Dave tapped his foot in time with the digits flashing above the doors. Stimms stood beside him in the lift, studying his electronic notepad. Dave licked the corners of his mouth, felt a few crumbs and quickly brushed them off with a finger. Stimms gave him a sidelong glance. The tapping stopped.

Dave looked out the corner of his eyes at the Security Chief. The man scratched his head of dark, close-cropped hair peppered with grey. The skin of his face was taut, with the faintest hints of crow's-feet. Hints of a light-hearted side? Dave thought. Stimms' sharp black eyes made him think twice. The man wore a high-collared, dark green suit, which made his fair complexion look even paler. Glancing from head to toe, Dave was unable to pick out a single wrinkle or piece of lint on the Security Chief's clothing. Moving his hand slowly, Dave tried smoothing the pant leg of his green fatigues in vain.

The elevator stopped with a chime and the door parted onto a bare hallway lit from below.

Stimms marched briskly down the hallway, Dave at his heels; the clang of their footfalls on the metal grating disrupted the silence.

"This should prove a fruitful interrogation," the Security Chief muttered.

"Sir?"

"The seized rebel is one of Grogan's insiders, a spy in the city."

The hairs on Dave's neck stood on end. "A spy, sir?"

"A traitor."

Dave hesitated as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and moistened his eyebrow. "Do you think you'll find out any more from a spy than the typical rebel . . . sir?"

"Think?" Stimms glanced briefly at his companion. "I know I will find out a good deal. A traitor awaits us in the Interrogation Chamber. For a traitor, I won't hesitate to test the limits of the Berthol-Stimms device."

Rounding a corner, the door to the Interrogation Chamber awaited them at the end of the hallway. Stimms in the lead, Dave was unable to slow his pace. Not when the man could detect the smallest defiant breath or mischievous blink. What if the doors refused to open? he thought. No doubt Stimms' punctuality would cause him to march headfirst into the door and be knocked out cold. The guard's smile disappeared as the door hissed open.

Stimms came to a halt before the illuminated cell square, blocking Dave's view of the prisoner. The chamber consumed its occupants as the door shut.

"Elsa Brook, you are a traitor to the citizens of Tranta. By orders of Controller Rixx, I sentence you to interrogation by Bethol-Stimms device," Stimms said.

Dave's heart sank. Stimms stepped out of his view to reveal a tall woman in battered black fatigues and dishevelled red hair hanging over her face. Elsa. He stumbled momentarily as his knees buckled. Quickly gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, he composed himself, breathing deeply.

Stimms looked up from his notepad, eyebrow raised. "Anything the matter?"

Dave fixed his gaze on the opposite wall, ignoring Elsa's battered form. "No, sir."

The right-hand door before him slid open and a male guard entered the chamber.

"The chair's ready, sir," said the guard.

"Good." Stimms turned to Elsa. "Now my dear, I'm going make you a deal. I need details: strength of your forces, location of your headquarters, planned attacks. Co-operate and I promise you a quick and painless death."

Elsa sat forward on her stool and stared at the floor.

Stimms tapped the side of his notepad. "How long has Grogan been feeding you foolish dreams? A new era of peace and prosperity, indeed." He approached the cell and leaned forward. "Suppose for a minute that Grogan succeeds. That he replaces Rixx with a government. That he establishes trade partnerships with a dozen different races. Do you know what will happen?"

Elsa looked at him, brushing aside her hair.

"They will offer him protection from the Morestrans. They will secure his trust. Then they will band together and take control of the city. Grogan's promised peace and prosperity will lead to oppression and exploitation. We'll all relive the days of the Corporation," Stimms snarled. "Only worse: to the other races, we are mere humans, a nomadic scourge."

Elsa scowled.

Stimms stood up. "You're a traitor. Your actions have caused the deaths of innocent men and women," he said with raised voice. He tapped a button on the notepad and a holographic viewscreen appeared before Elsa, floating at eye level. Images of charred human remains appeared before her--seared faces frozen in pain. "How many more?"

Dave felt light-headed and bent his knees to prevent them from buckling. He wanted out. He wanted to be home, sprawled on the couch with Elsa curled up beside him, pressing into him. He wanted the delusion that he had a respectable job and was in a healthy relationship. He wanted the beautiful, compassionate woman before him, who worked late hours at an electronics firm and had antiestablishment fantasies.

Elsa gave Dave a quick glance before returning her attention to the floor.

Stimms looked at them both. "Suit yourself, traitor. Get her ready. You"--his sharp eyes bore into Dave--"stand guard."

Dave trembled as the other guard tapped a button on his wrist monitor and stepped into the square cell, staser pistol held firmly in his grip. He seized Elsa by the arm and led her through the right-hand door. Stimms disappeared through the other.

A hum of machinery and Stimm's muffled voice. Dave caught sight of Elsa strapped into a chair under a spotlight as the guard exited the room. The hum rose in pitch to a whine. Dave stared at the guard, who quickly looked away. A traitor, Dave thought. A rebel spy . . . but I've known all along. I just never expected her to be caught. As the whine increased in pitch, a moan emanated through the right-hand door. Stop, he thought. The whine rose to a piercing whistle. Stop. Elsa gave a painful cry. Stop. Stop! STOP!

Dave drew his staser pistol and fired at the guard. The man collapsed, stunned. Dave darted to the right-hand door. Tapping his wrist monitor, the door parted to reveal Elsa writhing under the spotlight. Unfastening the restraints, he yanked her from the chair and she collapsed in his arms. The machinery cut out and the whistle was replaced by a ringing in Dave's ears. The spotlight shut off and darkness engulfed the room. Holding Elsa close against his chest, he felt her erratic breaths on his neck.

The door slid open to reveal Stimms. He levelled a pistol at Dave's head and stared at him with fierce eyes.

"Strap her back in. Allow the interrogation to continue. Do this and I'll consider not executing you immediately afterwards as a traitor." Stimms' voice was grave and collected.

Dave looked down at his girlfriend, who now struggled to breathe. She gripped his arm tightly. "No," he muttered and met Stimms' sharp gaze. "I won't let you torture her. You'll have to kill me first."

"Suit yourself."

Stimms squeezed the trigger and collapsed with a grunt. The shot whizzed past Dave's head. Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Dave made out a figure in blue standing in the entrance to the chamber. The Morestran guard lowered his pistol and replaced it in its holster.

"Let's get out of here," said the young male guard.

Without hesitation, Dave carried Elsa to the doorway. With the guard's help, they shouldered her weight and fled down the hallway.

"This won't look good for the Empire: a Morestran guard assisting a rebel with escape," Dave said.

"True, if I were a Morestran guard," said the young man. "I'm a rebel, a friend of Elsa's. My name's Tobin. You must be her boyfriend; she speaks very highly of you."

Dave grinned. "Guess I'm a rebel now, too."

They arrived at the elevator. Dave entered his access code and they stumbled inside.

"Get us to a transmat," Tobin said. "I know the co-ordinates of rebel headquarters."

"The science lab. They're designing a portable transmat device like that of the rebels," Dave said.

The elevator ascended several floors before the door parted with a chime. Men and women in white lab coats filled the hallway before them, rushing to and from rooms. Absorbed with reports and findings on their electronic notepads, few noticed the rebel trio making their way down the hallway. Several people gave them curious glances, but quickly disappeared into lab rooms.

Dave nodded to a door on their left. "Here." He tapped the intercom beside the door.

"Yes?" said an irritated voice.

"Emergency. Could you open the door please," Dave said in a polite voice.

The door hissed open and a wizened male scientist stared wild-eyed into the barrels of two staser pistols.

"Everyone down now!" Tobin yelled.

The half dozen men and women inside dropped to the floor with a commotion. Holding on to Elsa, Dave pointed his pistol around the room, while Tobin rushed over to the transmat device and tapped in a sequence of commands at its base.

Emergency sirens sounded.

"That's our cue to leave," Tobin said to Dave. "Get her in here."

Dave backed up to the four illuminated staffs and set Elsa down within. She disappeared. He stepped inside and disappeared as well.

"I've rigged this transmat device to self-destruct after I leave, so I'd encourage you all to flee the room right now!"

The scientists stumbled out the door. Tobin stepped into the transmat, disappeared and an explosion ripped out into the hallway.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Prentis stepped into the conference room. At a circular table sat the withered, sickly form of Controller Martin Rixx and a stern, middle-aged Ambassador Joan Isthmus. He shook hands with both and sat down.

"Welcome, Reverend Hayden Prentis," said Rixx. "Now we may commence negotiations."

"Sorry to hear about your rocket being destroyed, Ambassador," Prentis said. "I hope you left no valuable documents or such inside?"

"Anything of value to me is kept in here." She tapped her head. "Only my travel plans have been complicated."

Rixx rolled his eyes. "As I told the Ambassador earlier, she is welcome to use my personal rocket to return home."

Prentis set his briefcase on the table, retrieved two copies of his report and handed one to each.

Rixx flipped through the pages. "You've done your research, Prentis."

"The facts are well laid out." The Ambassador looked up from the report and gave the reverend a nod.

Prentis sighed in relief. "I've spent many years looking into the matter."

"Shly-Ka relocation is one thing," said Rixx, "but why the need for a Church presence on Tranta? Isn't it enough that I provide the Empire exclusively with shipments of artron energy?"

"The Church wishes to instill the citizens of Tranta with hope and faith. We wish to provide them with a sanctuary where they may develop such qualities of life in a clockwork, results-driven society."

Rixx raised an eyebrow. "For hope and faith, citizens need only look around them. Everything they could ever want or need is here. Each citizen is rewarded for his dedication to Tranta society. It is with their hard work and my guidance that a real utopia has come into being."

"But what about the questions you can't answer? the events you can't explain?" Prentis asked. "The Church can offer them divine solutions."

"The citizens of Tranta are hardly fearful, ignorant sheep, Prentis," Rixx exclaimed, chuckling.

"I never said that. As great as this city is, it is still susceptible to human error. I respect your intelligence and resourcefulness, Controller, but you are neither all-knowing nor all-powerful. That is why the Church wishes to offer you its support."

Rixx gave Prentis a sharp gaze. "Those are rather bold statements, coming from a representative of a supposedly charitable organization."

"Enough," the Ambassador cut in. "The Empire and the Church are merely concerned for Tranta's future, Controller. You are not looking well these days."

"I am well aware of my health condition. Rest assured that the future of Tranta has been prepared for," Rixx stated and Prentis remained silent.

"Let's move on to the rebel crisis, shall we?" suggested the Ambassador.

"There is no crisis," Rixx muttered. "The situation is under control and your shipments will not be affected."

"Have you considered a treaty?" the Ambassador asked.

"In nearly forty years, Grogan's demands haven't changed. He refuses to acknowledge the results the citizens of Tranta have accomplished under my leadership," Rixx said. "I wouldn't agree to his terms when I banished him and his rebels, and I refuse to sign a treaty now."

"What about some sort of compromise?".

"A waste of my time."

"What about the needs of the Shly-Ka?" asked Prentis.

Rixx furrowed his brow. "What have they got to do with this?"

"Strictly speaking, Antuath belongs to them. We are uninvited guests, and the Shly-Ka have suffered from our influence--all of us. The relocation has hurt the Shly-Ka physically as well as spiritually. They're unable to reproduce due to the strained symbiotic link with the gas giant."

"And what would you have me do?"

"They are quite willing to let the mining of Antuath continue," said Prentis. "But they want to return home, to their lunar sanctuaries. After all, the relay collectors were abandoned decades ago."

"Is it the official position of the Empire that the Shly-Ka should be returned to their ancestral home?" asked Rixx.

"That matter is still under debate between the Church and Empire officials," the Ambassador said.

"As it will be for years yet," said Rixx. "The Morestrans aren't absolutely altruistic. They know that the future prosperity of their civilization depends upon our shipments of artron energy, and they can't afford Shly-Ka intervention. Without Tranta's full support, it would be more disastrous experiments with anti-matter power. You should have a care for the Shly-Ka, Prentis. They are a lot more intelligent than you think, and nothing in their history gives them reason to be friendly with any group represented at this table."

Prentis sputtered, but the Ambassador raised her hands for peace.

"The Church would be better off establishing a presence among the rebels, Prentis." Rixx smiled. "It is Grogan's ignorant propaganda, not the future of Tranta, which is in need of divine intervention."

"Hello, Ace."

The voice was both whimsical and melancholy. A distant voice, carried by the chill winds that ruffled her hair. Sitting on a driftwood log, waves lapped her feet. She suddenly noticed her mentor sitting beside her, staring at the horizon.

"Are we on vacation, Professor?"

"Hmmm?"

She removed his panama hat and placed it on her head. "You keep bringing me to this beach."

"The Shore," the Doctor muttered.

"Whatever it's called, it isn't real, right?"

"How did you deduce that?"

"Well for starters, nothing makes a sound here: the seagulls, the ocean, the wind. Someone's gone and pressed the mute button. And second, you left your hat and coat in the TARDIS."

He tapped her gently on the nose and grinned. "Very good. And speaking of the TARDIS, we need to talk later."

Ace blushed. "What did you expect, trying to keep me prisoner?"

"Yes . . . But there are more pressing matters at hand."

"On Tranta. Why did you bring me here then?"

The Doctor sighed and raised his eyebrows. "I'm finding it difficult to focus of late. So much going on, so many people involved. I need to plan carefully."

Ace rested a hand on his shoulder.

He continued: "Someone long ago tried to show me the Shore. It's a spiritual plane outside of time and space, a refuge for meditation. I rediscovered it recently, while sifting thoughts and filing memories." He rested his hand on Ace's.

"Why bring me here?"

"Side-effect of our connection, perhaps--I'm not sure."

Ace sighed. "Then just tell me what's going on."

"There's no time. Close your eyes, Ace." He looked into her eyes; their grey depths made her drowsy. "I need you to trust me."

She shut her eyes.

A chirrup. "Feeling better?"

Ace opened her eyelids and her vision was filled with two bulbous, luminescent eyes. She blinked and scrambled back. The eyes belonged to what looked like a reptilian parrot: a small humanoid covered in green scales, with bulging eyes, a large beak and bone plating covering its head. Air sacs expanded and contracted beneath the plating. The creature sported a long moustache, with rings affixed to the ends, and wore white robes.

"You're the Keeper." She sat up, propping herself with her arms.

"That is right. You must be feeling better."

"Yeah, the headache's gone. And I can move again. Thanks." There was a bitter taste in her mouth. "Ugh, did I actually eat those bugs?"

"Yes, with some assistance."

Ace looked around the cavern, trying to block out the thought of beetles twitching on her tongue. "Are we in one of those asteroids orbiting Antuath?"

"Yes. The asteroids are the remnants of our home, once a moon. It was destroyed long ago."

Ace stood up cautiously from the blanket-covered table. "The Corporation?"

"No, no. It was destroyed many millenia ago, before you humans ever left Earth."

Ace stared at the creature. "You've heard of Earth?"

"My people once explored Earth's solar system. You humans were building pyramids to the sky then."

Ace grinned. "Did you abduct anyone, perform obscene tests?"

"Tests? No, we observed lifeforms from our space vessel. You, in particular, are an intriguing specimen."

"How so?"

The Keeper chirruped and held out a round stone inlaid with a latticework of crystal. "My medical sensors detected none of the signature, benign radiation emanating from Antuath. Further, you exhibit no signs of genetic damage from Earth's nuclear wars. Traces of manufactured vitamins, proteins and vitamins. And most curious, a dormant alien virus. I was able to cure that."

Ace smiled. "That's some rock. It told you all that?"

"Essentially, yes." The Keeper replaced the stone in his robe pocket.

The rock formation lighting the cavern was similarly inlaid with crystals, Ace noticed. "Does Antuath power all this?"

"Yes. The crystals focus its radiation. Harmless to you and me, but very powerful."

Ace looked around the cavern once more. "Is this it? No temples, cities, spaceships?"

"Most of those were destroyed long ago. There was a war with another alien species. Millions of lives were lost." The Keeper chirruped. "Our moon was destroyed and the battle ended. Some of us survived within the lunar debris. In time, we created artificial atmospheres on the surface. From then on, my species has pursued a deeply spiritual lifestyle. Little of our technology remains."

"Think you can get me back to rebel headquarters, Keeper?" Ace asked. "They probably think my atoms have been scrambled."

A small figure in red robes appeared in the entrance of the cavern, a cowl hiding its face. It wore a necklace with a crystal pendant.

"Wait here," whispered the Keeper, who approached the stranger. They exchanged a series of clicks and chirrups, and occasionally glanced back at Ace. The stranger nodded to the Keeper, who returned to Ace's side.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes, the Elder is a friend. One moment." The Keeper walked over to a table and searched through pottery, stone carvings, parchment and an assortment of trinkets. He retrieved a necklace, from which dangled a small stone pendant inlaid with a crystal rune, and brought it to Ace. "For good luck."

Ace allowed the Keeper to hang the necklace over her head and she fingered it curiously.

"We know the location of the rebel headquarters. Just step out of the cavern and you shall return there," the Keeper said.

"What, no clicking my heels together three times?" Ace grinned.

The Keeper looked down at her feet.

"Never mind. Thanks again, Keeper." She patted the creature on the shoulder and exited the cavern, ignoring the stranger in red.

With a groan, Stimms lifted his face from the polished metal floor of the Interrogation Chamber, leaving an imprint of sweat and drool. He rose to a crouching position and winced at the sharp pain in his back. It felt as if someone had punched the length of his spine with an iron gauntlet. Rubbing his eyes, he peered into the darkness before him and then behind at the empty prison square. Using the doorway for support, he stood and edged his way out of the dark. A guard sat against the wall, rubbing his temples.

"Guard, report," Stimms muttered.

With a struggle, the guard stood up and tapped his wrist monitor. "The prisoner has escaped--"

"Yes, I know! Has she and that traitor of a guard been apprehended?"

"No, sir. Scientists on the laboratory level witnessed a female and two males using the transmat. It self-destructed after their escape," said the guard.

Stimms tensed with rage and his back pain doubled. He leant against the wall, stifling a yell. "Was there a description of the second male, the one who shot me?"

"The scientists said he was a Morestran guard."

Stimms laughed. "Why am I not surprised. Any chance to use the rebellion to their advantage. Let's see the Ambassador negotiate her way out of this."

"Any further orders, sir?"

"Has a transmat signature trace been performed?"

"The signature was scrambled, sir."

Stimms stared at the entrance to the chamber. The spy had been in his grasp. With the secrets stored in her mind, he could have turned the tables on Grogan once and for all. How could he maintain the security of Tranta using a system marred with liars and cheats? Guards whose loyalty rests with the rebels they bed rather than the city they serve. An Empire who solicits the side that rewards them best. A dying, decrepit Controller who once delivered results, but now offers only promises to his devoted followers. Stimms dwelled on this last thought.

"Sir?"

Stimms turned to the guard, his eyes solemn. "What is it?"

"There is one last report: long-range sensors detected an unidentified craft leaving one of Antuath's orbiting asteroids and heading for Morestran space."

"Have a probe launched. Then set up a patrol to scour the building once more for clues." Stretching his back, Stimms walked to the chamber entrance, the guard right behind him. "Ensure the other Morestran guard and the Ambassador remain in the Capitol."

"We've arrived, reverend."

Prentis stared blankly at the driver, his mind elsewhere.

"Reverend? We're at the secondary docking bay."

The young man blinked and smiled. "Yes, we've arrived. Thank you." The shuttle's side door lifted open and Prentis stepped out onto the docking bay platform. With a nod to the driver, the door clicked shut and the shuttle rose into the sky. He presented his identification to the guard at the gateway and the tall doors parted. He stopped in the docking tunnel and stared out a portal at the stars.

It's over, he thought. The day was over. Six hours of negotiations representing years of research, and now matters were out of his hands. A great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt exhausted, giddy and nauseous all at once. What kind of agreement would Rixx and the Ambassador come to? How would she describe his presentation to the Empire and the Church? Just how much was he in debt to the ghostwriter of his report?

He turned to the rocket access door and keyed in the entry code. He disappeared inside and made his way through the corridors to the cockpit. Both chairs were empty. He tapped a button on the console.

"Hello?" he called.

No response.

Prentis tapped the button again. "Elder?" He waited a few minutes, but no reply came. He looked around the room, but was unable to find any sort of message. He tapped a different button.

"Yes, reverend?" It was the guard at the gateway.

"Did you spot a figure in red robes leaving this rocket today?"

"No, reverend. Should I have? Is everything all right?"

Prentis sighed. "Never mind. It's been a long day."

He sat in the cockpit chair and shut his eyes. This wasn't like the Elder to leave him the dark. Perhaps it had taken a quick tour of the city after all, slipping out of the rocket during the change of guards. Probably be back within the hour.

"Good evening, Prentis," said the Elder.

The reverend stirred and looked about, but the room and corridors were empty. The intercom was inactive.

"Elder? Where are you, what's going on?"

"That is not important. How did the negotiations go?"

Prentis furrowed his brow, perplexed. He spoke into the air, "Fine. Yes, the report was well received. Controller Rixx and the Ambassador will finalize an agreement, taking my requests into consideration."

"And did you discuss the Shly-Ka's return to Antuath?"

"Yes, I made sure to put it before Rixx," said Prentis. "He asked me for medical reports on you and the others, and for the locations of your sanctuaries among the asteroids. Once he's considered the matter, he'll promptly contact myself and the Church."

"You mean, he is reluctant to grant our wish," said the Elder.

Prentis hesitated. "Yes, I'm sorry. But I won't let this matter be swept aside."

"I know you will not, Prentis. The Shly-Ka are indebted to you for the sacrifices you have made on our behalf. If only more humans were as compassionate as you, especially those in power. But my people can no longer afford to wait, Prentis. We are dying."

Something was wrong: the Elder's usual reserved voice was tinged with urgency. "I'll continue to fight for your cause, Elder. I promise."

"It has become apparent, Prentis, that the Controller and the Morestrans will respond to nothing less than a show of force. And that leaves the Shly-Ka no choice."

Prentis' heart sank. "Elder?"

A flash of light caused Prentis to cover of his eyes. Seconds later, he noticed a white glow emanating from the edge of the control console: a small crystal orb had fused itself to the circuits within. He got up and backed away from the chair as the glow spread across the console. In its wake, metal plates and control circuitry distorted, reforming into strange, new devices meshed with crystal latticework. The glow spread like frost over walls and across the floor.

"Leave the rocket at once, Prentis," warned the Elder. "Arrange for transportation off of Tranta."

"You can't do this!" cried Prentis. "You'll turn the entire Empire against your people. The Shly-Ka will lose the few rights they have."

"It is our right to survive."

Prentis scrambled to find something to stop the console room's transformation. He darted to a service locker and fumbled through the items. His hands touched a metal mop handle and he grabbed it. With a cry, he brought the rod down hard on the transformed console.

A charge shot up the metal rod and pitched Prentis into the corridor. A door slid open and a Gardener in red robes stepped over the reverend's unconscious form. The voice of the Elder clicked and chirruped. The Gardener nodded and dragged Prentis down the corridor to a hatch in the wall marked "Escape Pod." At the touch of a button, the hatch opened and the Gardener gently pulled Prentis inside. Exiting back into the corridor, it tapped a sequence on the keypad beside the hatch, which launched the pod with a blast of air. Retrorockets fired and the pod headed for Morestran space.

The Gardener chirruped into the air and disappeared.

Ace and Ikuko navigated the crowd of people in the market square. Ace was dressed in her usual attire, while Ikuko wore a white T-shirt and red pants. Workers and their families strolled from shop to shop, checking out garments, trinkets and produce. Enclosed within sunlit concrete high-rises, surrounded by vendor stands and lush gardens, the crowd seemed content. Not a sign of fear or oppression in their faces. The odd propaganda poster dotted lampposts and building corners, promoting "Utopia Through Unity" and "The Controller Delivers Results."

"Reconnaissance isn't so bad," whispered Ace. "I finally get to see Tranta in the daylight."

"Be sure to keep with the crowds," Ikuko whispered back. "Security probes are everywhere, and our vitals are on file, detected by the gateway."

Ace looked about at the smiling children and the couples pressed closed to each other. "Hardly looks like the repressed, conditioned society that Grogan warns of."

"Of course not. Not when most citizens are ignorant to what's going on outside of the city." Ikuko frowned. "Rixx promotes himself as a young, resourceful philosopher-king. He gives them work, provides them leisure and satisfies their material needs. But he's a hollow shell of a man now, on his last breaths. Little do they know."

"What'll happen if he dies?"

"Rixx says the future has been prepared for. But no one man or woman could succeed him. No one on Tranta has any sort of authority. Rixx oversees everything." Ikuko looked about, keeping her eyes peeled for security probes.

"What about Stimms, the Security Chief?"

Ikuko chuckled. "He's a puppet, that's all."

She stopped and nodded her head to the right. Ace looked that way and spotted a guard peering out of an alleyway. They approached a fruit stand and fingered apples, oranges and some unfamiliar looking produce. Ace peered out of the corners of her eyes and noticed guards peeking out of other alleyways.

"We're surrounded," Ikuko whispered. Her hand lowered to her pocket.

Ace grabbed her wrist. "No!" she hissed. "There's too many people about. Someone will get hurt."

"They'll catch us both."

Ace inspected a spiky blue fruit and thought for a moment. "No they won't." She grinned at Ikuko. "I have an idea. Take off to the rendezvous; I'll catch up with you later."

Ikuko shook her head, but Ace pushed her away. The rebel disappeared among the outskirts of the crowd, while Ace made her way to the middle. She stopped and took a deep breath.

"The future of Tranta is at stake!" she yelled at the crowd. A few people gave her curious glances, but walked on. "Just how long will Rixx rule? He is an old man! That's right, an old crazed nutter!" People in the crowd began to stop and frown at Ace. The guards in the alleyways turned their attention her way and exited into the daylight. "Rixx is controlling your lives! You have no say in how Tranta is run. He exploits you, and all you do is keep working with a smile!" She spotted Ikuko slipping into an alleyway, while the guards began merging with the crowd. "Grogan and the rebellion will change all that! You will each have a voice; you will decide Tranta's future." Men and women around her muttered comments, but her attention was focused on the approaching guards.

"Join the rebellion!" she yelled and braced herself as six guards broke free of the crowd to detain her. What a performance, she thought and offered the men her cruellest stare.

Sitting at his office desk, the lights dim, Stimms tapped a sequence on the inlaid keyboard. A blonde male, wearing blue fatigues with white piping, appeared on a holographic viewscreen above the desk.

"Morestra Traffic Control. How may I help you, Security Chief Stimms?"

"Just wanted to let you know that the Ambassador will be returning tomorrow in Controller Rixx's personal rocket," Stimms reported.

"Excuse me--the Ambassador?"

"Yes, Ambassador Joan Isthmus. She arrived yesterday for negotiations with the Controller."

The Morestran operative frowned. "That isn't possible, Security Chief."

"And why not?"

"The Ambassador is away on assignment, negotiating a truce between two Morestran colonies over trade routes."

"How can that be?"

"In fact," the operative continued, "the Controller contacted us two days ago. Said he'd speak with the Ambassador on a future date, rather than meet with her on Tranta."

"But she arrived here last evening with two guards in a Morestran rocket," Stimms said.

"We received a report of an unauthorized rocket launch from one of our colonies . . . Is the rocket still there?"

"I'm afraid not."

"We will investigate this matter further," said the operative. "We would appreciate any further details you may have."

"I will send you a report," said Stimms. "Thank you for your help." The viewscreen disappeared.

The intercom beeped.

"What is it?"

"We've captured a young woman promoting the rebellion in the markets, sir. Her vitals match one of those responsible for destroying the Ambassador's rocket."

"Very good. Take her to the Interrogation Chamber."