'Wow. He's one master criminal.'

Keri shook her head. 'Not really. Mostly petty thieving by Pakha standards.

Obviously a hired hand who gets dropped in the guano too often by his employers. Let's find out where he is now.'

Kort nodded and said, 'Locate subject.'

Another brief pause, then: 'Hyn't'n deceased. Body found twenty-four dash 14 dash 9-fed. Mutilated. Coroner's report suggests murder by persons unknown. Do you require more?'

Keri shook her head. 'Yesterday! He was killed yesterday! Why?' The door behind them slid open and an angry hiss alerted them. They both swung round to be faced by the Martian pilot. Without hesitation he brought up his right arm with its sonic disrupter primed and ready.

Keri gulped. Oh cruk, yeah!' Aboard the Bruk, Marshal Hissel regarded the information racing across his computer screens with interest. Why had the security codes on the shuttle computer been tripped? Why was information about some gutted Pakha being investigated? He reached out for the communications console to alert High Lord Savaar when a steady bleeping alerted him. He turned to look at a small black box fitted to the sensor equipment on the comm section. The red light on top was flashing in time with the irregular bleeps.

On Peladon a similar box was flashing and bleeping.

It was secreted in the living quarters of the man who had once been Alexander Charles Roberts.

The man who had been searching for the Diadem and had sent his mercenaries to retrieve it.

The man who had pretended to love and then ruthlessly slaughtered Jina on Pakha.

The man who had murdered Fabon and stolen the Lance of Aggedor.

Holding the box in his paws and grinning was holocameraman Jav.

Down in the refinery, deep and forgotten in the abandoned trisilicate mines of Peladon, the shadowy shapes still moved about.

All except one.

That one sat at a console. On top was a black box with flashing red lights on top. Attached to the box was a comm-link and data-pad. This figure was sending the bleeps.

In his quarters, the Doctor sat back on his bed and grimaced. Beside him was a travelling chess set. He lazily reached out and picked up a white rook and moved it forward, taking a black p.a.w.n. He spun the set around and moved a black knight forward which not only took the white rook but placed the white king in check.

'Not quite mate, Doctor, but it's getting there,' he said to himself.

Interlude 2 'The Galactic Federation grew into existence during the first third of the thirty-second century, Earth time. After the complete failure of the old thirty-second century, Earth time. After the complete failure of the old alliances and the even bigger disaster of Earth's outrageous empire, it alliances and the even bigger disaster of Earth's outrageous empire, it seemed only natural that the planet should join forces with its nearest seemed only natural that the planet should join forces with its nearest neighbour.- Previous empirical races such as the Draconians and the New neighbour.- Previous empirical races such as the Draconians and the New Martians were as quick to see the merits in such a scheme. Martians were as quick to see the merits in such a scheme.

From those first tentative sub-.s.p.a.ce messages to each other to the final grand ceremony at the purpose built Galactic Federation. headquarters on grand ceremony at the purpose built Galactic Federation. headquarters on the terraformed moon of Jupiter, Io, lay a period of nearly three hundred the terraformed moon of Jupiter, Io, lay a period of nearly three hundred years. Those who originally conceived such peaceful co-existence were years. Those who originally conceived such peaceful co-existence were long dead before fruit was borne. Nevertheless the Federation did happen. long dead before fruit was borne. Nevertheless the Federation did happen.

And today it still stands, a monument to the erasure of greed, malice and selfishness that had nearly doomed each of the contributing planets selfishness that had nearly doomed each of the contributing planets beforehand.' beforehand.'

Extract from 'Federation History' by Grith Robtts (DAD 3698 Bowketts Universal Publications 'The trouble with the glorious idea of a Galactic Federation is that while the highbrows and top-n.o.bs confer, consolidate and collaborate, the smaller highbrows and top-n.o.bs confer, consolidate and collaborate, the smaller individual gets lost and forgotten. In such cases it is far easier for the less individual gets lost and forgotten. In such cases it is far easier for the less law-abiding merchant to flourish. law-abiding merchant to flourish.

The least scrupulous of these can be found almost on top of the to base - around the moons of Saturn and Ura.n.u.s. There, almost delightfully flouting regulations under the nose of bureaucracy, the ever-present "bad-guy" not regulations under the nose of bureaucracy, the ever-present "bad-guy" not only makes a living but usually with a profit higher than most legitimate only makes a living but usually with a profit higher than most legitimate companies can dream of.' companies can dream of.'

Extract from A Rough Guide to Federation Tourist Traps' by Krymson LePlante (DAD 3948 Hearn Pamphlets Inc One of those less-than-legitimate businessmen was entering his office at the start of another business day on j.a.petus. Kaldor was a city on the edge of a vast sandy desert, one of three man-made cities on Saturn's second moon.

Most of Kaldor's richer businessmen made their money by sifting through the desert sands, searching for rare minerals to be shipped back to Io for distribution within the Federation. The Founding Families (as the initial terraformers called themselves) were well established now as j.a.petus's governing body.

lain Martyn was neither a particularly rich businessman nor related to one of the founding families. He had arrived in Kaldor City five years ago, leaving his original colony on Earth's moon with the little money he possessed, and had set up a surgery in the city. The Founding Families would have nothing to do with him - they had their own medical pract.i.tioners, but the common or garden Federation workers used him because they could just about afford to.

Martyn also worked on the black market - it was, to be frank, the only way he could support himself in a good lifestyle. Unmarried and with no offspring, he was. .h.i.t by high taxes and received no state subsidies. He also had to keep his employee, a dizzy blonde called Krau Gillatt (he a.s.sumed she had a first name, but he didn't know it - she was always Krau Gillatt to him) in work and support his ever-growing holovid collection. 1t was said by those who visited his apartment that he probably had more discs in his living room than the GFI had in their entire archives.

'Good morning, Doktor Martyn,' chirped Krau Gillatt as he entered his office. He nodded a greeting back and ran his microfilamented finger down a strip on her desk. In front of him hovered pages from the appointments book. A quick flick told him that business was down this week. He shrugged and with a second slice of his finger made it vanish.

'Well?' he asked.

Krau Gillatt shook her head. 'Nothing in the other book, either I'm afraid.'

The ther book' was a genuine paper and ink one in which Martyn kept records of his meetings, appointments and invoices for those clients who did not wish to appear on any official Federation statistics. The high-paying clients who usually requested surrept.i.tious help. This could range from construction workers who injured themselves in bar-room brawls and didn't want their wives to know, to top Kaldor City businessmen and Founding Family men whose dalliances with the rent girlz and boyz had resulted in a case of s.e.xually transmitted diseases and also didn't want the wife to know.

Occasionally, he'd have to use laser technology to remove birthmarks or prison tattoos. Once in a while someone would come for complete physical recreation technique, usually those on the run from Federation officials, tax men or their now-s.e.xually-transmitted-disease-infected wives.

lain Martyn was not a specialist in any particular field of medicine or surgery, but he was a bit of a jack of all trades. He could turn his hand to most things and physical recreation was a favourite hobby. Especially if he could slightly base the new face on a holovid star of the past. That was when work became a pleasure.

'There is one thing,' Krau Gillatt jolted him out of his reverie. 'Your last PRT client - one Alexander C Roberts? His bill hasn't been paid.'

'But I gave you the credit check.'

Krau Gillatt shrugged. I'm sorry, Doktor, but that came up blank. I ran a basic check with KalBank Inc., and they tried it through the major Federation credit systems. No luck.'

Martyn pondered for a moment. He remembered Roberts coming to him. It had been a busy week but nevertheless he could clearly remember fitting the man into his schedule. He'd had an accident of some sort. Claimed he worked in the Balos City furnaces, slagging down the non-precious minerals for the Federation troopships. A fight with a colleague had severely burnt his face and he'd been fired.

'But if you can rebuild my face, in fact give me a new one, then I can be someone else. With my experience, I'd actually get my old job back, but they'd think I was someone new.'

Martyn considered this easy enough - in fact it had been made easier because Roberts had provided a holo of the face he wanted. It wasn't in Martyn's interest to ask who the original face had belonged to: he just took the credit slip and did the job.

Normally that would be all there was to it. Bank the credits in a couple of accounts and make it untraceable too small to interest the tax man. A bit on the side.

That was fine if the credit actually went through, but in this case it hadn't.

'Run a check on this Roberts. See if we can find out where he was before he came to j.a.petus.' Martyn entered his inner office and dug out the scant notes he had on his first of only three patients today.

By lunchtime, he was bored. He stuck his head out of the office door. 'Krau Gillatt, what time is the man with the hair recedence problem due in?' Krau Gillatt was as efficient as always. Without even consulting the appointments book she said, 'Trau Briggs is due at four thirty-five, Doktor Martyn.'

It was only twelve forty-five now. Martyn smiled over to her. 'Fancy a long lunch? We could grab a bite and a drink at the s.p.a.ceport bar and then you could do some shopping.'

Krau Gillatt was out of her chair in a second, brushing back her hair and adding a brighter shade of lipstick before he'd turned to get his wallet and credit card. I'm all yours, Doktor.'

The s.p.a.ceport was a seven-minute walk and after a few morsels of smalltalk about her husband and young son (if she had a husband and son, how come she was 'Krau' Gillatt, he wondered), Martyn asked her if she'd had any luck tracing Alexander Charles Roberts.

Krau Gillatt shook her head. 'Nothing much. He certainly lied to you about working at BF. The furnace boss had never heard of him, nor had they fired or hired anyone in the last four months. I holofaxed over the image of his new face, but it meant nothing to him.' She opened the doorway of the s.p.a.ceport bar and followed her boss in. Anyway,' she continued after Martyn had bought a couple of drinks I did find out that a Alexander Charles Roberts was briefly registered with the Second Norvegica Bank, on Pakha of all places, a few months back. There's a lovely young man at to Info-Tech who just gushed the information to me. Apparently this Roberts disappeared off Pakha without settling his rather large overdraft. The bank has issued a credit warrant.'

lain Martyn considered this for a moment. 'Seems a bit of a coincidence.

Pakha's a long way from here. Besides, if he was going to run, far better to move out to another frontier world than back to the heart of Federation s.p.a.ce.'

Krau Gillatt had a theory on that one. 'Ah, yes, but what if it was a double-bluff? Our man defrauds the SN Bank and, like you, the Pakhars think he's going further out. Instead, he reenters Federation Central and comes to you for a new face. By the time he leaves Kaldor and even j.a.petus the heat is off, the search over and he could then get out of here and on to a frontier world. If the Pakhars haven't found him in a year then their claim is void. After all, it wasn't a particularly large overdraft.' She swallowed her drink and stroked the stem of the gla.s.s.

Taking the hint, Martyn rose and went to get them both another. As he approached the bar, he was aware of a conversation between the tender and an older male customer.

'. . . no survivors, apparently. Well. I've been off work for a few days and only heard about it this morning. Of course, they made me sign lots of papers, you know, Galactic Federation secrecy an' all that. But I know you won't tell anyone else . . .'

The bartender gave him a look that suggested b.u.t.ter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Of course, he didn't need to tell anyone else, the old man was being loud enough for everyone around the bar to hear. Besides which. everyone else's conversation had died down to enable them to listen to this top-secret information. Martyn felt almost guilty for listening, but what the h.e.l.l.

Federation secrets weren't usually that secret.

'So,' the old man continued, 'there I was getting the floor-cleaning servicer out of its cupboard when 1 saw the list. It's so sad. I mean, that Commander Rudzka was such a nice woman. "Joel," she'd always say, "Joel, how's the wife? Rebekkha isn't it?" Not many troopers even know my name, let alone Bek's.'

The old man would have carried on forever if two Federation troopers hadn't come in at that moment. The bartender tried to warn Joel but the old man didn't take the hint. 'Hang on, there's more. Apparently these people nicked a shuttle and-' Old Joel was cut off as a gauntlet clamped down on his shoulder. A man with a captain's insignia on his chest leaned over.

I think you've been drinking, Joel. Ought to lay off it, you know. Careless, inaccurate talk and all that . . .' There was no mistaking the warning and Joel swallowed hard.

I'm sorry, Captain Jaansen. I guess I'd best get back to work.'

Captain Jaansen nodded. 'There's a few more corridors need cleaning, Joel, before clocking-off. Coming?' It was an order, not a question really, and Joel looked as if he knew it.

Martyn watched the whole thing. Something in the back of his mind struck a chord. Alec Roberts. He'd been talking about security at the s.p.a.ceport.

Asking Martyn if he knew anything about their shuttles. Pretended he was into fast flyers. It hadn't sounded right back then, and in light of what Old Joel had said . . .

Krau Gillatt was quite surprised to see her boss dashing out of the bar, apparently following the troopers towards the s.p.a.ceport. Something told her that Trau Briggs was going to find his four thirty-five appointment cancelled this afternoon.

'Tell me the whole story from the start, Doktor, if you please.'

Iain Martyn was sweating. He didn't like authority at the best of times - his one foot on the wrong side of the law always made him extra nervous.

Now, here he was, trying for once to be a dutiful citizen (although getting the credits due to him from Alec Roberts had something to do with it) and they were treating him almost as if he was the criminal.

He told the story from the start. The five men dressed in black seated around the table listened and took notes. Copious notes, whispering to themselves and using their adapted fingers to place the information he was presenting straight into their memories via the micro-meshes on their temples, reminding the doktor of something he'd heard about monkeys, micro-meshes and the complete works of Shakespeare.

When he'd finished the eldest man, a Brigade Leader Lepav, smiled benignly - and about as convincingly as a wolf that tells a sheep that it's really vegetarian. 'Nothing to worry about, Doktor Martyn. You've done the right thing in telling us about this Alexander Charles Roberts.' Lepav leaned across the table, the vegetarian wolf looking even less plausible than before. And don't worry. In the military, we're not interested in your - how can I put it? - back-street medical practices. We leave that kind of thing to the Federation Administrators, and they won't hear a word about it from me.'

A man, clearly from Io, standing at the back of the room caused Martyn to suspect that at best this was a lie and at worst he'd just sacrificed his career.

One thing I have got,' he said meekly, s a copy of the holo of the face I turned him into. I could get my secretary to bring it over, if you can just connect me with her.'

'Can't we just fibre-op it up?' said Captain Jaansen, who'd been at the back of the room but was suddenly uncomfortably close to Martyn's right ear.

Martyn shook his head. It's on my pad - it needs my Neysc.r.a.pe. It's sort of.. . confidential. . .' he ended lamely. Lepav licked his lips. Probably wondering how Martyn would look smothered in mint jello, the doktor decided.

'Tell you what, Trau Martyn,' Lepav said. The dropping of his professional t.i.tle didn't escape Martyn for a second -his career was finished. 'Tell you what, I'll just get Captain Jaansen there to nip over to Kaldor City and get it off her, all right?' Martyn nodded in mute resignation.

He sat waiting for nearly half an hour, sweating enough to open a lido.

Eventually Jaansen returned, a data-pad in his hand. He nodded at Lepav who took the pad and offered it to the doktor.

err . . . Holo Recon AR2,' Martyn said.

One second later and a three-dimensional face was rotating in front of the a.s.sembled group.

'This your Alexander Charles Roberts?' Lepav asked.

Martyn nodded. 'That's what he looks like now, Brigade Leader. I have to confess it was a very good result indeed. I don't know whose face it is . . .

or was . . . though.'

Brigade Leader Lepav nodded slowly, and Martyn followed his gaze around the group. Most of them, including Jaansen, were clearly nonplussed, it was no one they knew. But the one with a Galactic Federation HQ flash on his shoulder was clearly amazed.

Lepav wasn't smiling any longer. I think I can tell you this, Trau Martyn.

The face in front of us belongs to a dead man. He died about three or four weeks back in a shuttle accident. The particulars of the accident have never been satisfactorily resolved. With your information I think we're on the way to learning some new information.' He turned to the Federation official. 'Trau Secretary?' Oh, indeed, Brigade Leader,' confirmed the secretary. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I must put a message through to the Federation Chair on Io. And then a call to High Lord Savaar on board the Bruk.' The secretary turned to Martyn and smiled. Another vegetarian wolf smile. 'You see, Trau Martyn? Your information must go to the very highest levels.' The secretary nodded to Lepav and exited.

Martyn cleared his throat to speak, but when he did, it came out almost as a whisper. excuse me. What happens to me now?' Lepav ignored him.

Instead he got out of his seat. 'Time, gentlemen, for a spot of dinner.

Canteen's doing a splendid roast something or other today.' He then acknowledged Martyn. 'Fancy seeing what's on the menu, Trau Martyn?'

5: A Game Called Echo

'Are you mad?'

Atissa swung around on her mother, ignoring the astonished looks on the faces of the others gathered in the temple. 'I? Mad? Mother, it was not I who welcomed the Federation. It was not I who filled the king's head with ridiculous tales of Federation wonderment. It was not I who-'

'Enough!' Lianna waved the guards and attendants away. As they fled, she walked over to the vast granite statue that dominated the far wall of the temple. 'Look at Aggedor, Atissa. Look at him and think what he stands for in our hearts. In the very soul of the Pels.'

Atissa did not need to look at Aggedor. She knew exactly what he looked like. Exactly what he stood for. She knew all the stories, all the tales and legends. She also knew where her duty lay. 'You may be my mother but you have become a stranger to me,' she said. 'You stroke the statue but you do not believe in it. You suggest you want to invoke images of soul, pa.s.sion and heritage but instead you advocate the selling-off of such things like cheap baubles in the markets. I tell you this as the servant of Peladon, as the high priestess of Aggedor and as your daughter, you, Mother, are the betrayer. You are the mad one.' She waved her hands at the incense burners, the gas flambeaus and the everlasting candles. 'Look about you and see the Federation's gifts to us. There are none! Just a few gimmicks and tricks "to keep the primitive natives amused". It is an insult and I am disgusted. Disgusted above all at you for falling for all this.'

Lianna sighed. It was a circular argument. I can see you are not rational at the moment, daughter. But be warned, we shall talk about this again.'

Atissa gaped in astonishment. Again? Again! We have done nothing but talk. You have preached Federation lies, I have preached Pel truth. We have nothing further to say, Mother. Leave my . . . Aggedor's Sacred Temple before I declare you and your allies heretics.'

'You would go that far?' 'I would go as far as I need to protect this planet.'

Against the wishes of the king?' 'King? That weak-willed fool? Rank does not equal greatness, Mother. Remember that.'

Lianna tried one last time. She grabbed at a candlestick. 'Look at this, Atissa. Your forebears would spend weeks creating just one of these from the limited resources that Peladon offered naturally. Now we have one that never deteriorates. Never burns away. It does not insult Aggedor. It does not devalue our heritage. It benefits us in however small a way. Yet you would declare war over a matter so trivial?' Atissa paused and stared at the other candlesticks. Then she reached out and reclaimed the one from Lianna's hand, setting it in its proper place. A war? Your choice of words, Mother, not mine. But yes, I would go as far as to say that it is at least a battle. And I will win that battle, because I know I am right.'

'Study the Federation histories, daughter. Examine other worlds, other places. Study them and learn just how many wars have been fought and lost, at horrendous costs too vast for us to truly comprehend, and all because someone "knew they were right".'

Atissa turned away from her mother. 'Your mind, your body, your being - all are evil.'