. On a planet with standard gravity, they would have collapsed under their own weight, but here they had kept on growing as the magma pushed farther and farther upward. Mount Herculaneum, the biggest, stood thirty-two kilometers high, its plateau summit rising high above Far Away's troposphere. Northward, Mount Zeus topped out at seventeen kilometers. South of Herculaneum, Mount Titan reached up twenty-three kilometers; it was the only one of the Triad to remain active.

Oscar's capsule rode a tight curve above the sealike grasslands of the Aldrin Plains before it began to sink again. The view was magnificent, with the vast cone of Herculaneum spread out below him. Its plateau of grubby brown regolith was broken by twin calderas. Around that, naked rock dropped down to the glacier ring far below before the lower slopes finally were smothered in pine forests and low meadowland. Luckily for him, Titan was semiactive today. He looked down almost vertically into its glowing red crater, watching the slow-motion ripples spreading out across the huge lake of lava. Radiant white boulders spit upward out of the inferno to traverse lazy arcs through the vacuum, spitting orange sparks. Some of them were flung far enough to clear the crater wall and begin a long fall to oblivion.

His sight inevitably was drawn to the long funnel canyon between Zeus and Titan that led to the base of Herculaneum. Stakeout Canyon was where the storm winds coming off the Hondu Ocean were funneled into a rampaging blast of air. The insane thrill seekers of the early Commonwealth used to fly their hypergliders on winds so strong that they'd push them out of the atmosphere and over Herculaneum. He'd never gotten to attempt that last part, crashing his hyperglider into Anna so that Wilson might stand a chance to reach the summit.

Even though he had braced himself for an emotional shock wave at seeing the site of his death, he felt nothing more than mild curiosity. That must mean I'm perfectly adjusted to this new life. Right?

As he looked along the long rocky cleft in the ground, his exovision pulled up meteorological data and a file telling him that the winds now were never as strong as they had been a thousand years ago. Terraforming had calmed Far Away's atmosphere. Hypergliding was just a legend now.

The capsule took him down to a big dome situated right on the eastern edge of Mount Herculaneum's plateau, where the cliffs of Aphrodite's Seat began their sheer eight-kilometer fall. There was a pressure field over the entrance to the dome's landing chamber, a big metal cave with enough room for twenty passenger capsules. It had only two resting inside, with another five ordinary capsules parked nearby.

Oscar stepped through the airlock pressure curtains into the dome's main arena and paid his 20 FA$ entrance fee from a credit coin Paula had given him. There were three low buildings inside, lined up behind Aphrodite's Seat. He went over to the first, which the dome's net labeled: "Crash Site." A whole bunch of tourists were just exiting from it, heading for the cafe next door, chatting excitedly. They never registered him, which he found amusing. It wasn't as if his face was any different now.

It was dark inside, with one wall open to the side of the dome above the cliffs. A narrow winding walkway was suspended three meters over the ground, with a pressure field below it, maintaining a vacuum over the actual regolith. There was also a stabilizer field generator running to preserve the wreckage of the hyperglider. The once-elegant fuselage was crunched into the side of a rock outcrop, with the plyplastic wings bent and snapped. Oscar remembered how elegant those wings had been fully extended, and sighed.

He walked slowly along the walkway until he was directly above the antique. His heart had slowed as he imagined his friend terrified and frantic as the craft skidded along the dusty plateau, slipping and twisting, completely out of control. The fate of an entire species depended on the outcome as the cliffs rushed toward him. Oscar frowned as he looked down. The hyperglider was actually upside down, which meant there had been an almighty flip at one point. He looked along the ground to the rim of Aphrodite's Seat, where someone in an ancient pressure suit was sitting.

It was a solido projection, Oscar realized as he came to the end of the walkway: Wilson Kime, his head visible in a not terribly authentic bubble helmet. The pressure suit rips had been repaired with some kind of epoxy, leaking blood into the regolith. The solido Wilson stared out over the Dessault mountain range to the east, where the snowcapped peaks diminished into the bright haze of the curving horizon. This was exactly what the real Wilson had seen, what so many people had died to give him-those which history knew and still more unknown. Twelve hundred years ago this glorious panorama had provided the data to steer a giant storm into the Starflyer's ship, slaying the beast and liberating the Commonwealth. Today, here, on that same spot, he could sit in the Savior View cafe next door and buy doughnuts named after him.

"Without you, we wouldn't be here."

Oscar started. There was a man standing behind him on the walkway, wearing a very dark toga suit.

Great secret agent I make; anyone can creep up on me.

"Excuse me?" Oscar said.

The man smiled. He was very handsome, with a square jaw, a dimpled chin, and a flattish nose. Brown eyes were surrounded by laughter lines. When he opened his wide mouth, startlingly white teeth smiled out. "I nearly got blown away by that burst of melancholy disappointment you let loose into the gaiafield," he said. "It's understandable." He waved a hand around the darkened chamber. "This travesty is all that exists to celebrate what you and Wilson achieved. But I promise you, we know and appreciate what you did. It is taught to all of our children."

"We?"

The man bowed his head formally. "The Knights Guardian. Welcome back to Far Away, Oscar Monroe. How can we help you?"

His name was Tomansio, he said as they walked back to Oscar's capsule. "In full, Tomansio McFoster Stewart. It was my father who provided you with our code eighty-six years ago."

"I barely saw him. The government had a tight little cordon around my room. They were anxious that I should have my privacy. Yet he just walked right in. And out again, too."

"We thought you'd forgotten us," Tomansio said. "Or worse."

"I'm not what I used to be," Oscar said. "At least, that's what I thought."

"And yet here you are. It's an interesting time to come and seek us out again for both the Greater Commonwealth and the galaxy at large. Not the kind of time a man chooses to indulge in nostalgia."

"No. This has nothing to do with nostalgia."

They sat themselves in the capsule. "Do you mind if I navigate?" Tomansio asked. "You would find it difficult to reach our lands unaided."

"Of course," Oscar said. His curiosity rose as they slid out of the dome's landing chamber. "Where are your lands?"

"Where they've always been: from the northeast corner of the Dessault Mountains all the way to the Oak Sea." The capsule began to accelerate, streaking northward over the mountains as it gained altitude. For the first time, Oscar saw the high desert around which the lofty peaks huddled protectively.

"And I couldn't find you? That peak is Mount StOmer, isn't it? The Marie Celeste crashed close by."

"Knowing and reaching are two separate things."

"I didn't know you all turned Buddhist and spoke in fortune cookies."

Tomansio tilted his head to one side with avian precision. His attractive smile was poised. "Ah, I see. I'm not being deliberately enigmatic, though perhaps I am guilty of overdramatizing. But you are very precious to us, Oscar. I'm hoping to impress you."

Just for a moment, Oscar felt as if he had lived through every one of those eleven hundred years. He had to history-mine to understand me. Jesus fuck. He had been far too sheltered with his life partners. Small wonder he always felt as if the house put up a cozy barrier between his little family and the outside world.

"We protect our lands with a T-sphere," Tomansio said.

"Really? I thought only Earth had one."

"We don't advertise. It's actually quite an elegant defense on many levels, although it does require a colossal amount of energy to maintain. If you walk or drive or fly toward us, as you approach our border, you're simply teleported to the other side. You can't knock on a door which you can never face. You have to be invited in."

"Cool."

The lands they fell toward seemed particularly lush, thick greenery split by meandering rivers, forest and meadowland squabbling to dominate valleys and rolling hills. Away to the east there was a glimpse of the Oak Sea. They reentered the atmosphere. Strands of cloud rushed up past the capsule's transparent hull, thickening fast. Then they were through, and a forest canopy unfolded below them: leaves of every color, trees of immense size. Far Away had always celebrated its unique genetic diversity. Starting with a nearly sterile landscape, the terraforming teams had brought the seeds of a hundred planets with them to create the ultimate contrasting florascape.

"Here we go," Tomansio said as their altitude approached three miles.

The view outside suddenly switched. Oscar jumped in his seat. They were floating a hundred yards above the ground at the head of a long valley. Blue-green grass rippled away for miles on every side, lapping against woodlands that spilled out of the dips in the valley walls. There were houses all around them, built from wood and stone, blending nicely with the environment, like a medieval village back on Earth but on a much grander scale.

"You live here?" Oscar asked.

"Yes."

"I'm envious."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

The capsule touched down outside one of the stone houses, a long building with age-blackened wood beams protruding from beneath a slate roof. A balcony ran along one side. Big windows were open, showing a glimpse of a very modern interior. The grass swept right up to the walls, emphasizing the impression of natural harmony.

Oscar stepped out wearily. The gaiafield was resonating with a warm subtle joy, wrapping him in a daydream of a child being swept up in its mother's arms, the comfort and security of being home.

It was a welcome emanating from the people hurrying across the land to greet him. They came out of nearby houses or simply teleported in, popping into existence to enlarge the crowd. Then the horses appeared, a whole cavalry squad riding up over a nearby ridge dressed in dark uniforms that trailed gold and scarlet heraldic streamers behind their shoulders. The horses were clad in metal mesh, with hems of gold tassels brushing the tips of the grass. He stared at the giant fearsome beasts with their metal-clad horns and sharp tusks, memories stirring.

"I've seen one of those before," he exclaimed excitedly. "On our drive to the mountains. A Charlemagne. Somebody guided us."

"Yes," Tomansio said. "We still train to fight on them, but we've never actually ridden them into battle since the planet's revenge. It's all ceremonial now, part of our skill set. The riders are here to honor your arrival, as do the king eagles." He gestured upward.

Oscar just managed not to flinch; he did gasp, though. A flock of giant avian creatures swirled overhead. Resembling the petrosaurs of Earth's dinosaur era, they had been created by the Barsoomians as part of their quest for genetic expansion. Each one had a rider dressed in long flowing robes that fluttered behind him. They waved as they passed overhead, turning and twisting with amazing finesse. Oscar grinned unashamedly at their acrobatic antics. Surely those riders had to be strapped on?

Tomansio cleared his throat discreetly. "Perhaps a few words," he whispered into Oscar's ear.

Oscar had been so entranced by the king eagles, he hadn't noticed how many people were gathered in front of him. He gazed across them, slightly unnerved by their appearance. It was as if some kind of athletic squad had turned out to see him. Without fail they were tall; the men were handsome, the women beautiful, and all of them hugely fit. Even the smiling, eager children were healthy specimens. He couldn't help thinking of H. G. Wells's particular vision of the future from The Time Machine. Here in their protected edenistic garden, the Knights Guardians were like the Eloi, but with muscles and attitude. Heaven help the Morlock who wondered into this valley.

Oscar drew a breath, really trying not to think about the media briefings he had had to give while he was in the navy. "I haven't been to Far Away for a very long time. Too long, actually. You have made it a thrilling world, a world respected across the Commonwealth. For that I thank you, as I do for this welcome."

The applause was heartfelt enough. Oscar bobbed his head, smiling at the earnest faces. He was hugely relieved when Tomansio ushered him into the house.

The reception room was clad in what looked like translucent white fabric that emitted a mild glow. There were strange deep folds in the walls that hinted at parallel compartments. Aspects of the T-sphere, Oscar guessed. The furniture was solid enough, as was the little shrine that rested on a broad ancient wood table at the far end. Oscar slowed to a halt as he stared at the black-shrouded holographic portrait with its single candle burning underneath. The Cat's prim face returned her best enigmatic smile.

"For every yin, a yang," Oscar murmured grimly. He should have known. The valley had been too idyllic.

Tomansio came up to stand beside him. "You knew her, didn't you? You actually spoke to her as you traveled to Far Away."

"We spent a day together on a Carbon Goose flying across Half Way. I wouldn't say I knew her well."

"How I envy you that day. Did she frighten you?"

"I was wary of her. We all were. Perhaps you should be."

"I would not be frightened. I would be honored."

"She is evil."

"Of course she is. But she is also noble. She showed us the way; she gave the Guardians of Selfhood purpose once more. She was the one who brought us together with the Barsoomians. After the Starflyer was destroyed, after you helped kill it, Oscar, there was nothing left for our ancestors. Bradley Johansson originally built us out of the ruin of enslavement. He forged us into warrior tribes to fight the greatest battle humans had ever known, the battle to save our entire species. And when it was over, he was dead, and we were lost, doomed to wither away as a dwindling band of old soldiers without a cause. An anachronistic embarrassment as Far Away was 'civilized' by the Commonwealth."

"Soldiers always have to hang up their weapons in the end."

"You don't understand. It was our ethos she rescued. She showed us that strength is a virtue, a blessing. It is our evolution and should not be denied the way the liberals of the Commonwealth do, treating it as if it were some ignominious part of us to be always denied. If we had not been strong, if Bradley had not remained steadfast, the Commonwealth would have died on the same day you did, Oscar. If the Barsoomians hadn't maintained their clarity, today's humans would be emaciated short-lived creatures." He smiled at the portrait. "One of us had strength; the other, purpose. She saw them both and combined them into a single bold principle; she gave us a vision we can remain forever true to. There is no shame in strength, Oscar."

"I know," Oscar said reluctantly. "That's why I'm here."

"I had hoped that. You said you needed help."

"I do." He paused. "What if it goes against your ideology?"

Tomansio laughed. "We don't have one, Oscar. That's the point of the Knights Guardian movement. We follow one creed: strength. That is what we want to impart to humanity as it grows and diversifies. It is the most basic evolutionary tenet. Those sections of humanity that embrace it will survive; it's as simple as that. We are nature as raw as it can get. The fact that we are perceived as nothing other than mercenaries is not our problem. When we are hired to perform a job, we do it thoroughly."

"I need subtlety for this. At least to begin with."

"We can do subtle, Oscar. Covert operations are one of our specialties. We embrace all forms of human endeavor apart from the blatantly wicked or stupid. For instance, we won't perform a heist for you. The Knights Guardians take their oath of honor very seriously."

Oscar almost started to ask about the Cat and what she used to do but decided against it. "I have to find someone and then extend them an offer of protection."

"That sounds very worthy. Who is it?"

"The Second Dreamer."

For the first time since they had met, Oscar witnessed Tomansio losing his reserve. "No shit?" The Knights Guardian started to laugh. "Twelve hundred years without you, and now you bring us this. Oscar, you were almost worth the wait. The Second Dreamer himself!" He suddenly sobered. "I won't ask why, but thank you from the bottom of my simple heart for coming to us."

"The why is actually very simple. There are too many people who wish to influence him. If he does choose to emerge from the shadows, he should be free to make his own choice."

"To go to the Void or not, to possibly trigger the end of the galaxy in pursuit of our race's fate-or not. What a grail to guard, Oscar. What a challenge."

"I take it that's a yes."

"My team will be ready to leave in less than an hour."

"Will you be leading them?"

"What do you think?"

"I was so sure!" Araminta exclaimed. "She was this mild scatty little thing. She did everything he told her to, and I do mean everything."

"Face it, darling. At the time you weren't in any position to be the perfect observer," Cressida said archly.

"But it was the way she did it. You don't understand. She was eager. Obedient. Like the other ones. I think. Shit. Do you think he was lying to me? Maybe she is profiled and he told her to always give that answer." Araminta made an effort to calm down. Alcohol was a good suppressant. She tipped the wine bottle over her glass. There was none left. "Damn!"

Cressida signaled the smart-suited waiter. "Quite an offer, though."

"Yeah. What is it about men? Why are they all complete shits? I mean, what kind of mentality does that? Those women are slaves."

"I know."

The waiter brought another bottle over and flipped the seal. "The gentleman over there has asked if he can pay for it."

Araminta and Cressida looked across toward the giant floor-to-ceiling window, which gave them a stunning view out across the luminous glow of the nighttime city. The bar was on the thirty-fifth floor of the Salamartin Hotel tower and attracted a lot of tourist types who thought nothing of paying the absurd bar prices. Every room in the hotel was taken by Living Dream followers, which was why the lobby was besieged by protesters. Araminta had forced her way through the angry chanting mob to plead with the doorman to let her in. She had been frightened; there was a strong threat of violence building up on the street. Cressida of course had the authorization code to land her capsule on the executive rooftop pad.

The man smiling at them from a table in front of the window was dressed in natural fabric clothes styled as only a Makkathran resident would wear.

"No," Araminta and Cressida chorused.

The waiter smiled, understanding, and started pouring.

Araminta watched morosely as her glass was filled. "Do you think I should go to the police?"

"No," Cressida said emphatically. "You do not go down that road, not ever. He sat you next to the Prime Minister at dinner, for Ozzie's sake. You know how powerful he is. Besides which, no police force on the planet would investigate him, and even if they did, they'd never be able to prove anything. Those girls-if you were right, and I'm not saying you're not-wouldn't ever be found, let alone analyzed to see if their brains were wired up illegally. Forget it."

"How about the Commonwealth government? Don't they have some kind of crime agency?"

"The Intersolar Serious Crimes Directorate. So you take a trip to their local office, which is probably on Ellezelin, and you walk in and say you think some of his wives might be psychoneural profiled because of how they behaved while you were all having sex together, an orgy during which, incidentally, your macrocellular clusters were running a sexual narcotic program."