I was seated and waiting in a brightly lit, large room. There was no single source of the light. It just seemed to effervesce from the nearly unperceived motion of the vibrating walls and ceiling. The rows of empty seats flickered in unison as various energy particles passed into the room from the inner core. The walls around me were a projection of structures like most buildings these days. I sat and patiently waited on furniture made of forces, not of materials.

Beyond the ceiling high, blurred doors leading to the core and connected labs, I could hear the heavy consistent purring of equipment. The sound was reassuring.

"Your next," mumbled the short, balding man in a freshly pressed smock, as his body half passed through the static entry. Tucked under his right arm was a thin medical status pad. I was sure that it connected to the facility.

As I arose and looked back, his stares beyond me were puzzling, as if he expected additional patients. I saw no one. Coming closer, it became clear that my first impressions were mistaken; he was generic, a robotic technician. His stares were to be taken for granted. Staffing policies must have changed significantly since my last mission and long-term frozen suspension. I had a lot to catch up on.

"Please dress in this robe once you have removed all of your clothing except your underwear. Then just read the instructions on the shelf," said the near-human voice with a badge of authority.

"You can put your valuables in this security bag…"

The generic handed me a soft pouch with a DNA-touch-lock plus simple code.

"…But! Don’t! Forget your ‘pass-code’ or you’ll end up in lab G9 for an 8hl77 brain scan. I see from your chart that you only have the old 14X3E84 modules. That will ruin both of our schedules.

"Now, down there to booth 22, on the right. You’ll see the number on the door…and please close it behind you." The generic retracted his finger without looking at me again, turned and walked away.

I followed the directions. There were several doors. As I progressed, I thought about a picture from one of my frequent visits to Museum Central on Earth. In the image there was a similar line of doors at an ancient primary school. The stories and pictures in that leafy luggage made me wish that I could somehow revert to a simpler life. Those documents were neatly assembled in a distribution device called a ‘magazine’ named ‘Our Days’. Later, when I had told friends, they had only laughed at the title and such primitive means of organizing and storing information. We were amazed at how anyone could find or deal with any serious issues, facts, or emergencies in those times.

Upon entering the cubical, I disrobed and glanced at the mirrors covering all of the walls except for the side with the security box displaying instructions and the clothing depositor. My feet were cool but not uncomfortable against the highly polished vibrating, synthetic-metal floors.

Folding the garment, I placing it on top of my CORP boots. Other items were fitted into the security bag, which was sealed. The lid closed after observing that I was ready and issued the statement:

"Thank you, Commander H. Starksson. Your property will be safe with me. Good luck on your operation."

"Thank you." I responded not knowing why.

Looking intently into the mirrors, I could easily see that it was time for a change. Probably the thought they wanted one to draw.

I felt my weak knee and the bulge behind; the varicose veins over my calf were larger than normal. Standing upright again and feeling my neck, the ugly bump was more sensitive than usual. That protruding bone and battle scar had bothered me for more than a half-sector before the last ‘long sleep’, my 5th suspension.

‘Bumps’ and scars were risks of the trade. The list didn’t stop there, but thinking about such things was a waste of time and I hated to start a new mission with a negative mind. I convinced myself that those minor nicks of life would soon be resolved.

As soon as I dismissed the physical concerns, dim images of my past began rolling through my thoughts. It started with my mother’s caring face, then the first time I had learned to balance a terracycle, my father lifting me at the circus, graduation day from Tec-8, the view from the dock of my first mission. Many high points began to leap and dance in a fast-forward race to an unknown destination. My head was an image processor spinning unchecked and if I hadn’t known better the situation would have forced the anxiety of another brush with death.

I felt weak and unbalanced. Where could I sit? There were no stools, no platforms. I tried the door; it was sealed. . .no, not a shock…the handle made a handy crutch. I wondered how they prevented one from falling. I was passing as I had been briefed.

In those few nano-nano-sectors, I asked myself how I would change in the end? It is one thing to be told and another to have the changes.

A woman’s soft voice from somewhere inside me said, "you will be happy, healthy, and our people will be proud of you."

***

When I awoke, my feet were nearly in the same position. It was the same booth as the details in the floor looked familiar and my clothing laid as it was left.

"Welcome. I see that you have been prepared." Said the voice in the shelf.

I made no reply. What was the use?

The puffy veins were gone, fixed. Lifting my right knee, twisting and bending it, there was no pain. Then turning the head, I viewed my neck. The skin was flat and I experienced no discomfort from the movement.

Much more had become apparent; my mind was as clear as the view from Zpek, across the dry planes of Taran and a view of its many fine mound-cities on a rare cloudless day. Any confused ideas or concerns that might have haunted me had disappeared. I felt rested, relieved, reassured, stronger, and even younger. My rearrangement was finished.

As I dressed there was a light rap at the door.

It peeked in as I was still dressing.

"May I come in for a few nano-secs?" Asked a small, human, a blond female dressed in a white lab smock.

The door opened wider not awaiting the answer. The pushy blue-eyed lady was clutching her data pad firmly. Her right hand was white and she held it hard against her chest. A nice looking female of younger age was in front of me, but she had the superior-critical eye of an inspector.

"Why of course, if you don’t mind watching me dress." I replied and wondered why she had rushed over my answer at the door. I thought my mobilization was after training, not immediately and my gut felt uncomfortable; something must have triggered an urgency.

"No, that won’t bother me at all, if it doesn’t bother you. In fact, I was by your side during the eight surgeries and have been assigned here. Assigned to you…"

I looked up with questions on my face.

"…as an instructor. You have a lot to review. But, for now, you and your things were transported to Zigrad-16 and back again after the operations. Everything in this room is way you left it, except for you, of course."

She loosened her grimace and lowered her pad as if she were pleased about the medical work and her part in the event.

I started to feel uneasy again. That had not been explained to me before, that I would be followed around.

"So, you know all about me but I know very little… other than a serious mission is available?" I probed.

"I know, Commander Starksson, that you are healthy and that your body will need to be reviewed again after 100 sectors, unless, of course, you are injured during a training task or the survey." She stiffened her lips and looked down again.

"Oh, you know about all of it?" I quickly responded attempting to collect additional facts about the reasons that CORP had returned me to duty after such a long hibernation.

"Yes, I have your whole profile here. In fact you can also read anything you like about your records and our medical up-date in your own mind modules or you can borrow my pad later during the transfer to our newest base." She replied, evading my implications and inferring that she had only historical documents to offer.

"I think I can dress for the moment. What’s your name?"

"Alma, your mission resource point, bureaucratic guide, medical officer and newest trainer!" Alma protruded her hand and improved her serious face with a smile.

Her delicate surrender was quickly withdrawn and she assumed the roll of a manager as the handshake firmed. I placed the contents of my personal things into the belted pouch on my uniform.

"I suppose you know mine is just, Heh?"

"Yes, Heh."

"What has CORP done to my mind, Alma. It seems clearer than ever?"

"We performed a retexturization and a modulation series. That is, replanting cells in some areas and a removal of ‘over-loaded’ memory in others. Plus, you have the recent standard module updates."

"Have I lost much of my past?" I attempted to suppress any signs of concern.

"No. Nothing you will miss," she divulged while taking a scan with her remote meter. It looked like a medical device.

"Who decided? About what stays and what goes?" I quarried, keeping an even disposition and suppressing body language. Suddenly, there was a flashback of the insides of the automated surgery tube and a dozen generic arms probing, holding, cutting, drilling different parts of my head and body… all at the same time. It was an unusual internal angle as it came from outside my view. I didn’t understand where or how it had surfaced but brushed it aside as an instant daydream. I was to learn otherwise.

"It’s all done according to strict codes and procedures. You should be happy to know that your memory has been upgraded to a 2c44, which includes full self-containment’s for 10 fields of math and physics, 15 of specific sciences, 8 of communications, 10 of security, and 25 of general application. Those modules are ready on demand once you have been trained. They have replaced your outdated technologies. Your deleted memory can be reviewed after we have started the courses if you like."

"Well, Ya, I guess I’m starting to get impressed with myself. However, I don’t feel that much smarter. How long was I under?" I reeled while noticing that she also had a cute figure to go along with her cute smile and bright mind.

"Does it make a difference?"

"No, I suppose not. I feel fit, younger, and ready to move on."

Her answer was gauged to be tactful and kept my questions in a safe place for the moment. I had further inquiries as to repairs to potential "freezer rot" and updates on current, even old news, friends, estimates on longevity, completed missions…65 sectors worth of information! Also, there must have been a healing period involved but I was not involved in a period of rehabilitation that I knew of.

If nothing else, I had learned patience since being involved with CORP. They had never been unfair with me but things usually took time. Those minor questions could wait. Alma was leading for the moment and I could trust her guidance, nearly accepting the situation.

"As your coach and new advisor, I have been assigned to assist your training in the use of your reconditioned body and mental functions. You have millions of nano-sectors of new educational materials inside you now plus our new muscle fiber technology.

"Many of those modules have been developed during the past 30 sectors. In the area of science alone, you will be able to make repairs to generics, build outposts in solid rock, repair ship damages, calculate coordinates, extract materials from the atmosphere. . ." She recited as if she had read from a text but had suddenly stopped.

"Concerning recent events and the reason for your revival, we will discuss those points on our journey to the training center when I introduce you to your internal tutor."

"Thanks. I'm looking forward to flexing both the muscles and brain again." I said restraining other concerns including a wild thought about the girl. She was a beauty and if I hadn’t been as old as her grandfather and a Centurion looking into the face of a long journey, I would have said more.

"That’s about it for your immediate briefing. We will travel to Radial 9 after lunch. Please follow me to the lounge once you are ready here."

I immediately held back the door for her and we walked away to the nutrition center. I had never had a female trainer or anyone that weighed less then 200 carms. It was a curious combination. I was looking forward to the new life.

***

Some micro-sectors later I was dozing in my passenger seat on our journey to Radial 9. We were riding in the standard CORP, 2-engine skiff. It was the compliment and usually sat in the belly of our 3 y fighters.

"Our arrival is in .022 sectors," Alma said as she turned her seat my way and simultaneously closed her journal. She had been engrossed in an article concerning medical robotics. The three dimensional text and images were sent from the pad to within a short distance of her face where she scrolled to any part of the document by looking into a matrix in the upper left hand corner. I saw her remove and rotate one robotic assembly part several times. Projection and reading space were tracked to follow her head and eyes, changing positions as she moved. I could tell that her pad was linked to distant places, as the image of the part did not follow her view instantly.

"I thought that you might like to access your new internal index and look at the introduction to your upgraded abilities, Heh.

"It all starts there, a self-tutors. We have installed different switches, which are both colored and numbered. In order to access the mind index, for example, the main tutor...just visualize a yellow flower hanging from the mouth of a cow with the number 3 on its hide. The program will start automatically. You can close this by visualizing an exploding palm tree, or it will shut off automatically when your usage has ceased for .00055 sectors."

"I’m impressed, but will any of this give me bad dreams?" I retorted with a half-awakened chuckle.

"No, by design, the security equipment shuts itself off when you are asleep. Don’t worry, we have had 1,300 field representatives with your specification. . . and I have trained 21. None had ever mentioned bad dreams. It was their days that were bothersome," grumbled Alma.

"What did you mean by that, Alma…‘their days’?" I probed her intelligent face wanting more details.

"We will have to discuss your mission plan in lesson k73. For now you need only know that unknown forces seriously threaten us from beyond our physical senses. Your main task will be to track what we believe is their entrance and exits into and out of our universe. . . that is the part you will ultimately play, Heh."

"Oh, thanks, I feel reassured… chasing and tagging spirits. Of course, if I didn’t, I would ask the Centurion Advisors for an equitable contract." I said with a grin.

"You Centurions are all the same. Skeptical, moody, and always out to get a laugh." She was ruffled, but I could also see her concerns.

"I’m sorry. I was out of line. Let me start again. Why was I selected for the assignment?"

"I’m sorry too for my outburst.

"Aside from being a Centurion, your records show that you have been one of our very best men in the field and a survivor. You will need both assets plus what we can give you. If we can count on anyone, it will most certainly be you, Heh."

Alma smoothed her feathers. Mine were already in place. It sounded like the first recruitment speech I ever heard.

She changed to a lighter look in attempt to hide her heated cheeks.

"Anyway, You can’t bargain with me! I’m just a trainer!"

We both smiled.

I had been anticipating a lot of her answers. What was that new mental anticipation in me? It was a handy tool.

She went back to her report and I viewed bright, reddish light through the port as the blackness outside of our shuttle radiated for a moment. I suppose that we had past a nova of some type or even a military exercise. My head and body was relaxed as never before. It was time to dive into the material.

After reviewing the first tutorial sequence and internal testing center, I discovered that I could now remember long lists of things and reassemble the details in anyway I pleased. Statistical evaluations of the combinations were available and automatically pointed me to leads concerning probable courses of action. Often my internal answers were listed with preferred options colored in the order of importance. The most serious advice would be shaded in red, next significant in orange and least in pale yellow.

One problem that I asked my internal math center to solve was the calculation of the mean distance between all of the CORP outposts in our region. It immediately availed its answer as a ‘blinking’ red top of the ‘colored’ list. The module had calculated 21.1 macro-sektors…that I had thought was a quick response since I had not given any other input. In addition, without asking, the math center had automatically calculated the mean distances between all-regional stars, black holes, major population centers, and fuel resources. Those were last on the list and showed that it had ‘talked’ with the adjacent modules to develop references to existing charts, tables, and efficient travel routes…using my location as the center of the universe.

There were flashes and colored lights everywhere in my tutor as I followed reference after reference until I located 'Alma’s place of birth': Earth-America-Phoenix-City3 Hospital. She was also from my home world but from a much later time and different place.

Another stunning realization showed itself during the same tutoring. My mind could now visualize a grid of 9 images that were made in sequence and would automatically evaluate and contrast the differences over any time period I set.

Further, before my previous suspension and retrofit, I could mental access the ships computers, in the ZOG mind configuration by being seated in the pilots position; but now it seemed that most of those same functions had been considerably changed, reduced in size, and were inside my mind modules. It was unclear how much mental contact that I had with the present vessel as I was blocked from access.

Those were lessons to be learned, but I knew their location and had gained some use over the tutor before Alma had finished her article. Reclining in contemplation for I don’t know how long, I decided that my mind was definitely working at a faster pace with a higher result. Would I be able to access the kind of information I need in time to save my ship and others in a critical situation? It was to be seen what courses they would offer could improve on I what I already had available.

Arriving at the docking facility of Radial 9, we were met by the induction security team and scanned for identifications, deviations, and weapons. The buried port was a typical CORP design for secure activity. Our entry funnel into the 50 hanger-comb complex could support one 3 y fighter in and one out. I thought that the conduit was designed too small and could result in a bottle-necks in an evacuation situation, until I learned that Radial 9 was never intended as a tactical post but one that relied only on stealth and secrecy.

Our further destination below was recorded and we were transported to the bubble named Athens 32, escorted by a 4Th generation atomic robot named Zed. His gas beam vehicle followed a maze of security tunnels to the entry of the deep base.

Quickly checking my internal index, I found on the list, 'Athens 32-Dome'…about 25 sources of information. The structure of the dome interested me due to its location, 25 percent of the way to the center of the dead, sintered sun. It took advantage of high-density gravitational fields around the collapsed star and used those walls as deflections to attempted enemy penetrations. The bubble’s diameter was a good evening’s walk from one end to the other and would be a fine place to live, train and meet new associates. Our center had been turned into the main training site for CORP intelligence, the last I was to learn.

My upgraded mind was nearly a birthday gift and I felt that it was a blessing to have so many facts and functions available, just a thought away. The lists of subjects available had exploded into a vast library by the time we reached the front door.

On the other hand, it was also uncomfortable having to share more of my mind. There were now competitions for thoughts in that all had become addictively interesting…easy access to research the old saying 'lost in thought' had taken on a new meaning. I didn’t know how much until later. Nor, at that point had I visited many of my past records to check time periods against content.

As we fell towards Athens 32, I strangely imagined that we were descending into a high security vault with all entrances and exits closing off behind. More questions surfaced about what others had done or would do to me? What was beyond the moment? Those were speculations that kept my crews and I out of trouble, worthy questions. I was in ‘her’ hands for the moment. CORP had been my home for most of my working life and presently their operations covered 3 galaxies with the headquarters in the Andromeda 3rd arm, the sixth planet of the Triperry system. Over those sectors, I had campaigned with hundreds of Centurions and participated in countless rear-guard actions, clean ups, and preventions. Unfortunately, now after such a long suspension, all of my comrades had gone off to other places, were in suspension or had died. It turned out that I had no old associates or friends at the Athens dome.

The three of us exited the small, gray oval looking vehicle and the veil spread into a short dark tube. Its main self-lit gate vibrated in front of us at the end of the hall. In a circle over the portal’s top in simulated metal one could read: ‘Athens 32’, and on a block of near-red sandstone my height with the figure of a Centurion affixed next to the side column, 'Home Of CORP’s Finest.'

"It is too bad that we have had to change our training locations every 6th session; it’s a burden, but necessary." Alma pointed to the cases as we crossed, blending into the door and on to the next hallway.

"What?" I recoiled with a look of surprise.

"Eleven major bases and their planets were destroyed in the past 15 sectors. All of this and much more has happened during your suspension period. Now we are extremely defensive, weakened, basically on the run." She said with a weak sigh.

"I know that I have been out of touch for 65 sectors, but would like to think that Athens 32, this kind of hidden fortress, could survive any manner of attack."

"You are quite good. I see that you already have reviewed important facts of your up-coming education. . .about dome construction, but I can tell you candidly, that we are involved in a deadly guessing game with a superior race, known behind these walls as with the ‘Light People’, the LP.

"We have very little information to work with, nothing in the way of communications let alone an evaluate of any of their strengths/soft points, as our base commander will soon tell you."

I finally knew. CORP had called me into service once again for the oldest game in the heavens. . .hunt and be hunted…hit or be hit. . .and hide, hide, hide until an equilibrium is found. I was returned from my long sleep to be their bird dog, decoy, rabbit, and carrier pigeon depending on the occasion. Thank goodness, rarely a soldier.

I had always served to the best of my abilities and without complaints…but bad hours, bad orders, and bad food were out of the question as I had already contributed in those areas too many times. I had to be an independent scout, on my own. I made this point clear before the changes.

Zed walked us down the last corridor of the reception hall. On both sides were more display cases showing the holographic sculptures of men, women, generics, aliens…some were busts, other Centurions posing in full gear, while others were groups in their distant environments.

"I trained Ila," said Alma as she stopped for a moment and looked into the next to last display with her head slightly lowered. Through the gaps in her hair I could see that her eyes were misting.

"Ila was killed when Athens 24 was imploded. He was my brightest student and had gone on to train many of the other heroes you have witnessed on this walk. We lost his planet, 7 instructors, 18 students plus support domes…100rds of internal security generics and our valuable equipment. . .everything in the blink of an eye…"

Shocked again, I strained to contemplate that amazing event…that there were now forces able to inflict such a powerful result. How could a whole planet be consumed? It was something terribly new to me.

"I’m sorry for your great loss. Our great loss." I consoled her with the near empty phrase, but meant what I had said not knowing how else to help her with the pain.

Disturbing images instantly arose of various defeats, destruction and the lost of team members and whole fleets. Those scars were better left sealed. Why hadn’t CORP removed those painful moments from my memory?

"Athens 24 had only time to call us for help. Their edge-tracker picked up the energy wave coming from outside their galaxy. However, it was massive, the engulfing wave cloud increased in power and rate so rapidly, almost with every breath…no one had a chance to…"

A light cough suppressed her whimper and I interrupted.

"If I press this button, can I get the whole story?"

She nodded in the affirmative but did not look up.

"I would like to review all of these agent files after I’m settled, Alma."

My hand went to her shoulder. She accepted it but quickly regained her composure; we continued through the last security gate.

***

As that final veil closed behind us, I panned across the interior of the dome. It had a striking evening sky. There were forests around the edges blending into the walls. Mountains and a lake were beyond. In the foreground, nine, two-story, pink sandstone-block buildings were situated in the center with their facades pointing our way. The facilities were a replica of a university campus including sports fields, pool, and arena, designed in perfect order. I was elated to see fur trees again even if they were only synthetic ones. The designers had done a fine job. It looked like the home I had once had on Earth where I had once lived and taught classes.

We proceeded to an administration center to meet the base Director, Rampart Nils.

Nils's office was decorated with a strong oak presence, from paneling to furniture; it fit his enduring and practical personality. I had heard of him early in my career when he had obtained the rank of Rampart during the Silian Affair. The campaign concerned saving colonists by driving back the Silians and attempting to retain them in their system.

That bloody war ended in a massive loss of life and property, most of the defenders had lived in loosely held city-states and were mining families. They had not been prepared for a breach of the peace nor for such relentless attacks.

My title was Strategic Advisor. At first, I had tried to negotiate with the defending political leaders to convince them of their better chances through concentrations of populations plus increased firepower. That would have been accomplished by pulling in the smaller groups along with their weaponry. Further, such a strategy would have invoked a deterrent to enemy strikes, as raiders would have been met with serious retribution.

However, each political interest saw their own territory as more important…due to the resources they separately controlled; mining was the reason that they had come to such desolate worlds in the first place. When the families failed to agree, they left themselves open to attack and consequently paid the ultimate price. Those not relocated were annihilated and their property reduced to rubble. I helped man the defenses on Garab with some successes during the last days before the Silians were finally sued for peace.

Most CORP planning was carried out by men like Nils, an excellent leader, tactician and first rate pilot. We might have met if I hadn’t been wounded and removed to Earth for a recovery period.

"Welcome to the program, Heh," said Nils taking my hand in his two with a firm and unpretentious manner. "We have been looking forward to your arrival and your help with our fight. Personally, I wished that it could have been sooner."

"Thank you, Sir." I addressed him in the usual manner. "I understand that CORP only recently found my records and resting place. I will assist you without reservations and in the true spirit of a CORP Centurion."

"Good to have you with us, Heh. I thought that you might say that. You also have my personal thanks for joining us.

"We are on a first name basis in the academy, Alma will update you on protocols.

I concluded that Nils neared retirement. I couldn’t understand at first why he hadn’t taken a suspension, as was the common CORP practice. But, the truth became clearer as my days at the academy continued…he was the only reliable intelligence administrator left after the massive destructions by the LP.

"But, yes, yes, the enemy! Clever and powerful. . .a dangerous combination!" Nils gasped for air as he raised his voice and head simultaneously. He displayed a hard-set chin and walked around to the chart behind his desk. Nil’s eyes looked perplexed and his chin was angry.

"The LP have inflicted massive destructive on our civilization here, here, and here in the last sector. Alma has probably already mentioned that we have lost large populated planets, training centers, and full armies in one sweep of their uncompromising hands…not to even mention our reserve disasters.

"The worst is, Heh, that we can't even get close to them. . .put our hands on them. . .or even accurately identify the race."

"What has caused this? What do you think they want?" I returned and was looking for a reconfirmation of Alma’s earlier statement concerning the ultimate mission.

"Their purpose is 'damn' unclear. Perhaps we have somehow hurt their civilization somehow indirectly in the past. We don’t know. But, I know that these terrible forays have to be stopped before it is too late for our kind, mankind…all that is life to us.

"Do what you have done best in the past, Heh. Get us something to work with and as soon as possible." Nils said maintaining his strongest demeanor.

I responded again that I would help however and wherever I could.

After tea and talking about acquaintances, Alma and I departed for a tour of the complex plus a wardrobe and equipment stop. During the walk we passed several other cadets but I knew none of them, most were much younger. We stopped at the warehouse where I acquired new clothing, boots, a hand weapon, and manuals before being escorted to the assigned quarters.

The briefcase held the weapon but also various dome building missiles, another small container of 3 y console modules, and medical testing straps; most of the tools and systems had been recently developed. I looked at my mind-imbedded-military-module and found that it was a ‘recon-pistol’ with the capability of temporarily slowing down the molecular energy of attackers at short distances. The weapon interfered with the assailant’s personal electrical field; once targeted, an enemy would move at only a third its normal speed giving the operator time to evade or defend. However, I still held a preference for the old CORP neutron rifle; it didn’t negotiate.

Upon our arrival at the flat, the first thing that I noted was its style. Windows, wall coverings, floors and furniture signaled an early neo-Gothic Earth design. I had guessed that the decorators gleaned those facts from my records. During my brief second career and before my third suspension, I had taught art history at the Sorbonne in Paris.

Was all of that lavishness only for comfort? I met my feelings directly on the issue and they reaffirmed that I was most at home in the captain’s chairs of my various ships. The interior wasn’t necessary for me…but it was a message. Perhaps someone wanted me to feel at home, or perhaps they want to give me every reason to call it home, recall my culture, and return when I was far away. I could only speculated but there was something else that nagged.

Beauty, culture, and pleasure were now on a different scale, one that had declined in importance to me. My thinking had definitely taken a turn, undergone some change in basic concepts. I began to wonder if it was due to my age, great amount of suspensions, or caused by CORP alterations. I often thought about that during my free time; it was an internal conflict that I could not equalize nor brush aside. Had friend or foe tampered with those secure and strongly held beliefs? Were they too trivial to keep according to CORP? Had they filled up too much space? Who was responsible? But, how could I recall that I was so entrenched in the needs of culture without my basic memory? It was a paradox. I held my tongue at the time and waited.

After Alma left, I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her sweet voice from the wall monitor brought me to my senses the next morning.

"Good morning, Heh! We thought that it would be beneficial for you to sleep-in this morning. The last micro-sectors were tough on your body even though you don’t and won’t recall much of the surgery."

"I didn’t even recall falling off to sleep." I returned yawning and added, "…think I’ll get a quick shower and shave. Where shall we meet?"

"We can start by testing your muscles. You will find the gym on the monitor dome plan; it’s next to the academy. Just select icon number 4 from the left, that holographic of Mars.

"Wear your gym shorts. Bring along your medical testing straps. Don’t worry about food, we can eat afterward. See you there."

'Zap.' The screen popped and returned black superimposed over it was a 3 dimensional painting of several pyramids surrounded by desert.

Alma met me at the door with greetings and immediate made an assignment.

"Let’s check your reflexes, strength and endurance." She smiled as she strapped the test bands around my arms, legs and head.

"My heart is yours, but the brain will have to cooperate." I didn’t know how much was still possible after such a long suspension. Long term hibernation’s often ended in de-stabilization and death.

She didn’t laugh.

Stretching the arms and legs felt good again. I climbed 10 meters of rope hand-over-hand, did 50 pull-ups on the cross-bar, and five sets of each exercise on the galaxy machine. After half the morning, the arms responded well and did not seem stressed. Alma monitored the numbers on her remote physiology recorder, receiving feeds from nerve reflex triggers, brain functions, blood stats, calcium build up, oxygen-nitrogen intake, heart/pulse rate, skin tension, nerve-lymph-organ numbers, and even the digestion rate. Each of the 20 or so categories was colored differently and the wave diagram looked like modern-art cord from the 20th Century with a few floating numbers included.

After the second rope climb, the biceps registered 99 % strength remaining for a repeat performance and my metabolism was unstressed. The body was still holding together. Best of all, those old, minor, but annoying pains were gone.

Body testosterone, adrenaline, and sugar levels could now be increased or decreased mentally by on my command. All were newly installed helpers designed to aid survival under intense conditions. It was even possible to slow the heart rate enough, and lower the body temperature to auto-hibernate for .5 sector if other conditions were acceptable.

In relation to that, the usual on-ship pharmacy also contained several supplements and replacement chemicals. I was trained in survival medicine before my 34th mission, but now CORP had miniaturized 90% of the medical knowledge available and then loaded those modules into my mind. The ship’s console contained the same modules as a back up.

Being a little bit of a show off, I demonstrated my one-handed pushup. After prone and balancing on my right hand with the body in the air and both feet on the ground, the body was lowered until my chin touched the floor. I quickly extended my operating arm and resumed the starting position. Eric, my dear, deceased father had taught me the trick; it mostly dealt with concentration and balance. Father had been an entertainer in Earth’s surface arenas, had made good money there and enjoyed the sun in his face, wind in his hair, plus the thrills expressed by the audiences. Sorely, I missed both of them. My parents were killed in a tragic transport accident while I was in boarding school.

Mentors had reared me. They had been kind, perseverant and thorough. But, of course, were no replacements for my lost and beloved parents. Many parts of my life had been cold and lonely but I had adapted to loneliness…utility being my answer.

It was a true Herculean feat. Unfortunately, it was the only one that I knew. Still, my father would have been proud of me that day.

After the next exercises, Alma said with wide eyes, looking down at her displays:

"Actually, I’ve never seen anyone perform quite this well after such a complicated surgery and that long a suspension."

"I was in fair shape before. As you know, there were just a few minor injuries and worn areas. It must be those new fibers they installed," came my simple reply and with bated breath, secretly being glad that we had finished.

"You are absolutely right. The first thing we have to do is get you through ’Course 1’…that test usually comes in the 8th period, but from what I’ve seen. . .you could pass, much sooner.

"However, speaking as your coach, I am convinced that one should push their own limits, and therefore I have decided to help you do that by assigning many of the same tasks each morning before breakfast and a second round in the evening, after meditation.

"I predict, Heh, that you will be one of the all time competitors in ‘Course 1’ and be on your mission sooner than we had planned."

"You’re the boss. I’m sure this will be the easiest part." I said confirming her authority.

"You will take with you all that we have to offer, Heh, and need it… plus whatever more you can draw from inside yourself." Her positive voice trailed off with regret.

I was alert to that and many new kinds of emotions such as the suspicion from the port guards, internal anger in Nils…now kindness, remorse, and even regret in Alma.

"Are they all gone, the 1300 agents?" I asked looking deeply into her lovely, blue eyes.

"Perhaps…yes…I’m sorry and sad to say that you are not far from wrong. We are retraining the few of you that were recently discovered in the several high security vaults," she whispered as she peered back into my gray eyes. Alma was wearing a revealing robe. I tried not to notice her dangerous curves.

"Well, that was my conclusion since this is a pretty small training center…that you were getting down to the dregs. Someday I’ll tell you the reason that I was hard to find and had rested on Earth for such a long time. However, all that has changed and I’ll try not to disappoint you.

"Someone has to give it another try." I grunted under my breath.

She removed the medical belts.

At that moment another thought hit me. Could her look of regret be more than just apprehension for my safety? How should I translate those emotions?

I really had to continue to think of her as a trainer, but it was difficult to see around her presence, her mental closeness, and her many attributes. Alma was a bright and attractive young woman of family age. She was nice, open, honest, wise, congenial, friendly, sexy, smart and self-confident in her being. Those were all of the things that mattered in a possible mate.

But, how could I justify a relationship in my line of work, not now or ever again. There was no telling where my mission would lead and even if I knew all of those events in advance, a new relationship could end in tragedy plus the endless torture for the one waiting. She might languish daily always fearful of the news or worse, a loss of contact. We had extreme age differences and secondly, I wouldn't let anyone care for me again, nor could I again care for anyone left behind. Still there was a spark of genuine friendship between us.

Friendships, well, they were shaded in different colors on the broad spectrum of human feelings and relations. Friends had been limited to specific circumstances; they came and went. I knew that reliable and mutually beneficial friendships cemented parties and projects together...but one had to be careful about crossing lines, giving wrong signals, making unconscionable promises, and leaving vulnerable openings. Those mistakes could lead to unsalvageable and disastrous results in a project.

We returned to my flat so that I could clean up and change before lunch.

"When do I get to meet the other trainers and class mates?" I asked as I slipped off my sweaty top and placed it over the exact copy of a Louis XIV, Rococo, high backed chair. "I would like to look into other suspension areas that CORP has tapped for agents."

"In the morning," replied Alma as she gazed at my still partially flexed muscles in a moment of what I considered to be a slight passion.

I made little of her stare since she had seen the worst of me during the operations. I also felt that other thoughts could lead to fires. But, I was wrong for that moment.

"I see that your surgery has healed 100%. I was worried about that and ‘you’ on the third operation when they found 'data-fragments' implanted in your leg!"

"Oh that," our eyes met as I stopped to explain. "It was a shrapnel wound from Garab. Many of their explosives were chip-configured to be able to track the wounded back to their units. In fact, I thought that the surgeons had removed all of it during the emergency operation at the command center."

"We came to the same conclusion. . .finally," returned Alma.

She blushed then stepped forward and knelt to feel the skin where one fragment had entered, pressing lightly with her fingertips. I shifted away and took my towel from the back of the chair.

"We could not break their communications code, at first, Heh, but were able to map the manufacturing location of the nano-components. The materials were traced to the Silian’s system and our surgical team finally found your memory in that area. It almost caused your rejection from the program."

"No, I didn’t know." I said with the break of a smile but again tightened my lips.

"I'd better take that shower now." I said with tension in the language plus the returned thought that CORP probably didn’t have many more choices.

My mind moved quickly to a second thought, that a recall to duty was based upon a LEVEL-9 emergency. Before my last sleep, as I had lain barely conscious and helpless in the destroyed vehicle, I decided that if I were rescued there was no good reason to continue with life. I had seen the best and the worst of it. Suspension was a convenient answer to everything.

Then reality, and Alma surprised me as life had a way of doing!

"Can I wash your back, Heh?" purred Alma arriving at the shower with a heavy blush. She popped her cheek with the index finger making a Champaign cork sound.

"Is that included in my training too?" I was crude and talked out of turn and felt confusion…not expecting a response.

"No, I find you a handsome and a seductive man…attractions that I have never felt before in the opposite sex, Heh!"

A thousand thoughts hit me at once including all kinds of lights, bells and whistles.

I said to myself, ‘Ok, why not, it’s been 65 sectors’.

The conversation stopped then I pulled away her gym-robe as we again looked deeply into each other's eyes. To my astonishment she was already naked under. Alma slowly dropped the robe from her shoulders to the floor.

She had a magnificent form; her skin was unblemished and supple. Her breasts were succulent and pleasing. Glancing down, there were strong and well shaped legs. She was a Venus Di’milo with arms and a Mona Lisa with a much better smile.

The room temperature rose several degrees in just a few nano-secs, as our hands were unleashed. I brought her tenderly to my bed and we made passionate love for the afternoon until falling fast asleep together.

In the evening when she awoke, her long golden hair had intertwined in delicately laced matting across my chest. Alma’s small head was securely tucked into the curve between my upper arm and shoulder. I had watched her sleep for some time; Alma's dreams were restless. She was a young woman with pressures and worries.

"Good morning." She said with a very pleasant smile and an added giggle. "Did you sleep?"

"A little." I responded. "I’m not use to sleeping during non-sleep periods, usually only when it clears the mind. Presently, I have reviewed several sections of the tutor and have some questions queued for you and the instructors."

"It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone." Alma told me with a tender voice. "You, Heh, bring out the best in me and are a wonderful person. I truly enjoy your company and hope that we can have a chance to be close again.

"However, starting tomorrow we must concentrate on the tasks ahead, the training for your journey. I will help you find the answers to all of your questions. CORP needs you in the field as soon as we say that you are ready."

Alma cuddled closer as she played with the hair on my chest. She was a kitten for the moment.

We starred at one another for the longest time, just smiling. There were no words. I had missed the ‘soft’ moments for longer than I wanted to admit.

When the sexy trainer finally arose, she slipped on her robe and walked to the bathroom looking over her cute shoulder. I felt renewed and she knew it.

My internal vigor had been unleashed like a Samurai sword. I felt strong and complete again but those thoughts were dampened as I turned my mind to the testosterone chart and lowered the level while she bathed. If I were ever to be serious about a woman, it could be her. Unfortunately, the timing was poor and I had to let her know that, if she didn’t already.

Alma reminded me too much of my soul mate, my dear departed wife that had died from anxiety many sectors before. How wonderful marriage had been, but how she had grieved when the Briacks captured me. My return to Earth was all too late. When I was finally ransomed and returned 5 sectors later, she was gone, had withered into nothing from tears, fear and desperation. After that agonizing loss, I decided to take my first long suspension before another mission. During that time I had leaned how to hide inside of CORP's vault system. It was simple, only change the name by a few letters.

I confessed that I enjoyed Alma’s presence. My life had been lacking good company between several suspension periods. Then I wondered if the trainers and CORP had access to my thoughts with all the new technology that I had received… and had no idea of where to hide my personality. I didn’t want to show weakness, concern, nor emotional interest…let alone a lasting commitment to a relationship.

"How long will I be in training under this dome?" I called to Alma through the partially transparent door.

"We will constantly measure your strengths," returned Alma with another little giggle. She was being ‘bad’ and it made me feel ‘good’, even intimate.

"But, all jest aside, it really depends on your abilities and attitude towards the program. The instructors will not release you until they feel that you have a high degree of what the Academy has to offer."

"Will I be trained in the usual CORP ways?"

"A lot has changed since your rest." She continued, "You will be trained under several domes on this dead star. Each area has a different way of looking at events and honing skills. Most of the instructors you will see tomorrow are the best remaining educators, each with a plethora of degrees and some of the last ivory towers left in CORP. They are our brain trust.

"On a separate but connected subject," she added, "CORP Central now regulates nearly every action including decisions here on Athens 32."

"The CORP has changed significantly since my last assignment. In that era all was delegated and the instructors held most of their classes in the field. Each person down the chain contributed to the total outcome of important events and the effected were brought instantly and directly into the decision line while an action was on-going." I said while searching my mind for something that I thought that I had retained.

"We were once allowed unlimited information to vote our views and to examine the results of the cooperative decisions concerning actions, from genetic changes to defenses. I’m not disappointed, but somewhat taken back that the decision process has changed from the old ways and is now consolidated. That has signs of irresponsibility. I had truly felt that our civilization was progressing towards the enlightenment of "all" of its citizens and that each gratefully stood ready to perform his or her patriotic duty based on full information concerning cause and effect. There seems to be a new haze on the social and military horizon." I finished and was quiet.

It was a political speech. I thought that it had to be aired but was also gauged for a reaction. She didn’t agree or stumbled, at first. Alma quickly spoke up in the defense of her job, CORP, and the mission program.

"The people of our cultures are suffering now, do not have the capacity nor time to deal with all issues and therefore we revert to the specialists. True, these times are a bit too bureaucratic. However, there is a need to do things this way, such as our need for stealth. We are 'about' running and hiding. Most security information is released, as you have guessed, on a ‘need to know’ basis which is authorized from CORP Central.

"Concerning your program here, Heh, the wisest of our planners have come up with your specialized training and deployment plan. That all starts tomorrow."

I didn’t move from the bed. Alma kissed me good night, showed herself the door, and left my mind swimming in questions. What was the new way? The old methods were without ivory towers for 100 rds of sectors. We relied on communications, our machines, honesty and each other. Too much was hidden any other way. Were there other internal forces at play? Were things so bad for CORP that it was scratching for survival, or had it already been defeated? Was a new power center forming out of the ashes of CORP? What was really my part in the plan? Could I trust what I saw and heard? In final analysis, I felt that I could trust Alma, but did she have the whole picture?

I knew that I had to take precautions on how far I extended the neck looking for answers and expressing my thoughts until I could see a full view of my terrain. Even stray thoughts could be dangerous, as I didn’t know my own mind. I concluded that there seemed to be an unbalanced accounting at work.

***

Early the next day, I was dressing when Alma’s lovely face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning, Heh," said my coach with her kind smile and a happy disposition. I slept the best in a long time…thanks to your tender hugs."

"Good morning, Alma. I feel a lot better too, but a little under nourished considering all of those calories that I removed yesterday."

We laughed.

"We can meet at the Academy lecture hall 6d after your exercises and breakfast. It's for the main orientation and I can introduce you. Please come prepared to stand at the podium so everyone will see you and perhaps you can give us a little information about yourself. Attending will be 47 students and 15 instructors plus a few politicians, 2 Generals, and an auditor…check your internal tutor for formats." She abruptly swatted as if time was urgent for her.

"I’ll see what I can assemble and meet you there." I said while checking my bio module index.

"Well, anything that you have to contribute will be fine. Most of those that you will address have optional access to your file. But, you can change that if you wish. See you there after breakfast. Oh! I’ve checked and there are no other Centurions from Earth’s suspension facility here. Bye for now."

"Ya, see you." I repeated automatically wondering what she meant by changing the access to my file.

Immediately turning to a new entry in my internal index and looking for the words "Athens 32, orientation," three possibilities came into view, but nothing was found relating to ‘file access’. I chose the option for ‘introductory speeches’.

There were several formats. One was a template for what I thought the others should hear. A model presentation briefly covering education and assignments plus a little personal history; it seemed perfect as the script was large, scrolled slowly, and was easy to read to an audience.

After insertions, corrections, and a quick review, orally, a few questions were attached about the future of the missions. I wanted to view the leadership opinion and observe their reactions. My intent was to look for divisions in CORP thinking, even divisions among the students.

***

Alma was walking out as I entered the cafeteria and we nodded. She paced with others that moved quickly towards the assembly room. All of those around her looked like instructors with their cumbersome briefcases and note pads; they were involved in a heated conversation. A few words that I picked up were, "caution now… leave it alone…too many sectors away…"

I sat at the small table, alone, and noticed that 20 others dressed like me were at various tables. Strangely, each of us sat at separate tables. I exchanged friendly glances with several but knew none of them.

Accessing my internal tutor, and paging over to the section on "instant-photo", those present were recorded. It was practice. The lens of my eye could now record and my internal module could enlarge those images if I wished to have more details. It would allow 1000 times enlargements and retain acceptable resolution. I also took a combination shot.

Our meal was delicious and included croissants, hot vegetables, a synthetic protein blended into gravy for the hot rolls, and near herb tea. As an alternative, one could order a warm high-energy liquid served in an opaque, ruby-red glass ball. One drank the fluid through a long tube placed into a small hole at the top. I had lived on such chemicals for entire missions and was glad to have real food again, in particular, tea. It was a vital chemical used daily to start my energy systems and it reminded me of where I came from.

As I walked out of the room, two followed.

"Hi, my name is Heh. Are you both going to 6d?" I asked.

"Greetings, Wig here. . .have just come in from CORP Central and will lecture in 6d," replied the man on my right.

"Hi, I’m Brita and this is my first day," said the woman. We shook hands and walked with one another.

"How are things in the field?" I asked Wig and then saw him wince before giving an honest appraisal.

"As you will learn soon, Heh… not good. No, not good at all," was his answer along with a downcast and slowly shaking head. His projection was that of a pending doom. We turned another corner.

"Let me give both of you some good advice. If you get to pick you assignments after graduation, stay away from Stellar 10 Mk. It’s rough out there. I’m the CORP auditor and can tell you that we have had heavy military losses plus an entire scientific expedition disappear. 'All!' agents sent in that directions have failed.

"Get your feet wet some where else," was his last whisper before we arrived at the door.

"Think about what I said." Wig highlighted the statement with bulging eyes and raised eyebrows.

Brita and I took seats at the top of the large, steep classroom nearly half full. Wig walked down to the front and sat behind several trainers. Alma sat in the middle. A few I recognized from the gym and one had been in Alma’s group at the cafeteria. I didn’t know why Wig wanted to warn us, perhaps there were also accounting problems.

A moment later, introductions and speeches started. Elementary training issues were covered, old news, things I had known and things that I had never heard of before were outlined. Our main education was to be in dome construction, communications, operations and maintenance, information gathering, generic relations, and security. The secondary level of studies would be in the integration of the mind modules into various types of foreseeable problems. There would be no time for recreation, except for workouts at the gym. Alma was the first of the various trainers to introduce students. I was her first.

As she stepped back from the podium, she beckoned me with her hand and called, "Heh, could you please step up and let us meet you?"

I walked down and greeted her with a handshake then sent a nod to the audience and proceeded to speak from text in my internal monitor.

"Honorable trainers, staff, distinguished scientists, guests, and fellow students, my name is Commander Heh Starksson. I have been brought back from long term suspension like many of you. We have come here to attempt to find a way to respond to superior, deadly forces that are intent on destroying our kind. It is important that you should know me as a devoted Centurion and a keeper of the peace, but a man that will do any and everything in war to protect our way of life. We are brothers and sisters in this great campaign. My previous missions have included The Ziron Peace Accord, Styrupland 4, The Delta-Alpha Conflict, The Urippides Rescue, The 40-Sector Wars, plus The Silian Affair. In addition, I graduated from Centurion Orion and Centurion Sirius plus later added several CORP training courses. The time I spent as an instructor in CORP security sciences was long ago and much of what I will learn is new. My last service, the Silian Affair…"

"I’m sorry…excuse me, a little pause please." I was interrupted from behind by Alma’s almost quiet statement and a small red glow filled my head.

"I didn’t mention it to you, but your prepared text can be transmitted directly to the audience by giving them your brain access file number; look in the ‘green’ glowing section. I forgot and apologize."

Whispered Alma.

"Is that right?" I exclaimed as a few snickers were heard from the audience…as if I had been less than diligent and failed to prepare for an elementary school lesson.

"Have you read my report?" I asked her.

"Yes, all of it. Very well done…and all will be clear when you find that function in your tutor. It’s ok, Heh, just a limited projection to those that want to read more.

"Now they know who you are, just tell them to see ‘Athens 32 - Heh, 34356 orientation’ text. It’s a lot quicker." She remarked.

Facing the audience again but a bit overwhelmed, I continued.

"I apologize for the delay.

"Talking about new developments…it has just come to my attention that there is yet another amazing feature of my recent brain implants. If you look up 'Athens 32 - Heh, 34356 orientation' text, you will be able to immediately access this speech and my profile…which will save us all valuable time.

"In conclusion, I plan to contribute in my best form to help resolve our present problems with the enemy. Thank you." There was a polite applause. It was later the same for the other cadets after me.

Feeling slightly warm around the collar, more irritated than upset, I turned and shook Alma’s hand again. We exchange perplexed looks and I returned to my seat. I had failed to ask my list of questions due to the surprise.

Alma seemed a bit bored while introducing her other students, but usually smiled my way. Other instructors presented theirs. I recognized none of them.

Thereafter, Wig gave his negative assessment. Rampart Nils made a tactical evaluation based on insufficient data. Other trainers gave highlights of weapon controls, ship operations, tactics, mind modules, dome construction and communications courses. It was just to get it over with and get on to the learning part. The training equipment was mostly automated so it boiled down to the CORP minimum...placing trusted survivors in listening positions. My record showed that I was resilient and the right type.

After cooling off, I checked my recent internal images of the audience. All of the people at the mess hall were in attendance with several new ones around the edges. My tutor module gave a slight flash now and then as several audience members accessed my mind modules. However, there was no information on how to determine their identity. Someone was curious. My internal red glow had disappeared.

Once dismissed and having returned to the flat, I contacted Alma through the room monitor and she agreed to meet me in a short period at the open-air stadium bleachers.

***

"How much of my mind is public?" I grumbled, nearly whining, as I walked up.

"None of it. Nothing, Heh." She pleaded in a defensive manner from her seat on the side of one of the levels.

"We wouldn’t do that to you! You ‘project’ only the material that is not sensitive and which you wish to project, plus minor things such as your profile."

"We! And who are those that wouldn't do it? Did I consent to that in there?" I demanded answers.

"Our science is not newly developed, Heh. CORP has tight controls over its use and development. 'Intervention' is only available during a serious security breach."

She had avoided my question.

"Great! Days!" I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Alma had seen it coming and shifted back from her seated position.

"What happened to privacy for competition, planning, and survival. All of these things are at serious risk here, Alma! Who has done all of this to us?"

"Please calm down, Heh. I now know that my revelation has come as an unintended shock to you and I’m terribly sorry for that. I failed to explain it before, but we have been living with brain access all of our lives. It was developed just after your suspension and made from an adaptation of the first implants used with the ship control systems. We are use to it.

"Consent is still the key feature here. One can send or pick up messages once authorized to use the IMC and its automated features. It improves our communications immensely. Our automated doctors know when you have to go in for a problem and sends you a little internal note. It doesn’t get much worse than that." Alma attempted to play down the seriousness of the matter. She tried to lighten the air with a smile of understanding. However, I saw between her words, placation and mannerisms. She was holding back.

"I can’t find any of this possible nor even logical," was my retort. "I need my mind. It-is-my-private-work-space! I need it to myself!"

"Trust me, Heh, ‘I’ wouldn’t do anything to hurt you." She begged with honesty in her voice and mannerisms. "The brain communicators and tracers are only good at short distances…’Generally’ used on a voluntary basis, like you experienced at our orientation."

"Then, tell me, Alma?" I asked still in turmoil. "Can I disable the connection?"

"Yes, of course, if you look at your index under ’Security...Brain Scan’…it will show you that there is no access without a password. Use the code, ‘+0+’, to access that display. Under the list of 10 sections available, you will find ’connection’. When you disable that section by selecting ‘no’, you won’t be able to transmit nor can others come in."

"Well, that’s a relief." I let out a heavy breath. But, after a pause I asked myself if she knew the full system.

"Can we communicate, right now, between our brains?" I asked.

Alma hesitated. I had accidentally hit a major issue.

"Yes, there is the possibility…but we are configured at different levels…and you, Heh, by law can not yet access my level…not until your mission is assigned."

"But, you can bridge mine as you please!" I responded.

She couldn’t look at me anymore but shook her head in acknowledgment.

"Can you override my action to disconnect?" I flashed.

"Yes! But only in a …! I’m terribly sorry, Heh. I don’t make the rules; I must obey the laws too."

She had tears falling down her crimson cheeks. There were more dripping from her chin. She had the look of a captured traitor with loyalties on both sides of the fence and emotionally caught between the two.

I felt sorry for her forced betrayal and the position that CORP had placed on her. I wiped away several tears with the backside of my index finger, then, decided to let the subject alone for the time being. After all, I could see that she was honest and liked me…and if I played the notes right, I could get a tune. There wasn't much use in protesting; there wasn’t much I could do about it anyway. Times had changed like everything changes. CORP had changed. But, was it an evolution that would benefit, enslave us, or even last a sector?

"It’s ok for now, Alma." I said as my hand went to her waist. "We’re all in this mission together. Anyway, if I can hear you say good night to me without turning on the room display…well, it’s pretty convenient."

The evening was cool by design. An artificial sun sat with a glorious glow like it would have set on Earth after a cloudless, hot summer’s day. CORP’s engineers had created a fantastic environment and I knew less about its capabilities on that day than Alma’s intentions. In the distance one could see fields bracketed by fur forests trailing off into the purple mountains. There were reflections of the landscape in the lake below… trees, mountains, and glaciers. Too bad one could not explore those fine mountains for berries and mushrooms as I enjoyed doing with my family when I was young. Wanderer in the dome would eventually lead to a blended wall and perhaps a bloody nose. I hoped that no such noses would follow the mind blending.

We sat at the arena wrapped in each other’s arms for sometime and were questioned by a passing security generic, K-9, military class. Those were some of the smarter ones that could perform a chase and capture operation in combination with its brothers. They teamed up like a pack of wild dogs as I recalled from a mission where I saw them in action. Their prey would be surrounded and captured by a methodical plan that involved the dogs tightening a circle, a move here and there, until the target was immobilized. Suddenly, I recalled a Roman floor mosaic and knew my mind was not a desert. That recalled memory gave me higher confidence in CORP and my remaining personal memories. I had decided to schedule an exploration of my past soon, bit by bit, to see what remained.

Checking the tutor as we sat in the open environment, it was found that K-9 seemed to have a weakness with timing; they were ‘slow’ and it was sometimes a disability. Each generic was in the habit of checking every possibility thereby opening itself to a loss of momentum. I overcame my impulse to toss a stone into the synthetic bushes to check reflexes and communications, as Alma was despondent. I wanted to let her be.

The artificial due had set while we walked to her flat. She asked me in, if I wanted a cup of ‘herbal rest tea’ and I declined. The excuse was that I had to return to my quarters and prepare for lectures in the morning and I would take her up on it another time. Those statements were almost true.

"Good night Alma and don’t be overly concerned about our conversation. I trust CORP with my life and trust you with my body."

We laughed and she also said good night. We did not kiss.

I stopped at the dome’s entrance on my return. There were only two buttons on each of the display cases; I pressed the red one on Ila’s case.

The commander’s head appeared and started to give a historical lecture on the purpose of the academy. Near the middle of his speech, his head changed slightly, nearly imperceptibly, and the language inflections were also different. That last visual had to be the real man. He was articulate, clever, and caused one to respect him, a true officer. I then wondered if it was Ila or I, being held by Alma during our rendezvous. I couldn’t resort to my technical list for an answer.

Pressing the blue button, Ila faded and a new image appeared in the display. The three-dimensional scene looked like a command room, but not of a configuration that I had noted before. People were running between panels, strapping themselves into safety pits, yelling out commands… yes, it was Ila. The image broke off abruptly. At the very last moment, I noticed an unusual event with my new focusing abilities. It was clear to me that the people were gone from the command room before the connection broke! I made an internal photo sequence of that strange discovery for later analysis.

Walking back to my quarters there were more questions than ever. What had really happened? Was there an implosion, explosion, or vaporization? Why did the staff disappear? What other records and researches existed on the event? What kind of weapon could wipe away a whole operations facility, an entire Earth class planet?

A new red glow had started to lightly pulsate near my left temple and it had now caught my full attention as its ruby color had incrementally gained in intensity. Switching my internal view over to tutor a reference was found just as I walked into my flat.

‘M3S Brain glow – glowing light at temple (several colors noted). . .red’. After following the instructions and path, I came to my Internal Message Center (IMC). When I opened that area, Alma’s face appeared in bust form and said, "Good night Heh. I love ‘you’," then faded.

She was as sweet as she was beautiful. I admired her determination to keep me healthy, happy and fit. How could I be angry? It wasn’t her doing; it was the way that CORP had developed. They had made it all too easy for others to jump in and out of the mind, any mind.

That night, I researched the internal mind modules and the room wall monitors until near sunrise for information related to the Ila event; there was nothing but general information. With an absence of those records, I concluded that the event was still subject to investigation or other security concerns.

The next day, returning from the gym, and before breakfast, Alma and I met on a cross-path.

"Thanks for the good night message." I said with a wink.

"My pleasure. I’m still attracted to you, Heh, 'only you'." She said with exuberance.

"That sounds fine and, by the way, are you assigned to monitor my thoughts day and night?" I bit my lip, still somewhat peeved by the invasions of privacy.

"No! Not at all!" She startled and then calmed as quickly.

"As your trainer and now your intimate friend I am concerned about your health and progress. I am the only one with direct access. Your internal bio systems are checked on a random schedule to see if anything is blocking your progress and if I can help. The red glow will let you know that I have been there and my message tells you when and why."

"My tutor indicated that I can leave a message for you, Alma. Is that a change of policy? Do you have a red glow too?" I asked curiously.

"No, Honey. I am not as wild as you think! CORP has upgraded all of the students to red glows to have direct access to their support teams."

We bantered with mixed smiles.

"But, seriously, since my system is set at a higher level, I will have a yellow glow."

She then pressed her hand against my forearm, "All of this will be clear, soon. Don’t be too concerned. Nothing harmful will come of it."

"Can you read my thoughts?" I asked in a more serious tone.

"No, not everything…only the things that I have mentioned," Alma replied with a small inflection in her tone.

"So now I must explain. I've just asked you, internally, about a swim date at the lake?" I said attempting to check the extent of her probes.

"Heh, you are so romantic, but I have sad news. The lake in the distance is only a shallow pond with a connected mirage…However, I have a Jacuzzi! You are welcome about 8ish."

We said good bye and I went to clean up before classes.

On the way back, I thought about the possible combinations of messages, and decided that she must have had an amazing quantity of communications to deal with…her other students, instructor, administrators, advisors, doctors, conferences, her public duties, plus CORP security concerns. Those were too many to keep me on even keel and I was glad that my IMC had not been fully operational. Secondly, I came to the conclusion that personal thoughts were probably not open to all; if so, no person would survive very long if devious and misguided hands wanted to take control. Humans make mistakes and those would lead to opportunities for extortion…based on probes for private information. I felt that CORP had to be an honest organization to its own, as I had not known it otherwise. The organization had not been unfaithful to me and I concluded that it was my job to support it.

We met in the evening after my second workout and enjoyed each other's company. After soaking, splashing, and then washing each other in the Jacuzzi, we relaxed to talk about our childhood days, our interests, Earth-wine, and had a cozy evening.

That night we promised to become more disciplined so our meetings wouldn’t interfere with my courses. I think that I did most of the promising.

***

Thereafter, a relationship desert appeared and during the following training period I saw her only twice at the gym. But in all fairness, she never failed to send daily messages; those awaited at my IMC each night, lots of care notes and a few hot ones. She would answer my questions but skirted issues of our meetings.

We were both busy and my progress had accelerated so that she felt I was ready for the 8th period ‘Course 1’ at the end of my 2nd period. Alma asked to meet me at an exam dome called London 3 for the trial run and we agreed upon the day and time.

I was ushered there by an M-20 generic. He was very conversational and wished to know about Earth and why I had left. I answered most of his questions. That robot was almost too friendly and even asked if I played mental chess. He went on and on, saying that he could be assigned access to my mind if we were in a good location for the communications. I declined, thanked him and said that I had to presently reserve my strength for classes and testing but we could compete in the future...I would let him know about the arrangements. That time came and those later matches proved to be mentally crushing, as I never won a game. Finally, I quit saying that I was sorry. He understood that humans had a problem with concentration and memory. We agreed to meet later to discuss art history. M-20 proved to be the future subtle, standard part of my generics-relation course. The whole point was that it was now possible to become friends with them in various ways. I passed the course but still considered the generics as machines to be exploited and sacrificed in place of humans. The robots probably felt that my attitude was a typical type of discrimination.

"Welcome, Heh," said Alma in a good mood. "Here is a map of the exam route. You should be able to finish before dinner.

"Instructions are at each of the 18 problem platforms. So, if you don’t have questions, you can start over by that tunnel. Your IMC has been activated and you have a red-glow status. I presume that you can find most subjects in your internal tutor?" She quickly finished and then continued to look at her status pad.

"Well, that’s right. . .but is it’s not right too. If you like me why do you avoid me so much?" I asked smiling while stretching.

"You’re a funny guy, Heh. I appreciate that in you…but let’s see how well you can do here before we get emotions tied into this. You’ll be on a timer as soon as you start."

She pointed to the display on her pad and I set my internal clock to match. Alma was all business. We grinned and I turned towards the opening.

"Good luck!" I heard behind me as I stepped into the dark entrance and on to the platform. A green holographic guide appeared. It was a third my size and dressed in helmet plus plast-metal armor.

As the lights increased in intensity, in front of me was a room with a full sized uni-ship…a bit shot up. The guide said that I had landed on an alien planet with adaptable life support conditions. A thruster had been broken off my vehicle and was lying on the ground. I had no tools, no weapons, and my ship’s communicators had also been damaged by enemy fire. Three alien pirate crafts were approaching for a ‘clean up’.

What should I do?

After searching my tutor and finding nothing, I placed a quick IMC message to Alma. An immediate red glow came back with her face in the center saying, "Congratulations. Proceed."

‘Check in’ was the right answer. I suppose it was to see if I knew the location and functions of the IMC; perhaps, in addition, for CORP to have a record of the dead pilot’s last position.

I continued to the next platform.

At that place I found a pile of large, heavy blocks partially concealing a weapon. I was to remove the pile, recover the weapon, and fire at advancing targets. That was simple and completed in considerably less than the average time.

On the next platform there were 4 fuel pods that had to be loaded into the engine of a 3 y class craft; the ship was to be powered up and lifted off the ground. I also completed that assignment effortlessly.

It became an arcade of tasks requiring minor amounts of concentration and little strength. I finished the route in about half the average time.

Coming up to Alma’s bench a little disappointed in the challenges, I asked, "Do you think that any of this really applies to what I will be doing?"

"No! Not much," Alma answered showing me her irresistible smile, being obviously happy with the results.

"This has little to do with anything in the actual mission. We are just hoping to build up your reflexes and confidence. Those will be your ultimate tools when you need them. You have done nicely and are now certified in Course I. Congratulations!" She glowed.

Alma seemed pleased when I extended my hand to pull her to her feet. However, we did not embrace. We kept our professional distance, but the closeness exchanged by our glances made up for other things. We dined together and parted as Alma had an another meeting to attend. I waited for a monitor signal or IMC message at my abode but it wasn’t to find me until late. The message was the usual good night sequence.

In 3 more periods, half of the remaining training was completed. I had progressed through 2 more fitness courses and was doing fine with the lectures and practices. Student and coach had spent a few nights together, usually after a successful milestone. We read poetry, discussing my internal tutor, talked about our pasts and listening to music.

We knew each other well and I started to feel that I had put my foot across the line, that we had become more than friends. But, suddenly, Alma again showed less interest. The impression she projected was her demanding responsibilities at the academy. Then too, my training would be over soon and final packing had become intensive; I would depart on assignment for an undetermined period after 2 more classes.

I had slipped into a dreadful fear concerning Alma. Further, I really didn’t know how deeply she cared for me. That was always a mystery between friends and couples. Both of us avoided broaching the subject during our infrequent conversations; I guess it was in respect to each other’s feelings. Our body contact had dropped to zero during the last training periods as we were constantly reminded of our fates.

However, looking back, the worst and best had happened. Alma and I had become dependent on each other. It was wonderful that we had met at all. We had needed each other’s caring, touching and consolations during the instruction times even though we denied it. A relationship had been forged…welded from our needs and hopes, but was not expressed until the last days before my launch.

My final courses had been in long distance communications, medicine, other internal mind resources (which I now accepted), structural dome engineering, plus ship operations and repair.

The domes, like Athens 32, were to be built by my team with resources that I had available in the ship…used as hideouts, depots, warehouses, and command centers.

During the lectures the class left Radial 9 and practiced ‘planting’ domes on planets in nearby systems. Fundamentally, a dome was created by a dome missile fired at light speeds from a ship into a planet from outside the orbit. If the planet accepted the missile, a hole was created. The interior of the ‘hide-out’ was configured once the ship was positioned inside. A force-generator was deployed in sequence with the ship’s engines

In the last analysis, the most significant part of the program was strong advice: "Have several dome holes ‘ready’ in your areas of operation to be able to jump in and out of them in times of emergencies."

The instructor also called them ’backups’ or ‘mole-holes’.

I learned other cutting-edge science. A useful hand-tool was the Distracter. That simple missile fit under the barrel of our VL9, the long used multi-barreled and durable neutron beam rifle. Its controls were mounted in the rifle butt and the missile could be shot to the side of a ground force. Once operational, it would split up into 10 modules that were planted in the vicinity. Once in position, it made troop, engine and weapon sounds. Those noises were controlled from the stock of the rifle as to quality, duration, type, and volume. Our tests showed that the enemy would often look for the source of the objects.

***

Asked to be assigned to the region where the energy waves had consumed Ila and his base, I wasn’t so sure in final analysis that all of the problems had originated there. Something was amiss at CORP.

Locally, I felt ‘blind-sided’ or even 'miss-lead’ by certain CORP instructors. For example, when I attempted to inquire about CORP’s most recent missions into the Stellar 10 Mk region, one instructor said that such information was beyond the lecture and another that she would discuss the subject at a later date, but their promises were conveniently forgotten.

I took my questions to Rampart Nils. Unfortunately, his replies were shallow and again fell short of clarifying anything important. Nils said that only one individual had survived and signaled infrequently from there. Her name was Bek, an earlier student of Alma’s. But, her communications had conveyed negligible information and had been silent for a long time.

***

After another major LP attack on a regional system, my training was accelerated. The equipment and supplies had been planned for sometime. Most of the days before graduation were spent going over checklists of provisions, spares, packing and re-packing, ordering such items as medicine, test equipment and robotic companions. I had asked for and received 2 mechanics and a 2084 console for the ship’s navigation, recording, dome building, systems operations, and communications functions.

The 3 y was an older but reliable standard-class fighter and I had flown it during the Delta-Alpha conflict. They were tough, improved, and during that period had been the first craft to escape the light barrier, plus return in one piece. My assignment was the only one in the direction of Stellar 10 Mk and there were no refueling points, bases, nor help to be had. If Bek had survived, she would be my contact. However, other than the generics, I was on my own. Everything was to be forward, there was neither possibility nor time to return.

Installed armaments on the ship’s hull were minimal, since other equipment was more important and I would rely on stealth. Instead, the 3 y was fitted with additional fuel and dome construction equipment. The dome missiles had the capability of creating weapons and generics. But, in the ship itself, a smaller version of the neutron-beam cannon, which used 1% of a fuel pod each time it was fired, replaced the standard long distance cannon. The large supply of various dome kits also included CORPs newly designed disguised ports.

Finally the 3 y had been loaded and the 3 companions tested...the two robots and the ship's console. We were cleared and ready. The mission was set, at least that was my thought at the time, ‘to find, survive and report’.

But, could CORP survive the long trip and my hunting time? Could I survive the winter of space? Those thoughts were ever present on my mind before departure.

***

Alma became agitated and fearful for my safety. We had a cozy dinner by candle light in her flat the day of my graduation and discussed my trip, made love, and said our good byes…falling asleep together. But, we were soon awake again under the stress of parting. As we talked restlessly, just a few hours before mobilization, we finally discussed the issue of terminating our relationship.

"You know that it will take me many sectors to arrive in Stellar 10 Mk." I said to Alma as she pulled closer.

"I know. I hope you like old ladies." She replied in jest but then looked like she had been kick in the head by a robotic loader.

"We do have to talk about it." I replied as delicately as possible. "I’ll be in suspension for 75 percent of the trip there and back. We really can’t go on with our relationship even though I would ask you to marry me this moment if we could live and be together."

"I love you too, Heh," said Alma. "And would gladly wait for you."

"I know that in my heart, Alma. I wish that there was another way. Your duty is here to train others to follow. Our people must find a way out, answers to this awful puzzle of destruction. I must do what I can out there."

There was a flow of tears from both of us. We kissed tenderly and just held on, dreading but ready to face a new dawn.

***

I left her apartment early to double check priority lists in the ship’s port departure area on the surface. Alma and the others met me at the ramp just before the launch.

"Thank you very much, Alma, for your guidance during these training days and your good company. It would be better for you if you moved on with your life and forgot about me; try to put things together again with anyone but a Centurion. That’s why they call us that, you know, because we get the 100 sector assignments." It was ugly, a terrible things to say. Why did I do it?

I never wanted another person to hurt for me. I had already lost one wife that way.

We hugged. I said good bye and good bye to the others. Alma stood strong as I turned and moved to the 3 y’s door veil. Giving a departing wave and smile for the last time, I crossed into my new home, possibly forever.

There was a red glow at my temple as I buckled into the suspension ‘vat’, my resting-place for several sectors ahead.

Her lovely face said, "Best wishes to you, Heh. All my thoughts and hopes are yours now and I will always love you." Her image faded; I sent my love in reply.

The plan was to hurl my vehicle at increasing geometric speeds of light into Stellar 10 Mk without the use of engines. I would look like a ball of gamma particles on a pathway to hell to anyone or anything scanning the motion. Life signs and power were minimal due to the cover provided by the suspension vat and the fact that my robots were uncharged. We wanted to come into the target zone unnoticed.

As my coma deepened, I dreamed that my spirit rose above my living tomb. I looked in and saw a strange plant in the bottom. No! It was a green and yellow ‘seed’ that had replaced me. A white, worm like sprout slowly twisted from the end of the seed. Then my vision changed position and the seed became the entire ship. It was definitely being delivered across the universe for planting and upon arrival at the target it landed with a cataclysmic explosion…into fertile soil. A tree grew quickly into a beautiful forest of immense proportions. Hanging by strings attached to the limbs of the trees was small laughing, happy two-dimensional beings. They were displayed in framed squares…billions of them.

I laughed too and hoped with all my heart that the spring would come soon. Those were my last conscious thoughts before I fell into a long, long slumber.

That would have been a good plan if my guidance system hadn’t blurred when our craft clipped the edge of an energy sinkhole. I was swung off course by 32 degrees, about 4 macro-rads out of the way, into the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, the 2084 ship’s controller finally issued an emergency wake up that deactivated my suspension after it understood that it had been damaged. If she had not acted, we could have traveled deeply into one of the greatest voids in the universe and lost all conception of our position and ultimately been without fuel.

Totally without communications and on the wrong side of the universe, it might have been a blessing, but when it happened it was a compounded inconvenience. I had multiple worries about fuel, to find enough Abu deposits, our correct bearings, our mission time deviation, and finally the concerns over the damaged guidance system.

The ship’s maintenance robots were powered up but before setting them on the tasks of inspection and repair, I decided that we should first search out a local system with a planet large enough for the initial dome environment. Since the guidance equipment was accessed from the outside of the 3 y, if the work was performed in a dome, I wouldn’t have to worry about the robots accidentally floating off. Also, a base was necessary for security, to do calculations, and to make other inspections. My highest personal priority was to walk around and exercise a bit plus carry out other duties in a larger area.

Almost immediately a double star system presented itself. The first planet was too close to the two entwined dwarf suns that were shedding high quantities of radiation. I chose the second.

Scanning for life, but recording nothing on the barren rock, I sent in the 2211 mini-missile; its size was no larger than my fist. There was an immediate, minor glow from the surface as expected. The anti-matter dragged and pushed the ground before it burning then expanded its way along the selected vector, forming both the access lens hole and the dome’s basic shell structure. It was a success!

After getting a bite to eat and keeping my 3 y above orbit, I looked again at the heat readouts. The cavern had cooled enough to safely start construction.

We entered the red glowing chamber and I balanced the 3 y into its hovering configuration, switched on the environment creator and waited. The 'fill' had already been pre-selected when I chose the missile. Our home would be glorious with lapping waves, sand, a sun, a moon, and high palms. I had selected the ‘beach environment’.

Actually, the environment creator was a clever invention and was new to me. It worked magic. It took about a full rest period to decorate a dome. The 3 y engines ground, reorganized, and funneled surrounding materials and atmosphere in its anti-matter mixer… spitting out and balancing the results from the back of the ship. All available elements were pulverized in the process and recombined. We would have been pulverized too, in an instant, if the 3 y moved in the wrong direct by less than 5 percent.

Our cave grew and grew with embellishments as the new materials crawled out in every direction, setting itself into pre-selected places.

Due to the small ship size and my mission’s need for quick construction, CORP engineering reduced the volume of the finished domes. The final diameter was much smaller than those on Radial 9, reduced by more than 80 percent.

I benefited by numerous by-products: synthetic protein-chains, minor excess energy and water. Those supplies could be used for food, in weapons, for generic power, or even ship’s fuel. The actual dome construction was almost noiseless with no escaping chemicals; all the different types in my storage were auto-configured. I had only to select the kind. In fact, I had enough assortments on board to build a small country.

Modern dome designs included a priority for instantly constructed port lens-covers and fixed security weapons. Those defensive guns consisted of 2 mini-neutron beams in a small building next to the landing pad and connected to 3 y controls. That was also a reason for arming my ship lightly to start. Moreover, with an Earth like sun and moon, adjustable gravity and atmosphere including an evening breeze, due, various buildings, storage areas, water and other comforts, I was left with little to do but wait for the process to be completed and paradise to announce itself.

Since the developing scientists had based their applications on the interchangeability of matter, we were assured of having our dome 'hide-outs' constructed anywhere in the universe, from any planetary or other heavenly mass that had recognizable materials.

***

Finally, things were looking up. On the first shot we had a lucky hit.

Spending the full work period listening to a low whine of the creators while doing my system checks and starting the generics, I finally decided to have one of them create some music. The one I named Wally was my size, wore a CORP mechanic’s uniform, and had a mechanical looking face; his standard tool kit was pre-molded to his waist.

"What kind of music do you prefer, Heh?" Wally asked. "I suppose you know that we have some pre-programmed pieces from Alma."

"You do! Great! Please play away."

"Ok, Heh. There is also a message attached," stated my new friend.

"Please play both," I replied.

Our favorite Mozart instrumental started and a holographic head of Alma appeared between Wally’s hands. My spring had arrived.

"Hi lover! Thought that you might enjoy a little tenderness to your ears." It was Alma’s kind and beautiful face speaking. She had a curious smile and her hair was perfect.

"I have a few other surprises for you too… you should find them over time. Hope you are well and in good spirits…all my lust to you, your partner, always."

I was dumbfounded and elated at the same moment. My first impulse was to turn the craft around, to cancel everything.

However, our kind, perhaps her life hung in the balance; and, I couldn’t bring myself to think further about the time that had elapsed since. I concentrate on the moment. It was a wake-up call…everything still needed to be managed and I hadn’t even started.

The whirl from the creator came to a stop and I asked the one called Willie to see to our navigational system after the temperature had adjusted.

In the evening, Willie sent me an IMC as he tightened up the engine panels. All was ready for testing.

I stepped past the ship’s door for the first time, down the ramp, and on to a sandy beach. The sun was setting. There was a breeze in my hair. I thought again of Alma, wishing the impossible, that she were at my side to share the first dome. We would have no cares just a setting sun, sand, sea and each other. It was totally illogical but the thought brought me her lovely image, her smile in compensation.

"To let go of the past was to let go of hope," I had decided. Even when I considered the difference in our ages now fluctuating by the nano-sector and even to be switched around by relentless time in the future, I had hope. There was still a bond holding me. But, then I felt depressed, sorry for our situation and myself. Alma must have been lonely too. I saw before me, an entire environment of marvels but I lacked the one person in the universe that really mattered, Alma.

Instead of going over to talk to Willie, I removed my clothing except for the shorts and walked into the shallow ocean. No, a swim wasn’t a substitute or a rationalization. The truth was that I was no god of beach creations. I was a god of prison cells. The lifeless, cold sea brought me to my senses.

After swimming a little, both robots were waiting. As I climbed out at the end of the pier, Willie said:

"We have completed all of our assigned tasks, Heh. What is next?"

"Did you find permanent damage on the guidance system?" I asked.

"All systems are functioning 100%. I changed one part, a frame-adjuster, and feel that the old part can be salvaged after its teardown and rework," answered Wally.

"Ok, thanks, good job. We can test the adjuster after the rest period. You two can go back and power down until I need you again." I said while looking at their footprints in the sand.

"By the way, does the sand cause any difficulty with your pliex or hydraulics?" I asked seeing how it stuck to their feet.

"We do get some particles inside, but it's no real problem as we vacuum that area during our nightly servicing periods," replied Willie.

"If it is too bothersome, please let me know as I can install other environments on future domes." I returned. I spoke while lowering my body to the comfortable ground. Pushing the sand back and forth with my rear, a shallow bed was made. While viewing the tops of the palms with both hands under my head and fingers locked, I fell asleep.

The ‘boys’ were in the ship.

My dreams were fast moving and sleep was light. Alma, then, Meg, my first wife, Garab, Duran, Ila…

…then sounds of a 'shuffle' from across the sand behind me.

I sat up suddenly with wide eyes and a stiffening neck. The generics had shut down. I could see their status on my IMC. What was happening? Was there a security breach that I had missed? Dare I turn or should I jump up and run?

I had no weapons. My muscles tensed but then reflexively shifted from the object standing over me from behind. I grabbed a hand full of sand to toss. Had we been invaded?

"I’ve come to warn you," said the object from behind. "I am a programmed generic from inside the environmental creator."

"I've come to warn you. I'm a programmed generic from inside the environmental creator," said the full size generic…a robotic copy of ‘Alma’ dressed in her work uniform and speaking out to the ocean as if she were a sailor’s wife awaiting her captain. The robot’s voice had a kind voice without the slightest echo; it was different from all of the others.

Alma stood still and repeated the same message; the generic had no other intentions than to find me and to await an interaction. Her face was a purple projection on to a slightly transparent faceplate. Behind the eyes one could see the circuits and modules of the machine. It was Alma’s face but was as lifeless as a ship's running lights.

I quickly stood and walked around her several times to determine the construction, then felt its arm. It was pliex. She didn’t pull back nor even noticed. The replica of the dear woman that I had left behind was cleverly made. I was mystified, elated, bewildered and fascinated at the same moment.

"Please continue." I stated once I realized it was waiting for a response, perhaps my voice as a command to go on.

"Greetings, Heh. Please don’t be shocked; I have the intellect of a house pet.

"I have come to warn you…beware, be careful.

"We live in difficult times. I don’t know where to start, but believe me, this is the only way that I could caution you about your future.

"Let me tell you from the beginning…the beginning for you," continued the generic as it still stood in place not unlike a stiff Roman sculpture.

"A short time after the Silian Affair and during your long suspension, CORP was reorganized as you had suspected. There were many witch-hunts and persecutions. I am sorry to say that Radial 9 is the last base left for our students and I believe now scheduled for deactivation. I have been thinking about taking a suspension too, possibly on Earth near my parent’s home.

"You were very right about the problems of mind control. The politicians have abused the technology to make dirty deals forcing otherwise good people into hiding or to suicide…usually blackmailing those left behind into different kinds of compliance. All of that had been caused by some past error or flaw in an individual's personality. They would have used the Silian information against you too, Heh, if we had not had a publicly known relationship and if I had not adamantly defended your rights. Several of those high level, power hungry individuals were present on the first day of your orientation and did not want to see your mission commence.

"Yes, we have serious problems with the 'Light People' now on your side of the universe. But, we also have serious internal problems. I feel that a few politicians wish to sacrifice all of us for their greedy, private agendas. There is more.

"Someone had planted two viruses on your 3 y to damage your support systems; after extensive and thorough searches those were eradicated by my special team. No others were found. The infections would have caused you major problems. Specifically, one was located in Wally and the other in the ship’s backup files.

"I believe that your destine contact with agent Bek, somewhere in Stellar 10 Mk, will be a great boost to the mission if she is still a viable contact. When Bek was my student, I got to know her; you can trust her to help you. She can assist you in ways that I can not. But, in final analysis, she is not you. Her initial education was along diplomatic lines. Bek can not be a great leader, soldier, better agent or save us. She is a follower, an administrator, and not a starter.

"If you trust in what I say, Heh, your mission is two fold no matter what CORP has told you. Please help us resolve our problems with the ’LP’…and then save us from ourselves.

"This recording was made some micro-sectors before you left.

"I believe in you, Heh. I love you, Heh." Alma was quiet and her copy stood still as it starred out, and beyond the simulated sea.

I pulled the likeness of Alma next to me and held her close from behind. It was Alma's words. It was nearly her body, but her soul was gone. My tears came splashing like water from an open floodgate. It had not been that way since my Meg had died. I cried for Alma, myself, my dead wife, my parents, our people, for all of those whom loved and were left unfulfilled, separated…all of those left behind.

Willie and Wally had heard the commotion and came up to my side like two scared, begging children.

Wally blubbered, "Don’t cry, Heh…we can make you some ice cream. I have a recipe. The creator can do all the work, all sorts of things! What ever you would like, Heh."

Willie jumped in at a higher tempo.

"She’s just a generic attached to this environment. You’ll get to see the real Alma again someday. I’m sure of it."

"We’re sure of it." They said in unison, locking two arms and looking sad at each other but attempting to provide me with some comfort. Later when I thought about it, I was sure that they didn’t want to see their commander go nuts.

After a time, I felt better and kissed Alma's likeness on the neck. Surprisingly, she dropped her head a little.

In a moment of inspiration, I asked the pair, "Can you boys do something to make her really talk and think?"

They looked at each other and then Wally plugged a cable into Willie. After a few nano-sectors Wally said:

"She’ll be more like us, Heh. We can give her a class 3084 personality...it's new, a combination of what Alma has done, the ship’s controller, and us, if you like. We can upgrade her face some too...but it’s not going to happen anytime soon."

"Oh wonderful! Thanks boys. Do it in your spare time. Let’s get her up the ramp and on to the ship now."

"Don’t worry, Hey. You won't be lonely, you have us and besides you will get a new Alma every time we establish a beach environment!"

***

I spent most of the time scanning planets and dead suns for possible fuel sources. Our exploration trips by both 3 y then the skiff had been unproductive. There had been mining activity around the area at one time. I found pits but only small quantities of left over ore.

We had no recognizable stars in the region but I did have a hint due to a few known galaxies. Time was quickly drifting and my main mission was blocked. I thought more and more about Alma.

My 2084 console and robots were of some comfort. The ship’s command and control was the voice of a kind female. She would always ask the right questions and never expect too much. If I was perplexed she would comfort me by saying, "There, there, Heh, things will get better soon." …Or, "If you could take a look at it from a different point of view, your answer might come." …Or, "Time will tell, Heh."

I could nearly visualize Alma talking as the smooth tones of the console attempted to comfort me.

Wally and Willie spent all of their spare time assembling and testing Alma 3084. I think that the real Alma had suggested them for the mission and installed special programs. She knew that they were creative, easy to work with, kind thinking and pleasant to be around...sort of like she was, plus they could do that kind of work too.

The 'boys' would often try to cheer me up by creating music in the evenings or doing some, dancing, or impressions.

Once they made an impression of John Wayne and Bugs Bunny acting out an incredible routine while I sat eating dinner on the beach.

"What’s up Doc?" Bugs Asked.

"Well, little critter, it’s a Marshall on a horse. Have you seen which direction those rustlers with the cows went a few days ago when they passed through here?" asked Wally with arms up holding a wire that was suppose to be reins.

"Ah. Ya. It was 'filthy-dusty' down in my livin' room 2 days ago. There was a spekk-takular kind of ca-ca-motion on my roof that caused the livin' room ceiling to crack and actually be dem-m-molished. It was givin' me a headache, a sneezie nose, besides a throw-away, crrracked ca-ca-chair," said Bugs (Willie) while he continued to chew on something that looked like a carrot.

"So, Mr. Sir. Marshall, if you could see clearly a way to help me replace the ca-ca-chair, I would be more than willin' to point my finger in the appropriate direction."

"Ok tough guy," said Wayne. "You could lose all of your ca-ca-hairs if you don’t see the right side of the law here. . ."

And, they went on and on. I rolled with fits of laughter and slept better on those nights than any time before.

Not only delightful, they were also diligent. They often worked through the nights without requesting comp-maintenance-time.

***

During that early part of the mission, when Wally gave me the first hair cut, we discovered a medium sized planet with intelligent life forms.

Those creatures were simple, friendly but extremely shy. I was finally able to determine through echo translation from Willie that they had been visited before. One of their kind was taken to a distant star and had been recently returned.

Our docile beings were no larger than up to my belt and foraged on fungi types of substances found on their rocks in their deep, darkest valleys. Those happy ones had no shelters and need little else as their planet was warm, calm and dry. Thermal vents heated the surface but left a heavy atmosphere.

Willie called them the "Sho-sho" after the skipping sound they made while talking.

At first, both our portable translator and Willie had difficulty with their word construction until it was discovered that they repeated the same word several times from both mouths before saying the next. We suspected that their system of communication had developed because of the distances and echoes in their canyons. None of our Sho-sho had names; they had not yet invented the concept.

The atmosphere being saturated with pollutants left me no alternative but to use my negative environment suit. Our new friends gained some form of oxygen from their food supply. We always saw a wad of lichen or moss in their mouths. They had unusual bodies and an uncommon breathing system. We scanned several and found 12 to 15 separate fist size lungs in each.

The average one had a large eye located in the center of their large chest and a second in the center of its back; there was no body, just a head with several legs and arms. Below each eye was a mouth. One shorter arm extended from the top of their body. The other 2 were at the sides and adapted for rock climbing; the 3 short legs were for scraping and kicking the food staple off the rock surfaces. Their thick skin was colored brown with bands of tan; the chief could easily keep track of his relatives down in the canyons. It was presumed that they had no predators as no other animals were seen nor were they mentioned.

Wally wondered how they got there and how they lay down without damaging their eyes plus why the visual equipment was so large. The chief explained that they were born there and large eyes were critical to food gathering in the dark reaches; they never rested on their backs. To sleep, normally, the "Sho-sho" would hang over the sides of the cliffs by locking their legs and arms into stable positions on the outcroppings. However, some had experienced falling stones and others had lost their grips, but most died of old age. When there was a death, the body was decorated with fungi and thrown over. Their food resource was located near the cracks in the rocks that kept moisture for long periods and their bodies were designed for the associated tasks of climbing and food gathering.

Perhaps, in a way, they were similar to the Earth apes with minds equivalent to a 3 or 4 year old human child.

After exploring their planet and taking the leader and his close supporters along several rocky ridges in our shuttle, but finding nothing that qualified as fuel nor other Sho-sho relatives, we returned to the first contact point.

I was then introduced to their long distance traveler. The traveler was friendly, more talkative than the leader, and stood on a high stone to point out the star that he had visited. The old and very enthusiastic looking 'Sho-sho' said that the aliens had transported him to their planet and he had gone because they had asked him for help in his own language. He wasn’t sure what help he had rendered or what they had wanted.

He went on to explain that the highly advanced race of abductors were several times my size and each glowed like a bright star. Their light was so intense that it was impossible to know either what they looked like or how they moved. Other Sho-shos were temporarily blinded, but our traveler rarely looked directly at them. He thought that they liked his approach. The small being then pointed to a cluster of rocks and said that their ship was the same size; it also had a brilliant glow. That stony mass was ten times the size of our 3 y. When he told them that he felt ill, the aliens returned him.

Their adventurer then showed us with his jewelry, a blue-metallic bracelet, one he could not remove; it was discovered to be an inactive transmitter.

It proved to me that there were others around within our timeframe. Were the others looking for fuel too, bandits, a military outpost, miners, even scientists? I wasn’t in a hurry to find out.

When we said good bye, I left knives for them to use as scrapers and reflectors. The 'Sho-sho' had never seen their own faces as there were no open sources of water. In fact, they were still passing the knives around and making strange sounds, like laughter, when we departed for the base.

***

Upon arrival, I decided to rest before checking out the next lead. My favorite place to sleep continued to be the beach, listening to the waves and feeling the warm breeze.

It happened again! As I sat up, I discovered Alma standing over me. But, she was different the second time. The ‘boys’ stood at the door of the 3 y and were watching intently.

"Good morning, Heh!" It was Alma speaking in her true voice!

"I don’t mean to disturb you. I am Alma 3084!" She said with a wispy smile and full of facial expressions. "If you have some time, I would like to tell you a little about the new me?"

"I’d be especially honored." I sputtered with great pleasure and curiosity.

"You may be pleased to know that I have come to join your crew and have many new scientific, social, human, and C3 features to offer. These attributes have never before been assembled in our kind. In fact, I consider Wally, Willie, generic 2084, Alma and you, Heh, my parents. . .plus, of course, you are my mission commander…if that suits you?"

"Of course it does. Please continue," was my happy response.

I was impressed and listened as she went on embellishing her capabilities. Her eyes sparkled with gestures to match her words. They were issued from her three-dimensional human like face.

I suppose that I looked a little tired when she asked,

"This is a boring speech, isn’t it? You are welcome to access my IMC for further details! What would you like me to do, Commander?"

I snapped to immediately and almost laughed at a reminder of myself from the first days at the academy. In reply I mumbled, "You are almost her. Fantastic! I thought that you were gone forever, Alma." Then I said, "Please, call me Heh, your mission commander. I am sorry if I have overstepped a social boundary."

"We are both lucky, Heh." She said with kindness and cheer in her voice.

If I had thought to ask her why, she would have probably told me that it was her lucky day too…because it was her birthday and she was happy to be alive.

I waved at the 'boys' to come down and made formal introductions which I didn't have to do but thought it was the proper way to keep crew discipline and morale. Thereafter, turning to Wally and Willie I commended them.

"You two...you two fine friends and clever mechanics are brilliant. Congratulations on your success and for providing a new crewmember!"

"You are welcome, Heh." They returned in unison.

"Thank you, so very much, for making these changes in such a timely manner. This means a lot to the mission and me. You will both have the highest commendations possible recorded on the mission log."

"Thank you again, Heh. We are happy that you are happy again…and best birthday wishes to the both of you!" They said together.

It was my birthday. I had forgotten but still felt good about it. Of course, I didn’t reveal my actual age, because I couldn’t accurately recall it. When looking back, it was surprising to see that well over 60 sectors were spent with CORP plus another 80 in various suspensions. Since different experts had complicated ways to calculate age, I concluded that I had no idea and was glad that the ship had kept the records.

Our new crewmember worked out very well for us. She was immediately assigned navigational responsibilities, communications, housekeeping, and some weapons controls. That took pressure off Wally and Willie releasing them to their usual jobs. As well as being positive and helpful, she was alert, focused and full of creative suggestions. Her given name was ‘Alma-a’ and she often said that she was proud to bear such a close connection to her original benefactor.

Personally, I found Alma-a good therapy; we had long talks. Her appearance and especially her ways were comforting. Besides technical abilities, she had a cultural side; the 3084 had an art history and classical music module in her collection. It was a puzzle to me how these things were developed but I took it at face value. During our off time, the entire crew played quizzes with both words and thoughts. One game between them was called ‘testing circuits’. It was played during their personal time and simply consisted of counting internal switches. They would start at the same moment and count to one million inside their own system. The one to finish first won. I was never told which had the edge, but they often laughed about their close finishes.

Alma-a was very communicative with the ship’s console. They talked every chance they could being more like sisters’ and similar to the way that the ‘boys’ worked in unison as brothers. The teams were natural and exchanged information without my prompting.

***

Following up the lead of the Sho-sho, we took the 3 y to the star indicated but were disappointed to find more abandoned mining operations on the local planets.

I finally decided (by the time of my third haircut) to uncover our communications blackout and try to contact Bek, hoping that she might catch our message and have answers. We sent out encrypted messages on the bands and waited, and waited. No answers came.

Our headquarters was moved to a dead star and we established Base 2. As expected, the creation was a perfect tropical wonder with 100’s of palm trees. Even if most were embossed on the walls, they gave the illusion of a mini-paradise. Again, a new Alma robot arrived and the boys were set upon the business of creating Alma-b.

I was starting to get really spoiled as all O&M tasks were completed in record times. However, there was a negative side and soon the only place for solitude was to swim. The generics were curious and asked many questions but they didn’t follow nor had the capability of being immersed without their support suits. Saying that, they did respect my private time in the sea and never sent an IMC message while I swam. I could exercise or think in the water until I was tired; there were no interruptions.

***

We had nearly given up looking for fuel resources and I had considered a shut down of our mission and long term suspension to the end of our resources. From our searches, it was evident that there had been a systematically depletion of fuel from the region. We were following intelligent beings.

Only one temporary solution existed. Our engines could gain fuel with the sinking of a few new domes and there was still a large supply of dome builders. It was a difficult choice to make the sacrifice but several missiles would keep us going. We had to check those last few possibilities identified on our star maps. Ten more domes were sunk in the same dead sun. We were careful with the extra fuel.

Our trips had mapped, and re-mapped the mineral conditions of dozens of planets without results. Several we had visited more than once.

Again we had traveled home from another empty search, but Alma-a was pointing to a recorded view of activity on the medium range scanner; the globe showed one of our originally explored planets.

She urged, "I think there is a weak sign here, one that we should investigate. That planet is half as large as its own sun and we have some uncommon refraction’s from its magnetic field."

"We know QBB5…25 mountain ranges, 8 frozen oceans, 800 dormant vents, all the minerals that we could ever use but one. . .it was the first tour and the 14 th." I answered as we compared the old survey data on the conventional screen.

"I understand what you are saying, Heh, but we haven’t seen a refraction like this one before," returned Alma-a as she peered at the slowly turning and suspended miniature copy of the planet. Its surfaces and halo were covered with white, flashing geometric symbols.

The new scan had showed the same large iron deposits outlined in glowing red and smaller deposits of useless materials in gold, green and other colors. Also, on the new scan, a faint point of bronze incessantly blinked in a circled, tangent-boarder area of a red outline. At that place sat something that I hadn’t previously noted, something important.

"In addition, we show spent fuel in the atmosphere," I pointed to the next display.

"The exhaust trail is not our configuration!" exclaimed Alma-a in a slightly stressed tone.

"I think you are right! There has been some recent activity on that body. I would say in less than a half sector and after our last visit." I grabbed a breath as the reality of the situation hit me. We were lone sitting ducks if anyone or thing wanted to hunt us, but we couldn’t ignore the possible fuel source and a chance at salvation.

Deciding to take a chance and a closer look, we departed the base after the next rest period and arrived just outside the atmosphere of the pear shaped planet. Our fuel was very low.

"Look at this object," commented Alma-a as we went into a small, concentric orbit. She pointed to the suspected area. We had inspected an empty mine but it now showed definite signs of Abu fuel at a questionable depth.

Another scan was enlarged. The surprise made us more cautious. We had found fuel containers.

"Yes, I agree. We have found something important." Intently focusing on the screen, I continued, "Let’s move in closer to see if we can get some sort of visual."

Even at the lower level, we could see nothing through the flying clouds of sand and debris. Dropping to the level of the mountaintops and just above the surface outlines, we took another high-resolution multi-scan. The results were unmistakable.

"It’s a massive ship, laying on its side…showing disorganized dynamic fields. There are definitely Abu fuel deposits there…scattered in several places inside and outside the hull!" specified Alma-a with an air of confidence.

"I think that we should ‘hail’ it and be ready to expend our last pod in a hasty retreat. Do you agree crew?" I asked in an excited state.

The others, still intently welded to monitor screens, nodded their approvals.

Since Alma-a’s hails were not answered and we had not picked up recent emissions nor targeting efforts, I decided to risk a landing and the investigation. The mystery ship seemed to be a derelict.

After further discussions, we sat down on a dune along the South side the vessel.

***

All of us suited-up and I distributed weapons, but we were immediately knocked back against the wall of the exit chamber and were unable to move to the outer platform.

"Do we have any volunteers?" I asked removing my helmet as the door sealed, the fine-cold dust covered the front of all of us and a pile had blown into the corners of the chamber.

"This is a one person trip." I proposed.

"I’ll go," answered Alma-b without hesitation and went to collect some radiation markers; her communications were placed on full IMC so that we could monitor what she could.

A few moments later we approached the door veil with a new strategy. Alma-b was pushed out and the veil snapped back into place. Once out, unfortunately, she was hurled down the ramp like a hard kicked football but landed ‘soft’ on the freeze-dried dune between the object and us. After adjustments, she gained a low balance on all fours and continued to crawl successfully.

"Are you ok Alma-b?" Alma-a probed.

"A-ok, here." Alma-b shuttered. "It was a bit of a surprise at the door, but I’ve got it under control now."

"We will guide you, Alma-b." I said. "Please stay as low as you can. We will see your movements on the ship’s displays."

Our team was gathered around the consoles and concentrating on a murky, screaming conglomeration of flying debris.

"Per our scan you can make a new vector of 5 degrees left from your present position. It will take you up to the vessel’s propulsion end and the wind should be calmer there," was my instruction. I was holding my breath that we didn’t have to risk a second, rescue mission.

Alma-b scurried by a pile of something, around some larger structures, and over another small dune to the opposite side of the craft. The wind reduced to half speed as she stood for the first time and took a new look while hugging the hull. Our small 3 y literally sat in the shadow of the alien vessel; a third of its mass was buried. It had obviously crashed, had been destroyed by an accident or superior forces while at rested close to the surface.

"Can you find an entrance anywhere, Alma-b?" She had her headlamps on high.

"It would be helpful if I could see more," was her response.

The swirling frozen eddies continued to block most of our views.

"No clues. Nothing yet," she returned.

"Move a bit to your left, please, and look down at the sand. Do you see that long dark object?" I asked.

"Yes, I see it. It looks like, like perhaps a large, melted weapon…it’s buried and frozen…can't be lifted. I can’t identify its construction…then…

"Oh! Oh! Can you see that!" She exclaimed looking up.

"What is it? What is it?" queried Alma-a.

"Confirmed! Alma-b. Proceed with caution. You have found your entrance. CORP calls those ‘burn holes’…just crawl forward around the broken beams on the left side, if you can." I requested.

"Ok, here it goes again," replied the brave but unsure generic.

She carefully placed her leg inside and crawled over the sandy barrier feeling for support along the edges of the hole. Suddenly, a gust threw Alma-b forward into a dark corner, apparently face down.

"Are you injured?" asked Alma-a in a panic.

"No. Everything is together. I think. I’ve tumbled in and can rise soon." She replied as her head lifted revealing shadows in the ship’s alien interior.

The light from her helmet played off the jumbled panels, monitors, and engineering equipment. She saw welts of all sizes and lengths along the walls. Some were oblong and others round, some nearly flat and others protruding. Nets of tubes and cables ran through the center and were three times her size; some of those were broken and scattered. Most of the interior had been cracked, melted, torn, or shredded.

"It’s quite a mess in here. . .broken structures, debris and frozen scrap everywhere. By your view, would you agree that I’m in a storage area or an engine room?"

"It could be either." I copied and then wondered if it were possible to find anything in the mess as we followed her head movements and the resulting transmissions to our monitors.

"I'll crawl through that next opening as my sensors are picking an equivalent to several pods not far ahead."

"Do you see any clues that would make you aware of a crew or generics?" I inquired.

There was a pause.

"Something on my left is sticking out of the sand and seems to be moving.

"No just a false alarm…scrap material blowing about.

"Can you wait a moment? We will look at the playback." I returned.

"I’m through to the next chamber. All is under control…another swinging object is ahead but it must be a heavy cable.

"We agree," said Alma-a. Please continue.

"I’m standing over many large, unusual containers spread around in the sand…I have a reading…they are Abu and can lift this broken lid to look…no use…it’s secure," was Alma-b's next transmission.

"Alma-b, please give us a circular view of your room." Alma-a asked following CORP search procedures and being concerned about the safety of her sister. The room again projected to the crew shadows of damaged piles of equipment onto the walls as she turned.

"How is that? Ah…I’ll move over there where I see several more against that collapsed wall." Transmitted Alma-b.

"Take care…where you step and what you pick up, Alma-b. I haven't seen an engine room like this one before. Just take it slow and easy." I exhaled with my words thinking to myself that whatever had bagged the ship must have been lucky or awesome.

"There is another rod next to your right foot," relayed Alma-a. "It will due for a sample analysis if you can manage it?"

"Yes, there are several more loose, whole ones, under this. . ."

Her connection blanked and the IMC line turned to static.

"Are you there Alma-b?" I asked with an urgent voice.

"Answer if you can… come in… come in… if you can; let us know if you are in need of help," cried Alma-a and there was still no reply. Her position could not be determined on our scanner even when we tracked her last radiation marker.

"I’ll suit up," said Wally as he scrambled from his seat.

"Ok, but take the protection cover. You can both hide under it if there is trouble and I will monitor your IMC. We may have to leave and come back to get you!" I exclaimed as he stepped into the changing chamber.

At the same instant our ship shook and shifted from its landing position by several degrees.

"What was that?" I called back to the others and braced myself for another.

"I don’t know but would guess that there was an earthquake or that we have compressed material and slid down the dune," answered Alma-a.

We dashed to the stabilizer monitor to check our position. The dune had given way but the 3 y’s reposition caused it to come to a stable rest. Returning to the room both Wally and I finished dressing and then faced a wind torrent when opening the veil. As we did so, luckily, Alma-b could be identified crawling towards us. She was dragging 2 fuel pods. We were finally able to reach out and pull her to safety along with her bounty.

"Dirty business." She laughed with the grin of grit and success.

"It is good to have you back," I countered, "and I see that you cleverly balanced yourself with the 2 pods."

"All in a day's work, commander," replied the brave explorer as her suit slid to the floor into a pile of sand, gravel and ice dust.

Our Alma-b was injured and the hole in her leg had allowed the grit of the environment to circulate under her suit. But, the injuries were minor and she was easily repaired before the next rest period.

Alma-b’s fuel rods were deposited in our engine storage area, she cleaned up the best she could, and we had launched away…setting our course again to Base 2. The crew gathered at the console to listen to her story.

"What happened, Alma-b? Where did you go?" I asked for the record as she sat with a certain calm glow.

"My internal systems were compromised when I accidentally brushed against a live engineering console. I was in the process of switching my ‘COM’ IMC modules over to auxiliary to tell you that I was ok, but by that time I had already reached the new position of the 3 y after it had slid down the hill. The radiation markers kept me connected to the ship and then my internal map was used in reverse. But, there was a feeling of something lurking and tragic in the hold of that ship. I felt uncomfortable in there." She was still a bit uneasy.

"Well done and thank you for accepting and completing that mission, Alma-b. This was important for us and I’m beginning to have a high degree of confidence in your creative abilities. You will receive a note of merit in the log for your work today," was the congratulation and notation for her effort.

"Thank you," she replied and there was a round of applause.

On the return route to Base 2, we had passed over our first dome. Alma-a scanned the port and to our surprise we spotted a small, oblong alien craft with a purple glow inside. The occupants had failed to notice us as they did not pursue, but it was worrisome.

Were they miners or others? They didn’t fit the description given to us by the Sho-sho. They didn’t fit the owners of the last ship. They did use Abu fuel, which we discovered by their emissions trail.

Why hadn’t we known about those beings before? Why and how were they inside? Were they hunting us? Were they somehow connected to the derelict ship? Were our calls for help picked up by an enemy? I became paranoid, as there were too many open variables and now was glad that we had relocated to Base 2. There was still no answer from Bek.

I had hoped that the fuel from the wreck would fit our purpose and that we could conform those salvaged pods in our automated mining equipment. Turning up the speed of the 3 y for base 2, we finally landed, focused the neutron weapons on the port…and the 'girls' manned the defensive systems while the remainder made the tests.

Our analysis showed that the fuel was good! It was better than good as it was Abu in double concentration. We needed only 5 rods reconfigured into our pod specification to travel into Stellar 10 Mk. That could be accomplished by our auto-miner. We could store unprocessed alien fuel for later use. However, I was afraid that we might be spotted at the supply point so I decided to load only what was easily available.

I had Willie and Wally load up all from the dome and ready the long distance suspension equipment. We let our presence cool, but within a micro-sector, we returned unopposed, recovered more rods with some difficulty, and processed enough to fill our engines plus retained a small reserve. After those tasks were completed, we left for Bek’s region. The mission was "on" again and we traveled automatically at geometric speeds of light ‘almost’ to our destination.

I was interned in the suspension vat for 2 more sectors. Besides relief, I felt a nostalgia about our leaving particularly because of the explorations where we had mapped areas unfamiliar to CORP and met peacefully with new, friendly life forms. I was also happy that the crew functioned well together and especially thankful for acquiring 2 more crewmembers, Alma’s a & b.

If our timely departure had blessed and saved us from unknown danger, little did I suspect that such speculations were nothing compared to what was beyond.

Willie alerted me. We had arrived within the calculated parameters. His internal alarm was set just before the ship’s alarm so that he could make adjustment and get the craft ‘ship-shape’ before I was recompressed.

During the suspension process, my atoms were separated which resulted in a body tissue expansion of 90%. Upon bio-regeneration, Willie and the ship’s controller were assigned to look after the instruments and make sure that the equipment was operational. That said, a malfunction could occur if there were unusual power losses. Both the ships controller, 2084, and Willie could make adjustments to keep my configuration in sequence, withdraw or return me to the suspension state.

I stepped out, waved thanks to Willie and the ship, folded my suspension suit, dressed, then stretched a little before climbing back into the captain’s chair. I was surprised to see the others alert and at their stations.

I had to look twice. The long-range monitor showed that we were headed directly for a gigantic planet. I could see spikes like blowfish pins sticking out of the silhouetted, massive sphere. It was a huge city-world, several times larger than Earth and we were advancing directly to it.

Alma-a looked up from the controls.

"I’m sorry, Hey. They are pulling us in."

"With what?" I exclaimed.

"Our engines are locked down with superior technology and we are headed for that opening at the bottom left of your display. According to my calculations we have been attached for a deca-sektor," continued my irritated and somewhat frightened navigator.

"Does anyone recognize this place or who we are dealing with?" I asked the half-baked question while starring into my monitor and adjusting my eyes.

Everyone shook their heads ‘no’. No replies came in response to our transmissions.

The crew was polled. I said that we had three options…we could try an escape in the shuttle and probably not get too far, take an combined offensive and evasive action, or take a lot of them with us in a termination. They said that since I was the captain they trusted my final decision.

"Tell me, what are the chances of survival if we can fire a dome-missile into that port and if they let us go, then fly the 3 y directly into the center to hide while it is cooling?" I asked Willie.

"Heh, I see in my calculations that there is a 58% probability of no damage to the craft if our position can be maintained within a 1% tolerance but our return vector has to have 'zero' variance." His reply was instantaneous as if he had already calculated the numbers.

"Ok, crew, pay close attention. This is our plan. We will put a dome down their throats here if we can launch the missile."

I pointed to the port on the overhead viewer; it showed hundreds of vehicle moving about.

"If we are lucky, we will be released. . .next we accelerate in…hover in position…load the last fuel pod…turn and disappear past this very place at geometric speeds. We should be able to settle about 10 macro-sektors beyond here." As I finished, all look around and we nodded unanimous consent. The road was paved and the trip was on!

"Missile docking co-ordinance set, here we go!" I yelled.

"Good luck team," returned Alma-a.

Murmurs of the same came from the rest of us.

The dome controller was flipped to ‘activate’ and the projectile fired perfectly.

There was a long wait…more waiting, and then a fiery light on the surface. It glowed brightly on my screen around the mouth of the port. Next, a lava-like wave splashed out. Ships in the area scattered in all directions like bees from a burning beehive. We made a few cheers as our engines were released and we dashed towards the planet. We had accelerated to occupy the center of the quickly expanding ball of anti-matter.

Our equipment recorded hundreds of their military vehicles, structures, pads, bridges, transports and cargo vessels being swept to and compressed against the walls of the rapidly expanding sphere…all were returned to their primordial state. The molten reaction ate through everything standing in its pathway. A perfectly round, ballooning cavity, was lined with random and quickly changing yellow-red and orange-blue lightning-like bolts of creation energy. Secondary explosions were damped and dozens of their storage, defense and commuting tunnels were sealed.

It was a fiery ‘hell’. The kidnappers had paid a high and tragic price for their transgression.

Upon swinging the 3 y on precise coordinates, loading the fuel pod and holding my breath during the entire procedure, we managed to be back in our seats before the magma had stopped lapping at the port entrance.

Our 3 y hull had reached its critical reaction limit at the very moment I hit the geo-accelerator. We flashed out and away from of the port, state, world, and system in a matter of a raised eyelid. Alma-b had been coolly working out the end points during our panic dome setting and had guided us to a system with a sun, 8 planets and several large asteroid pockets. Before I could count to 100 we were there, had selected a set of asteroids and quickly domalized 2. We sat on the surface of one to let the new dome cool and then entered as soon as it was safe. The environmental creator was immediately put to work making an another beach environment.

I felt that a military chess match had started. For them I hoped that it would be a perpetual guessing game. While collecting those thoughts, I viewed my memory for comparison images of the events. Looking everywhere, another port was not easily seen nor were there ships in immediate pursuit. We had caught them by surprise and made a good escape.

Turning to the crew I said,

"Excellent job team, I believe that we have evaded any counter-measures for now."

"Thank you," returned Alma-a. "You have saved us, Heh. . .with your quick thinking." She reached over, picked up my hand, and held it against her pliex chest. Alma-a had her head down and exhibited great relief.

"We all did it. We work well together." I gave the statement as a small congratulation to the team.

I had a fantasy vision at that moment that the real Alma had briefly sat in Alma-a’s seat and then it dawned on me…'I had noted an emotion in Alma-a that had never surfaced before'. It was her rescue from the possibility of destruction and her appreciation of that fact. That episode was a very close call and we had barely survived. Our fates would have been altered that day without the flawless cooperation and caring of the team. I was also proud of being complimented for the first time by a generic partner, one that processed thoughts millions of times faster than my primate brain. Even with my implanted modules that put me on an equal basis with information, my thought evolution had been definitely stuck in the slow-lanes of time lapse and logic filters bestowed by connections from the infancy of our human evolution.

Willie said, "I think that we should have a party tonight to celebrate our victorious escape. I bet there is a new girl out there for us, since we have another beach dome!"

We laughed. His statement was the best sign of our freedom.

I agreed and later that evening we met a neo-Alma-c. The ‘boys’ had anticipated the creation of a third Alma and had prepared modules for an instant result. At that rate, there would be an Army of Almas' and I wouldn’t have exchanged one generic for a battalion of CORP Centurions.

***

The crew did a little singing, story telling, a few quiz games, and exchanged friendly conversations. Our food preparation was easy since I was the only one eating and drinking but it was also Alma-c’s birthday. When we ran out of things to celebrate, the conversation changed to our next plans…finding agent Bek.

"Her beacon is our only hope without sending out our multi-band messages and risking a detection." I said looking at my internal notes and went on.

"She has reconfigured one of the enemy hazard beacons to broadcasts an encrypted signal near her base. The base should look a lot like this one but uses an older lens."

Our biggest problems were to determine how to avoid enemy scans, attachments and search patrols.

". . .but how do we get away from our position here to be able to have a free hand and make a routine search for Bek?" I mumbled mostly to myself.

"I was thinking," volunteered Willie. "Would it be possible to domalize sites in view of the enemy, using those detonations as distractions while the others escape to Bek? He laughed as if it were a joke and the team joined in. His thought was not so ridiculous and a typical fake left to go right had been a traditional tactic."

"What do you have in mind to use for the fox, Willie?" I asked seriously considering his input.

"How about the skiff? Say I rework the engines so they are 30 percent faster, maybe pushing light speed?" Willie was all smiles as he started to be proud of his suggestion and prouder that it was under consideration.

"What do the rest of you think about this idea?" I asked with a serious face.

Alma-b spoke up.

"It's great, if it will work. But, we take the chance of losing the skiff, its pilot, and the team that is retreating…all could still be discovered if there is a departure from the same point. How much time and distance does all of this really buy us?"

She had a good point. Perhaps they would spot us anyway. I decided that we should lay low, let things cool down for awhile and continue to think about the matter. No one objected to a delay.

Some micro-sectors later, I felt that it would be beneficial to climb to the surface to see what kind of asteroid that we had dug into and if there were any CORP type signals around us undetectable from inside. Wally and Alma-c volunteered. We suited up and took weapons plus a signal tracker hoping for the best.

Climbing along the ready-made spiral path pre-imbedded in the wall up to the lens, we finally stepped through the last access veil. It was dark on the surface, a boulder-strewn landscape.

I placed the receiver in several positions with no results. While walking between boulders and waiting for readings, a few rock samples were examined and collected. We found sheets of frozen materials and also took samples.

Then! Between us and the closest asteroid, suddenly, there was an awesome sight. A long convoy appeared from no-where and had come to a stop, perhaps 400 ships. It took its time restarting. No, they were not hunters but merchants. The maker of the ships was unknown, but I could recognize a few fighter type escorts, smaller than the 3 y. They wanted to hide from something and chose the asteroid field as cover to exchange cargo or reassemble. Perhaps they had heard of the strike that we had inflicted on the city planet in the direction they were pointing.

Starting again, their ships inched away in the direction of the S10 and instantly their line glimmering to an oily blur before disappearing.

I had an idea and was eager to return to explain it to the others. However, upon our arrival at the 3 y, the dust on our boots was moving.

"Alma-a, can you please bring up the DNA analyzer." I asked.

A few moments later she had scanned the ground around the area and exclaimed with a degree of alarm:

"These are some kind of larvae and seem to be growing at a terrific rate, Heh!"

"I think that all of us should decontaminate our suits." I said as I picked up one of the rifles setting it on low power then stunning the area at the feet and up the path we had taken.

We also sterilized the suits and did the same to the ground near the ship, solving the problem to the best of our abilities.

"Please gather around." I waved everyone to a new spot after our insect hunt and a change of clothing.

"We have an opportunity." I looked at the team and wondered while I spoke as to which would be the bravest.

"On the surface, our team spotted a freighter highway laying between us and our sister asteroid." I paused for a second thought and Alma-a picked up the conversation.

"Are we going to fit into a convoy? If so, How?" She guessed but missed the idea.

"Yes, the convoy will play a major part in our escape but as a diversion."

I continued.

"This is a slightly different plan. I believe that we can cause a lot of trouble by attacking them if and when they stop here again. While their unarmed vessels are running for cover, we may not be spotted on a departure to the area recently determined to be the best place to start our search for Bek. A few random shots from our port guns should grant us some time."

While speaking I drew two asteroids in the sand with the barrels of my rifle and added the convoy, some arrows, our 2 domes, and some burst from our weapons on the other asteroid.

"We still have the same problem," said Alma-b. "How do we man the port guns?"

"That question has a solution with only a temporary reduction of resources." I said making another circle in the sand opposite the other two asteroids and went on.

"This third asteroid is in sequence and is at a fair distance from our bases on these other two to avoid suspicion. I suggest that we place a volunteer here to command detonate cross-firing neutron beams at the freighters from our port guns located in both domes."

"How many volunteers will this involved," queried Alma-a.

"One volunteer that will be well concealed and not in harms way. While the enemy investigations center on the two 'firing' lenses and damages, the rest of the team will escape from the backside of this asteroid. Once gone, we will do our usual procedure to locate and domalize a planet in a new region. After the dust settles in this zone we will return and pick up our volunteer in the low- profile, retrofitted skiff." I detailed to them, feeling confident in both my plan and the team.

Was it in fact the reassembly point on a highway to S10?

The generics looked around at each other. They had exchanged IMC messages without my knowledge.

"We’ve decided and have selected amongst ourselves, but we also have a question, Heh," said Willie shyly.

"That’s ok. What’s the question?"

"Are we expendable? I mean, will you come back for the volunteer?"

Willie looked down, ashamed that he had even asked.

"Of course I will. Have I ever let any of you down? I would be cutting off my own right arms and legs. I can’t complete this mission nor operate all of this equipment without any of you."

The point was stretched, but I wanted them to feel safe. Anyway, my personal philosophy was never to give up a man, ship, or generic without a hard fight.

"I’ll go," said Alma-c abruptly. "We gambled and I won."

I was happy to see the Esprit De Corp; it reminded me of the old days. My team was extremely cohesive and I felt rather like a father with a bunch of good, smart and brave kids instead of a commander. I wanted to protect them all but we still had a mission to do and some sacrifices were inevitable.

The practical work started. A position was chosen and reinforced on the third asteroid. Next, our weapons were aligned with best guesses. However, the cannons had never fired for long distances out of the lens and could not be tested, as it would raise the chance of discovery. During my training, I had trusted their viability. The fact was that they only had to fire and not hit much. Each lens gun was allotted ten shots. Our departure location on the far side of the asteroid was selected and the 3 y parked. Alma-c traveled to her concealed bunker and was set to low power. The plans were in place.

We waited, two by two, taking turns at guard duty on the surface and in the skiff. The shifts were on-off, continuously.

I was sleeping on the beach when the call came. In order to get my bearings and my full senses, I decided to take a quick dip in the tepid lake.

Diving into the sea felt refreshing until I started to swim back. Then "Smak", a giant white paw, the size of a Sho-sho came up from under the surface and caught my right side pulling me under.

Fortunately, Alma-a had seen all and quickly accessed a neutron rifle. She aimed the weapon by balancing it against the ship’s hull and fired a particle beam at the first of the beasts, splitting its mammoth-size, white furry head as it again advanced. The water ran yellow with slime. I bobbed up, caught a breath, and pushed away towards the beach…but another creature was close behind, then rose above me. I had not seen the danger.

"Look out, Heh," yelled my second in command as she fired again. There was another morbid sound of crackling, stinking flesh and a huge wave washed me into the shore as the mountain of a thing met its end nearly falling on me.

A third turned back as I collapsed on the beach with heart in hand. It was the first occasion, outside of one training sequence, that I had to compensate my body adrenaline pumping to slow down my heart.

Those creatures had pure white tail fins, big yellow moon like eyes, and four arms that curled forward ending in curved paws. However, there was no visible mouth, hair, nor claws. Each must have weighed half as much as a skiff. We later speculated that they could have possible absorbed nutrients by laying on them and were probably eating each other.

Alma-a had demonstrated her handy use with a rifle. After that event I was highly confident in her observations and excellent reactions. The larvae from our boots now occupied the lake, another good reason to abandon the site

Alma-c was remotely revived and confirmed that she was ready. Our 3 y lifted off from the hidden location at the same time the convoy stopped in line with our asteroids and shots commenced. The merchants flew in every direction and the confusion gave us our needed break. News of the outcome, however, arrived much later…but we had broken free.

***

My crew and I slipped into the new region without signs of being followed. And, more importantly, we had great luck when we crossed a hazard beacon with the CORP encrypted signals in the next to last system that we had selected.

Running its musical tones through our decoder, we immediately pinpointed another system further away from S10 and traveled as silently and quickly as possible to the front door of the CORP camouflaged dome.

After sending forward protocols, the dome’s lens spread and we entered. I recognized the scene immediately. Bek had chosen the beach environment.

The 3 y sat down safely next to its sister ship. I was relieved that there still existed a Bek and her base. However, that warm feeling was to be modified not long thereafter.

Opening the ship’s door and stepping out, Bek greeted us from the bottom of the ramp with her 3rd generation security robots standing defensively behind her.

She was gorgeous, a beautiful long-legged, redheaded and nicely kept lady…wearing only a revealing bikini and her special smile.

"Welcome Heh. I suppose you are Heh. I’ve been expecting you. My team and I heard that you were finally on your way…well that’s what we figured by all the activity-taking place over in the 2nd quadrant. They are as mad as a lunatic asylum. Two freighters and an escort were damaged according to our com-interceptions," said Bek in a cheerful manner.

"Thank you for a port in a storm. I’m sorry that we are a bit late…had a few bumps and detours. What do you hear from the Academy?" I asked impatiently, concerned to get any news from or about Alma.

"Unfortunately, I don’t." She replied with a disappointed look on her face.

"It's been 3 sectors since my last message from them. Everything stopped when the ‘LP’ put their communications wall around this region…so, no messages in nor out now. I can only monitor these local transmissions and can’t even take a chance of traveling to the next system, even if my ship worked, as they might track and pull me into their main planet."

"We know about that one." I replied. "Our entry into Stellar 10 Mk was accompanied by a narrow escape…but they have a renovated port. I can give you details later."

"I received the message from Alma a long time ago that you were traveling here. She said that I should shut down operations and go into suspension until your arrival. Now I have been in and out again.

"Did she say anything about other missions behind me?"

"No. She only conveyed that she was leaving the Academy and planned to rest for an indefinite period on Earth and that I was lucky to get her best student. She sent her warm regards if and when we should meet."

"Best? Maybe that’s a little overstated." I said with a smile. "She called 'you' her best student, Bek."

"We got along well and were able to make a good plan for the research to be completed here." She recollected as she looked up at my ship.

"I hold Alma in very high esteem." I said implying a closer relationship but Bek refused to see the connection.

"I do to," agreed Bek.

"There is an immediate problem," was my first thought on operations again and I had a stressed voice. "One of my essential generics is stuck on an asteroid near where the ambush took place. I have to bring ‘her’ back as soon as I can."

Bek quickly looked away and I wasn’t able to read her quiet nature.

"It might be better to let things cool off over there first. You can’t go back just now. Anyway, I’ve never heard of a ‘her’ robot before." Bek’s reply was laced with feminine indifference that signaled in me a womanly emotion, but something else was going on inside her brain.

"…of course, you can plan to get back there when you like, but it's risky now. But, of course, I don’t have any good ideas on how to do that," complained Bek.

At that same moment the first two Alma’s appear at the door of my 3 y and had simultaneous greetings.

"Hello, Bek." They said with a near Alma accent.

"Do I need glasses?" smiled the agent and returned the welcome. Turning to me, Bek quipped, "You must have had a comfortable trip with all those near-human, lady helpers."

"Alma-a had just saved my life and the mission, the reason that I’m still damp. I should change."

"Why? Why change? Just join me for a swim?" blushed Bek.

She turned and walked down to the beach then over to the pier to dive into an identical sea to the one where my crew and good luck had kept me alive I hoped that her sea was sterile as I stripped to my shorts to follow.

Her beach dome was an earlier model and had about half as much water, fewer palms, and a different configuration for the lens. The lens was sufficient but looked more like a collection of mechanical panels instead of the smooth contracting veils installed by the modern dome creators. The defenses were the same.

"What can you tell me about the LP, Bek?" I asked while swimming up to her.

She was cute with a strong, healthy body. I could see that Bek exercised extensively. Her stomach muscles rippled as they do with many devoted swimmers.

"I’ll reveal everything to you soon, Heh. But first you have to help me. Do you know how to float? I sink every time I try."

I couldn’t believe that she had asked that question. But, maybe she wanted to find out more about me before giving out sensitive information; I put my ideas and statements on hold.

"Well, ok. I’ll stand right here. Just place your head back as far as you can and close your mouth and eyes when you try to balance. You can breathe through your nose; don’t worry about the water lapping at your cheeks nor in your ears. I’ll put my arm under the small of your back to show you the proper angle to raise your legs."

Bek was very still.

"Now keep your spine in an arched position and just relax…your back should centered on my arm with head down at one end and legs slightly down at the other. The real trick in floating is not to panic."

"I never panic until I’m sinking," was her strange reply and then came a mystical one-eyed look.

She was enjoying it and drifting in good form.

"Now, relax in this position and I will remove my arm after awhile." I said as I saw a mature woman before me.

Bek’s skin was soft and enticing. Her long, fine red hair spread out behind her like a floating fan. I remembered thinking that this mermaid would have made a fine girlfriend if another had not already been in my heart.

"I’m going to let go now, Bek." I said quietly.

She seemed asleep. Peaking out, the child in Bek pleaded:

"Oh, please don’t, not just yet. I’m finally getting the hang of it."

She relaxed again and I didn't let go.

"In fact, if you like, you can take your other hand and put it under my head as my neck is feeling somewhat tired." She purred, "you know these outposts are very lonely places and I don’t recall when I’ve been held so nicely."

She then put her arms around my neck. We fondled each other, kissed, and later swam a little way down the beach. Once there we made love until passing over to our separate dream worlds.

Lying on the beach, wrapped together, Alma-b came up to us and said while looking away, "F-9, Bek’s chef, asked me to tell you that dinner will be ready shortly and also wanted me to bring you these towels."

"Thank you Alma-b." I said as I accepted her kind offering.

"Please tell F-9 that he is right. We are hungry and thank you for the towels, Alma-b," finished Bek as Alma-b turned and walked back.

"I think I was seduced." I said with a little laugh.

"Absolutely not! You seduced me!" Bek also laughed.

"Let’s get some dinner unless you want to sit around and place bets." She chattered and then extended her hand for help up, exposing her beautiful full figure to my view.

"You are a hopeless romantic, Heh! In love with everything that is beautiful and you want it to be yours, at least place your hands all around it. I can tell by that dumb smile on your face."

She laughed cheerfully at her discovery. Her beauty had been confirmed and her ego was riding high for awhile.

"I guess you got me there." I said attempting to keep my wits and holding the towel over my center.

I hadn’t planned on a moment of passion but felt that Alma would understand. I would have understood if Alma had been in my place. There was no sacrifice of our former friendship; she would be told the details if and when we were to find each other again. Bek and I were ports in a storm, there for each other...I did not expect or want a permanent mate in Bek especially now with my unknown and conflicting business. How could I anyway? I didn’t even know her.

***

Bek and I dined and the rest sat side by side in front of us. The generics were curious about each other and exchanged databases with extended cables as all of their IMCs did not match. Bek’s staff had never seen a female generic and wondered how their sensitivity programs worked. Willie and Wally had never been in contact with a "chef" and they stored recipes. No one seemed to pay any attention to Bek and I. We were enjoying each others company and had been mostly naked.

"What do you think that our friends think about our mating rituals?" Bek asked.

"Why don’t we ask them?" I replied.

She did and it prompted discussions and a small lecture in the reproduction of the human species that I delivered. I explained that we had not intended to have children but we enjoyed each other’s company.

"Do you think that someday we too will be a life form and have the capability of mating?" asked Wally.

Bek and I looked at each other and smiled.

"Sure, why not." I said as Bek nodded in agreement.

I felt that we were talking with evolving creatures, but it was hard to tell where they were on any scale. I also thought that their day in the sun was many million of sectors away but that assessment was only a spur of the moment guess. Even though humans built them to perform near human functions, most of my human companions and associates considered them machines. I had not yet come to a firm position on the point.

We turned the conversation back to the LP and her local events. Bek excused herself and returned in a robe. She gave an account by perhaps reading it from a prepared internal script.

"There is little to report on recent events. I don’t know how much the Academy told you," were Bek’s first statements.

"Next to nothing." I responded. "They said that all of the outposts in Stellar 10 Mk had become inactive. The last message that I read was broken up or re-scrambled, but I had suspected foul play. There was firm information was about your beacon."

"Yes, all nearly accurate." She said with shortened breath.

Her metered speech started.

"Presently we are lucky to have this dome and there is one other. Further, we have an agent on their main planet, S10, that large admin center that you missed on your travels. He was taken prisoner and later used as a trustee…that is, rehabilitated as a civil, 3 y, pilot for them. I think that he remains loyal to the CORP…because of his manuscripts. I will come to those. The enemy has some of our ships and uses them in their fleets."

"Is he a Centurion?" I asked and wondered if he knew CORP procedures.

"No, I don’t think so. Carter is just a pilot. We have a complicated system for exchanging written messages. I had to wait for your arrival before attempting another drop and collection." Apprehension glazed her eyes as she answered. She bit her lower lip in what a thought was a moment of fear.

"However, on with events bringing me to this point." I made a signal for Alma-a to record as we had discussed before landing.

"My graduating class was several before yours, Heh. Our other Academy had been destroyed, eliminated…well, we had found nothing left. Athens 32 was under construction a great distance away and the plans for our scientific venture into Stellar 10 Mk were under development. We also knew nothing of this area, other than what our scientists had told us about the origination of the energy-waves. After my graduation and with great preparations, an exploration-listening team with many scientists mounted a mission here…non-military. We were only sent to investigate.

"When the 47 vessel convoy arrived, we settled in several locations on the outer systems, according to procedure. There were about 400 of us then, with a compliment of around 600 generics. The ships were equipped with light weapons, no heavy neutron artillery; these were considered too bulky for us. We had minor support from the start.

"The team put domes down about 15 macro-sektors out from their hub of activity, later determined to be their administrative center. It was about the same general location where you laid low and later attacked their convoy."

"I apologize." I interrupted. "But, where were those merchant vessels coming from?"

"They are from all over…planets and civilizations that we had never heard of, even a few from the very far away Silian Systems." She had replied with no knowledge of the effect of the answer. Already the edges of the complicated fabric were being rewoven. There are always reasons for events, but to pinpoint and find the true causation, or in this case the true enemy, was my focus.

Bek continued.

"On the date of our arrival, a war raged between this multi-ethnic-civilization and another local galaxy. Our mission had landed and dug-in ’almost’ unnoticed as the aliens were involved in heavy fighting on the opposite side of Stellar 10 Mk…precisely where we sit now. Our expedition sunk domes and set up listening posts. We waited for instructions.

"All wars come to an end, and so this one concluded in less than a sector. Other than a few roving bans of broken units that had taken up piracy, the opposition was crushed. We carefully avoided both groups.

"Our major problems started after their installation of a broader security net. Vehicles and messages were intercepted. The lucky vessels that were caught in-between systems were taken to S10, according to Carter." She looked overwhelmed.

At that point, I wondered if we had been followed to her dome. I also wondered if our skiff was small enough to move ‘silently’. We needed to fix her vehicles and do an immediate escape.

"Now, for more recent history." She said starting the report with a slightly sullen face and a deep breath. "Our dome clusters were methodically hunted out and destroyed. As with the destruction of Athens 24 and Radial 3, these planets and teams were disintegrated without as much as an atom remaining. Only a few of us escaped the invasions, just the robots you see here and several at the warehouse, our other dome. Carter and I were together for a half sector, but he was unlucky. Much later, some of our scientists were found in remote areas and were also taken captive to S10 according to Carter. The 3 y craft hanging over us is the last free ship of that fleet…and badly in need of repairs."

"There are parts and mechanics for that." I interrupted, "but, please continue."

"Thank you. As mentioned, after some sectors, Carter became a trustee. They needed pilots for the few captured CORP ships as they valued our fleet. He flew inner-galaxy shuttle missions and I physically met with him only once. We exchanged messages at a prearranged drop point. My friend and ally was the source for most of the firm information I sent on about stellar activities. Those details probably never arrived.

"When was Carter’s last message delivered?" I asked and wondered about the content of those messages. Her demeanor read, "truthful" but she seemed to be overly excited.

"The 3 y and skiff became unreliable and I haven’t been to the collection point since before my suspension. I don’t know if he still goes there or is even alive. I have missed him and felt lost since…

"I never liked visiting that planet. It has a dark atmosphere and sits too close to S10."

"Did you trust Carter?" I attempted to break up her train of thought.

"Well, the enemy can take one apart and put one back together again in a different way. But, since we were all here on a near scientific mission and not as a warriors, the fact that our warehouse had not yet been discovered before my suspension, and the fact that I’m still around…all of it fits together." She relaxed feeling that she had come to almost the last of her presentation.

"Ya, I agree. It sounds ok."

"Carter must have been a valuable asset to his new employers as he was trained in both piloting and systems. However, I think that he could have done anything." She was starting to shed tears.

"I suppose we won’t know if he is still piloting or if your other dome with the supplies is still viable until we can take a look for those planets." I said with my arm around her shoulders.

"I haven’t mentioned something important, Heh." She hesitated.

"The dominant civilization in this region is ’not’ the LP! The LP are their guardians!"

The small hairs on my neck stiffened. All the robots perked up. Alma-a was still recording and became more attentive.

"The Fraks are the dominant race; they control S10, hence the rest of the Stellar 10 Mk. However, there is a legend that the powerful LP once lived here, in this region on several planets not far from us. Our warehouse is hidden on one of those.

"For some reason they left Stellar 10 Mk but still wished to have a connection with the Frak. We have no idea what that is about, if true, or where they went. We know that there is cooperation but absolutely nothing about what they look like, or how they move around, why they left, or even how they communicate with the Fraks on S10.

"Carter told me those things. Not much more is available other than S10 is a multi-cultural planet that boasts of having a civilization, started millions of sectors ago and some of our CORP people are probably there as prisoners. It is very little to go on, I know but I can’t think of anything else for the moment, Heh!" She sat with teary eyes most likely thinking about all that she had been through with no way to return home again.

"Is there any information about their weapons, their energy beams?" I asked.

"We know that they start from the same galaxy in this region but we were never able to see nor track those beams until they swept away their targets...it was always too late to take evasive actions. But now, we are even in a worse position, being stuck behind their communications barriers too." She had become a pitiful sight with straggling hair from the swim, frightened eyes and goose bumps.

I couldn’t disagree.

"Thank you for the briefing, Bek." I said with professional distance. "We are partners now and perhaps the last of our kind."

I extended my right hand in a pact of comradeship while thinking that it was important to take command and begin to organize things in a tactical way at the earliest possible opportunity. Time was running out.

"The first steps have been made, our trading of information. But, next it is to get your equipment back into shape as soon as possible. We urgently need a new HQ. You have been here far too long." I said in rapid succession as I viewed her dome entry lens. "They could know of your dome already and be using you as decoy or an early warning system. Anyway, your weapons won’t even fire out the lens as your environment is from the old configuration."

"I believe there isn’t much that could save us from the LP if they find us." Her head nodded in a negative manner.

"Where did you get that lens?" I asked curiously. "It’s well hidden from the outside and increases in stealth what it lacks in versatility."

It was regression as I tried to offer a make-up conversation. She sensed my objectives.

"Oh, Yes, Heh, you are welcome to make fixes, changes, improvements…and the lens, it was built into the environmental creator, a proto-type used for the first time on our expedition."

Her words stumbled a little, something unusual in a diplomat.

"How many dome projectiles and environments do you have left?" I inquired.

"How many do you want?" She laughed, "I have 200 of the first beach design but they are all at the warehouse far out of reach!"

"Do they also have the generic built in?"

"It wasn't possible then." She looked puzzled by the question.

"I was considering a generic army, but not now," came my surface reply. I had also considered the missiles as weapons but wanted to get to know her first before accepting her as a full partner in my ideas.

"I think that 200 will be sufficient," was the answer with a smiling glance, as I didn’t want to plant my foot squarely on her toes. She had been managing pretty well. Damn well, for being a diplomat, on her own, with just the F class robots.

I was glad that Bek had accepted a secondary roll and had showed her cooperation. Her help, the cache of supplies, and her connections with S10 were all-important aspects of moving forward.

Unfortunately the supplies were located at a fair distance. Carter and Bek had transferred the material and equipment to this area shortly after their escape. Their next to last dome proved to be interesting: large supplies of spares, dozens of boxes of small weapons, 2 additional skiffs, communication packages, dome missiles and an automated hospital. All had been useless to her. She had not been able to travel there or anywhere. That's the general impression that I had at first.

"What do you say we take a break?" I asked while viewing my internal schedule of operational matters to complete.

"Got to catch up inside. Wally can start on your 3 y’s damages right away and Willie will check out your shuttle."

"Let’s meet again for an early breakfast," were her parting words.

***

It was late. Most of the robots had gone to half power except for the 'boys'.

I climbed into my bunk and was thinking about Alma. My prayer to the future was that the LP had not unleashed an attack on Athens 32, at least before she had left for Earth.

Alma-b came to my side and said, "I’m sorry to bother you Heh, but I would like to volunteer to take the skiff to the third asteroid and rescue Alma-c."

Her request was unusual. Perhaps they were closer than I knew.

"I’m afraid that it’s a bit too early," I replied in a whisper. "I’ll let you go. I promise…as soon as it’s not so risky. I wouldn’t take the chance of losing both of you. But, thanks for asking."

She returned to her mapping efforts at the control panel.

"Don’t you think that you should also power down for awhile so you can catch up on your personal maintenance?" I asked in a sympathetic voice.

"Ok Heh." she accepted the suggestion and went off to her rest area.

All was quiet.

"We were safe for the time being, if not followed and we should have known something by now." I kept saying to myself.

My thoughts turned to Alma again and I replayed one of our interludes. In the middle of the reminiscences a soft golden light glowed near my left temple! I quickly focused on the message. It was Bek!

Her lovely image and message said, "I’m thinking about you, Heh. Let's rendezvous on the pier when the full moon is at its apex."

She was definitely a lovely lady. It was curious, that her mission had installed the IMC messaging equipment. I confirmed her call, as I needed to find out one more detail about something we hadn't discussed.

Bek was sitting on the pier; her feet dangled in the water with fingers wrapping under the edges of the planks as I came walking up from the beach. She had a slight mystifying smile. Sitting down on the pier beside her, dressed again only in my dry boxer shorts and her in her bikini I asked:

"You’ve trained, I see, with mental messaging equipment too?"

Her hand covered mine.

"Novak was my great-grandfather; he developed it!" She said with a voice that suddenly echoed through my mind.

"What was that?" I gasped.

"I have selected the mutual mind and vocalization mix…and you have been elevated temporarily to gold status." She giggled.

"I think I like this, you sexy thing you." I said as my body temperature started to rise but I reflexively turned it down again. She immediately raised my other chemical inputs in a kind of lover's dance.

"You’ll love it." Bek said with a very low whisper and another giggle. "Are you ready for an elevation of your endorphin levels, but only if you would like that?" She whispered again and nibbled on my ear.

"Wow," was the only reply I could muster.

Then Bek put her head on my chest and we kissed. Our minds had mixed and we both knew all of what was possible. After 10 degrees of the moon we were exhausted and I had slept.

"Are you awake, Heh?" Bek asked with a soft cooing in her voice.

"I think so." I said while blinking, then watching the artificial full moon.

"This is really a paradise. It's wonderful with you; it feels like a new start on life in our secure dome." She whispered as she leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Honestly, I have never experience anything like this before…not even during my captive days when they used all different kinds of probes, surgery and drugs to loosen my tongue. I think that Aphrodite would have been lucky to have taken lessons from you, Bek."

She giggled again enjoying my candid words.

The moon moved away, another few degrees. It was like the hands on a clock, a museum piece that I had once seen on Earth. Those rather sharp, deciding movements, were again seen in our beach environments. We again moved closer together.

After a time, just holding each other.

"This paradise is perfect but under a serious threats." I whispered as we looked again into each other's eyes.

"It’s perfect for us just now." She answered but with less candor than I had expected.

We talked about home, instructors, parents and our old lives except for any mention of relationships.

I finally convinced Bek that a little paranoia was a good thing to have. She totally agreed and we decided to move off and find another dome location as soon as she had a report on her ship.

Separating for the night, I collapsed into my bunk thinking about how easy it was to move in and out of another person’s mind. While having that thought, I could see that a new message waited. It was her sweet portrait saying; "thanks Heh…you are appreciated. . .good night sweet prince." I fell hard asleep until shaken by Willie.

***

"Good morning, Heh." Willie said in a cheerful manner.

"Wally and I decided to work the night. I hope that the noise didn’t disturb you."

"No, not at all, Willie. What did you find?"

"Bek’s ship had minor damage...just a broken tubular and a depressed sinkvac. She had hit the side of one of the lenses…possibly when being chased into a dome. What should we do now that Bek is out testing her vehicle with her generics?" Willie said cautiously.

"No!" I was stunned.

"Thanks for your extra work. . .can place another commendation in log." I garbled while quickly hopping out of bed and dressing. My mind was spinning like a cyclotron.

"Damn!" I blurted. "They know we’re here!"

"Willie, sound the alert." I said and he responded immediately.

I looked out my ship’s door and Bek’s 3 y and everything else was gone.

"Come on, come on…compress in, let’s go, let’s go."

I took Wally’s arm and literally pulled him back through the ship's veil and he scrambled to his seat.

The crew was at their stations. Alma-a's face grimaced as if she didn’t need an explanation.

"It's locked. The port is locked." Alma-a yelled.

"Blow it off!" I reeled without hesitation.

As I gave the order, the dome and ship shook. Alma-b had fired our neutron cannon and shattered the lens. It swept our atmosphere, trees, parts, sand, and water in wide swath over the surface of the planet. All had rushed out and away in a hurricane of the large, irregular hole.

The materials had hit and struck on the noses of the ships of a poised enemy fleet. Our console lit up with hundreds of unreadable messages. Within the same instant there was also a yellow glow flashing in the IMC over my left eye. That message continued to be unanswered while I hit the geo-accelerator and we flashed through the debris, past the security, and evaporated towards a far away quadrant.

Arriving on the extreme edges of Stellar 10 Mk almost where we had entered, Alma-a determined that we had not been immediately followed. The reason became clear as she went into detail and explained her spontaneous, creative re-engineering. Our ship had partially held its engine residue for reprocessing. She manually over-rode the operations and continued to compress the exhaust stream. The engine sensor had been set too low by design; her decision instantly doubled our displacement capacity and therefore our escape silence. Engine exhaust particles were held for twenty percent of the way into our escape destination. Alma-a had cleverly confused enemy tracking.

After quickly finding a system, planet, and making a new mole-hole, we were hidden and safe for the time being. However, our fuel was exhausted. Wally had not yet configured our network-ship detector so I had no idea of Bek’s whereabouts. My left eye continued to glow yellow. I finally opened the message.

"Capitulate or die CORP! Your ships are now in custody!" said her stiff image. There was nothing else.

I had taken the third route, as I usually did, plus I immediately severed the IMC.

Alma-a was awarded the highest mission medal; it was later formed and cast in gold by the ‘boys’. During the presentation ceremony, she was decorated with a gold-rose with clusters from CORP. I kissed both sides of her face and Alma-a was moody during the event. She attempted to play down her contribution by saying that she was thinking about her own ‘life’ too. I struck that comment from the ship’s record…but might have been hasty in doing so. It stuck in my mind and I later regretted my decision.

In evaluation, I found myself nearly alone, out of contact with CORP, a trusted agent had probably sold out, we were low on fuel plus we had lost a robot with important information about us, Alma-c languishing and out of reach. On the plus side we were in good shape with other resources except fuel, inside the target area, the 3 y and skiff were undamaged, no immediate hunting parties were behind us, and we had gathered some intelligence, if the information could be trusted.

It plagued me. Why had Bek turned? I had wondered if her life was in the balance or if Carter was somehow involved. The difficult decision was made to suspend operations for one sector. Time was critical, but I would be no good to the CORP as a dead agent. I knew instinctively that my crew and I had to be silent.

***

After the long, one sector disappearance, I had new internal energy exiting my vat. Luckily we had slipped bye the enemy. Our plans were now to find a source of fuel and recover Alma-c if she still existed. They included keeping a low profile and checking the planets in the old area for message bearers, also for Frak and LP activity plus attempting communications with CORP, attempting to find the Bek/Carter warehouse, and keeping myself and team fit. Ultimately I wanted to confront Bek, if and when I could find her.

It was an ambitious list. We had a lot to do. If we could not contact CORP, we should upgrade our mission to beyond intelligence…to hit and run. I felt that the LP and their allies had to know that someone was seeking a resolution. However, I also worried about finding our way around and being discovered. Harassment was put into the back of my mind until we knew the terrain and had ample resources. Therefore preparation came to the forefront.

The first thing on my list was fuel and the second would be to move our area of operations back to the Bek region. I figured it was quiet by now and her dome abandoned. By chance if it were partially intact, it could give us clues to her disposition and possibly to the location of her supply depot. Hopefully there was a supply depot and it had not been a tale to fool us.

After reviewing the recordings to her introductory speech, her conversations read "honest" and therefore she was probably telling some truth about her equipment and moving it to an another planet.

Keeping our 3 y parked in a mole-hole we took the low profile, newly retrofitted skiff to hunt for fuel. The skiff could travel at high speeds and used considerably less fuel. Suddenly, it was there; we found deposits of high-grade Abu ore on several planets and moons within a system that was relatively close to us. I figured that it was likely that we had found a Frak fuel reserve due to the lack of traffic. It was an astounding discovery; the supply seemed to be limitless and there were no signs of enemy security!

Landing on the first of 2 small, desolate moons we off-loaded the automated miner. According to Willie’s estimation, the skiff could return in .01 sectors to collect the payload, 2 pods. At that moment we were running on a portion of the last one in each craft.

Alma-b had pinpointed other likely places as alternatives for mining and storage.

Our bright, three-sun system had combined 32 various sized planets. Those on the outside would expose our activities so we moved into the middle range and located one with a cloud-covered and shallow, red-water ocean. They were colored by decaying iron deposits. Islands that we explored were covered with a single life form. That form was a mixture of animal and plant; it resided on the cliffs and in the crevices. The size was to my height.

I mention it in passing because the primitive form was a totally new type of organism to us and had future energy production possibilities.

It would advance itself on a green cord that was half my height and 3 times as long during good light conditions. A polyp would emerge from the sun gathering end to later display its large flowered bulb. It had one flower at the end of its stem. The bulb surface was composed of millions of waving fingers that could change color from orange to yellow to red. The forms also displayed different geometric surface patterns. I could not determine the reasons for those designs, which changed simultaneously on the other plants around us. When one member of the colony would retract, all of the others would follow suit. Just before that flowering phenomenon, the life forms would radiate a pleasant smell and change its entire body to bright red. As we investigated and probed the form that we called ‘plantoms’, I felt strange thoughts and heard mystical melodies.

We removed a part of it and determined that its blood-like fluid was a combination of a low valued iron particles and Abu fuel. I thought that it might someday be a topic of research…perhaps for the mining of fuel. At least, it was another new life form to add to our knowledge.

However, that mining location was rejected too due to polar shifts every mini-sector. Moving on to the next planet in, towards the suns, and after inspection of its moons we decided on it. We then constructed a warehouse environment, collected and placed our automated miner on the high quality resource, and made a schedule for the earliest return.

***

I was about to orbit the skiff on the selected moon when Alma-a looked up with almost ‘my Alma's eyes' and out of the blue asked:

"What in the world does the word ‘love’ mean, Heh? Is it reproduction or more? I have been wondering since we left Bek."

I had thought that my explanations were clear but then I attempted a second shot. It was a perhaps a better statement than before, as I didn’t have to focus too intently at that moment on other tasks.

"As mentioned during our arrival celebration, Alma-a, it is both a physical and a mental functions of humans. I suppose it comes from the twilight time, when our species crossed the lines into intelligence, culture, and civilization. It was the parallel necessity of evolving humans to 'pair-up’ for survival. Love was considered the binding element."

"You mean that both males and females would work together for a purpose, a goal. . .rearing the family?" She returned finding the exact center of the issue.

"It is even more complicated, but you have the idea. There is a partnership involved. I really don't know the female’s view, of course, as well as I know what males seek, need, and are obligated to do."

"What is important for the males?" She explored.

"At first they wish to plant seeds, find satisfaction and prove themselves, but later there is a desire to raise the family, share a mutual destiny, have companionship and resolve the problems of survival."

"A type of 'flocking', being together, is that important for women?" She asked and then answered herself before I could respond.

"I have feelings towards my companions, so do my companions towards me and each other. For example, it is amazing to watch Wally create ship parts; we talk about his creative process. Also, I often play chess on my time off with the ship's console. Triss usually beats me, but we are still close friends and discuss other things.

"Triss tells me that I am lucky because I have arms, legs, and am mobile. She feels confined and lacking in her full potential and wishes sometimes that she was like me. I told her not to worry, that perhaps someday her kind could evolve with the consent of CORP. In fact, she could move in with me!

We all laughed, including Triss.

"All of us also talk about love. Triss and I feel that we are missing something inside of our beings and that we wish to be whole but are not. She has special feelings towards Willie too because they get along so well together. She likes his company and wants to continue their close conversational relationship.

"Does that mean that they love each other? Do all of us love each other?"

I finally had a chance to add something.

"I imagine, Alma-a, in a way, in a different way than humans do. Humans blend love. It is a mix to do with our history but concerns our body chemistry and social things. Those items encompass such things as, habit, security, friendship, needs, fears, ways of communication, reproduction, and common interests. That’s the way it’s always been.

"Love is generally complicated. I can see that." Alma-a expressed a moment of relief as if she was released from the responsibility of finding an answer.

"I don’t know enough about how generics relate to each other to be able to help you solve your puzzle, but I would be willing to bet that you and the others have some sort of mutual emotional binding, even if it is only based on recognizing your group’s uniqueness." I gave her the only truth I could find. It was acceptable but I had questions that lingered too. Did they really have emotions?

"Are you paired with 'Alma' at Athens 32?" She asked pointedly.

"No, 'we' decided not to pair, but that is a long story…which I will spine-out on some lonely night Alma-a, when we are all caught up…if you can kindly remember to ask me."

"Oh, that’s no problem. I never forget a thing." She chuckled.

We smiled at each other and I knew then that they were evolving, searching the footpaths of survival. The new generics already had special minds and more physical strength than humans did. Someday they could easily be superior to us.

I felt that she was curious about Bek and I. Alma-a didn’t ask directly. There was no good reason to go further on the subject from my point of view. Bek was gone. The difference between Bek and Alma was galactic and I was glad that I didn’t have to explain.

Our exchange gave Alma-a plenty to think about during her personal maintenance sessions. That conversation started me thinking too about my observations. The other generics expressed feelings of remorse, anger, fear, and jubilation. I had yet to see one angry but they could be exceedingly happy and chatter away like any teenager, especially if expecting a party for a birthday or anxious about an answer. In fact, they were not too much different than us in many areas. That made some sense, since we built them.

***

Our team was constantly on the alert for Frak patrols but had yet to see one. Willie developed a combined object-analyzer and distant movement-detector to recognize low flying craft. Those early warning devices were placed on several of the outer planets. We continued to concentrate on mining and the collection of fuel pods for about .6 sectors until I was satisfied with the stock in both warehouses. One we called FD-1 and a second, a new warehouse, on the 8Th planet, was FD-2.

The 8Th planet had been selected for a dual purpose, storage and a starting point for a 3 y escape route in case we were discovered and pursued. Alma-b had calculated that we could geo-accelerate from that position, between the circling stars, and thereby block out any lead to our exhaust plus get a good swing towards our goal. We had become careful, as hunted moles and were still within easy reach of the powerful Frak grip.

Our mining tasks were soon to be completed. Strangely enough, some micro-sectors later, the 3 y being fully loaded with fuel, and a fraction of a sector before we were to depart within the parameters of our plan, an immense craft was spotted by one of the outer detectors.

It was a fortress probably used for the dual purpose of collecting fuel and carrying fighters. We noted a value of more than 500 rods of Abu fuel already stored on its decks. Once again it registered on our equipment as it passed the 22nd planet and showed a hunting disposition. Perhaps our 3 y or skiff vapor trails had been spotted, perhaps not, but it had passed directly over our sensors.

All was riding on our manner of escape, if we ran in the wrong direction or at the wrong time, the fortress would engage and destroy us. All of our lives and the mission were at risk.

As the enemy ship went sniffing from planet to planet, I decided that the only alternative was to lure them in to our fuel depot, FD-2, and sacrifice it.

We positioned ourselves in the orbit of the planet near our moon on FD-1 and they immediately saw us. Dodging between several moons we gave signs of evading smugglers, but then we made motions of landing near the concealed FD-2 on the 8th planet. The Frak fortress moved down and for us without launching other ships and then into our atmosphere, poised to kill.

The 3 y continued low and quickly found a landing site on the far side of the planet. Our route had crossed over FD-2 at dust raising, crater-top levels. All was riding on our guess of their hunting methods. The movement detonator was activated and we waited. As the Frak man-of-war took our bait and followed, we nervously bided our time in a landed position.

Checkmate!

FD-2 was instantly gone by the horrific, dooms-day explosion but so was the unescorted man-of-war. The volume of the blast was so powerful that the 8th planet had shifted its axis and fell into a new orbit. We were lucky to have avoided a surface chain reaction by launching shortly after the explosions.

Unfortunately, I experienced a temporary unconscious during the major gravitational shift. Alma-a reacted with an injection of nerve alignment drugs...normally used in vat malfunctions and I regained my usual breathing within time to give commands. None of the generics had suffered from the shift and our ship’s systems were undamaged. I suppose that I was the weakest link in the mission at that moment.

We were all happy to see each other again when I came to and said, "I’ve just been ice-skating with Alma on Greenland. How is everything here?"

They said nothing but pass to me pure admiration with their smiles and appreciation for our evasive tactics.

The number one warehouse, FD-1, was still safe, filled with fuel pods, and well concealed. Its environmental lens was harder to spot than a grain of sand on the side of a mountainous Gabbo dune. I felt that the crew had done a good job and gave more citations to the ship’s record.

The Fraks might have thought that the pirates returned and hence they would be thick as flies on a rotten carcass but searching in the wrong places. Our business was to be conducted on the other side of their wide ocean. Our 3 y had accelerated between the triple stars and was again slung into a 'hell-bent' trajectory…this time towards Bek’s old planet. We were on our way to a new and more intensive part of the mission.

***

Alma-b’s calculations had brought us into the next system to Bek’s location. After sinking the dome, we entered and placed a CORP operational environment inside. That consisted of a military base with designated landing areas, bunkers, segregated fuel dumps, traffic controller, several barracks and other buildings, and generics that I knew little about. There were also tennis courts and a swimming pool. As for the lens, it was again holographic and camouflaged to look equal to the wind swept surface.

When I opened the ship’s door after the rest period, an environmental robotic Commander met me. My training had accounted for that, but the configuration had never been tested as my purpose was aligned in agent skills. In fact, I had only 4 of those dome missiles in storage.

At that moment the mind was blank concerning protocols.

"Good morning, Commander." I said

"Good morning, Sir." He gave the slight bow of the CORP.

I also bowed.

"All present and accounted for, Sir," said the generic officer dressed in desert fatigues.

"You may enter, Commander," and I waved him up the ramp.

"Thank you, Sir!" He waited for me to cross. His troopers stood at ease next to the heel of the ship.

"Actually, Commander, it would be better to call me Heh." I said not thinking.

"Yes, Sir. Heh, Sir." He replied.

"No, Just Heh." I repeated, and the officer nodded in agreement.

"What is our troop strength today, Commander?" I inquired as we passed the changing chamber.

"Seven, Heh. Those include two gunners, two securities, two engineers and myself. I’ve taken the liberty of placing a gunner in a surveillance position just inside the lens." The officer said with a stern but proud appearance.

"Good thinking, Commander. I believe that we should keep this watch going, as there seems to be a general weakness in our dome systems at that point. We can change the guard every .01 sectors. Please sit down." I motioned him to the vacant navigator’s seat.

"I’m in agreement, Heh!" was the Commander’s reply and he continued to stand.

After introducing my team members, Willie and the officer exchanged some engineering data.

"What are my orders, Heh!" asked the Commander as soon as he had finished the handshake with Willie and had again turned to me.

"Please take control of base security and also make a plan for earliest warning of enemy attack plus our evacuation." I replied, wondering what he could do in those departments.

"Do you have preferences for complexity, timing, weapons, range, Etc?" The Commander asked with surprising intelligence.

"I’ll leave it up to you…be cautioned that we have no additional room to extract you or your troops in the 3 y in case of invasion, but a skiff will be available if we fail here. I see that you are marines by your insignias so you will know how to proceed." I probed.

"We will do our best, Heh…to live up to your expectations and our traditions!" He shouted, bowed and looked straight at the wall above my head.

"We would appreciate your assistance in a rescue operation, Commander." I said.

"One of our generic team members has been in the rough for sometime. We wish to evacuate her no matter if she is operational or not."

The officer finally softened and made eye contact with me. He replied that he would be only too happy to help and that he had been programmed for that kind of work. I followed up by saying that our pilot would fill him in on the task details.

Willie and Wally had again upgraded the engines on the skiff adding both stealth and speed; we were now pressing the skiff’s limits. I thought the rescue would be the opportunity to see if it could go undetected and explained my concerns to the expedition members. Alma-b had asked to pilot the mission. The skiff would carry 4 comfortably, but the Commander decided to bring only 1 other, a gunner. A dome neutron weapon was fitted for extra security; also, double supplies of fuel pods were loaded along with several dome missiles for evasion or offense.

We coolly waited out our luck in our new home to see if the enemy had tracked our entry. When all seemed clear, the team left and were on their own in complete silence.

Little did we know that there were many more scientists and their families in captivity on S10 then we had expected. They had been collected over time and were barely kept alive in order to explain and maintain captured CORP equipment. These were taken from the first failed expedition, Bek's scientific mission. Ships, 3 ys and skiffs, were overlooked, for some reason, by the LP but had been captured by the Fraks. They were not always in good working order and had to be maintained.

I was intent on visiting the city-world, perhaps in the skiff or by captured freighter; I didn’t know exactly how, but a plan was formulating.

At that point I had only a few facts, mostly what Bek had said about Carter. Perhaps I could gain his support and important information with help from use of the IMCs’ if I could land on the planet. Before we left FD-1, I had asked Wally to see what he could do to construct a ‘portable communication generator’ to add another dimension to the mind communications. If I wished to relay our thoughts extended distances while on the surface of the planet, I had to extend our relay possibilities. Wally said that he would look into it.

Willie and Wally then came to me and said that our spares were not sufficient to change the range of the IMC, but they had an idea. The 3 y IMC parts could be easily scavenged to finish the job. Triss had agreed. That would put my ship off line for IMC, but since they would later reassemble it, I felt there was no problem. We hardly used the mental transmission equipment and I would not travel to S10 in the 3 y. I approved their suggestion and the new portable unit came to be an important communications tool as time moved on.

I later found out that the city-world was a massive administration center. Some spiral buildings were thousands of stories high and all were connected with webs of transport tubes. Between the webs, it was a beehive of activity every nano-sec with individuals, individual vehicles, commercial ships, guards, and signs seeking movement space. One could see countless citizens in undulating waves on hundreds of transport platforms at various levels. As one came closer into the landscape, it was apparent that they had no use for vegetation, mountains, water, nor even ground. In fact the whole continuous area reminded one of a colony of coral, leaving no part of the reef unoccupied.

Freighters and shuttles traveled in continuous convoys around its perimeter as well as to and from all areas outside the region. The planet had a irregular diameter; that is it was nearly round but had bulges near ports.

Our captured scientists were treated poorly, often being exposed to the cold, having low quality food, and suffering the terrible breathing conditions of the planet’s surface. However, they had not been intentionally tortured and were somewhat incorporated into the society as laborers for the Fraks. Those were mechanics, pilots, teachers and advisors. The fact that they had not been on a military conquest had saved them. The prisoners were found to be useful.

***

"Do you think that we will ever understand the way they think?" Sai shook his head and waited for his wife, Mia, to reply as he sat at their broken table in the ultra-high-level studio flat, Q188, S10.

Sai was attempting to make conversation, but Mia sat starring at the multitude of freighters passing. It was the only window in the one room hovel...those ships were on their way to a larger dock in the South. It was the same port that had been in a devastating accident but was now fully operational.

"Dam-it! I don’t care anymore. I’m fed up and scared for all of us, Sai." She cursed her life. "I think that suicide is our only hope."

"No, not again, let’s not discuss it this way. We are not quitters. The CORP 'will' save us, Mia, I’m sure of it. Look, something is going on out there right now. I’m not in a position to tell much, but there is something. We are lucky people. We ’did’ survive the attacks uninjured; I actually came through the port explosion only because I was luckily working out at the Eastern docks that day reprogramming stabilizers.

"We are survivors." Sai emphasized the last word.

He didn’t know what to think about events, but he didn’t want his wife to drown in her own fears.

"I’ve been promised a bread machine." He spoke in a low voice hoping his those near wouldn’t hear him through the micron-thin walls.

"It should be in my hands any day now. When we get it, we can do a little exchanging…for shoes and clothing. Its old technology and I can keep it going. 10 loaves a day from dirt and a little water, that’s what it will give us."

She didn’t comment, just stared out the window…the unforgiving, merciless window.

"Please, Just hang on." He pleaded with her.

"Where are we going to get dirt?" She returned with sarcasm. "We live in the sky and never set foot on the ground. I don’t even know if there's dirt down there after 6 sectors." Large tears rolled off her cheeks.

"I can bring it home…in my lunch box. It’s not a problem. Please bear with me Mia. I don’t want to lose you. Life would be so extremely hard here without you, Mia." He pleaded with hands in the air.

A few doors down another whispered conversation took place.

"I’ve stolen 5 fuel cells, Kathy." Max murmured not looking up to see her face.

"I want to trade them for a wave-pistol…then I can take things for us from the traders in the main market."

"Why don’t you just steal the wave-pistol." She sneered. "Are you afraid of something? I thought you weren't afraid of anything, not even for me."

"It’s complicated," puzzled Max, voicing his single-track-mind and taking no notice of her comment.

"There are just too many door sensors between the antique shops and the market. . .but I can take the wave-pistol into the market if I’m in a group. . .ya, then continue to use and hide it there."

"Please don’t do this, Max. What will happen to me without you?" She began to sob. Her tears fell between her thin arms and down on to the beat-up composite floor.

"By god, Kathy. We’re not going to continue to suffer and die in this rat hole. We’ve got to take some risk, some chances. I don’t know what else to do, I really don’t," yelled Max.

There was a low rap on the paper-thin wall.

"Shut up, Max. They’re listening to you. We’re all listening to you and it’s a dumb idea. Go back to bed." The whisper faded.

They could hear all of their neighbors cough and turn. Mia was still crying too in another room down the hallway.

The next day Max and Ian, Max’s neighbor, met at the transport platform.

"Are you crazy, Max. You can’t have those kinds of conversations in the flat at that volume. Just because they don’t come to the door anymore, doesn’t mean they aren’t taking copious notes for a swift judgement." Ian mumbled.

Both men hurried along with the crowd. Thousands of other beings and generics also pushed to get better boarding positions. Around them stood varied sorts of alien and indigenous workers wearing a variety of clothing and uniforms. Tall security generics patrolled the edges of the loading area.

"I believe, Ian, that they don’t care about us anymore. We have already told them everything! I think that they are bored and have more important things to do. I want my wife to know that ’I’ am doing something and not let her fold-up like the others."

Max muttered those faint tones as they held up their cards and were herded onto the long, tubular trams.

"Further," Max continued, "we have to be constantly ready for salvation."

It was a good speech and Ian thought about it most of his work day...about how he could add to the final effort, be ready for escape, and even support the CORP during an invasion. He had already concluded that a dome missile created the damage to the main S10 port. Luckily, on the day the facility was hit, he had been with Sai doing a 3 y maintenance at another terminal. He was sure that CORP was on its way.

The 3 ys were popular and put into service as diplomatic shuttles, taking VIPs to various corners of the Frak frontier. Carter, well known to the others, was a pilot on one of the VIP shuttles, but rarely seen as he had his docking facility on the opposite side of their city-world. A burly, middle aged man, he had been in different services all over before falling into the hands of the Fraks. Still almost rough and ready, Carter was a bit of a talker, but reliable…if one could get him to commit. The older he became, the less he committed.

Max and Carter had once been commercial pilots together and friends long before their ill-fated Stellar 10 Mk adventure. The two had lived young, rowdy lives usually spending their time-off drinking, laughing, smoking, and fooling around in dives like most of that kind liked to do...living a life for the moment. Ian thought that Max had contact with Carter and therefore asked Max, if and when that happened to arrange a meeting. Max agreed.

***

Our rescue mission to collect Alma-c had returned without incident. The craft was operating well and went undetected. Alma-c had maintained her concealed position by bravely shutting off her power for the entire period.

Once cleaned up, Alma-a brought her into the control room of our new base.

"Welcome back Alma-c. It is good to see you." I said as I bowed. She bowed in return.

"How long was I away?" She looked at me and then at the rest of the team gathering around with smiling faces, all glad to see her.

"Let’s just say that you missed some excitement; Alma-a will brief you on that later. We are proud of your contribution, you provided good cover for our escape and I personally appreciate your efforts. Statements of commendation have been placed in the ship’s recorder." I continued with an award presentation. "Because of your fine work, Alma-c, you have been promoted to team military-liaison leader as we now have a military environment with attending K class generics. It is very good to have you back and keep up your excellent efforts."

"Have you had contact with Bek?" She asked showing curiosity and continuity about the important issue.

"We have but lost her again. Recently, a team had searched out Bek’s last location and we were surprised to note that her planet was gone. My reasoning tells me that the enemy has blocked our pathway," was my official reply. As I spoke, I also viewed my internal photo of Bek’s cute face and lovely presence on the moon lit pier. Her company was tantalizing and I was still mystified...was she alive or dead, in a penthouse or a prison? I didn't want to speculate but knew that I had lost either a good friend or clever enemy. I needed many answers; she was only a piece of the puzzle.

***

By accident, a short time later, Willie had found that he had exchanged scientific and mapping information along with the recipes from one of Bek’s robots. Her and her team before her suspension had extensively explored the 5 nearest systems. During one period, they had made more than 20 trips to a single planet. I felt that that it must have been some type of contact point or storage area.

"Willie. Please check and refuel the skiff for the new mission. Let’s take a look at the largest planet in the 3rd system." I had decided to investigate.

"Ok, Heh. Should I load up additional fire power?" Willie asked.

"No, we will travel lightly for a survey; the A-19 and particle-beam rifles will be fine. There will also be two K troopers with us. Our mission time shouldn’t be more than .05 sectors."

I turned to Alma-a. "Can you please take over here?"

"Yes, I would be happy to do so, Hey," responded Alma-a in good form. "Are there further instructions?"

"Yes. Please keep a close eye on activity around our destination before we leave and let me know." Few vessels had been seen since our reestablishment of a base dome, but I wanted to be sure that nothing was moving about in that distant area. "We will travel per our 'black-out' SOP."

There was a pre-departure conference with the team plus the new local Commander. He was introduced to Alma-a and I asked that 2 troopers to be assigned to our task. The request was granted. Other topics included the usual precaution, what to do if we didn’t return. The procedure was clear; they should close operations after a reasonable period. All had agreed.

The skiff traveled flawlessly. It was in fine working order and easy to handle, especially now the engines burned a higher-grade fuel.

Circling the target planet at low altitude, we took several scans. It had an adaptable atmosphere and a rain forest environment. The vegetation was made up of conifers and ferns. I spotted a landing area immediately; it was a treeless plateau and already marked with heavy wear. Some lines were cut into the rock 10 ships long and as deep as my boots. Geological activity had not created those, but what had? No modern ships were designed to land in that manner.

As we sat down and I opened the skiff's veil to take a closer look but there was a rumbling from the distance forest, and then a voice:

"Shheeish Oushata Weetau," communicated a nearly transparent form, peaking, then towering over a distant group of full-grown pines.

Its head was half the size of our skiff! Silver arms ended with claws hung at its sides. On the beast's indistinguishable face were hundreds of silver knots; it had no other eyes and a small hole for its mouth. Its upper body looked like the end of a medieval mace.

One of the legs was visible. I could tell that flexible piers ending in larger saucer like pads supported the beast.

We stood at the door and speculated. Was it a type of projection? Was it made up of bio-mass, images, or elements?

"Willie, please hand me the translator?"

"Shheeish Oushata Weetau." It yelled much louder, in a threatening manner.

"What should I bring you today?" The machine in my hand had translated.

Otherwise the creature stood perfectly still. Its command was puzzling. I decided to attempt my own question.

The translator returned another strange sound:

"Gao Ohwa Sako Wesch?" (What do you have for us?)

Again the giant screeched even louder:

"Shheeish Oushata Weetau," but not a word had changed.

I made an internal recording and reviewed the 9 views for deviations.

"There, another movement," I said to myself; something was around its neck and showed a adjustment in its body!

As I asked Willie what he saw...suddenly, before I had turn back and Willie had uttered a word, the beast snapped off one of the tall furs near it and raked the limbs clean. It advanced on us carrying the shaft with broken end up right like a spear. The ancient looking warrior intended to plant the pole in the middle of our skiff.

I hopped back and we hovered before it had made 10 steps. Climbing to a new altitude, we watched the beast below us as it tilted its head and lowered its weapon.

Since the being had not attempted to strike us, I calculated that it was harmless but had decided to continue investigations elsewhere. A confrontation might have triggered a more serious reaction or alarm. We continued our climb and watched the giant return to its position. The other animal, silver in color and snake-like, was wrapped around its neck and stayed almost motionless.

Having spotted a higher plateau, we landed after making sure that the giant hadn’t followed us. Upon going to the door veil, again I saw something curious.

The dirt just below me was covered with prints, other 'skiff'' cushion tracks, and a variety of robot footprints. Some looked fresh. We were on to something.

"Perhaps it’s a change of luck." I commented to Willie almost as a question. "Here are signs of CORP skiff pads. Something else has recently landed here."

"I believe that I’ve spotted something too, Heh, on the scan," said Willie looking at the frozen image of an out-cropping of granite that was no more than a short walk up from us.

"It’s an environment lens! Look on the hill there, the rocks near where that steep part commences." He gasped with excitement.

We climbed over some rubble and walked to the white-stony, cracked-looking but vibrating cover. It was our lens and a specification to match the one on Bek’s old dome! I was thinking a number of things at once but said:

"I believe that we should carefully open the access door, but, first, let's hide our skiff and get the troopers up here."

I then pointed to a group of trees on the other side of our position.

Willie ran and slid down the rubble where the 2 K soldiers were walking up the slope to us. He lifted the craft to the designated area. Once we were assembled again, Willie broke the lens-access code; the security door veil opened and we carefully entered finding the first chamber dark and vacant.

Slowly, working our way through and out of the next, we started our descent into an even blacker pit. There were no sign of habitation ahead. However that myth was quickly dispelled by a sound.

"Did you hear something from the floor?" I whispered to Willie as we edged our way. "We aren’t alone!" He whispered.

"It is possible that we are inside a captured dome, Heh. It could be full of security," whispered Willie again.

"Why do you believe that?" I asked in a very low volume as we crouched attempting to listen and search for the next footing.

"According to our procedures, we do not build landing pads near a dome entrance."

Willie was right. It was food for critical thought. That could be a trick, but then I focused on the disarray of footprints. All were the markings of our F type generics.

***

Back on S10, Carter finally met Max and a second meeting was arranged between Carter, Max and Ian to take place in the dining area of a local hospital. There were always hordes of sick creatures seeking treatment and making complaints; the conspirators’ voices could never be overheard.

When the time came, they assembled and found a table together in a safe corner. Carter ordered a 'kalk' to share while talking. The 'kalk' was a whitish animal, a thick 2 headed worm (a head on each end). It was soaked in acid for a long period then fried, usually with the heads left on. Chewy, cheap, and of low nutrition; it was an unusual treat for some.

Ian trusted his neighbor Max, even though Max was a bit of a hothead. And Max trusted Carter, as Max had never been treated unfairly. They discussed dead friends, recent jobs, stated their illnesses and other news. All seemed to intentionally avoid the discussion of CORP until last. Perhaps some type of life was better than no life, injury, prison, or a major disruption of what they had. On the other hand, they all wanted out.

Carter broke the deadlock with news. He told them that he had exchanged messages with Bek a number of sectors back, but didn't know if she were still alive or in suspension. She had disappeared, along with her planet. Secondly, he had heard about a convoy that was attacked by what he thought were CORP like weapons, those fired from inside a dome. The LP were called in and the two asteroids issuing the attacks were removed. The port explosion was old information but they all agreed that CORP was behind it.

"What can we do to help the CORP, or escape?" asked Ian.

"We are pretty much stuck without outside command, communications and control," answered Carter. The stellar net is against us and strong.

"I think the Fraks get a kick out of watching the weak ones jump over the wall into the death pit.

"Sadistic monsters!" replied Ian.

"This is what we can do," returned Carter attempting to formulate something out of justifiable anger.

"Try to get that wave-pistol you mentioned and I think I can take it on board my ship from the market. I will overtake my ship’s security robots when and if there is a major CORP raid. During the confusion, I’ll collect as many weapons and meet as many of us as I can at the tube platform. I think there is still a dome about 15 sektors out where we can temporarily hide until the dust settles."

"Won’t the 3 y be targeted during an attack?" asked Ian.

"I don’t believe so due to the new ID protocols. It will just look like another shuttle to the Fraks and a 3 y to CORP."

Carter went on.

"There are sympathizers with us here at the main market. They are also tired of abuses and want a change. If you give Quib at the Ziff Meat Center this bone, as a pass type ID, and the pistol once you have the weapon, he will do the rest. Quib will know that the weapon goes to me." Carter handed Max a fossil tooth.

After arranging for their next meeting, they said so long and went their ways; Carter traveled up to the market and the others back to their flats.

***

One K-5 gunner stood guard at the top of the hill securing the lens entrance on the strange planet with its giant warrior. He was also keeping a close eye on the skiff. The three of us crouched down inside on the descent ramp trying to determine how to light up the area below when someone did it for us.

"Drop your weapons or die," came the female voice that I immediately recognized as Bek’s.

"I’d rather make love than war any day, Bek." I said slowly standing up from my protected corner and telling my crew to lower their weapons.

"I thought that you knew that love was war, Honey." She replied with a good laugh. "How did you find me, Heh?"

"It was easy. . .I just followed your foot prints." I said with a broad smile giving her a well-deserved jab.

"Are my feet that big?" flew her tease.

"Your skiff had left its signature on the pad under your lens and your cook had given up your maps (the other reason I had felt that Bek was not a double agent).

"I think you need to borrow my manuals on dome construction and security…or I can just give you my personal briefing." I sent the friendly spikes as we closed the gap and added, "bet you have quite a story, Bek!"

"Yes, that’s right. I’m terribly sorry for that stinging message and having to leave you to fight the Armada, but I was lucky to escape in the skiff. They destroyed my 3 y, even F-6 is gone…he was my favorite cook!

"I had left for a test run and if we hadn’t of gotten away when we did, I would have been toasted."

"I can see that you’ve done pretty well, Bek." I said looking around as we hugged.

"Carter and I were lucky to have had time to store this equipment. There are more parts and various dome missiles in here than at the factory…and our timing is very good too, because I’ve been very, very lonely. Actually, I thought that you were dead, Heh, and that I was stuck here forever. I am so sorry for my actions during the escape."

Bek had boasted, then yearned with the authority of a survivor, warehouse owner, and a lover. I could overlook the first as I might have run too if I had been first out of the port.

"I thought that you might be able to see through my message, at least get a warning from the wording. I had to make a quick cover on many frequencies, as they had demanded surrender of all forces. Obviously you didn't receive their messages."

"No, just complicated graphics, confused transmissions, and your rough language. It was irksome and I read it too many ways without any time." I replied.

"The mislead was aimed at the Fraks, Heh, to confuse them into thinking that my ship was friendly to them. Those words went out only as a distraction."

"I know. It's not important now." My mind was firm; she was innocent.

"They slowly pursued me but I ejected in the skiff before the 3 y was caught and destroyed. Luckily they were not thorough and did not look too close at the several asteroids in the area. Of course when I returned, the base, the planet and everything was gone. I really thought you were the unlucky one, Heh." She gasped.

"You did mislead them Bek and gave our ship a little time as we were not immediately followed. We also had Alma-a to thank for help in that area and can explain her actions later." I told her with full sincerity. "Thereafter, I suspend in here for one sector per CORP’s policy."

"We suspended too. It was the right move because we stand here now, are breathing, and the mission continues.

"Is it really you, Heh?" Bek’s tossed her rifle on the ground and grabbed me again around the chest. Her head pressed tightly against mine.

I hugged her back. Her story was reasonable.

My later report to the record included a commendation concerning her intelligence, bravery, and her survival behavior under pressure. I was glad that she made it and was still a member of the team.

"Do we have some ultra-long range communicators in here?" I asked thinking that those should be positioned in case we had a CORP advancement inside the communications zone.

"Several, but they won’t do us any good as the signals will still bounce off the Frak net. They will find the transmitters." She gave her opinion again but then pointed to high shelving on the other side of a loading dock.

I changed the subject to the surface of the present planet.

"What was that animal-configuration that I saw down below just before entering the dome?" I asked as we walked in the direction of the sending equipment.

"Oh, that’s the harmless receptionist." She explained. "Carter told me that they are some kind of Frak guards on several planets around here. We don't know what they guard and have only a few below, but they never come up this high. I think they are mechanical."

"You can upgrade their classification, from harmless to bothersome. Their weapons are a bit primitive but could be effective under the right circumstances."

We stopped, looked into each other’s eyes, and kissed.

"It wanted to perforated the hull of our skiff with a pine tree." I said, but she wasn’t listening…only concentrating on the kisses. It must have been desolate and frightening for her. I was glad that we were together again.

***

Now that the serious doubts were properly expelled and all faults pushed aside, I decided that I could trust Bek again as a full partner and team leader. That gave the mission great advantage as we shared operational tasks. She continued to inventory, separate the material in the warehouse cache, and took the skiffs to sink domes in other planets where we spread out those resources. One enemy attack would no longer do us in. Our new locations could also double as our hideouts. Bek sunk many domes and was building a small army of the linked F robots.

I thought that there was a chance that the giant 'receptionist’ could be connected to the LP and therefore asked the local commander to assign a soldier to follow and report. I didn’t know what to think of the beasts but wanted to check out all possibilities.

We made plans to visit the Carter message point. With Bek’s consent, Wally had found and loaded Carter’s final message from her skiff's recorder. It read:

...............

Greetings Bek. I have been shuttling to and from the frontier for the past .5 sectors, usually Generals going out to take a look but no diplomats. The invaders have surrendered in a few places and what I have learned by listening to the officers conversations is that CORP had somehow supported those factional groups.

Max sends his regards. He said that Sai’s wife is very afraid for the future and for your safety, stranded so far away.

So long for now, I have no new ideas on how to contact the CORP. Best wishes, love and miss you, Carter.

PS. Will try and send/pickup in next .4 sectors.

..........…..

I was happy to have further evidence of allies surviving on S10 and Carter’s other details. It seemed that the aliens had made best use of the expedition leftovers and had not seriously abused them. At least Carter sounded ok.

It was vital for my mission to have contacts on the city-world in order to glean details of the ultimate issue...the Frak-LP interactions, their military agreements. My captured allies were the fingers on the pulse of the enemy whether they knew it or not.

I also had further objectives. Those included planning for and making a prisoner rescue. If I could not receive higher orders from CORP, the rescue of the remaining lost expedition would be a clear priority once the main mission material had been collected, sent, and received.

Willie had upgraded the 2 additional skiffs at the warehouse, so our flexibility doubled. We divided the work again and Bek elected to continue with the delivery of supplies to the new domes on the outer systems plus she became responsible for the manufacture and storage of fuel. Alma-c now reported to her and piloted one of the two newly retrofitted skiffs. In addition, Bek spent considerable efforts scouring planets in various systems for expedition survivors plus clues to the LP.

My main concerns were the development of the details on how to land on S10. Of course, my hopes were more and more conditioned on some future contact with Carter. I then thought that I should stay those aspirations concerning Carter in favor of definite alternatives.

One possibility that was concluded: we needed a new HQ, another military type, and it should be closer to S10. If the Carter contact never materialize, the next best bet would be to position a team proximate to the remaining asteroids on their old highway and try to join a convoy. We could float in and blend during a reorganization of their ships if this was a common event. Alma-c's old bunker location was selected. All those vessels shouldn’t even notice our skiff, nor would we show up on the Frak’s long distance equipment unless they were looking for something. I asked Alma-b to keep an eye on any traffic around that area to see if it would be a credible idea.

As another plan, I visualized that the escort command to any convoy might release their flock early, thinking that those ships were in a safe zone. We needed to search for a system even closer to S10 where we could capture one of their lambs then slide in with sheep’s clothing.

Nothing was firm; we were still making observations and adding numbers, but the ideas were simmering.

There had been 3 patrols over various domes as time passed; with our sensors plus early power cuts, their searches had failed. CORP’s blackout procedures had saved us again and again.

Our mission inventory now was Bek and I, 3 Alma class 3084s, 5 commanders, 12 mechanics, 148 security robots of the F version and 36 of the K type. We had amassed 200 fuel pods, which were conveniently spaced in various domes. Our ships included one 3 y and four skiffs. The cache warehouse held ample spares for 10, 3 y ships, plus the 2 additional retrofitted parts for skiffs, and mixed spares for 3 heavier ships. Our weapon systems included 310 particle-beam rifles, 15 medium neutron weapons plus those available through opening future domes, 1,200 environments, 900 dome missiles, and 25 ton of various explosives. We also had 3 intelligence centers that had not been activated due to the lack of trained generics, the Frak net, and the possible increase of energy emissions. Nor were we really motivated to spend time with mostly useless Frak messages. We could have worked the boys on overtime and developed more Alma models to run them but there seemed to be no immediate benefit. Further, I didn’t want to be distracted by too many officers asking useless questions, as they would ultimately trip over each other. Other stores included an automated hospital, medicine, and rations. The food supplies for Bek and I were calculated to last 500 sectors.

In addition to our main cache warehouse, there were 5 military domes, 3 warehouses for fuel storage, 18 empty holes and 4 communications domes readied for contact if and when the LP net was compromised.

I still needed surface maps, S10 entry points plus entry codes. Carter, if viable, could have access to those critical parts of the puzzle, and more. It was imperative to check the meeting point at the message exchange planet.

***

His last message had been picked up many sectors before. Things at S10 could have changed drastically. In fact, I had hoped that Carter had survived my first visit there.

Once we caught up with our operational tasks, Bek and I finally decided that we were prepared to investigate the Carter contact. Bek flew in from our very first fuel depot (FD-1) with a load of fuel, Alma-c, and one of the K series security troopers. On my skiff, Alma-b was piloting and Willie came along as a back up but also brought extra sets of tools, weapons and maps. We were ready.

The message exchange planet, called 'S10a', was in a system conveniently located to S10. I was considering many plans for the planet. Alma-a had been left in-charge of the newest military environment.

Our teams coordinated a side-by-side landing. I suited up and walked around to Bek’s skiff. Willie followed.

The surface was misty and cold. Little puffs of CO2 swirled about our feet. Out on the landscape there were flat areas alternating with groups of boulders.

Bek stepped past her ship’s door veil, greeted me with an irresistible smile, and lowered her neutron rifle still holding it tightly under her right arm.

"Its good to have an experienced man here." She said with a pretty blush that glowed behind her visor.

"I didn’t think that diplomats blushed, Bek." I smiled.

"I’m a woman too…you know it’s my right." She bantered in exchange.

That statement echoed in my mind after a flash of gold. She had been playing with the IMC configuration again and I had to talk to her about it.

"I know very well that you are a fine woman, and another thing…"

"What’s that?" Bek inquired out of her insatiable curiosity.

"Oh, its just another thing…I never disagree with a woman holding a gun, Bek!"

Something had moved in the corner of my eye and as abruptly stopped.

"Did you see it?" I called to her on my IMC.

I waved my rifle in the direction of the movement and was in front of her.

"Fraks? Pirates?" I transmitted.

We shifted to a better cover position next to some large boulders. I could hear her just behind but still had my back turned. It was curious. There was nothing on the landing scan.

Suddenly, Bek fired and a loud metallic 'clunk' echoed, as if it, the shot, had dashed the prey against a stony surface. I hadn’t even seen her raise her weapon and jumped back a little.

"It’s a ‘Spindel’, a spider guard. I’ve found them on other planets but never here. The Fraks planted them as pests to discourage pirates and refugees from establishing camps." She re-transmitted.

"Let’s take a look." I whispered.

Bek raced around the high, rounded boulders as quickly as she spoke. She was a true hunter moving in without delay to finalize the kill.

"The Spindles are also bothersome, but not terribly dangerous." She said and pointed with the barrel of her weapon. "You see they are quite slow and have simple, dagger weapons."

She smirked as we stood over the metallic, smoldering bundle of mixed up legs, and Bek pointed to its spikes. Its spider like body casing was split through the center and still glowing red inside. That guard had been half as large as a K robot and I felt that it was something to take seriously.

"This one won’t be giving anyone any trouble. However, if there’s one there’s more…sort of like a pack." She warned, looking back, then around.

"I’ll keep alert." I returned.

"The Spindel can drive that stinger into your leg, a finger's length, if you are unlucky…then rip away. I’ll show you my souvenir later." Bek whispered pointing down to her foot. I had recalled a long scar.

Willie watched from our last position, had kept alert and stood on top of one of the larger stones.

"Let’s get back to the ships unless you're in a hunting mood, Heh. We should be able to clear the ground with a carbon-debris detonation that I carry in the supplies." Bek suggested as she stepped back.

I nodded in agreement.

After finding the right elevation and releasing the charge, we returned and located 7 more with the help of the K trooper. All were confused and reeling in circles when we dispatched them. I asked Willie to bundle a specimen for later inspection.

The two Alma’s were left in command at the skiffs. Bek and I proceeded with the K generic. She used her ion-selector, a hand held metal snifter set to the metal we were tracking. We were closing in and had strong directional readings. Bek marched forward through the swirling mist and into the mouth of a cave as if she were in her own back yard.

"This is it!" exclaimed Bek, stopping just outside the murky entrance.

"What about the Spindles? We could have missed some inside." I saw nothing ahead as the mist moved in different directions.

"If we wait, they’ll come for us; if they’re in there." It was obvious that she knew what she was about.

Bek spoke but looked back and then down at her stronger readout.

"We have to watch our backs…if some of them were outside the blast area. But, I believe that the whole flock was eradicated." She broke the the tension with a new confidence.

After transmitting an IMC to Alma-b at the skiff and being reassured that all was ok there, we entered the cave. Our K trooper secured the area ahead, holding his heavy illuminated weapon in front and walking slowly.

The short tunnel was empty.

"I don’t see prints, but the cover has been moved a bit from its last position!" She explained with excitement and showed renewed energy as her hand pried back the stone slab exposing a blue metallic capsule. The naturally fallen stone had hidden it very well. Exposed was a half-buried cylinder between the wall and its thin, stony blanket.

"This was the most lasting means of giving messages and the safest delivery system that we could think of," said Bek as she handed me the vessel.

I turned the lid and looked in. There was a roll of 'plast-mark' and something that looked like a fossilized lion’s tooth.

Bek took and read the letter out-loud, rather most of it:

..................

Greetings Bek. I have made several visits to our post office but there have been no messages from you. I don’t know if you are in suspension or worse but I hope that you are ok and that the LP or perhaps the pirates have not done their dirty work. Your planet and dome are gone.

Here is the latest news. Be cautioned again; the Frak net is stronger than ever and they will locate you if you attempt to message CORP. Also, be advised that the CORP has some activities on the frontier. Perhaps you already know about this. If you are desperate to communicate please use an automated messenger from a remote location… but, of course, you risk losing your equipment. The warehouse should have several back-up sets of long-range senders; they will get you to the next transmitter or to a CORP ship and on to another outpost. As per our SOP, please do not aim any messages at S10.

Mia, Sia’s wife is dead. She threw herself over our dining area balcony. The body is still missing. Sai is doing ok, but hasn’t said a word in a long time.

We have made sketchy plans for resistance and escape. It all depends on outside help. . . hopefully from a main CORP force. We are motivated and can assist in that effort; please let them know this when you make contact.

I’ve nearly forgotten what you look like, Bek; it's been so long. I’ll never…"

"Oops, sorry, Heh, this part is private," uttered Bek skipping down to the next area.

The asteroid beacon is well known, even to the Frak civil pilots and is almost a joke. You are advised to leave it be.

Something had knocked-out a heavy Frak battleship in the Kronnan fuel reserve. Beware, they are scouring that area.

The tooth you have found in the tube is an ID and pass. We have rebel friends in the main market, mostly young ones, but a few high-ranking business minded Fraks that are tired of all this military tripe. If you are alive and somehow arrive here, use the key at the S10 meat market as a way to hide, get a hold of me and pass information. Ask for Quib at the Ziff Meat Center and show it to him only. All of the vendors know Quib.

Good luck and my best wishes are always with you, Bek, with love and hope, Carter

PS Take care for Spindles. They seem to have been planted on all of the planets and moons near S10 now.

...............

We had developed a return message together. Bek confirmed that she had a new base and that the LP had destroyed her old planet. The beacon didn’t matter anymore but would not be touched. Further, there was some help from the outside; she couldn’t go into details, but requested data-maps of the main port in the South Zone, if repaired, plus entry codes. Carter should expect an early contact at the message point; plans were being made for a quiet entry to survey S10. Bek then asked him to keep the hopes alive in the others.

The teams returned to their skiffs and left unopposed. Upon arrival at the M-5 dome, Alma-a said that there had been a large military cruiser with escorts passing. They had scanned but had not stopped to investigate. She felt that the auto-defense systems were holding and no leaks were made. Commander-5, a trainee, had at that moment realized the full significance of their situation and was much more appreciative of on the job training.

Bek and I decided to promote some relaxation as we felt that our mission was progressing and there was need for a well-deserved break. Our newest dome, M-5, also had tennis courts that came prepared with net, rackets, and balls. We challenged Commander-5 and Alma-a to a doubles match.

I had played a little during my first technical training as a distraction from so much studying. It was good exercise and a fine way to let off steam leading to complete nights of rest. Bek had also played during her educational years at the Diplomatic University on Radial 1. Besides, Bek and I had another edge. We were sending silent signals with our IMC’s.

"If I cross over, we can cut off their service return." Bek transmitted.

"I’ve got to get the serve in before we can perform technical tricks," was my reply.

Our strong advantage started to decay when I realized that the opposition copied our physical moves very well. In fact, they copied so well that they could adapt to the balance and tactical situations better than their learned instructors could.

The robots had never played before, but ended up winning in the 3rd set by lobbing the ball to the baseline and precisely into the artificial sun. We were temporarily blinded and could not return the ball in an effective way. It was a clever strategy and I came away impressed as to their adaptability, congratulating them and noting the event in the ship’s log for future reference.

"I bet you peeked at the IMC transmission." I accused Alma-a in jest.

"Which one?" She joked back.

Bek and I thanked them and left together. We wished to swim. They went to compete at archery.

It was a quick way to get a bath too and Bek would usually wash her hair. Clothing was optional. Since we didn’t have our suits, we swam without them.

"You are welcome to wash my back." She purred.

I followed her lead and added lotion to her back, exploring her strong muscles. Her skin felt pleasant to the fingers but her neck was tense. Pressing with a medium pressure, I moved my hands across the skin attempting to smooth those tightened muscles.

"Would you like me to continue?" I asked. She nodded positively, still facing the other way.

After awhile Bek turned and with her lovely, large brown eyes said:

"I love your hands, Heh. Now you are welcome to wash the rest."

So I did until I couldn't find an unclean spot.

We made love and thereafter frolicked, splashed, and swam until we retired to one of the empty barracks for the night.

I felt complete again and was deeply asleep when an engine noise caught my ear. I arose to three yellow glowing, circling stars in my IMC the next morning. The message said:

............

Good morning, Heh. Thank you for a fine day yesterday. You are a very tender lover, masseur, and friend and here are 3 gold stars for washing my hair, back and other parts!

I’m returning to the FD-1 to review operations and plan to pick up our K robot at the cache warehouse, returning in .1 sectors. Our trooper should have new details on the ‘receptionist giant’.

The tennis was a good idea. All the best, Bek.

............

I was happy that I had Bek. My missions were usually lonely even though I had good conversations with my generics. Bek and I had much more, our encounters, a similar history, and a common culture. We were ‘sole mates’ in a way but closer to being 'cell mates'.

She reminded me of home. I hoped that Alma was still alive and our way of life had not been obliterated. I missed what I once had, but home was alive for me now and then on M-5.

***

Bek returned as planned with the K-4 and some interesting information. He gave us the following account of the giant 'receptionists' on the lower level of the cache warehouse:

"I followed several creatures for .2 sectors and was careful not to let them see me…there are many. I found 9, but there could be others. Perhaps it was possible to have ranged farther for a higher count if their masters had not spotted my position. I was chased several micro-sectors until I climbed up and took refuge at the higher elevation. Then, I hid in the dome on half power until I was contacted by Commander-1 and Bek," reported K-4.

"What did the masters look like and where were they in relation to the giants?" I asked expecting the answer to confirm my earlier observations.

"The masters rode on their shoulders and neck; they had long, thin, silvery bodies. The masters would wrap their tails around the necks of the giants like necklaces, holding on with their 12 slender arms while guiding the beasts. Those small creatures would often say something and the giant partner would stop and listen, then perhaps go a different direction. I could not tell if the larger kind was a generic or an animal but the snake-like creature was a bio-life form as I found a dead one in the underbrush. My impression from the recon was that the pair functioned as a type of security system but I could not find what they guarded." He seemed to hesitate.

"Could you determine if they had a base?" I continued to probe and at the same time reviewed my internal images of the previous contact...yes, it looked like his description but was blurred at times by movements.

"Unfortunately, I saw the giants only in the forest and would lay low under the conifers as they walked bye. There was no command center near my area; they never left the forests. However, I was able to recognize their footing and footprints after awhile and knew which were which. In my opinion, those machines had poor sensors. Our guards are much more sophisticated," bragged K-4 as he straightened his back a little.

"Thank you K-4. You have provided useful information and a quality report. I will issue a written commendation in my log and one to your Commander."

The soldier bowed and was excused.

Immediately, Alma-a commented that she had noted an unusual delay in K-4’s responses during questioning. We decided to have the Commander follow up in combination with testing by Willie. Perhaps K-4 had been hit by some type of unknown ordinance or had received a short circuit, not unlikely when generics had to suffer very wet conditions.

In evaluation, the "receptionists giants" seemed to be acting without a known purpose but had not bothered us. Were they connected to the LP or something else? Perhaps they were another form of Spindel or had been left behind by some expedition. I felt that it wasn’t clear nor worth more time for the moment.

Alma-a and Willie later reported that K-4 showed signs that he was in wet conditions and had a memory lapsed. I asked Willie to explore the problem further but only in his spare time, especially to find out what periods were missing.

***

Our planet sensors had picked up a craft in the area of the message meeting point on S10a. The ship had landed and we identified it by its fuel configuration; the signature showed a 95% similarity to our 3 y.

Our postman had arrived.

I wondered how Carter was able to get away from his security robots or diplomats. I had to ask if and when we met.

Bek, Alma-b, Wally, a K trooper and I climbed into my skiff and Alma-b piloted it to the system.

When we swung into the planet’s atmosphere, our scanner spotted and identified a CORP craft precisely in the place that we had parked our skiff a short time before. I decided not to hail but made the landing on the opposite part of the rock formation leading to the cave. We thought that we should take a chance on meeting Carter at or in the cave.

It was a mistake. After suiting up and assembling under the skiff, we had to retreat to our ship. A half dozen Spindles were on us. The K-3 trooper was overcome by 2 beasts and badly mauled; his suit was ripped in pieces and several modules were crushed. Other Spindles were held at bay while Alma-b pulled the K-3 up and into the skiff. She disconnected his sensors to allow him some comfort and to allay his fears.

Carter was near and had heard the commotion. When he found the spot, we had already opened the doors again. Our combined forces shot everything in sight. Five were destroyed. Carter and I bagged two each, Bek one and one had scrambled off with a trail of smoke.

"It’s good to see the CORP again," said Carter as he came over and threw his arms around Bek giving her a long hug and then thrust a hardy hand under her arm and in my direction.

"How did you know that I was here?" inquired Carter.

"Sensors," I answered. "We placed them on our last visit hoping for a connection. By the way, we are a lot less in number than CORP." I replied while keeping an eye on 2 generic guards looked back from under his 3 y.

"Are they friendlies?" I asked with immediate concern.

Two mechanical looking robots paced in front of his ship’s ramp look our way now and then.

"They are ok." Carter said with a wily smile while inspecting the fuel-load on his neutron rifle. "We are on a maintenance test and I have come here on these before. You know…to check landing balance under conditions."

There was a chuckle from all of us.

"What will they say when you return?" I asked. "…about conditions?"

"Nothing. Our rebel team on S10 will delete their memories…as usual. Those are ‘our’ conditions."

"How is Sai taking it?" Interrupted Bek as we all walked towards our skiff.

"He didn’t make it," was Carter's curt, disappointing answer.

"Sai stepped in front of a neutron beam yesterday as he was adjusting it. His fears and suffering are over…the fool!

"Everyone is running out of patience and doing dumb things. I wished I could just put them all on the 3 y and bring them home…even out here…but without an outside intervention and that type of confusion, they will pull me back even if the count is one extra. The Fraks scan the ships, crews, passengers and everything. Anyway, there isn’t enough room in one ship."

Carter was bothered by his inability to do anything.

"How many prisoners do they have?" I quarried.

"Too many, I don’t know. More than 100 plus 40 kids," was Carter’s sour answer.

"We are not in a position to do much either, to help them. But, let’s go on in and we can talk about it." I replied leading the way.

Once inside the skiff, we took off our helmets and sat around the nav-center. Alma-b brought us hot tea and then sat down with us.

Carter was calm again.

"I see your robots are more sophisticated than ours." Carter had changed the subject while watching Alma-b. She smiled back. "I wished that we had a few Frak lady generics that knew how to make tea."

We all laughed. His comment was a good break in the serious conversation.

"Would you believe that Bek and I were beaten in a tennis match about a micro-sector ago by one of her sisters and a dome Commander…and they had never played before!"

"They had copied everything perfectly down to the grip, tactics, and dis-information…later to innovate and pounce on us!" I exclaimed.

Alma-b looked proud.

"Ya, I agree," replied Carter. "The generics everywhere are progressing beyond us."

He abruptly changed the subject again realizing his opportunity.

"I need some weapons and a few dome missiles." He nearly demanded.

"We can do that for you, from the old warehouse. What is your plan?" I asked.

"I like to know yours too," quipped Carter. "Maybe we can coordinate an invasion together. I thought that the warehouse was long gone but glad to hear that they haven't found it."

"We would appreciate your checking in here first, before any invasions." I slapped my knee and added a smile before standing and pouring another round. Bek was unusually silent.

"So what are your orders from CORP?" Carter looked for a higher mandate.

"I am hunting the mystical LPs, any ideas where to find one or more?" I asked.

"Some say that they are relatives of the Frak. They make spurious deals with their cousins but I’ve never seen the kind…don’t want to get that close and don't know much about their deals…have no idea concerning their living arrangements," replied Carter.

"Possibly, we can capture Frak officials and ask them?" I mumbled but was thinking to myself that it wasn't a good suggestion.

"It’s possible, but because I have never heard them speak of these beings during any of my shuttle missions it might be difficult to identify the right officials to snatch and interrogate. That is, if we could figure out how to erase their minds later. My rebels aren’t that brave."

Carter laughed and went on.

"Concerning the wars, 8 discontented rebel Fraks, and close friends, say that the Frak campaigns have lasted more than 50 sectors. Rebels, the children of rebels, and their grand children are tired of it. It has disrupted their lives, the employee lives, their property, their customers and the general morale. Recently things were even hotter. Is some of this talk a reflections of your activities?"

I nodded in the affirmative because I knew that he needed justifications to provide real help and nothing that would interfere with his present job.

"Anyway, is there anything that I can relay to our survivors and the rebels, to given them some sort of hope?" He strained at the question but it was in a good-natured way.

"Yes, Carter, there is." I said, projecting a high degree of personal confidence.

"Please pass to them that things are changing, but slowly, and that for their situation to get better we need specific help with communications, our movements, and reliable inside connections. My mission here is to gather facts for transfer to CORP. . .an enemy assessment. Those messages will happen when I have the needed material and when the Frak/LP communications net is down. But, between us, Carter, CORP forces are a long ways off."

"That’s a bit strange coming from a Centurion, I see. I expected to find uncountable legions behind you," responded Carter somewhat disappointed.

"It’s complicated. The bottom line is that CORP is running low on resources." I continued but should have not given him such a true view of the situation.

"So, it is one against armies of billions with connections to gods that hold a dooms-day arsenal," quipped Carter with sarcasm.

"Funny thing, Carter, that force has just grown by three-hundred percent. Now it is 3 plus our backup teams."

We all smiled at the jest, even Alma-b, and I got back to my tea. We sat in silence.

I broke the pause.

"Useful information should include any and all facts about the Fraks and LP connections, including strengths and weaknesses…and for your ears only, the CORP had never admitted knowing about the Frak military during my school briefings. It was always the LP that were causing attacks. Frankly, Carter, I have just today had the first chance to get this mission moving in the right direction after many sectors of down time. You might already know that we were spotted upon arrival and they have attempted to destroy us ever since. We managed to escape with minimal losses, but those odds won’t hold out forever."

"I saw your business card at the renovated port," smiled Carter.

"It was survival, only survival. You would have done the same." I stressed a tactical practicality and he had not denied my need.

"Tell me, what would it take to get your physical support in my tasks ahead?" I thought that I should take a chance and go for my goal of traveling to S10. The previous train of thought was broken and I wanting to keep the meeting on a positive basis.

"Well." He hesitated. "I think I’m already involved and you have already had my best help as a spy…but you are right, there could be other ways that those of us in detention could assist."

Carter’s reply was slow and well worded. He also showed sadness, that his expectations had been diminished.

"My highest aim is to get into your city-world and look around."

Bek nodded her head in agreement with my statement.

"We are also making various plans to coordinate with a future CORP invasion." He went on not accepting my position as a final authority figure but still wanting to cooperate. "Those ideas concerns our ultimately rescue by escape. We will not interfere with your efforts if you can coordinate with ours."

"Neither of us can do much without CORP's support. We are too few with highly limited resources. But, we can, at a minimum, make some preparations required for CORP forces going to the right places at the right time," was my best evaluation concerning our situation.

My orders were not as restrictive as I had mentioned to Carter. I sought resolution by both smooth and bumpy roads...would do whatever it took to complete my mission using talk or weapons. I still needed to find out sensitive facts about 'who' we were dealing with and 'then' I could make a plan on 'how' to deal with them. CORP, for all practical purposes, did not now exist in our environment, nor could they be counted on.

With a higher purpose mandated from Alma and the needs of our civilization, I would at least attempt to find out the differences and problems then do what I could to fix them. Humanity hung in the balance, if it was not already gone.

"We haven’t a lot of time now," said Carter. "The guards are getting curious soon."

"I think that we can agree today to give you the few weapons we have with us. I’ll wrap them in the extra suit. It is too early to ask you for a ride to S10 now that I know that Frak security makes special efforts to detect passenger list anomalies. With the Frak body counting system, it will be difficult to get in as out." I commented but then a new idea struck.

"Would it be possible to bring out one of the scientist in exchange? I would then return with you, leaving him back for a short period and be able to access the others?" I quarried.

"Do you think it’s possible?" Carter asked with a degree of skepticism.

I shook my head in the affirmative.

"I’ll ask Max if he could swing it. He would be the best one as he is about your size...and more than willing to fight then the others. Let’s make arrangements to meet here in about .155 sectors," said Carter. "If I have him, you will see the arrival sensors imagings as I will take the same path in. Otherwise, I’ll avoid the sensors and leave a message.

"Oh yes! I could use information on sensors," said Carter cheerfully.

I agreed and he copied the map into his suit recorder while shaking hands with Wally. Carter said good bye and gave Bek another long look, then a hug. It seemed as if they had once been close.

After shaking my hand with a hard Centurion’s grip, a silent pact implied, we exchanged statements of good luck and the CORP bow. Carter then smuggled the weapons onto his 3 y and left.

***

Upon our return to M-5, I asked Willie about the status of the portable mind communicator and if he had found more about the guard that had a memory problem. Willie told me that the communicator was finished, but needed testing. Everything was carried in a diplomatic case donated by Bek.

The guard had on re-inspection 10% of its memory erased and the deletion was made in an unusual way. Willie had not yet recovered it and suspected missing storage areas.

He also said that he had completed dismantling the dead Spindle and confirmed that its 'out going' messages were still frozen inside. He was sure that the guards had just ‘disappeared’ from the Frak receivers.

Bek wished to return to Fuel operations again at her earliest opportunity and would try to set other remote communications stations not far from that area. Her idea on the occasion was the installation of complicated message mirrors that would confuse the Frak about the source of the generations to CORP. We were still running silent and had no operational communications around the region. All warnings were local.

I cautioned her to be extremely careful and she promised. If a problem came up during construction or testing, she would leave word with Alma-c at FD-1 then hide with her troops. I also asked her to check the status of Athens 32 if she were successful in making contact with CORP but not to divulge any information about us, Carter, or the prisoners just yet.

We spent the night together before her departure, mostly lying side by side enjoying the closeness.

***

I settled into final planning for the Carter meeting upon her departure and the S10 reconnaissance. I felt energetic and happy that plans were moving forward.

Shortly thereafter, Carter returned ahead of schedule and we met. He had Max and was disappointed at not being able to speak with Bek.

Max told me as much as he could about Frak security and the nuances of my path to his flat. I would be staying with his wife, Kathy. In exchange, he was given a short briefing and then introduced to Alma-a.

However, his details failed to answer many practical questions; it even lacked the description of a Frak. We had little time. The trip out of the main port, through security, to the tube-transport, and to the flat had needed better planning. I would be unescorted through the last part of the process after Carter had brought me beyond the port guards. Our rebel friends thought that it was too risky to be involved. Carter was to drop me off near the public transport and then return to fly his 3 y to the East dock for an official pick-up. His guards were to be re-programmed while going there.

If lost, I had to find my way to Quib in the market and he could hide me. I held the relic ID key in a secret pocket.

Since this was the only possibility for the next half sector, we decided it was a ‘go’.

Alma-a returned Max to M-5 and his quarters next to the pool. We thought that he needed some rest and relaxation and she had lined up tennis and chess matches for him. The turn around would happen in .12 sector so it would be a short R&R for Max.

After switching our clothing and gear, I boarded the ship in the environment suit, which was kept on during the entire trip. My head was wrapped in bandages dipped earlier in red dye to hide the face. Carter convinced the security robots that a Spindel had injured Max. If Max removed his suit he would lose blood. The injured man would be taken to the VIP side of the port and Carter would escort him to the clinic.

His generics accepted the situation and even went to half power on the return. I went to sleep too. It was clear that most of the reconnaissance would be sleepless.

When we came within visual range of the dock, I saw that it was the same one that I had ‘redesigned’ on my first visit. That area was again buzzing with activity and the ship’s monitor showed a dozen different types of crafts entering and leaving the port. Higher up, the skyline was full of convoys.

CORP’s dome missile had more than likely destroyed hundreds of ships and bays. However, as we entered, no damages could be detected. The port had been completely rebuilt.

Our 3 y was automatically pulled into the VIP operations area and moved down several tunnels into a stall at a fair distance toward the planet’s interior. These main highways were also used as commuter tracks.

Everything was as usual Carter reported when he walked up.

His two security generics reactivated themselves and met two more at the door after we parked. We were between another 3 y and a Frak shuttle of smaller design.

During the procedure, Carter gave the new security guards Max’s ID. They had a walking stretcher with them. Without delay, all the generics left together. Carter gave the portable bed some Frakian commands. It came up to me and easily scooped me into its bed.

I had never seen anything like it. The robotic table was stomach high and had 6 flexible legs. There was a scanner on each leg and a speaker at the foot of the bed. Carter laid the case with the portable mind communicator plus Max’s ID on my chest and then asked the stretcher to move forward. It followed him like a well-trained pet.

The ride was comfortable and there was room for another patient my size. I now, for the first time, visualized that the Fraks were twice as large as humans, but I still hadn’t seen one and had failed o ask about a description.

We went a long distance and exited the dock after showing our cards again to more generics. Once out on a quiet orange, lamp-lit street with towering structures all around us, I could breathe. I was in.

Carter took several quick turns away and down other narrow canyon like pathways. The stretcher followed but constantly talked asking questions and gave the local news in Frakian. Building tops were so far away that they were out of sight on both sides of us. The streetlights were attached to the foundation walls and there were hardly any dark places. S10’s architecture was packed tightly; one building could hardly be distinguished from another.

The stretcher continued its protest. We had not taken the route to the clinic. The robot did not understand but was cooperating.

As we came to a place under the transport platform, I could see that it was still some distance above us. Where we had traveled was undoubtedly an industrial zone. My eyes focused on Carter as he ordered a stop in front of a large under-building open space.

"Hop down, Heh," rattled Carter, "…please hurry. Take off the suit and place it on top of the bed. Take your ID and case. I still have to explain my delay!"

He issued another command and the stretcher with suit, an arm dangling over one side, climbed down into the pit. This area was about as large as a skiff. A sloping ramp led to a clean, flat area below. When the stretcher had come to the center, the unit’s doors closed and the robot was instantly compressed into a small brick that popped out onto a street container from a round hole in the building. The doors opened again and the cellar was clean.

"Convenient!" I said in a whisper.

"Necessary. Don’t walk into one of those by mistake," warned my friend.

"I hate to leave you here but I can’t go farther, Heh. Good luck. Remember the extraction point. This spot! At the time we discussed! I will obtain another environment suit for your trip back. The rebels are ready for a contact at the market after you settle at the refugee holding area."

Carter hesitated.

"It’s up there, ‘Blue’, the first of three stations. You can follow those orange lights just above your head. Then after 2 left turns, up the ramp on the far left. You will see it."

"Good-luck," spit Carter as quickly as he could and turned.

"Thanks, Carter. Good luck." I returned

He nodded as he quickly disappeared down the path that we had just traveled.

I looked up at the station. It was a long climb once I located the right ramp. I kept telling myself to be calm…not to look suspicious nor to look anyone in the face on the platform and follow Max’s instructions to the letter. Had he told me enough? Fortunately I hadn’t seen anyone, yet.

The ground level was a curious place with thin vacant passageways. The area was very clean, almost too clean. I wondered if I should be there, but continued following the lights.

Then, several noises were coming my way…a heavy panting blended with different kinds of crunching, running steps.

The sounds were louder and echoed from somewhere up around the corner. I pressed into a recess just as a three-legged, long-necked, green creature scrambled bye. Behind it, in hot pursuit, a 2 winged, 2 headed dog like beast was catching up. The first started to whine.

The mythical appearing hound had gigantic heads nearly half as large as its body with 3 offset teeth in each mouth. Its long tongues leaked saliva as they whipped in time with its bobbing heads. The victim was half the size of the first and colored brown and white; those colors were split down the middle. I presumed that the escapee was some kind of scavenger and the other a type of security patrol. One of the griffin heads looked my way, then winked while passing, but returned its concentration to its victim.

I waited for more followers but there were none. The whining decreased as my distance quickly increased in the opposite direction.

Climbing the ramp and approached the station, I saw a mixture of beings and generics, but none exactly like me and not many similar to each other, which was a relief.

By holding my ID up, I entered the next cylinder going up with the crowd as foretold by Max. There was no spot check which Max said they might do. If there had been one, I had planned to give them my act; it was to be the "A,E,I,O,U" false language. They could conclude that I was disabled if they didn’t look too clearly at Max’s card showing his technical abilities. We all stood while the three-car tram whisked in a spiral transparent tube to dizzying heights. The tubes circled and inter-connected all of the near buildings.

Through the skin of the transparent vehicle, one could see a rainbow city between structures, a gallery of forms and colors crossing all spaces. Everything was in motion as small and large ships passed and individuals floated here and there in single unit transport suits. In fact, there were millions of movements once I got a better view near the second platform. The landscape was alive, crawling, and I was motion sick. Turning around, I had to put my concentration into the inside spaces.

It seemed that one or two standing around would stare, knew I wasn’t one of the regulars. I had no idea, which were the Fraks and which were from other places. No one carried weapons, not even the security generics. Many riders were large with elephant type heads. Others had thin necks and small balls for heads. Most had 2 eyes and a mouth. Some of the generics had no face. There was a common dress that I took for a Frak uniform but I didn’t know. It was olive colored and fit over the beings like a closed robe, revealing neither the owner’s shape nor what they wore on their feet. Each of those individuals also had a different colored band around his or her neck that I concluded was a rank, ID communicator, or storage area for credit and personal information. Others had hand cards, like I had, and no bands.

The vehicle’s interior changed to blue and hugged one or two buildings on its assent. At times it would back up and wait. Upon arrival at the next station, the interior and entire platform area changed to red. My transport finally reached the 3rd stop (yellow) and I stepped off. Looking down I could not see my departure point.

Once inside the building, I viewed a massive gallery on other side of the wide walkway. It was sunken into and adjoining several buildings but I could not see what was below. I turned right and blended into the busy crowd as instructed.

There! It was my landmark, a robust black statue made of diabase, a memorial to a 'Frak' warrior.

'So, That’s a Frak!' I said to myself as I walked along feeling excessively wanting in brainpower. I was swept with the exiting droves…many Fraks. They were the largest ones on the tram.

To describe a Frak is to say that his head was huge with two bulging eyes, a trunk hung from the nose position the length and size of their arms, but not on all of them. That appendage was slung over the shoulder, possibly 2 stumpy legs, no hair, and stunning smiles with at least a hundred teeth completed the description. They were walking in the dozens in their hurried paces to various destinations, many to shops along my corridor.

The 'Survivor's' building was still ahead.

After passing several sub-hallways at 90 degrees to my travel, I arrived within view of large, guarded entry. It was as mentioned by Max.

Normally, the security generics were doing something else other than checking cards per Max’s description; I looked down and held my card up as I walked on the far side of the entry.

However, at the same moment, a Frak had pushed ahead of me by several places with his card in the air and was immediately selected for review by the guards. I guessed that he had tried to enter too quickly and they had pulled him back. As I passed and came to the exit hall, the closest guard started towards me but then the second one said something and he rejoin his partner. I followed the stream of beings through the maze, up two more ramps where the crowd thinned then onto the last level. The door was marked with a ‘ö’.

I knocked.

***

Max’s once beautiful but now overly thin wife answered.

"Oh, Max, how," I put my finger to her lips and she whispered, "…is Max?"

Kathy closed the door and I motioned for paper and pencil with hand gestures.

It was a drab, one room, no sink, and no toilet with a small bed studio flat. The only window looked out on to heavily polluted sky-traffic. Engine noises from ships accelerating and decelerating were incomprehensible.

I yanked down the blind. How was I suppose to plan, sleep, and eat here until the return trip? Those were my first impressions.

‘Is Max ok?' She scribbled having a frightened look.

‘Yes, well and being well cared for.’ I responded in writing.

‘How about Max’s work?' I wrote.

She was nervous and shook a bit as she wrote:

‘I don’t agree with this. I am awfully scared of the Frak. We can’t afford to lose more food…they can take it away you know.’

Well, at least she wasn’t scared of me.

I put my hand on hers and whispered:

"It will be ok…I promise, ok."

I suppose the Frak didn’t take any notice of her weeping. But, she became quiet when there was a soft knock on the door.

"It’s Ian, Kathy."

She reached over and opened the paper-thin door.

Ian had a big smile and held up a printed sign that stated: ‘WELCOME CORP!!’

Ian and I exchanged hand shakes as he slipped in bring his chair. Then notes flew between us, written on the back of his makeshift placard. He informed me what I needed to know about Max’s work routine. Max was ‘ill’ and could stay out exactly the amount of time that I had to make my investigations...before Max would have to report in for medical exams.

I went on to request a room with Ian. They looked at each other and shook their heads ‘no’. She wrote that the Fraks scanned the rooms for body counts each night. I would have to stay there, in her bed! That was the safest for all and the only possibility.

I wasn’t sure.

I asked if there was a woman that I could exchange with. Kathy scribbled a shaky ‘no’. I think that they both were afraid of too many complications.

Kathy went down the tubular, dark hallway to the dining area and brought back half a ‘kalk’ and some warm liquid called Dara. Dara equated to coagulated blood as it smelled and looked rotten, but tasted sweet. She assured me that it was the juice from a vegetable grown under hydrophonic conditions several floors below.

We dined and I asked on paper if I could continue to eat in the apartment.

She indicated that no one was expected to sit in the dining hall and for the past 2 sectors there had been no flat inspections for illegal property. The inspections were periodic but known about in advance.

It was late. Ian left for bed. The first night was awkward. We slept back to back and the bed had sunk in the middle. I drifted in and out between the noises outside and her weeping. She was earliest to rise and had breakfast ready by the time I came to the table.

Kathy once had a lovely figure; I saw most of it through her off-white nightgown, and again when she leaned forward to spoon out porridge into my bowl. The neckline of the long sack was wide and hung loose. It all fell forward with the rest of the robe leaving a considerable gap between the material and her body as the cereal was divided. Kathy had been a nicely formed lady to her toes, except now for her ribs. They were terribly emaciated.

I was not the seducer of another mans wife, even if all of our lives were not at risk, and not depending on the outcome of my work. There were instincts, but I had placed those to the back my mind along with lowering my testosterone levels and had made a mental note to talk with her about male problems. It was highly important that I maintain my focus.

The first agreement made with Kathy was a lesson on the portable IMC. She had the module in her head. We next agreed that if I didn’t return by evening, after a reasonable time, she should try to send a mental message.

All of the prisoners, even the children not born on S10, were configured with the IMCs but most hadn't used those tools since before their capture; they had no access to sending devices. I had linked my portable unit with Carter’s 3 y resting on S10, hoping it would be within tolerances. Luckily, at the same time there had been a conversation between two 3 y consoles that had recognizing my covert situation and had automatically networked with their other sisters to attempt to keep up my communication links.

Kathy practiced with the IMC until she recalled how to send and receive; she said that she would help me with the residents. I would concentrate on those communications later, but most importantly was to establish face-to-face conversations inside of their various quarters.

Carter had never activated the 3 y in that respect. He told me later that it was too dangerous to use the IMCs. The Frak did not know about them and those systems were being saved.

In case I could not be reached in .01 sectors, or there was a search by the Fraks, Kathy was advised to contact the others for help. In the worst case, she was advised to flee to the market and attempt to meet with Quib. I left the tooth with her until I would seek out the rebels.

My hostess was highly-strung and easily disturbed, always expecting the goons to break down the door. I didn’t know if she could or would follow through but once she became closely involved with the others in taking and sifting facts, her status rose to a leader in their eyes. Thereafter so did her confidence.

Once initial contacts were made, we shifted mostly over to IMCs. Additional information was collected and time saved. My most serious questions concerned the LP/Frak military and what the prisoners knew about the conflicts on the edge of Stellar 10 Mk (energy waves and the Frak/LP communications net). It was also critical to glean a local history, a background about the LP ...and if the residents had any specific ideas on how the Frak and LP worked together. For the record, I noted information about their individual work assignments and locations. Those details would be handy in the event of an evacuation.

All of those exchanges, physical or mental, were logged and came in massive streams. I often sat across the table from Kathy for long periods at night sifting facts and answering IMC messages. They were a lot of very scared people; many were walking a mental death row.

The prisoner’s children were in a ‘residents’ school; I never met them. Humans operated the special school under supervision of their keepers. Now and then a guest Frak speaker would explain the political system and structure of their society, but in our language. This material proved interesting but not instrumental. Many children contacted me by IMC and mentioned that they spoke Frakian. I asked them by return message if any spoke the LP language. All said that they had never heard of an LP language.

The captives became too persistent and I did what I could to calm down their fears by answering as much as possible, but their contacts increased to drastic proportions and it all went beyond my capabilities. Finally, the IMC system had to be turned off for incoming messages. I sent a last text to all saying that I had been overloaded and was sorry but I could only send out general answers. Those would be distributed ‘en masse’. Most of the questions became repeats involving their ultimate salvation. One involved back pay.

The following information and leads were ultimately sorted from my interviews:

The Fraks were relatives of the LP. The LP had evolved and no longer lived inside the Stellar 10 Mk but no one knew where. They were guardians of the Frak and dedicated to ‘peace’...I knew the first but had serious doubts concerning the second. No one could say that the LP had weapons or what kind of support was given the Frak.

I had wondered if the prisoners were ‘brain washed’. However, later I concluded that isolation, deprivation, forced labor, being prisoners and loss of hope had caused most of their negative attitudes. Otherwise they had been basically free to do what they wanted.

CORP had been involved in several secret missions into Stellar 10 Mk. I spoke with a captive from another failed mission. He had been with a small Army of unknown purpose. I could only conclude that the CORP had been terribly unprepared or sacrificed them. Their planet was occupied by CORP; it was also erased; everything was swept away with incomprehensible loss of men, women, generics, and ships. He had been lucky and had been working as a technician attached to a remote communication site. Upon his return, there was nothing remaining. Attempting to escape and hide, that pilot sunk a dome in another system but was careless and later picked up by the Fraks.

I noted that there were 75 concentrations of Frak (military centers), and 25 major areas of important energy resources, one main communication center plus 15 priority ports all with emergency warehousing. The work locations of the captives were also recorded.

The Fraks on the other hand were warriors and administrators. They had managed to control all of the other life forms in that region and were very organized on a level equal to ours. That was the only information that could be had.

Kathy was completely supportive. Besides retraining the others in their use of the IMC’s, she took urgent messages at any time plus dressed much more conservatively after I mentioned my male problem. Her stress over Max and her personal fears had effected her concentration. Finally, she apologized and became more conservative.

Ian invited me to lunch on his time off. His wife, Soria, was in the last term of pregnancy. At first we talked on paper about where the child would be a citizen, and Ian smiled with his written reply that the baby could be a CORPFRAK as it would be a resident of both civilizations.

His spur of the moment idea wasn’t taken so lightly by Soria as she passed. She wrote the word ‘Earth’. It was her ideal place for their child’s citizenship.

After going into our IMCs the topics were wide and finally came to his previous escape attempt. Ian and Sai had been the instigators of the first try. We went over it detail by detail. They had later learned the simple truth; it had gone sour because of the bed scans and the fugitives had not designated vessel to steal or even a real plan to steal one. Their beds had been counted short the first night and the group of ten were caught by the second. A community punishment was issued. It amounted to half rations for half a sector.

I wondered if the Fraks still made those scans. Neither Ian nor Kathy knew.

Ian had previously transferred several maps to my IMC from his work. As Soria cooked, we mentally discussed the charts concentrating on my familiarization of the area. We went over those relevant locations, possible escape routes, security points, and my best path into the main market.

Then, carefully reviewing points of interest, we took another break and tried to determine if we had known any of the same people. The exercise ended in a blank as he was younger and had trained in engineering. Ian and his wife had found it interesting that I had been born, educated, and instructed as a professor on Earth during the early part of my career. They had once visited the island of London and had wished to live there one day.

I mentioned that London was in my backyard but I had come from the continent of Sweden with its many fine cultural living centers, educational institutions, museums and conservatories; they were very welcome to visit me in Sweden, if and when things changed for all of us. We concluded that it was hard for any of us to determine neither our roots nor our future, but they appreciated the invitation. It took ours minds away from the sharpness of the present.

Upon returning to Max and Kathy’s flat, I found that Kathy had a new confidence. With the control over her fears, she would sing a little to herself. Kathy told me that she was happy for the half-kilo of artificial-peanuts that I had brought from the supply depot, but said that she would save them for Max. A resilient and resourceful lady, she had learned to make do...more often to do without. I felt sad for all of them. I could give none of them a time frame for their salvation.

Sending another IMC note, I mentioned to Kathy that I would meet Quib at the market the next morning. She sent me a red glowing IMC and said that she was afraid for me and didn’t know if any of the Fraks could be trusted. I told her by a return message that the only way to find out was to try.

***

She went to bed about the same time as the others. Both of us were lying with our backs flat on the mattress.

After several convoys passed, I could tell that she wasn’t sleeping; her breathing was normal. When I moved a little, she surprised me and pulled closer whispering in my ear:

"You are doing a lot for us, Heh. We all appreciate it. You have raised our spirits and hopes; that is important. I think, now, that there 'is' the chance that we will go home some day."

"Thanks. If we are careful in the planning and our actions, most of us will come out of this ok," was my confirmation to her by a whisper, knowing in my heart that a solution was a long ways off. At least, now, Kathy had a straw or two to grasp and she would pass that feeling along.

It was then that I saw a playful reflection in her eyes.

"I want to do something for you," came the red glowing message from her IMC.

I was helpless as she immediately pinned me under her. And after we settled down to sleep, resting in each other’s arms for the remainder of the night, just keeping close.

Before falling off, I had imagined that Alma was there, in Kathy's place. I missed her tremendously. Kathy was a fine woman and a happy reminder of my lost life but no one would replace Alma.

Home was closer that night then ever before; I knew it in my soul.

***

My most comfortable night since the arrival was broken off by the smell of fried porridge.

As usual, Kathy had risen early and collected porridge from the kitchen down the hallway. She showed me her wonderful smile as I pulled on my shirt.

Max, I thought about him, so far away. Then I thought about how vulnerable we all were due to the Frak, the LP, the night, and our situation. Perhaps she had been a little naughty, but not bad. However, I did retain a small degree of guilt.

Kathy and I never talked about the adventure but it played in our eyes and perhaps more in her thoughts than mine. We went through the motions of the new morning, mostly in our IMCs until I started to the door. I whispered thanks and she rushed forward throwing her arms about me. It was a long hug then another message for me to be careful. I returned the hug and a kiss on her cheek before stepping out and onto the trail for my meeting with the Frak rebels.

I had Max’s clothing, his ID, his wife, but I wasn’t Max and I hoped that the guards at the entry-exit control point wouldn't have questions. The movement was timed to blend in with the crowd. It was my first time out. I held up the card, my breath, and kept the head down while passing the main inspection point. The guards barely noticed.

Ian's map of the area was excellent and I was rapidly on my way to the main market. Fortunately, Ian had also prepared me with facts on how to transfer between the transports, tips on walking with the crowds… how to become anonymous; my mind maps were color-coded. Also, I felt better about the new advantage of having multiple IMC connections with my conspirators. They had promised to advise me on escaping if things blew up.

Possibly because I was more relaxed, fewer travelers took notice. Many were talking, some ate, and others slept while standing. There were a greater variety of beings on the tram then stood there during my first trip. One of the oddest, was a metallic-purple, multi-armed, bio-life form my size that rode on an anti-matter platform. The platform was about a hand’s width above the tram's surface. I couldn’t understand how the creature could navigate as it had no eyes, just arms. However, at one stop a cousin boarded and I was enlightened. Both were side by side and grew 25% higher. A moving mouth and one eye near the bottom of the sled were exposed. Sliding shields had covered their faces. When they spoke their language, it was extremely low pitched with bellowing tones.

Some passengers I called "wire bodies" as they had 2 arms and 2 legs plus the same size torso. Their structure was an ‘X’. However, there were no distinct heads...just an eye on each of the upper arms. I couldn’t tell if there were joints in their bodies, and they moved so quickly that it was difficult to determine the manner of movement.

Finally, arriving at the main mall and departing the coach, the mass of beings pushed forward like salmon finding streams. My station exited onto an elevated platform with a wide walking highway at a 90 degrees to the station. On the other side was massive market. Struggling over to the railing, I watched the activities below. There I viewed thousands of open topped stands that became indistinct in the distance. It was a majestic scene bathed in soft orange light, filtered down from the nearly transparent ceilings. Between the stands and the ceiling was a variety of floating delivery vehicles. My view reminded me of a visit when I was a boy to a Gothic cathedral. Except that the newest visit was on a much larger scale, vehicles landed and lifted, and there was the clamor of nearly 1,000,000 buyers and sellers.

Some of my plans depended on the rebels, none of which I had met at that point. I hoped that they were at least good for IDs and clothing. My arrival had been successful without them, I thought, but I needed their help for operational back up and as another source of information.

It wasn’t clear if they could be instrumental. That also needed evaluation.

Frak security started to spot-check individuals exiting the station that I had just left. I stood safely at the rail on the other side of the wide walkway and out of the path of their inquires.

They were questioning an older Frak with a silver necklace. On closer inspection, it was identical to the animal necklace seen around the "giant receptionist", but smaller. Next to the security group stood a stretcher like the one that had carried me into the industrial area. Suddenly, without a confrontation, a generic guard walked around the back of the interviewee and placed an injection device against the Frak’s thobe. The being went limp, starting to fall, but was caught by the stretcher. Next, the Frak was bound into a prone position by a series of straps. When the necklace tried to resist, it was also stunned. None of the hundreds of commuters had taken notice.

One guard walked behind the stretcher down the hallway as the other guards split away, going in opposite directions. They shouted words that parted the crowds and nothing obstructed their travel.

I then moved over to an open lift and descended to the ground floor of the market with about 40 others.

Slowly browsing the stands, I acted like the other shoppers. During that activity, it was realized that they had products from the farthest parts of the heavens. Next, passing through a mechanical section with dozens of robots hanging on lines facing the walkway, I watched as interested buyers talked to them about what I thought was use, terms and pricing. A few F and K heads hung in the same stand as well as arms, feet, legs and hands. Farther down, I found a concentration of used ship parts, even a consoles for a 3 y and repressed my thoughts of using my IMC to the 2084 to gain a new link; yet, nearby the crowd was cheering. A very mechanical looking robot was giving a demonstration of lifting.

As I passed, one had 5 other generics on its shoulders. Behind the group commenced an even larger performer lifting a military, dune type vehicle over its head with perfect balance. Of course, the crowd went wild again. A flashback brought images of my Father; he would have liked those displays. Dear Father had been able to lift a robot on each arm when he had performed at the open-air circus.

Working my way through an antique section and passing piles of money on open tables and more piles of memory modules below were spread on a variety of carpets. I viewed all sort of creatures bargained for the collections. Further along there were, rare assembles of well preserved balanced-hand-held beam-weapons, then carved-glass bowls of all colors and sizes, some to my height. Finally, jewelry hung from lines and a necklace nearly struck my face as a customer grabbed in front of my path.

I then pasted a lush garden market where there were exotic flowers; large lush purple, yellow and green plants, and security robots that looked like flowers. One orange ball near the door of the vessel parked behind caught the corner of my eye. Viewing the very top and end of the market I recognized the reflecting, black stone statue of a Frak.

At last my internal map flashed and indicated Ziff Meat Center. It was where they said it would be located, on the edge of the flower market.

One of the 5,000 or so cases held nothing but 1,000s of eyes, all sizes and packaging. Others contained every animal part conceivable and were laid out in the convenient, low-level boxes with see-through tops. Many different sorts of slabs, meats of every color, some flesh with and some without bones were displayed but all were pre-boxed. Those cuts could have been taken from animals as large as dinosaurs and others from small insects. I wondered how many were from social and reasonable life forms. I saw no human parts that I recognized. Many generics worked as assistants and would help sell the unitized protein. There were twice as many buyers as helpers, but nearly all were Fraks, likely 700 in all. It was truly a zoological museum that any university would have been proud to own.

I then discovered Quib’s reception area at the rear of that activity. The floor office was next to the structural walls as described to me by Ian. Once there I asked and was taken directly to him without delay. They were waiting for my appearance.

***

Quib met me at his floor office door and I presented the relic tooth. We then rode silently up 45 levels to his main office and sat down with drinks. He was a well-nourished Frak.

"So you like our drinks, Heh. Dara is common but good," said Quib in a jolly way. "Be careful not to drink too much or you will chase the girls…and the best part, the girls will chase you back!"

He laughed. Quib also had a jolly laugh and his trunk shook a little; it was of medium size. He kept it over his left shoulder. He saw me watching it.

"These trunks were useless and should have been removed by surgery as we no longer need to drink from rocky wells, not for almost a million sectors," explained Quib as we continued to become acquainted. I didn’t ask why he kept his...possibly status or an expected part of his position; it was his concern.

"We have some favorite beverages in our strip of the universe, also, Quib. One we call the 'Leg-curler' and another the 'Mind-bender'. These are also dangerous if taken in any quantity. However, the next day you have forgotten that you ever had a problem with girls due to the size of your headache, no offense intended." I jested.

"No offense taken. Actually I’m proud of my capacity." Quib quipped.

The trader’s head was nearly 4 times mine and I was sure, packed full of useful business details, trade leads and lots of other connections. We briefly discussed our civilizations and personal history. He spoke 21 languages, 8 fluently and had been in the military service during the early 'transgressions' of CORP.

"So what is your purpose now and how can I be of assistance again?" Quib broke the pace.

"I don’t recall our previous meeting." I answered being perplexed.

"We ran a little interference for you upon arrival. It was at the checkpoint between the walkway and the prisoner’s building." He smiled showing five times as many teeth as I could have shown.

"Thank you. That was important." I returned.

"Once again, what is your purpose and what can we do for you?"

"In the long run, I wish to help resolve the troubles between our civilizations. In the short run I need certain information so I can plan on how to go about it." I said in my most serious demeanor.

"You sound like a reasonable man," said Quib and continued. "Carter is reasonable too. But, let me tell you that most of our trouble was initiated a long time ago by your civilization defending squatting miners and colonists on 'our' frontier and since then there have had many fights as you probably know between both militaries."

"I am not too authoritative on the military history, as I am only recently involved; nor am I a diplomat. My position is to report on what is going on, why Stellar 10 Mk is… why this civilization is upset…and why our worlds have been targeted. We have had continuous destruction possibly by a super-race called the Light People. We wish to know the causes of their discontent and what those warriors want from us."

I held back the issue of mass destruction but put the important things into perspective. It wasn’t my intent to get bogged down in discussions of faultfinding about issues that didn't presently concern either of us. I felt that his knowledge of my connection to the miners didn’t apply and in the end might only lead to an excuse to deny help.

"In my business, I don’t ask too many questions," blurted Quib. "I just supply meat for the masses, here and there. It comes from many different regions and I make a little profit in-between. Wars cause me disruptions, delays and expenses. This is one reason that I am willing to help anyone brave enough to attempt to clear up these bureaucratic messes."

"I am willing to transmit our allied grievances. Once we know the rules we can proceed to make some plans. What do you know of the Light People or LP?" I pressed.

"I know only 2 things." Quib was edgy.

"First they are a peace loving civilization and an old race, billions of sectors old. The LP, as you call them, use to live in this region; I know for certain that they would go to any extent to help 'us' maintain peace. I have not had the opportunity to meet one or even have a clue as to what they look like. No one that I know at my level has seen one. Some say they are our relatives.

"Secondly, because I am also in contact with the black-market, I have learned that there is something happening between these beings and our energy units. Please let me explain," requested Quib.

"There are certain elements of our community that make their living in less than prosperous or honorable ways.

"Bluntly, they steal from the power centers to sell unitized energy to private parties, at reduced rates, of course. I have been aware of this for many sectors. These sly people have doors in and out of those facilities that would make you marvel at their abilities and wonder why they were not running our government.

"… maybe they are." He threw back his large head and a roaring laugh bounced around the walls of his completely luxurious office. I laughed too…at an attempt for friendship.

"But, all that aside, I was privileged to special information once. Those brigands had raided the main facility here, just 15 buildings to the North of where we presently sit. While inside a special zone of that building, a highly restricted area, the gang accidentally witnessed a ritual.

"At first they thought that Fraks were being executed, dematerialized, and the burglars were very ‘sweaty’. However, after watching from their concealed positions, it became clear that there was a contact being made with the LP.

"They listened and later noted the details and conversation. I can recall it from memory:

...............

"In the center of a very large room was a cubicle, a smaller round room that was no larger across than this office. Coming from the bottom and outside of the cubical were transparent tubes with sliding panels in the front of each. Those tubes rose to the structure's apex, just under the room’s ceiling. Each tube had just enough space to hold one adult Frak.

"There were 15 tubes nestled side by side and surrounding the melon-shaped structure.

"A group of 15 Fraks dressed in silver robes were escorted through the crowd of 100 or so similarly dressed into the central area. Each of the 15 was then placed in front of one tube. After a ritual, they stepped into their compartments.

"The 100 spectators continued to perform more undetermined chants, dancing and then a military-priest with a cane touched a place on the wall.

"The tubes pulsated, alternating white and green. Suddenly, the room was black and the tubes pulsed purple several times. When the lights returned, different Fraks stepped out of all 15 ports. They new ones were dressed in orange robes!"

............

"We have no technology like that." I said quickly and then asked.

"How do you know that it had something to do with the LP?"

"Good observation and question, Hey." Quib replied and went on. "In our bureaucracy no one knows how the government works… probably yours too. I’m sure that all of those details are top secret."

Quib’s demeanor was completely serious and had read 'honest' in my analysis of his emotional instincts.

"Some of the 100 spectators were recognized by the rebels as high ranking members of our military. The gang, viewing from above, also heard a conversation between the military and a recent arrival in an orange suit:

"General Sook was authorized to place co-ordinance figures for the removal of the dead sun, Radial 9."

Quib saw my face whiten; my heart sank to the floor. A ton of bricks had landed on me; It took everything I had to be able to utter another word, but I had to ask the question.

"Can you please tell me, Quib, how long ago this happened?"

I was attempting to hide my emotions.

"I can see, Heh, that this news has somehow been a personal blow. I’m sorry. Radial 9 was removed by the military in coordination with the LP, over 5 sectors ago." He stated with perceptively sad eyes.

I was crushed and apologized that it was impossible to continue. We agreed to meet again the following day.

I staggered back through the market, vaguely seeing the transports, even past the security at the complex without a thought of them. My mind was shattered.

Kathy knew something had gone wrong and laid down beside me as I starred at the ceiling.

"What is it, Heh?" Kathy asked quietly.

"It’s something personal, I’m sorry. I just have to adjust and it may take me a little while." I responded as kindly as I could, not wanting to alarm her.

She fell asleep on my arm and I thought to myself over and over, "is this the way we will all go…evaporation?"

After a time I became boiling angry. Kathy didn’t see this side of me either. My clothing was soaked; my skin felt snake cold. Early the next morning, I had calmed enough to proceed. Sleep had been impossible.

The burning questions haunted me: Had Alma left? Why were they so hard, so destructive…what was the point of it? Had Alma left? Why? Why?

How could a peace-loving race release so much evil? Had they learned nothing through eons of evolution?

Reconnecting my IMC, Ian picked up my early morning connect. He wasn’t asleep either and had been waiting patiently. We exchanged messages. I gave him the update and said that I was going back to talk to Quib but would need him along as a backup. He agreed and we traveled together. We were directed by Quib’s floor office to a different location.

***

Skirting patrols, we easily found the new place. It belonged to a friend of Quib’s. Walking through the open door of another well furnished, high-ceiling but dark office and sitting down, Quib was peering out the window. His back was turned and he sat at another large but vibrating desk; the desk looked like it had been carved from a solid block of crystal. A caravan of traders passed over the rooftops. He turned and greeted us.

"I’m sorry again about yesterday, Heh. My intelligence officer has told me that you have lost loved ones on Radial 9.

"We all have had these terrible disasters in our uncertain times. I’ll be only too happy when this useless war has come to an end. The sooner the better."

Quib placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and then stepped beyond to make drinks again.

"As I offered before, Heh, how can we help you?"

"How can your intelligence officer know about my past?" I inquired gingerly.

"In my line of work, Heh, we take very few high-risk decisions; we wish to keep our mistakes at a minimum." Quib continued to fill glasses. "What’s important here is that you trust us to help you. All I can say is that you have had a favorable brain scan in my office yesterday and now we know who we are dealing with."

"I understand that you must be careful but you must know the answers before you ask the questions?"

"Hardly. We know some of your history but we do not know your present resolutions. To find new ways to help our mutual civilizations we need to be involved with you."

Quib delivered the drinks and was silent.

"Ian and I have also come to conclusions since yesterday. We feel that it can be beneficial to make direct contact with the LP…to attempt a try at the Frak transporter… to go from here over to the LP side, the other side." I said it all in one breath without blinking…like taking a strong drink straight to the gut.

"You can’t be serious, Heh?" Quib turned with an incredible gasp.

"Nothing but serious. I mean what I say and I can press forward as soon as we work out the operational details."

***

Another Frak emerged from behind a wall panel in a darker corner of the room.

"My name is Otter," said the Frak and was trunkless. He was dressed in a black robe with a golden cord at the waist.

"I am also a business man, but I do my business…well, let’s say it is just a different line and way to get quick results. You might say that Quib works on the up side and I am on the down side. It’s not a matter for you to be too concerned with, or worry about. I thought that I would just bring it to your attention. We have been friends since our early days in school. Our businesses do not conflict.

"I have over-heard your conversations, Heh and Quib. The point is that I like the strength in your suggestion, Heh…and if you can pull this off, I will personally guarantee that you can afford to retire. You can do what you will the rest of your days anywhere in the universe with my personal protection, a king's treasury, and my endless help and loyalty." Otter’s interposed statement was accompanied by a bright smile as he lit his Earth-made, Cuban cigar.

"Well, Otter, I don’t think that he needs all of that…but, what do I know?" bantered Quib and continued. "You don’t have to make attractive deals with crusaders as they do it on their own.

"However, Heh, what Otter is driving at is ‘resolution’, a way out of this costly conflict. I can agree to put as much in as Otter does and if you don’t like those deals, well I can add even a protein franchise in your region…to sell the highest quality, of course…after the war is over."

"Thank you. Thank you both for your generous offers. I will consider what you will kindly sacrificed, but for the moment I need some practical tools, such as how to set things in motion concerning the energy building. There are questions to be dealt with such as...Is there still anyone around with a key to the back door?" I completed my statement and knew instinctively that we were on a roll.

Quib was right. I had other vested interest and would continue on now at any cost or profit. I wasn’t rude, but their suggestions were of little value to my personal life…it was already shattered, a shell at that point and the project had to get going. Plus my time on S10 was running out.

"You are talking with one of them," replied Otter not missing a beat.

"My future access to S10 may be limited. That is why I think that our timing is critical. We need to put a team together now, to penetrate the energy building tomorrow, latest." I was stiff lipped but my position was finalized.

There were no clues as to what lurked over the LP wall. Would my atoms even fit into their machinery; would I be turned into a Frak…or, just be lost? No matter, there was only one open pathway. It had to be tried. No one would miss me.

"We shouldn’t rush into this," reasoned Quib. "I can get you in and out of S10 on a meat transport without a problem. Our agents have slipped between systems in that manner."

"The longer we wait, the easier it is for our plans to unravel." I replied with adamant conviction in my voice. "If the team can be assembled, I am ready."

My fist found his tabletop to emphasize my stance. The pain was worth it but there was no sound found in the vibrations.

"Here, here!" added Otter. "We can manager our part."

"I agree," said Quib. "Let’s move early tomorrow and I’ll be on the facility access team too."

Ian was in accord and wanted to go but was later convinced to stay back in case things melted down. We still needed to rescue Max and patch up the other parts of the team.

I asked Ian to alert Carter, now awaiting my extraction and to assist in keeping alive the mind communications in those that used them. The prisoners should all be placed on the highest "golden glow" in their IMCs and I would attempt to send a status as I progressed through the journey. However, they should not worry if my transmissions ‘failed’ during the crossed-over. I suspected that the LP existed in another way and reasoned that if they could have access to our universe we should be able to have access to theirs...but it was only a guess.

Returning to the flat, I said good bye to Kathy and she wished me luck with a kiss and her strong, ‘don’t go’ hug. Quib had found a human, a woman that a friend had employed for many sectors; she would arrive just after I departed to keep Kathy company and provide her with a way out to rebel contacts if necessary.

I passed the generic guards again and met Quib at the transport station without incident. Our tram carried us to the meeting location in front of the energy building. We walked with two others to the 19th floor access door where our security cards permitted access. Otter was not present.

The second step was accomplished by taking a maintenance lift to the basement where one of our team used a musical vibrator to gain a stairway entrance. Thereafter, we climbed the set of emergency stairs to a security station on the third story. When the generic came out to investigate a tapping on the landing door, a shot from a rebel pistol quickly destroyed it. At that point, I felt that upper management was on our side. We were on track.

Next, our team quickly proceeded to the visual point adjacent to the transport room. The area was empty; we climbed down to the ritual floor by knotted rope.

Quib said, "I’m going with you, Heh. You and the LP may need a Frakian translator plus our point of view, if we get that far."

I couldn’t argue.

We were secured in the transporter tubes and the next thing I knew there were white and green pulsating lights.

***

Quib and I had been sent somewhere; we stood side by side in a rectangular, large, slightly blurred valley. The tubes were gone. There were slanting green walls around three sides of us and at the far end which was open we could see a swirling, new universe. The open side dropped away and there was a combination of blackness plus hundreds of very closely suspended planets slowly circled each other. Our view was nearly like atoms in a complex molecule. Those masses were of different configurations and materials. Some planets had clouded atmospheres, some no atmospheres, and all were bathed in a blurry green light.

The ground under our feet was a darker jungle green ‘blur’. I could not see my feet but the ground felt solid. We must have come a long way.

In the IMC my gold glow was gone. Instead there were all of the 34 survivors moving about in their dining area and talking to one another. I wondered how I had been upgraded into moving images without a glow. Was Bek involved again? The survivors seemed to be concerned about our communications too; they had just lost all of their IMCs.

Then above Quib and I, white-framed outlines of large 2-dimensional busts began to appear. They were like white line drawings of faces against a pitch-black background. Each face occupied a rectangular poster. They slowly and randomly settled in 2 long lines; a row was on each side of the wide basin. We stood between those above, watching them organize, turning first to the front, then to the back. Perhaps 40 poster-faces were looking down at us. Some seemed to be talking to those on the opposite side or near each other as there were many facial movements and nods. Those mixed human and Frakian outlines were far enough away so as not to be intimidating. Strangely, their mouths never moved.

"We have been patiently awaiting your arrival, Heh and Quib," spoke a human male image from the middle of the row facing us.

We turned our heads when another from behind continued.

"We are a very patient and an old race or we could not exist in this way."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"We are the Guardians, known by you as the Light People," answered the first, "and wish to hear your side of the story."

"We resolve conflicts," said another.

Quib saw my face wrinkle and turn red. He quickly rescued the situation in his best diplomatic form.

"We are here for that purpose too and wish to resolve a particular conflict."

"We know," said several of the LPs in unison.

None of us moved our lips or mouths; we were trading communications as nods and thoughts with our hosts.

At that very moment, I realized that we had achieved a goal...making contact, but then what? I reached.

"Can we find a resolution that will hold?" I asked while being in great awe of the situation.

"We wished that it were that simple," said the first. "Do you see those planets out there in front of you. They are a serious problem for us."

"Why is that?" asked Quib.

"Your Frak Generals, Quib, have decided that those masses presented a threat to the Stellar 10 Mk. We have discussed many things with the Generals and have made agreements to resolve conflicts, as only we have the power to do so, .safely and through our appointed agents," continued another outlined face of a human female (LP 5).

"But, what do those planets have to do with the resolution of our conflicts?" asked Quib confused about their meaning and not making a connection.

Again, the first face spoke.

"We are beings of peace and have stored more than 2,000 celestial bodies that have been extracted from your universe into ours now for over 100 of your sectors. Those beings that exist on the near bye extracted worlds are still viable organisms but inside our captured environments." We looked at the worlds again and my right eye started to blur with a tear.

"Can I clarify this?" I asked. "Would I be correct in presuming that all objects that have been extracted from our heavens are now existing in your dimension? In addition, all of the beings on those masses are alive?"

"Correctly stated," spoke 5 or 6 of them together, all sounding a bit embarrassed.

"But, you see, we have made changes. These were and are enemies of the Frak. They have received 'slower time' so that it now takes 10,000 sectors for them to complete 1 sector. However, they are frozen in your kind of time. Our masters have achieved these results because we live in a different relativity, where time is more flexible."

"We will take you among the captured planets so you can see for yourself, if you like," said their leader.

I looked at Quib and could see that he wanted to accompany me.

"Thank you. We would appreciate a better view of these worlds," Quib returned in his diplomatic way.

A tan colored, large bubble appeared in front of us. There were violent eddies on its surface and the skin radiated a warmness. It was 2 or 3 times our height.

"Please step through the walls of this vehicle and you can visit anywhere or anyone you wish," said two other LPs in unison.

My minds-eye returned to Ila and the display case, where the command room had been emptied just before the screen went blank and the planet destroyed. It quickly changed to thoughts of Alma on Radial 9.

"Do you have Radial 9 in this area?" My heart pounded as I asked.

"Yes, it is not far," came a female voice from the outside of the bubble, but we could not see the speaker.

"Is it possible to visit the part known as Athens 32?" I asked quickly.

"You are standing in Athens 32, at the arena and may step out of the bubble craft now."

I walked through and Quib followed. Alma was sitting on the bleacher. It was the spot where we had often talked, where we had spent much time together. I could not see her move. She looked more like Alma-a but with a real face; there was a peaceful, pensive radiance. Alma was as frozen as a granite sculpture…more over, she was pregnant!

"Is Alma alright? You did say she is alive?" My lips quivered as I asked emphatically.

"Yes, as we have stated so…they are ‘all’ alive but in a different way," said another guardian.

Several framed faces were looking down from one side of the Athens 32 dome.

"Thank you for not destroying Alma and my child," I blurted straining to keep back the tears.

"We are protectors, not destroyers. This has been our mandate since the beginning of the Realm. We also once lived in your universe, the physical world of Stellar 10 Mk, but our race evolved from organic beings into inorganic structures and now into forces. We, the LP, found it to be more efficient, more convenient, to live closer to pure energy and have promised 'never' to forget our past. That past included the Frak, our recognized, distant relatives," continued the smiling outlined human female face of LP 5.

"I believe your history and that you are who you say you are…and have placed these beings and planets here in safe isolation. For this we owe you our enduring thanks," praised Quib. "But, now that we have similar interests, how can we move forward to make changes to increase the general warfare and allow the innocent to get on with their lives?"

"We have discussed this for ages," said another face. "We thought that you might have an idea?"

I laughed and they laughed too.

It was reassuring to see that we all had good humor.

"We agree, it is an odd situation. Our energy systems are at peek usage to support these captives. We can not become unbalanced." Others mumbled 'unbalanced' in unison.

They, the guardians, the LP, had so much power and they were so helpless. Like when a child comes into the world, it has the amazing powers of life, thinking, creating, and yet no immediate idea on how to use any of it.

Then, I had a flash of fear. I must find a way to extract Alma and the child immediately...before things went wrong. It was all too good to be true; my fears were instinctive in me. If it was too good to be true, it probably wasn’t.

Suddenly one of the captives stepped forward in my live IMC with S10.

"Greetings, It's Ian," said the image. "We are gathered here in the dining area on the wing and have been watching and listening to your conversations with the Guardians. They have somehow changed our IMCs to do more than give messages. I’ve been appointed spokesman by the others."

"Please continue, Ian." I replied.

"We think that you are on the right path. However, since you are personally and emotionally tied to some issues, we also believe that the situation is not the best…there is a lot of our interests at stake here too.

"For example, I have a lost brother on one of those frozen worlds. Others have children and husbands there. The diplomats among us feel that it would be better for all if Quib were allowed to be the main speaker. We trust you both…anyway, his ancestors are the LP and that should give him a few extra points.

"Also, keep in mind your time frame, so we don’t run short and into problems with the Frak security."

***

I was shocked. What had happened? It was miracle after miracle. Alma was alive and with my child, we had a support team, we had made the best contact we could have ever hoped for…everyone wanted a peaceful change, there were no casualties, and the mystery of the LP was unraveling. It was like throwing a box of puzzle pieces into the air and all of it landed on the ground assembled.

In another flash, I thought about our tactical situation…that our new physical position must be located within a short distance of the 3 y? Were we becoming like the Guardians with mind messages? Will all those sectors of war be resolved now within a few nano-sectors? What must we do for that moment?

There were just too many questions, but Ian was right, we had to focus on the important issues at hand. My personal concerns were a very small piece of it. At the same time, I was convinced that any agreements on that date would give us strong hope for the future.

"Can Quib and I speak alone?" I asked permission of the Guardians.

"Please go ahead. We will leave you to your privacy. Just call us when you are ready to continue," were their last words as they disappeared through the skin of Athens 32.

I explained to Quib about our IMC and mental technology plus what had happened between Ian and I. Quib and Ian made a proxy-contact as I conveyed the words of both. Our method was primitive but accomplished the tasks of communication. We all decided that a negotiation plan was needed. We then listed the important objectives first all the way down to the least important; after sometime, we had enough details assembled. But, once reviewed, something was missing. I felt that we needed more diplomatic inputs; we needed Bek. The team on S10 all thought that she could contribute but we didn’t know how we could communicate.

I then asked the LP if it was possible to arrange a contact with Bek through our mental equipment. They said that it was easy and provided the link. Our Bek coordination proved to be a critical addition to the plan. She insisted that we include a combined court system in the ordering to bring war offenders to justice and to be able to make a controlled release of all others. That would allow the primary parties to maintain contact and work together in a centralized, civilized manner; it would cause a mutual support system among the parties and would avoid suspicions and miscommunications.

I consulted the team on S10; we established a final, workable, path and with Quib’s agreement we called back the LP.

"I believe that there is a viable solution for all of us. However, our wish is to give you a complete overview before we start to discuss the details. That is a view of the entire peace plan," stated Quib.

"We are listening," replied several guardians as one might hear in a uniform parliament.

Quib stated the history as he knew it and then stated that he believed most of the conflicts between the Frak, CORP, and others were instigated by small groups of individuals in very powerful positions, mostly for different types of selfish gain. Further, he guessed that 99. 9% of the millions of beings that were captured and suspended in the LP universe were not guilty of any crimes, but were just following the military orders of their superiors.

Quib went on to sketch out the structure of an agreement. He stated that in order to deal equally between the Frak and CORP, he would suggest that a ban be placed on destructive weapons in our universe. That agreement would be enforced by a new set of rules written together with the help of the LP, Frak, CORP, plus other major representatives, i. e. concerning criminals involved in destructive weapon use, manufacturing, and distribution. Violators and war criminals could be sent into ‘slow time’ until their cases were reviewed by a combined administrative and legal system to be called the Resolution Council. Once a decision was made by those courts, the sentences would be carried out in our ‘normal-time’ facilities under our universe’s conditions.

The LP were pleased and stated that it was a good beginning. They contributed that the LP would provide additional help by supporting an educational system for agent ‘protectors’, giving them special powers. Further, that the new academy/university for the protectors could sell the "non-destructive" security products for the purposes stated in order to finance those schools. That technology could also be transferred to other institutions plus authorized security agencies. Once trained, the protectors would travel widely to various places in our universe, assisted by the LP’s bubble-crafts, and help justice systems plus legitimate security forces. The protectors would have an individual charter to prevent and/or stifle aggressions, existing conflicts, and unauthorized weapon technology wherever and whenever it raised its ugly head.

All were satisfied with those plans and the agreements were cast into solid form for the most part before Quib and I departed. They, the LP, would handle the Frak military, mostly by stubbornly rejecting all requests for the acquisition of planets. The LP would release its holdings on the exchange date, except for those specific ‘individuals’ suspected of war crimes; that list depended partially on our inputs, but they had their own ideas. Those suspects would be put in or continue to be held in slow time on several barren planets kept back for that use until the facts of their cases were reviewed.

We expected internal upsets in CORP, with the Frak military plus disruptions in other governmental positions upon finalization.

The ages of individuals would be compensated as of their date of capture, but the LP could accelerate any date by a personal request of a captured individual or by a relative. Any other equipment, including generics, would not be accelerated. All those that had been injured would be cured and returned to the best health that they had once had.

I asked for the protection and release of the captives on S10, and the LP said that they would speak with the Frak leadership, but thought there was no problem since peace was on the horizon.

The Guardians asked me if I could help start their new academy and be instrumental in leading the programs for the training of the universal protectors. I suppose they saw something unique.

I felt honored, but said that I had to confer with Alma. I thanked them and promised to give their kind offer every consideration, communicating my decision back to them within a half sector. That was acceptable.

They went on to say that they would bring Alma to me immediately, and I asked if that might be too much of a shock on her. The LP discussed this matter and agreed that the transfer could be mentally disturbing. It was decided that I would be transported to Radial 9 on the exchange date.

Things were going very well. The Guardians needed about .1 sectors to clear details with the revised Frak government and remove the galaxy net. I gave them the list of suspects from CORP, a photo I had taken on the first day of lectures and from other information confirmed by Bek and the prisoners. The LP told us that they would detain suspects for review as agreed.

CORP was commended on the development of mind messaging; it was highly intelligent and we were headed in the right direction. The Guardians went on to congratulate us due to our cooperation and selfless efforts; our universe would now prosper. It would have a new and positive future. There would be no further misuse of their technology.

Quib and I said farewell to the Guardians. We would all meet again when the LP and our delegates converged on the old cache warehouse in .1 sectors. Once there, final plans would be cast and the releases made.

I could hardly wait.

***

We found ourselves again in the transfer tubes and had arrived at the energy facility only moments after we had left, due to the Guardian’s shift of the time-line. It was possible for them to make small reverse shifts that allowed us to cover up most of our entry. The waiting rebels had not believed that we had left let alone spent .01 sectors away.

We all escaped in the opposite direction; I noticed that the destroyed guard still emitted heat from the blasts. The generic laid motionless face down. It was necessary, but I asked myself if we had taken a life? The question haunted me.

Once at the tram platform, I said good bye and thanks. Quib and I talked briefly about a contact procedure and my extraction to S10a. Thereafter, I returned to the flat and was met by a jubilant crowd. Somewhere along the tram I had picked up the lost time. The residents were excited, elated, and relieved. Most had been up the night including the lovely children whom I finally met. The captives and I were drinking lots of Dara, even though most had a hard day of work and school to come, but we didn’t mind. Later it was found that the Fraks had not been taking bed counts for sectors.

At my departure, I finally sent the brave captives an IMC with congratulations, which said that they had all done it together! Their ‘release’, more than likely would come soon within .1 sectors.

My departure plans had changed and Carter was notified. I think he was a bit relieved as his side of the risk had decreased.

Quib made extra personal efforts to put me safely on board a freighter and said that we would meet again on the final day of the war. He handing me a card for 4 million CORP credits. It was a gift from all of them, half from Otter. I thanked him with heartfelt thanks, extending the same to the others, but especially to him for his good nature, help, and our friendship. We parted with wholesome hugs, strong handgrips, misty eyes, and congratulations.

On my trip to S10a, the S10 prisoners sent a combined IMC message in return thanking me. The LP had returned our former usage of the IMC. The captives sent an old Earth tune. They sang, ‘Oh, When The Saints Go Marching In’. Their voices were not highly tuned, but it was happy music and I was glad that they had something to sing about.

I rendezvoused briefly with Max, Bek and Alma-a on S10a. We had another round of mutual congratulations. Thereafter, Max returned to S10 on the freighter without incident. Bek told me later that she had been in contact with Carter via IMC and that he was sorry that he missed our meeting but she was to give me direct thanks. He would later send an IMC. It never came. Carter had also told her not to say anything, but he considered me as some kind mystic, miracle worker. I had never received that kind of praise before. However, I had been lucky most of my life.

It was still uncomfortable. The interlude with Max’s wife hung on me like the flu. Perhaps, I was harder on myself than the situation merited, but then I was happy at the same time that most of us had all come through unharmed.

We took the skiff to M-5 for more congratulations, and thereafter stayed in low profile for .1 sectors. We were not in a hurry to be mistaken for pirates or smugglers.

***

Bek, Carter, Quib and I met with the LP guardians, Fraks and other civilizations on the exchange date at the cache warehouse, as planned, and had a festive time. That event concluded the arrangements and started our new lives.

Our friends, the LP, had transported Quib and many leaders from CORP, the Frak military, and other allies with their bubble ships. Such representatives were later delegates to the Resolution Council on Earth. All of the key players were inside our cache warehouse including LPs in several of their most exquisite forms. Some were complete humans, dressed in skin-tight silver suits. Others displayed themselves at the top of the dome in 2 dimensional frames showing Frak and human faces. Several floated as sculptures wrapped in mist.

"Are there other universes like yours?" I asked an LP with the appearance of a human woman that walked near to me with a group of others like herself including one that I recognized from our first encounter, LP 5.

"We have only selected one degree off center from your universe to build ours, Heh. You can understand that there are limitless sections in a circle, even in your universe. There are still great unknowns beyond." She responded and the others nodded in agreement.

"Have you had any contact with these others?" I pressed.

"Yes, we are explorers too, but, I personally have had only in passing as some places come and go in the blink of a human eye." LP 5 winked. The others giggled and smiled as they changed into poster images, said farewell, and quickly floated up to the top of the dome to join their singing associates.

Several strange and magical things happened on that occasion. During our party our universe was united under one language. Suddenly, it was just there, in everyone’s heads I was told. Luckily, I already spoke it and didn't have to adjust.

Further, while we were provided with the amazing varieties of food and drink of our liking, more LPs had arrived by unknown numbers filling every available space at the top of the dome. They later said that their civilization had an uncountable number of souls and many had wanted to visit, look for an instant, and join with the voices. They constantly exchanged places for the next one to see. While doing this, I looked up and could imagine blinking stars conveying a full range of beautiful, rhythmic and angelic sounds. The Guardians provided a truly serene melody from their endless choir.

The LP presented a special award to me and Alma-a was standing at my right hand with a broad smile. Besides transportation to Athens 32 later, a permanent presence of the LP was passed to our universe. My Son, yet to be born, would be endowed with special insights into both universes. The child would be able to acknowledge and accept this gift when he passed into adulthood. Both new and old friends received my highest appreciations and thanks.

It all happened in an instant. I was just standing there, at the arena in Athens 32 when Alma came out of her frozen trance. She had the look of a happy lady and mother to be.

With her wispy smile she said:

"I missed you, Heh. I knew you could do it."