Galaxy's Game

Part 1: Launching the Pinball

Chapter 1: Departure

I pushed through the crowded spaceport terminal impatiently where members of a dozen species of starfarers bustled about, blocking the way. Usually on business trips I avoided the main building and got dropped off at the First Class lounge, but things didn't always go to plan.

"Over there!" said Nirf. He's from Tsimk. Some describe him as a flying jellyfish. I wasn't even sure that he was a he. I made my way through the bustling crowds of Liverpool's Saint John Lennon Spaceport towards the departure gates while Nirf floated overhead out of the crush. It was hot and the air carried the odours of a dozen physiologies, most of which smelled like unpleasant varieties of sweat.

A glance at my wrist chrono confirmed the bad news: I had only ten minutes to make the flight. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and pushed on through the crowd. Nirf calmly floated after me.

My Commercial Immunity status meant that I could skip through customs and head straight for the gate. I waved my first class boarding pass at a bemused steward in a bright red uniform and ran down the corridor to the waiting shuttle, footsteps echoing off the advert-strewn walls. The hatch was just beginning to slide shut as I rounded the last bend, so with a burst of speed I leaped dramatically through the shrinking gap and presented my boarding pass with a flourish to the waiting stewardess. Her golden face did not seem impressed. The hatch re-opened at my passage, allowing Nirf to float serenely through. He was incapable of flourishing, but handed over his pass with a pulsating mauve tentacle.

The stewardess showed us to the first-class cabin, a compilation of polished faux-wood panels, fixtures and fittings of pewter and subtle lighting strips. I settled into a comfortable firmaform chairs, ready for the ten-hour journey to Zrsectipar. Nirf flopped into the seat beside me. Shape and comfort didn't matter to him. A few moments later the shuttle took off with a rumble of power. I didn't know it then, but as we headed into space I was being launched into a series of adventures over which I had about as much control as a pinball does over its own destiny.

*

Zrsectipar is an equalitarian society, so there are no first-class facilities to welcome travellers. The Dome spaceport was not too busy that late in the evening. It seemed even emptier under the huge arching vault that was presumably designed as an architectural statement rather than for any practical purpose. The few individuals milling around were mostly humans and short, golden-skinned reptilian Zurspos, joint colonists of the planet. For some obscure political reason the planet's name had been changed to one unpronounceable to most of its human citizens. There was the usual selection of other races that you expect to find hanging round any major spaceport, from short, wrinkled Antovians to huge, pink Paralli. A tall, glossy, red-skinned humanoid caught my eye, lurking near the vending machines. I'd not seen his kind before, which was a novelty for me after so many interstellar business trips. I hailed a passing trundlebot to carry my bag and take us to the security office.

We entered a carpeted corridor off the main dome, following the trundlebot to our destination. A black-clad man with a stern, angular face followed us into the corridor, hurrying to catch up. I turned to eye the newcomer warily.

"Drew Nelson." He stopped and produced a Galactic Security Services badge for my inspection. "Sorry I didn't catch you when you first arrived."

GSS are the most prestigious and reliable private security firm in the sector, and with agents on every planet it was easier to hire them to escort our valuable cargo of meteoric crystals back to Earth than to provide our own company security. I picked up my backpack and dismissed the trundlebot. It gave a small squeak as it departed. Drew now took the lead, taking us to a door marked 'Security Chief Dianol'.

We entered an office that was occupied by a tall, youthful-looking man with blond wavy hair. His wide desk was immaculately tidy.

"Brett Hawkes, Terran Galactic Trading," I introduced myself.

He stood to shake my hand, swift and firm, then awkwardly attempted to shake one of Nirf's tentacles. He soon gave up the idea and looked embarrassed by the incident. I wondered how long he'd been in the job.

"Welcome. I'll have my guards collect the crystals from the vault." Chief Dianol sat back down. "But I'm afraid there'll be a bit of a delay first." He hit a button on his console.

Before I had time to wonder about the delay I felt that horrible, hovering-on-the-brink-of-a-precipice feeling you get in your stomach when in the grip of a transmat beam.

The chief, his desk and the office faded from view as I was dematerialised and transported away.

Chapter 2: Capture

We found ourselves in an alcove to the side of an anonymous corridor. The air smelled stale and there was a metallic tang that could almost be tasted. The alcove looked like a transmat station, though there were no controls for us to use. The similar utilitarian architecture suggested that the three of us had not been transported very far, possibly to another part of the same building.

Nirf and I checked our sub-dermal communicators to make sure they were still working. They'd proven to be a useful tool when working together, allowing us to talk sub-audibly to each other within a limited range. They were working fine and we all seemed unharmed. There was nobody else there to explain what was happening and the corridor stretched into the distance in both directions, lined by unevenly spaced doors.

Drew was supposedly the local security expert, and our immediate kidnapping had not impressed me too much with the service provided by GSS. Eager to salvage his company's reputation, Drew quickly launched into a review of the current security situation on Zrsectipar, which contained, he was eager to point out, no hint of terrorist or organized crime activities. The meteoric crystals we had come to collect were extraordinarily valuable, but as we did not actually have them yet there did not seem much point in us being captured. Especially as Chief Dianol, our captor, already had the crystals in his possession.

By this time Nirf had acclimatised to the atmosphere and announced that we were around twenty to thirty meters below ground. Tsimkans possess an air pressure sense, invaluable to them as they float through the atmosphere of their home world. It was dulled somewhat by being indoors, but Nirf felt confident that his estimate was accurate.

We tried the nearest few doors but found them all to be locked. As we made our way slowly along the corridor and the numbers stencilled on the doors got higher, Drew explained that the underground habitats had been built by the first human colonists around two hundred years earlier. Initial surveys had confirmed that Zrsectipar, or Neuropa as it was then known, was suitable for habitation. The first colony ship had unfortunately arrived at the start of a prolonged and intense period of sunspot activity. There was no option to return to Earth; the journey took five months in those days rather than ten hours, so the colonists had dug in and created a living space beneath the ground. Within a few weeks the surface had become virtually uninhabitable due to the intense solar radiation and the subsequent violent weather patterns. It was months before the sun had returned to normal, but the colonists decided to extend and improve their subterranean dwellings in case of future emergencies. The underground structures had remained inhabited until about fifty years ago when the final residents moved above ground.

Each corner featured a small security camera that allowed someone, presumably our captors, to keep an eye on us. This began to get on my nerves. It was bad enough that we were wandering around lost, but the thought of someone laughing at us as we wandered was intolerable.

The second benefit of my aforementioned commercial immunity status is that I don't have to submit to security searches before travelling off-world. This meant that my grade-one miniblaster was still tucked safely inside one of the many pockets of my dark green utility jacket. It made short work of melting the next camera we came across and an evil smell of burned plastic followed us down the corridor for a while.

"It may not be a good idea to antagonise them," Drew cautioned.

It was a fair point, but it didn't stop me doing the same to every other camera we saw. Drew rubbed his jet-black, close cropped hair nervously every time I let off another shot. After a while we came to a stop when the corridor we were following ended at a set of double doors that were sealed shut.

"I get the impression we're not down here for any particular purpose," I commented. "We don't seem to be going anywhere."

"What was it Dianol said? 'There's a bit of a delay'? Do you think we've just been put down here out of the way for some reason?" Drew said, as we strolled back the way we had come and tried a different turning.

"That's my feeling," I said. "We're just killing time while they're up to something. But what?"

As I spoke I saw a movement from the corner of my eye. Hovering near the ceiling was a small spherical spycam. Someone definitely wanted to keep an eye on us. I drew my miniblaster again and fired. The spycam dodged with impressive speed. Another couple of blasts only served to decorate the walls with burn marks. During the exchange Nirf had drifted up the corridor and now swept silently along at ceiling height, enveloping the spycam from behind. There was a brief struggle as it tried to shake him off, the purple and lilac undulating form of Nirf bounced from the ceiling and walls a couple of times before he managed to snap off the antenna and deactivate its antigrav ports. He let it fall to the floor with a satisfying clunk and it rolled slowly to a stop against one wall.

"Do you think they might just leave us alone?" I asked hopefully.

After our wanderings had brought us to two more dead ends we were all rather irritated. We decided to blast through one of the doors.

"I am sorry to damage such an ancient structure," I said, not very truthfully. I upped the miniblaster to its maximum power, flicked the switch to continuous beam and melted a hole through the centre of a set of double doors. Beyond lay a darkened room.

"Let's go," said Drew, and led the way through.

Chapter 3: Amazed

Overhead lights flickered on, triggered by our presence in the room. It was a large hall, and appeared to be a gym of some kind. Various pieces of equipment such as benches and ladders lay along the walls. The floor was marked out in squares a couple of meters on a side. It was all rather grey, very much like the corridors we had been traversing. We fanned out slightly as we entered, and began to head across the hall to the double doors on the opposite wall. I suddenly felt very heavy. My legs struggled to move forward, as though I were wading through a swimming pool, then, just as suddenly I felt normal again.

I turned to comment on this to Drew in time to see him bounce off the floor and very slowly drift forward, flailing his arms as he went. I turned my head to Nirf on my right, slightly startled.

"The gravity is altering," Nirf said, as he floated swiftly upward. I turned to look around the hall again.

It was, I realised, a gravinetics hall, an exercise regime that has never appealed to me, but has risen and fallen in popularity from time to time on many different worlds, usually influenced by a celebrity who had decided to take it up. Each square delineated a different gravity pocket.

Once we had all struggled through our current square we decided it was best to go one at a time. When I found myself floating in mid-air, Drew and Nirf avoided that square and moved slowly forward again. When Drew found himself plastered to the floor we edged around him and continued. It was slow going, but at least only one of us was floundering at a time.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I made it to the far side and the doors opened automatically for us.

Nirf seemed equally relieved, though he isn't capable of exhaling. I exited the hall and found myself in another, mind-numbingly similar, corridor.

We proceeded as before, checking doors, turning left and right, wandering round as if in a maze. I had almost drained the miniblaster getting through one set of doors so I was loathe to use it again in case we needed it for something more important. I had again lost my bearings when we came to another dead end with a large door before us. This one had a small control panel to the side. A short blast opened it up to reveal its inner workings and Nirf, being the technical whiz that he is, soon had the door open.

I stepped over the threshold into a darkness that was somehow fuzzy, then took another step into a large room filled with banks of computer terminals and assorted machines, each with a chair placed before it. Like the rest of the complex it was devoid of any people, but looked just like the kind of high-tech control room that I would expect to find in an underground facility.

"Hydroponics, just as I thought," Drew murmured.

"What?"

"Hydroponics. They would need to be self-sufficient living underground. This is how they did it." He gestured broadly around the room. I looked at him blankly. None of the equipment suggested a connection to hydroponics to me. I looked at Nirf and he too looked, well, I won't say blank because Tsimkans have no facial features to look blank, but his flesh tone was decidedly neutral. You get to understand Tsimkans when you have spent as much time with one as I have.

"The room is empty," Nirf pronounced.

"Well yes, except for the consoles," I said.

"And lab equipment," Drew added.

"No," Nirf said. "The room is simply empty." Tsimkans aren't known for their sense of humour, though my dry wit has rubbed off on Nirf over the years, but I got the impression he wasn't joking.

"And the computers?" I asked hesitantly.

"Are in your head," he said. Now at this point you are probably wondering how Nirf could say anything when they don't have any facial features. I suppose it's a legitimate question as Tsimkans don't often travel from their home world, and even if you had met one you're hardly likely to start asking personal questions about their anatomy. The answer is that Tsimkan communication is very high pitched, merging into the ultrasonic and is produced in a similar way to Earth grasshoppers: by rubbing their legs together, or in the case of Tsimkans, their tentacles. This sound travels very well in their home atmosphere. To communicate with other species they are able to form a resonance chamber in their flexible underbelly and use it to project sounds audible to us.

"What about the hydroponics systems?" Drew asked worriedly.

"They are in your head. Both of you are seeing what you were expecting." That was true, I had been expecting something of the kind. "I believe the entrance to this room consisted of an Image / Impulse Transferor. It grabbed your thoughts from your mind and constructed a holographic representation of them tuned to your retinal pattern. The technology is not effective on Tsimkans."

It was an elegant explanation, but sounded hideously complicated in practice. Drew and I had never heard of such a device. I guess that's why TGT hired Nirf as a technical consultant. He seems to know everything about every piece of technology ever devised. Following his advice we both closed our eyes and thought of a blank room. It wasn't hard; that was pretty much all we had seen all evening. When I opened my eyes, there we were in a blank room. It was a lot more boring than the control room I had envisaged.

"The technology is related to both holographic projection equipment and transmats," Nirf explained as we left the hall through the opposite door and found ourselves in, not surprisingly, another grey corridor.

At this point I remembered a packet of chocolate raisins that were left over from our shuttle flight and I split them with Drew. You don't need to worry about Nirf's dietary requirements. I could write a very boring text book on the subject. We were just munching happily on those when Drew pointed and exclaimed something that was garbled by half-masticated raisins. On the floor of the corridor was a tiny mouse-like spybot that shot away from us before we could react. We followed in its wake, but soon lost sight of it. Someone was still keeping an eye on us.

Around another corner or two we came across a door that opened as we passed. Whether that was deliberate or if for some accidental reason it hadn't been locked down, we didn't know. It was worth a look, though. This time when the light came on there was a large curved, orange desk containing computer and communications panels. A large, dimly lit alcove lay opposite. I closed my eyes and thought of a bare room. It was still there when I opened my eyes. I checked with Drew to make sure. This time it was real.

We played around with the controls for a few minutes until we got them operational and found a series of files containing what seemed to be recordings. They turned out to be holographic recordings that projected into the alcove. There were a variety of scenery shots, obviously designed to make living underground more bearable. Nirf scanned through the files and found some entertainment programmes and dramas. They were rather old-fashioned but similar to what might be on your holoset at home, only projected much larger than the average living room. There were some interactive computer games and virtual reality simulations, and finally a selection of files that were encrypted and locked. Now, playing with an entertainment console obviously wasn't helping us to get out of our prison, but curiosity is a powerful thing. It turns out Drew formerly worked for the Galactic Police, and hacking computers, for strictly legitimate reasons of course, was one of his favourite occupations. It didn't take him long to activate the first secure file.

This time there was a hum of power from the alcove as the recording initialised. Three humans appeared, standing shoulder to shoulder. For a moment nothing happened, and I was beginning to wonder why these files had been locked. Then they stepped out of the alcove and into the room.

Chapter 4: Company

After a few seconds I realised that I wasn't saying anything and I shut my mouth again. The trio looked puzzled to see us.

"Where's Dianol?" the man in the centre asked. He was dressed in all black casual wear and was quite reminiscent of Drew. The other two, a broad-featured man and a striking, blonde-haired woman, were dressed in beige work gear.

"Dianol?" I replied. "Still upstairs in his office, I guess. He's the one who got us into this."

"He did? Welcome aboard!" The man strode over to the console, leaving me rather confused by his comment. "I'm Hanlo." The other two introduced themselves as Bosak and Yonda. There was a brief, and rather bizarre, session of handshaking and introductions while I wondered who these people were, where they had come from and what we were doing there.

"What did you mean, 'Welcome aboard?'" I asked. "We're not here by choice!" None of them seemed to be paying me any attention as they grouped around the console.

"Combined holographic and transmat projectors," Nirf was saying to anyone who happened to be listening.

"This chrono is wrong!" Hanlo said, tapping the display. I glanced over his shoulder.

"No, that's about the right time."

"I mean the date."

"That's right too." There was an intense discussion wherein they didn't believe me and we tried to convince them that it was correct. I didn't quite see the point of the argument but they finally believed us. All three seemed to slump inwardly and leaned against the console.

"Forty-nine years." Bosak shook his head, collar-length red-brown hair waving in time.

"Why did you leave us in transit so long?" Hanlo asked plaintively.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about!" I said in frustration.

"Dianol was the only one of us who escaped custody," Yonda explained, her face bearing a glazed expression. "He was supposed to organise our rescue."

"It can't be the same Dianol," I said. "He isn't forty-nine years old."

The three told us their story, Yonda taking the lead while Bosak chipped in every now and then. Hanlo said very little and seemed the most dejected of them all. Around fifty years ago, they explained, the underground facilities were mostly empty. Almost four hundred people remained, and the government wanted them out as part of its urban renewal campaign. Most were forcibly evicted, but about fifty dug in to protest. Hanlo had made his wife and young children leave to keep them out of danger. That was why he was so stunned. He had lost an entire lifetime with his family.

Government troops had finally rounded up the stragglers and incarcerated them in their high-tech space-saving prison: the transmat projector files. To them it was as if they had been instantaneously transported. The imprisonment had never been used for long-term punishment before, but for some reason this time the last fifty had been left in the transmat's memory. What had happened to their Dianol was a mystery.

Drew recalled an urban legend that was repeated from time to time, that the last group still wandered the halls of the old bunkers, waiting for their time to escape and take revenge. It sounded like the rumours were based on fact.

After we had finally explained our predicament they were none the wiser as to what we were there for, but one thing was clear. We were fellow prisoners and we needed to work together to get out. As the first stage Yonda set about freeing the rest of her comrades.

The first dozen rebels had been rematerialized and were trying to come to terms with the news they were being given when the door to the room swished open. Everyone fell silent as we turned to see a large black trundlebot enter the room. The word 'Security' was emblazoned across its torso in silver. It scanned the room carefully.

"It's part of the facility's automatic security system," Bosak explained. "They were used to guard the entrances and any sensitive areas. I guess our return triggered its activation." Bosak's relaxed explanation had just lulled me into a false sense of security when the robot suddenly raised one arm and fired its blaster at the group of returnees. Fortunately they had recognised its intent and all dived out of the way. Of course none of the newcomers were armed, and I only had a few shots left in my miniblaster. I had to make them count, and, if I do say so myself, I'm a pretty good marksman. I hit its blaster with the first shot, allowing me to get a better angle to fry its processors without fear of being shot in return.

The robot guard's violent reaction to our presence had done nothing to improve the rebel's mood, and an angry muttering resumed.

"I guess we can't rely on being welcomed with open arms," Bosak said, and turned to Yonda. "I'll find one of the arms cabinets and see if they left any weapons." He led half a dozen men out of the door opposite the one we had entered by. Yonda continued rematerializing her comrades while Hanlo sat slumped in one of the chairs. I wanted to say something comforting, but could think of nothing that would help ease the pain etched across his face.

Drew looked worried.

"My job is security," he said. "Particularly at the moment, the security of you and Nirf. I don't think that consorting with rebels is really following my company's policy, and it's certainly not the safest thing for us to be doing."

"I don't think we have much choice," I said, "I don't want to be involved in their campaign, but we let them out, however inadvertently, and they're our best chance of finding a way out."

Drew shrugged resignedly.

"Let's just get out of here as soon as we can."

The room soon began to fill up as more people were rematerialized, both men and women, and all human. Like Bosak and Yonda they were mostly dressed in plain work gear, but a few wore black or grey casual outfits. Altogether a dull-looking bunch, but, I reminded myself, fashions change a lot in fifty years. They stood around in small clumps, talking in subdued tones, some spilling out in to the corridors to either side. The defunct security robot had been pushed unceremoniously into a corner to make room.

From outside there suddenly came the sound of blaster fire, raised voices and running feet. A dozen people who had been standing in the corridor piled through the door. One woman was clutching a blaster wound to her upper arm and was being supported by the others.

"Another security bot!" someone announced. I checked my miniblaster. There was barely enough charge left for a single blast. Bosak had not yet returned with any new weapons. I looked at Drew with concern as everyone began crowding out through the opposite door.

"I'll handle it," he said and, pulling a slender AccuBlaster from inside his jacket, he trotted over and out the door. There was a series of blasts and he came back in with a satisfied look on his face.

"I didn't know you were armed," I said in surprise.

"Well you never gave me the chance," he replied. "You keep whipping your blaster out and shooting without a pause. I was beginning to think my job was rather redundant." A moment later Bosak and his group arrived back in the room carrying an assortment of stunners and force-beam pistols. There were not enough to go round, but their presence seemed, perversely, to have a good effect on the morale of the group.

"Are you going to contact someone to tell them who you are and what's happened?" I asked Yonda when I could catch her attention. She smiled grimly at me and her piercing blue eyes sent a shiver down my spine.

"I think they already know we're back," she said.

"So what's your plan, if you don't mind me asking?"

"We carry on where we left off." She patted her newly acquired stunner. "With the revolution!"

Chapter 5: Revolution

I was not happy. Neither was Nirf. Drew was decidedly unhappy. Being part of a revolution was not what we had in mind. We gathered in one corner while we tried to decide whether to look for a way out ourselves, ask someone for directions, or hope that someone might rescue us.

In another corner the three rebel leaders were also deep in conversation as they planned the next stage of their revolution. By this time the entire group of fifty had been rematerialized. Less than half of them were armed, but that didn't seem to worry them. I still was not sure what exactly they planned to do with only fifty people, but it seemed to me that a violent protest probably wasn't a good way to announce your return. That thought didn't seem to register with the group. They were too upset about their fifty-year incarceration.

While discussions and debates continued, the transmat alcove suddenly became active again. No-one had initiated any materialisations, so when a figure flickered into being a few seconds later he found himself covered by a dozen armed rebels. Security Chief Dianol raise his hands very swiftly.

"I came as soon as I realised what was going on!" he said. Then he noticed us in the corner. "I'm so glad I found you!"

"You know him?" Bosak asked us.

"That's Dianol," I said.

Bosak looked back suspiciously.

"You know," said Yonda, "he does look quite familiar."

"You must be Yonda," Dianol said, fixing on what he thought was a friendly face. "You knew my grandfather. He was part of your group." I realised that probably wasn't the most endearing thing to say to a gang of angry rebels who had been left in their prison for fifty years when the first Dianol failed to organise their escape.

"And where is your grandfather?" Hanlo snapped, the first thing I had heard him say for quite a while.

"He was killed," Dianol answered sadly. "Government troops executed him as an example. He never had time to finish his mission. My father was only a boy at the time and ended up in an orphanage. He knew some of what was happening, but he told it to me like it was a fairy story. I never realised it was all true until today!"

I could see that some were not happy with his explanation; they were desperate for someone to blame for their plight. Bosak finally waved the weapons aside and ushered Dianol out of the alcove and over to talk to us. We still needed an explanation as to what we were doing down here, and who had sent in the securibots. Dianol stood at the centre of a semi-circle formed by me, Drew, Nirf, Yonda and Bosak. Hanlo stood behind, a brooding presence with a face like granite.

"There's not much time," Dianol began, "more security forces are on the way."

"You'd best get on with it, then," Yonda said shortly.

Dianol's explanation started with our arrival in his office earlier in the evening. At the time there was a mild security crisis going on as someone had hacked into the spaceport computer system and was trying to access the security sections. Assuming that the perpetrators were after the meteoric crystals that Nirf and I were collecting, Dianol had decided to transport us to a secure waiting area. His deputy was waiting there to explain what was happening, but of course we never arrived. There was much concern in the security department that we had been lost in a transmat malfunction, exceedingly rare but not unheard of, until one of Dianol's technicians finally traced our patterns to the alcove in the underground habitat.

It quickly became apparent that the interference had been deliberate, and that there was no way to communicate with us. Dianol had been trying to keep an eye on us, until I started destroying the spycams. I shrugged apologetically at this point.

Meanwhile the interference in computer systems continued and false instructions were being given to security forces both in the spaceport and in an ever widening area around the planet. In the few short hours we had been underground, martial law had been declared worldwide. Government troops were already on their way to quell the disturbance here beneath the spaceport, and all incoming flights had been cancelled. Dianol's men in the spaceport were on the lookout for us to escort us to safety and off-planet as quickly as possible. It seemed that the little rebellion we had become involved with was the least of the planet's worries.

At the end of his story Dianol tried to explain that it would be best for Bosak's followers to put away their weapons and not cause any further trouble. That seemed like the best idea to me too, until Yonda pointed out the armed securibot lying in the corner. Someone was also controlling that. No-one had been armed when it first fired on us. Dianol looked thoughtful.

"It seems to me," I said finally, "that there's some kind or revolution going on without you. Who's behind it all, I can't begin to guess. If you want to join in that's up to you. But we," I indicated Nirf and Drew, "would quite like to be left out of it. I'm just here on a business trip."

"You must do what you think best," Yonda answered. She and Bosak turned away to their own private discussion.

"I've got to try to stop the situation getting worse," Dianol said, and went to join them. I looked around thoughtfully, hoping for inspiration to materialise and suggest a way out. There was another burst of shouting from one of the corridors. It seemed the government security troops had arrived.

There was much rushing about and repositioning of people as they made use of the control console for cover and others went out the opposite door. It did not look like a very safe place to be any more, and nobody seemed inclined to resolve the situation peacefully.

"I'll take you back to the surface," Hanlo said unexpectedly. We all looked at him in surprise. "This isn't my revolution any more. What have I got left to fight for?"

I nodded assent and he led the way out of the room and back into the endless grey corridors. Seconds later we could hear the whine of stunners and the dull thud of force rifles. We picked up our pace until we had a couple of corners between us and the fighting. Before we could round another corner we could hear the sound of running, booted feet coming towards us. We all froze for a second, then Hanlo led us back the way we had come at a run. A force beam slammed into the wall yards behind as someone let off a shot with more enthusiasm than good judgement.

"More troops coming this way!" Hanlo yelled as we rushed back towards his former compatriots who were now spread out in various alcoves and doorways. There was much yelling and confused repositioning as we ran through the group, then we dived to the floor as shots were exchanged up and down the corridor. We proceeded forward, scrabbling uncomfortably across the floor, except for Nirf, who can float at any height, so was equally comfortable at floor level, until we rounded the next corner.

"This way!" Hanlo urged, and led us down a different side corridor. Already I had no idea where we were, but we had no choice but to assume he knew where he was going. We could hear shouting and shooting from some side corridors, then suddenly Hanlo skidded to a stop besides an unmarked door. I couldn't tell what made it stand out from all the rest, but Hanlo quickly palmed open an access panel and hit a switch to open it. By this point I wasn't entirely surprised when nothing happened.

Hanlo muttered a few mild expletives as he made several more unsuccessful attempts to gain entry. Worryingly, I could hear thudding footsteps getting closer. I pulled out my blaster, resolved to use the last of its charge to blast the controls. Drew grabbed my wrist and glared reprovingly, and instead Nirf darted forward and worked his technical wizardry to make the door swish open in record time. We all bundled through as a squad of security troops rounded the corner into our stretch of corridor and let rip with their elegantly named Non-Lethal Anti-Personnel Pistols. Their nomenclature was the least of my worries at the time, but as we hastily scrambled up the emergency access ladder within the small chamber we had entered, Drew did his best to assure us that government troops were always armed with enlapps. Even if we were hit there would be no lasting harm. I wasn't entirely convinced as I glanced back down five metres of ladder at the unyielding floor below.

Thoughtfully, the builders had put platforms every ten meters, with the next set of ladders off-set around the wall. Green safety notices encouraged us to take our time and follow 'Safe Climbing Procedure'. We decided those procedures would have to be ignored under the circumstances, especially as the door at the bottom of the shaft suddenly blew in and a cloud of dust wafted up to engulf us.

At the top of the third set of ladders we arrived in a slightly larger chamber served by a single entrance. Nirf took the time to comment that this confirmed his estimate that we had been thirty meters below ground. I congratulated him hurriedly as the ladders began to resonate to the sound of ascending boots, and he scooted over to the access panel that Hanlo had just opened. Within seconds, nothing had happened.

Nirf and Hanlo fussed over the controls while Drew crouched to the side and tried to get a good line of fire covering the top of the ladder. With my blaster just on empty and my door-opening skills rather poor, I had to content myself with dithering around the door and trying to gauge the progress of the troops without peering too obviously over the edge.

"Got it!" Hanlo exulted as the door slid open. A small black object came flying lazily out of the shaft and dropped to the floor. We all made a dash for the exit as it landed with an insane flash of green light, a thunderous roar and clouds of billowing smoke.

Now, I'm pretty swift on my feet and on this occasion, inspired by the sight of the falling stun grenade, I put on an extra burst of speed, which in turn was accelerated by the blast from behind me. Unfortunately in the scramble to get out of the room, Hanlo rebounded from the door frame and sprawled headlong down the corridor. This meant that my heroic sprint was interrupted by his prone form and my forward momentum was translated into a rather inept diving roll that brought me to a skidding stop on my back a few meters further on.

Naturally, Tsimkans are immune to such inconveniences as flashes of light, loud noises and smoke, so as I lay on my back Nirf sailed smugly overhead, a trail of smoke billowing in his wake. I scrambled back to my feet and stumbled after him. The short corridor ended in a partially glazed door that, for a wonder, opened at a touch. We burst through the opening and found ourselves in a quiet corner of the Zrsectipar Dome spaceport. Domes don't technically have corners, but you understand my meaning. Hanlo lurched through the door behind me, coughing vigorously and stopped to lean against the wall. Nirf descended to shoulder height and patted him on the back with several tentacles.

I blinked several times before everything came into focus properly. Striding hurriedly towards us were three of Chief Dianol's security guards, two humans and a tall, thin humanoid with glossy red skin. I glanced back to check on Drew and only then realised that we had rather left him behind. He was only just crawling out of the ladder room, still swathed in smoke.

My concern turned to relief as a side door near him opened and three more spaceport security officers emerged. Two burly humans, a man and a woman, rushed over to help him to his feet. The third, a diminutive Zurspo, was left with the task of placating the two government security troopers who came charging through the door at that moment, oozing machismo and energy.

I turned back to the trio that were approaching us, full of questions about the current situation and the whereabouts of my crystals. The glossy man grasped my arm and a cold feeling diffused through my skin and rapidly spread through my body. Suddenly the revolution didn't seem particularly important. I followed meekly as he led me by the elbow across to the departure gate for the Earth-bound shuttle. As we boarded I wasn't concerned by the fact that Drew wasn't with me but Hanlo was on board instead. It didn't really matter that I had travelled all the way to Zrsectipar to collect some valuable crystals and was now leaving without them. I settled back into the comfortable seat contentedly and waited for take-off.

What became of the revolution? Why did chaos seem to be spreading across the planet? What had happened to Drew and the crystals? Who was the red glossy man, what had he done to me and why? I wasn't to find out the answers to any of these questions for quite some time.

End of Part 1.

Bio: Gareth D Jones is unofficially the second most widely translated science fiction short story author in the world, having been published in 35 languages. He's a father of five, two of whom have also been published in Aphelion, and lives in the UK where he writes science fiction, fuelled by copious amounts of tea.

E-mail: Gareth D Jones

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