《DIANA》


 Prologue

    Moondust was no ally to the criminal. Clinging to his suit and buggy, it was a physical record of transgression. The fine regolith would expose his unauthorised trip onto the surface immediately. Worse still, with the powder kicked up behind him in two long arcs falling strangely slowly, his exact path was obvious. He¡¯d probably already been spotted. To Ty Jackson it didn¡¯t matter, he was finally having fun on what was supposed to be a vacation.


    The colour-drained plains stretched out in every direction to the horizon. Hills and craters swept past as the buggy jostled and swerved. Speeding across the dunes, the freedom was electrifying. Everything up here was so slow, like wading through waist-deep water. It was liberating to be moving with such speed, there was almost an illusion of wind in his hair. He had spent a week in a hole in the ground they called an apartment. Wandering colour coded corridors, sharing transport with Lunars, living in slow motion. There were sights and landmarks to see of course, but he¡¯d done all that within the first few hours. Rows of cloned buildings, modern art and weak alcohol, there was only so much of The Moon to see from the safe side of an airlock.


    All the while a gorgeous, brand new high-speed buggy sat in his personal garage. State of the Art in all aspects it rivalled military tech. Stored at the docks, she awaited her maiden voyage. This test of patience had beaten him, and with the right bribe on the gates, he was through the airlock and in vacuum.


    He was out here with purpose, his (again bribed) ¡®friend¡¯ at the University of Luna¡¯s seismology department had sent him the perfect data. Seemingly the Universe was making up for his week of boredom by throwing a small meteorite into the ground only six kilometres from the city. With this pace, he had a 20-minute lead on anyone sent after it. Glancing at a readout on the Buggy¡¯s screen the coordinates he was sent were only 340 metres away now. He eagerly pressed down the throttle.


    Rattling beside him in the passenger seat was a basic portable material analyser. Once he had the rock, he¡¯d run it through the machine. If it was relatively worthless, he would toss it back onto the ground. But if there were some precious atoms hiding in it, someone at the University would have to explain the missing sample.


    It was late morning; just like it was yesterday; The Sun and Earth were close in the sky, with only a thin crescent of the latter visible. Ty could only see Ocean, presumably the Pacific. Whilst it was his first time on The Moon (or Luna as they insisted), he had seen Earth from orbit before. He and his parents had been among the first to visit the civilian orbital stations. Crowds would flock to the viewing galleries to gawp and point. Giggling and grinning as they stared at a glorified map. They¡¯d be there for hours, finally leave, then return the next day to do the exact same thing ¨C with the exact same view. Ty struggled to rationalise why he should be thrilled to be so massively separated from everything good in his life. The supposed sense of wonder was as flaccid now as it was then. The blue marble glimmered in the heavens, Ty focussed on the readout.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The distance fell to double digits, and then he saw it. The buggy bounced and jolted as he brought it to a halt. Completely unfamiliar with manoeuvring in the environment, he over-shot considerably. Giddy, he jumped down from his seat and awkwardly waddled to the crater. Walking had been somewhat easy back in the city, once he got his head around the Grip. Out here, hopping and side-stepping his way to his trophy, he was getting what he came all this way for: the true, classic lunar experience. He plodded up to the sizable impact crater, rays of debris spread out from the dent like a paint splatter. In the centre, a black irregular rock slightly smaller than his fist. The clock ticking in the back of his mind started ticking louder.


    His suit was too restrictive to allow him to just bend down. He fought against the thick padding, spending seconds doing nothing. Frustrated, he fell to his knees and snatched the meteorite before gracelessly rising to his feet. He instinctively went to pat away the dust covering his knees and elbows before the urgency and thought of his vanishing lead returned to him. Hurrying back to the buggy he anxiously scanned the horizon, there was nothing but ashy dunes.


    He placed the rock into the analyser and pressed a button. He wasn¡¯t exactly versed in the equipment, but it seemed to be doing what he wanted. A stream of numbers, words and acronyms he didn¡¯t understand began to pour over the machine¡¯s small screen. Turning his head as much as the suit would allow for a final sanity check, he was satisfied he was alone. His eyes fixed onto the machine¡¯s readout¡­


    The buggy was sophisticated. Unbeknownst to Ty several cameras had been recording every angle of his expedition since he powered the vehicle on. One camera was focussed on him now, brow furrowed, concentrating hard on the makeup of his prize. Mounted onto the passenger seat it faced Ty head-on as he studied the machine. Behind him, the empty Lunar expanse. It was just that for half a minute, then the camera noticed something else, a disturbance on the horizon. The ink-black of the void seemed to periodically pierce the grey of the lunar scene. The protrusion growing with each cycle. This continued, Ty¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. As the glitch progressed, more and more grey pixels switched to black then back to grey. Soon a revelation became obvious, something was getting closer.


    It gained shape. Some kind of figure. Becoming visible against the dunes and then disappearing again into the dark. It grew further, its form sharpening until it became recognisable.


    It was a person.


    The silhouette of a person. No large circular head from a space helmet, no thick padding from an environment suit. It was the shadow of a naked human being. Its approach didn¡¯t slow, launching itself back upwards with its legs every time it landed. It, no, she, was seconds away now. Her arms gracefully rising and falling at her sides as she propelled herself onwards. She had no colour or depth ¨C a void in the shape of a woman. Ty was clueless, as still as he had been for the last few minutes. He never saw it coming. As she arrived ¨C planting her foot one last time. Elegantly flipping herself upside down. One leg neatly tucked under her, the other pointing towards the stars. As she seized Ty around the neck and wrenched him out of frame.


    He reappeared in another camera¡¯s view, flailing. Blood and oxygen spurting from his throat. He tumbled across the ground, kicking up dust in futile desperation. He bounced twice, before his lifeless body rolled through the regolith, and came to a stop.

 1.1 (Robyn)

    Robyn Cast, President of Luna, had been staring at the sink for 20 minutes. She stood motionless beneath the showerhead, relishing the primal comfort of heat radiating from the near scalding water. Her body was on autopilot, ancient directions luring it to warmth and keeping it there. Gradually, the unconsciousness was washed away and more lights in her brain flickered on like crystals in a cave. Thoughts began to fade in: hunger, stress, today''s agenda. And then she was awake.


    She forcibly shook her head and rubbed her face with her hands, pushing hard into her exhausted eyes. Overriding the content autopilot, Robyn stepped out of the water to wash herself. This was becoming a habit, waking up over the course of half an hour was surely inefficient. Not to mention the disorientation of gaining consciousness in the shower with no memory of actually waking up and climbing in. It was not helping with the hangover.


    She focussed on washing and tried not to drift away again. With the haze of fatigue gone, the various aches and pains pushed their way to attention. Every joint creaked in protest, her knees and ankles labouring under even the relatively weak pull from Luna beneath her. The muscles in her thighs and back were tense and sore, restricting how easily she could bend down to clean below her knees. The worst part was that all of this was her own fault. The price for a rushed session of exercise the night before with exceedingly amateur form. At the time, she had underestimated just how strict the delayed punishment would be. It didn''t seem fair that after mustering the enthusiasm to finally use the equipment that usually gathered dust in a forgotten corner of her apartment. The only payoff was making the following morning worse with a low and constant discomfort. The throbbing from her head, however, was unrelated.


    Once every ache had enjoyed its share of attention, her mind wandered to more intellectual issues. The anniversary was only a month away, and the UN summit was this week. It would all happen at once now. Every plan and meeting, every win and loss, would be realised. As soon as this week was over, she could let go of months of pent-up stress. But only after it was all done; she could not relax a moment before. She sighed and closed her eyes tight, stepping back under the water. There wasn''t anything she could do from the shower. That energy would be better spent in the meeting today, where anxieties could be quelled with contingencies and compromises. She tilted her head up away from the showerhead and let out a long breath through her teeth. Hoping to suppress the thoughts for just another hour. She shook the last of the sleep away, switched off the water, and strode out into the bathroom.


    Swiping the condensation off the wall panel next to the sink revealed she''d spent almost 40 minutes soaking and posturing. Shit. Annoyed by the self-imposed rush, she reached for a towel with one hand whilst working the panel with the other. The stretching invoking a stab of protest from some muscle near her shoulder. She set the air filters to maximum to clear the humidity and began to dry herself. Even when wet, her hair still hovered in the low-g. Forming an irritating dirty-blonde halo with each sharp head movement. Although still short, like most women on Luna, it was starting to tickle at her shoulders. A haircut was overdue. She''d do it after this week.


    After most of the water had been removed from both the air and her body, she tossed the towel back over a rail and marched into her bedroom. Employing a rushed, but practised, low-g shuffle, she threw open the wardrobe and began to get dressed. The apartment was larger than almost every other on Luna, but still modest when compared to those on Earth equivalent to her station. She enjoyed an uncommon sacrifice of efficiency which granted a generous footprint and a guest bathroom and bedroom. As well as the scales (in a rare exception) favouring aesthetics over practicality in most aspects of the interior and exterior design.


    The most obvious privilege of course was that she lived above ground. A stark contrast to the vast majority of Lunars. Living in optimised lattices of min-maxed, copy-pasted quarters tens of metres below the Lunar rock. She had hoped to occupy a similar domicile. The literal superiority and loss of solidarity with her citizens made her uncomfortable. Not to mention that every square metre of land above ground was precious. The domes could only be built so big, the small pockets of atmosphere they contained could be better utilised. She had been convinced by her peers, however. They had cited appearance and security reasons. Robyn suspected the creation of a precedent for above-ground housing for high-profile politicians had been omitted from their motives.


    Once the last button of her shirt was fastened, she spun around and spread apart the curtains. She had declined the installation of automatics. Having always enjoyed the satisfaction of throwing them open herself. The Sun wasn''t visible out the bedroom window, but enough of its light poured through that she had to blink hard twice while her eyes adjusted. The apartment was close to the northern edge of the dome and stood on a natural hill. Every morning, for a few seconds, she took in the unchanging and unmoving pale expanse that stretched beyond the city. This, she thought, was the greatest liberty of living above ground. A view every morning that only two decades ago had been seen by a mere handful of humans. Even with the time pressure, she took the few moments. She refused to ever take this view for granted.


    Satisfied, and after a final yawn, she made her way into the kitchen. A glance at the clock confirmed there''d only be time to reheat some leftovers. Frustrated, she grabbed a Tupperware from the fridge. Some form of pasta with a tomato sauce that smelt strongly of garlic. The portion hardened into a solid block against the plastic. She almost threw it into the microwave and paced across the room for a fork from the sink ¨C The air starting to fill with the garlic scent. In the rush, she kicked an empty wine bottle that had been standing on the floor. It skidded and rolled before she caught up to it. On Earth it might have smashed, but not up here. She grabbed it by the neck and turned to put it in the bin, only to realise it was beyond full. As was the bin bag slumped against it. She resigned to make room and place it on the counter ¨C with the others. The whole apartment was obviously in need of cleaning. She''d do it after this week.


    She leaned against the counter as the microwave whirred. A brief stab of pain from her lower back reminded her of the weights lying in a haphazard pile across from her in the living room. She winced; the regret was only growing. There had once been a regiment to follow. The idea being to gradually bring back the strength that had been lost over 8 years in a sixth of a g. Joints, muscles and bones got lazy when they weren''t put to work. Regular exercise was crucial to all Lunars and was strongly encouraged and provided by the government. Certainly, the recommendation wasn''t to strap on all the weights for a high intensity workout. In a vain attempt to make up for months of procrastinated preparation. Benefits were minimal and downsides were obvious. It wouldn''t even matter, Robyn convinced herself. She wasn''t one of the lanky kids who''d lived their whole lives on Luna. The first 28 years of her life had been spent under Earth''s passionate gravity. She will be ready for the UN summit this week. Besides, how much she''d weigh wasn''t among her chief concerns.


    There she went worrying again. She tried to ground herself as she poured a glass of water. Thinking of the journey that water had taken. Most of it collected and melted at the polar ice sheets, some came from closer sites. Pumped south to Plato and into the recycling system. She thought of how all the water on Earth had been shuffled around for billions of years. Sucked in and out of every living creature that had ever existed. The water she was drinking, in contrast, was a cosmic permafrost. Lying untouched for those billions of years ¨C she was the first organism to ever drink it. Of course, most of it would have been recycled having passed through the inhabitants of Luna. But at least some molecules in her glass would be fresh from the permafrost... It tasted identical to any other glass of water she''d ever had.


    She thought of the electricity powering the city, her apartment and the microwave nearing the end of its cycle. The Sun was shining on Plato, so the solar farms would be burdening most of the load. Square kilometres of panels which were only getting more efficient as the field progressed. There was no amount of optimising however, that could make the solar panels work at night. So it was in the two-week long nights that Plato ran on 100% nuclear. Fission only, the requirements were low enough and there was ample space such that Luna needn''t chase the fading promise of fusion. Unlike every major nation on Earth.


    The microwave chimed and she began to eat straight from the plastic. Shovelling down mouthfuls between nervous glimpses at the clock. She went to turn on the TV to fill the silence of the otherwise empty apartment, but she couldn''t find the remote. It would have just been distracting anyway. Robyn licked the fork clean and threw everything into the sink. Fork and Tupperware tracing a slow arc before clattering against the heap of dirty plates. The food was another thing she resisted hard not to take for granted, even if it was only leftovers just shy of going off. Everything had been grown and produced locally. Tomatoes basking in the sunlight of an airless sky. Genetically modified radiation resistant crop. Life sprouting from enriched moondust. It was a testament to how far they''d come, literal fruits of their labour.


    Her handheld buzzed in her pocket signifying she should have left by now. She hurried back to the bathroom, getting her socks wet on the still damp floor. Snatching up the toothbrush she began to scrub thoroughly in the hopes to remove most of the garlic. Determined not to be any later, within 5 minutes her face was made-up, shoes were on, and she was putting the second arm through her suit jacket whilst heading for the door. Checking her watch a final time with one hand on the handle, she noticed a small white thread poking out from her right sleeve. She tugged at it impatiently but it just kept coming. Defeated, she tucked the length back into the sleeve. The suit was well-worn, and it would probably be best to grab a new one. She''d do it after this week.


    Outside, the Sun hung in the deep black sky. Night and day at once. The hill the apartment stood on had been terraformed, covered in grass and dotted with some of the oldest trees on Luna. Robyn considered how these trees had never known winter or summer, nor true rainfall. Watered only by the sprinklers spread out across the lawn. From the front door to the road below was a gravel path. Running along the centre of this path was a thin white strip: Grip. The half sponge, half Velcro material had been the first poster child of the materials science renaissance the colonisation of Luna had brought. With shoes also lined with Grip, one could walk as they did on Earth without floating off. Once they got their head around the tip-toe action needed to stick and unstick that is. Robyn traced the narrow line as she descended the hill.


    It had once been a common sight to see arrival ports lined with tourists from Earth. Rooted like trees as they struggled to take their first Grip assisted steps. Lunars had once been happy to help. Laughing with the visitors as they got unstuck. Exchanging ''Welcome to Luna'' pleasantries with a smile and a handshake. It wasn''t like that anymore.


    The hill was surrounded by a security perimeter. Metal fencing atop a concrete wall that tried hard but failed to not look ugly. It needed to be built frustratingly high on Luna. At the end of the path stood the tall, reinforced gate which opened swiftly as Robyn approached. The man sitting in the security booth next to the gate, Alex, smiled and nodded in her direction.


    "Good morning Madam President"


    Robyn smiled back. "Good morning Alex"


    The woman sitting behind him, Sadie, nodded a greeting as she sipped from a mug. Robyn continued to the road where a driverless taxi was waiting. They were the main mode of transport in Plato. There were various models and designs, this one was a few generations behind. Its body was a highly reflective silver colour. Robyn''s reflection warped and stretched as she got closer and the door opened. There were two doors, halfway down the length of each side. The small step beneath these doors and the four coverings of the wheels gave the taxis a six-legged look. This coupled with how they appeared from orbit, dozens of them scurrying across the streets, was why they were informally dubbed Ants.


    Inside, the space was almost all seating. The floor, walls and roof were black ¨C with flecks of white and silver dotted throughout. The seats were a dark grey, with silver seatbelts and lines of white fabric separating each of the eight seats. A series of lights crowned the interior where the walls met the roof, glowing a warm red. Robyn climbed in as she had hundreds of times before, the door closing automatically behind her.


    She tapped a screen at the front of the vehicle and a figure appeared. A large circle surrounded by six smaller multicoloured circles. A top-down view of Plato. The smaller circles were the minor domes, each named after a colour. Red was at the top and was blinking on the display to indicate where the ant was currently. Then, going clockwise: Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue and Indigo. In the centre was a dome twice the size of the others, named Spectrum. Together, the seven domes comprised the city of Plato. So named after the crater it was built in.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Robyn tapped Spectrum and a list appeared on screen. Showing suggested destinations within the selected dome. At the top of the list was where she was heading. The central government building of Luna: The Prism. Robyn selected it and sank into a chair, nursing an ache in her neck with her hand. The ant began its journey and she made a final input on the screen, lowering all the windows for some fresh air.


    All the colour symbolism was deliberate. Before humans had staked their claim on Earth''s Moon, all it had known was shades of grey. Robyn was adamant that humanity''s outpost on Luna be obnoxiously colourful. A vibrant bastion of life amongst the dead and grey.


    The ant sped on; its artificial intelligence linked with all the others'' to follow the fastest route to The Prism without running into anyone else. Traffic was rare up here; the computers were usually successful in minimising it. When it did show up, being president had its privileges. Robyn could enter an access code which gave her priority, but she didn''t like to. Again, unnecessary loss of solidarity.


    Looking outside, she saw the streets of Plato roll by. The density was not unlike most major cities on Earth, but the overall size was drastically smaller. The domes were among some of humanity''s greatest scientific achievements. They shielded those within from the dramatic difference in heat between Lunar days and nights. Filtering the bulk of ionising radiation from the Sun. They stood firm, completely transparent in seamless sections, yet strong enough to withstand the rains of micrometeorites. Spectrum approached the maximum theoretical size and thus Plato''s six-toed footprint was minimal.


    Plato was of course built like an iceberg. Sprawling networks of housing quarters and life-support systems stretched out like roots below the surface. A Lunar could happily spend their whole day without stepping above ground. There were dining areas and entertainment dens carved out into the rock. With hallways and chambers splashed with colour as generously as they were above.


    On the surface, roads and walkways cut the space into blocks. There were bars and shops and social spaces. Sculptures and restaurants and dentists. The currency was Lunar Dollars, people worked and researched and fell in love. Their city in the stars was as real as any other. Wherever the frontier, human connection seemed inevitable.


    Grip lined the walkways, ants filled the roads. They ate fake meat, drank synthetic alcohol and breathed recycled air. They followed an arbitrary clock and trusted it to count sixty while the days stretched long and the nights stretched longer. Plato had the largest proportion of scientists in its population than any other city in history. Some worked within Plato, most worked elsewhere. At the polar research stations or the far-side telescopes. The non-scientists worked to keep the promise of Plato alive. Many in construction and maintenance - often working in vacuum. There were the farmers and engineers. Buggy drivers and shuttle pilots. Then there were those with very terrestrial jobs, whose work days looked most like their equivalent on Earth, just with a change of scenery. The bankers, journalists and business owners. Robyn supposed she fell within that last category.


    The ant approached the southern edge of the dome and slowed. Descending the ramp before entering the short underground tunnel which connected domes. These were the most common choke points for traffic. On this particular morning she was lucky, after the vehicle had made its near instant calculations, it proceeded into the tunnel. Inside the ant, the red lights faded to darkness before lighting up again in a rotating rainbow pattern. Symbolising the transfer from Red to Spectrum. The vivid display continued to decorate the interior as the ant surfaced on the other side.


    Spectrum was Plato''s - and by extension Luna''s - jewel. Housing the very best of modern human ingenuity. Robyn passed the campus of the University of Luna. A handsomely funded institution which led the solar system in the emerging fields of science. Whilst protecting the other branches of academia that had stagnated in the recent years of Earth. The labs and lecture halls and libraries were nestled within Luna''s finest green spaces, restaurants and art exhibits. On the other side of the dome, but still visible, stood St. Catherine''s. The classically gothic cathedral designed to make full use of the low gravity. Its spire scraped the curved, glass sky. The early Lunar concrete that comprised it shining a proud and bright white.


    She saw her people soaking in the early ''morning'' as she drove by. Business owners setting up for the day. Women chatting on a park bench. A student who probably hadn''t slept yet stumbling against a tree. Plato was alive, and that was incredible. Whatever this week would bring, whatever may happen at the anniversary or the summit. As long as Plato still stood by the end, this insane human achievement could still be celebrated.


    At last, the ant slowed to a stop, and Robyn had arrived at The Prism. The doors hissed open vertically, giving the ant its wings. She stepped out onto the wide, paved path which gradually narrowed as it reached The Prism''s front entrance. The path was a smooth black stone decorated with occasional long streaks of colour like scratches. Either side of it stretched two treeless lawns, empty for now, but later in the day would be dotted with people. Enjoying the grass and earth with a picnic or a frisbee. So government employees walked the path, tracing the coloured streaks, surrounded by who and what they were fighting for.


    The Prism itself was rather small. The main body looked similar to a warehouse. Two sloping roofs met in a gentle apex, with beams covering the front walls in a black and white hexagonal lattice. Jutting out from the front was a tall equilateral triangle with its highest point standing taller than the body''s apex. It was transparent but had a slight hue of dark emerald green on the edges where the glass was thickest. From any distance, one could see refractions dancing in the corners like spilled petrol.


    Everyone on the path this early in the morning worked for the government. Most of them fiddled with a briefcase or muttered breathlessly into their handhelds. They didn''t seem to notice her. Robyn had forced herself to adapt to her celebrity status over the eight years of her presidency. At work it wasn''t too bad, she knew almost everyone by name anyway, and she could pretend she was only another position in the bureaucracy.


    Elsewhere, the recognition was more uncomfortable. People treated her like something she wasn''t. A genius or an icon, a person somehow superior to others. They acted like they owed her for their lives, that she had built Plato. When the truth was that every man, woman and child had contributed equally. That in those early days the mad woman shouting from a stage would have just been noise without the world-changing talent and bone-breaking effort of those first fifteen thousand. Everyone had sacrificed and endured for Plato, and if Robyn needed to take on the embarrassment of false credit, then she would endure. For Plato.


    She stepped into the pointed shadow of the triangular entrance as it loomed above her. The stream of people narrowed and slowed as they shuffled through the large glass doors. They fanned out into short queues to pass security, glancing at watches and fishing ID cards out of pockets. Robyn cut across to the far left side where a security guard - Jordan - spotted her and swiped open a gate.


    "Good morning Madam President"


    "Good morning Jordan"


    Hurrying through, she smiled wordless greetings at the receptionist and a few others that had taken notice. She turned onto a hallway and sped down it, tip-toeing across the Grip. At the far end was her destination, the room she would spend most of today in. At least until everything about the summit had been settled. She placed one hand on the handle, sighed, breathed in sharply through her nose, then entered conference room one.


    Inside were the nine men who made up the cabinet. The murmurs of conversation hushed as she entered. Chairs scraped against carpet as the men rose to their feet. The room was dominated by a large oval table. Documents and handhelds spread across it, neatly placed in front of the ten seats. A huge window covered one wall, looking out over Spectrum. The spire of St. Catherine''s towering above rows of buildings. The three other walls were covered with tesselating displays. Idle for now, blinking a stylised graphic of Plato with ''The Prism'' printed below.


    She crossed the room and took her place at the head, Vice President Arthur Crane stood close on her right.


    "As you were." She said, a drop of sarcasm mixed into the formality. Everybody took their seats.


    "We were just gossiping." Said Hideyoshi Toshiko, treasury secretary. Robyn glanced at Arthur.


    "There''s chatter at the University about some meteorite," Arthur said, "No details yet." Hideyoshi smiled wide as he poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher in the centre of the table. Everyone else straightened the pages in front of them and fixed their posture. Enough delaying then, Robyn thought. Now she was here, it was time to do their jobs. She prompted Arthur with another glance. He nodded and looked out over the table, waiting for undivided attention. Once Hideyoshi had placed his glass back down, he began.


    "We will begin with the matter of the summit." For ten minutes the room listened, his overview was thorough and without any surprises. The UN peace summit for ''Peace Within The Solar System'' had been planned for months. A push for collaboration and diplomacy across mankind''s new frontier. It was always tense when the powers of Earth and the free people of Luna clashed. Of course this time it was worse, being the first meeting between Earth and Luna since the November Escalation. It was likely to be the diplomatic event of the decade.


    A few weeks before there had been an unexpected change of venue. Instead of at the headquarters in New York, world leaders would be convening at Limina, the largest of the orbital stations.


    "An olive branch" Arthur explained, "They''re sparing President Cast re-entry and take-off and inflicting it on themselves. A small step onto the moral high ground." Robyn was grateful that the trip would be a lot gentler, but she could never admit it. She would still have to prepare for a full g however, as Limina was spun up to simulate Earth''s gravity.


    Regardless there was another aspect of the venue change that Arthur had missed. A second political move: they''d robbed her of an excuse to see Earth. To touchdown on her homeworld and breathe its air. Now if she visited when she was so close, it would be an admittance of discomfort, or homesickness. Robyn considered the move a waste anyway. She had no desire to be back beneath an atmosphere.


    Arthur continued. "In terms of discussion, we know that everyone will want to debate the helium trade." Minutes passed, the same stale politics. Robyn was hit with a surge of frustration and boredom.


    "And same old, same old." She interrupted. "They''ll make ridiculous demands, we''ll refuse. Then they can turn back to their press and preach that they tried diplomacy. But the illegitimate occupiers of Luna aren''t complying."


    Arthur wore a sympathetic smile. "Unfortunately, it does seem to be that simple." He put his hands together in front of him and looked at them for a moment. "Frankly that seems to be the aim of the whole summit." He looked back up at the table. "The wounds of the November Escalation can''t be healed with one three day meeting. It''s a pretext like you said, it''s their bare minimum."


    "It is the right thing to do, Madam President," Victor Sagdiyev said from the far end of the table. He was always serious, with a voice that you could feel vibrating in your own chest when he spoke. "Refuse the insults they call compromise. They don''t get to take a centimetre of what''s ours without fair trade. Not after November."


    There was a solemn silence for a few seconds. Which Hideyoshi broke.


    "Well, we know where their diplomatic efforts are really centred." Everyone groaned, and the atmosphere warmed.


    "We can come back to the summit and do a quick overview of that?" Arthur said, looking at Robyn for approval. She nodded.


    The Wedding. Earth''s approach to mending relations with Luna was decidedly more medieval than one might expect. Henry Silverwood was once something of a hero on Luna. The commander of the military throughout Plato''s tumultuous birth up to and including the November Escalation. After securing glory, trouble began when he fell in love with a girl from Earth. Not any girl from Earth, but the daughter of the King of England.


    Princess Olivia was the best thing that had happened to the English Monarchy in almost a century. And Earth was moving all-in on the spiritual connection with its Moon, rather than any kind of legislative one. During a total lunar eclipse. In Luna''s own St. Catherine''s. On the exact anniversary of the November Escalation. Love would conquer the arbitrary lines that divide us. Or at least, that''s what all the papers would try and sell.


    Robyn and her cabinet had been against this union from the beginning. But with the most powerful nations on Earth all pushing it, there was little they could do.


    "It''s undecided as to who is attending and who isn''t." Arthur was saying. "The British Prime Minister will definitely be there, as well as the leaders of several Commonwealth nations." Everyone was a bit brighter now, the absurdity bringing some levity. "It seems that other world leaders are waiting for the outcome of the summit before announcing whether they will be attending." They definitely won''t be, Robyn figured. Just waiting on that same pretext.


    Conference room one was cheerful now. Earth would never take them seriously, but that would never matter. They weren''t there to be taken seriously. They were there for Plato. For Luna.


    The moment was undercut when the door swung open. Alexander Manning calmly entered the conference room. He was Henry Silverwood''s replacement and current commander of Luna''s military. Hideyoshi hadn''t noticed and was talking about something to do with China. Alexander waited patiently. Which was unusual. Robyn gave Hideyoshi two more sentences before she had to tell him to be quiet. Then he noticed Alexander at the door.


    "What is it Alexander?" Robyn asked. He strode into the room and stood in front of the displays opposite the window. His face seemed more pale than usual.


    "I am sorry to disturb you Madam President." He started, there was something off about his tone, but his expression was unreadable. "I know today''s conference is important, but there is something you should see." He tapped his handheld and the displays behind him formed a solid image.


    It was from a camera fixed to a buggy. The scene was in vacuum and a suited man that Robyn vaguely recognised was staring at some kind of machine. The video began to play, a small block of data in the bottom corner had a map showing where the incident took place. Not too far outside the city. There was a label reading ''meteorite site''.


    "Is this something to do with that meteor?" Robyn asked. Alexander swallowed, and an emotion finally resolved on his face. Fear. He looked her dead in the eyes.


    "No, this is about a homicide."

 1.2 (Dominic)

    Dom breathed in. He held the pistol firm in both hands. Arms and shoulders level and still. His vision started to narrow, all that mattered was the gun''s sights and the target beyond them. The sensation of touch drained from his lower body and fixated on the metal of the trigger. Dom breathed out. His body statuesque, focus absolute. He squeezed the trigger and the pistol barked. Newton''s third law sending a wave of force back through his arms and across his body. In the same instant, splinters erupted from the bullseye of the wooden target set 50 metres away.


    Dominic Rorke was not the sort of person you would expect to see in Indigo. ''The leisure dome'' was the territory of the youth. A middle-aged cop was out of place at best and a buzzkill at worst. However, the youth''s ownership of Indigo had a silver lining. At 6:30 in the morning, it was deserted. Dom had the guns, lanes and building all to himself. He wasn''t an antisocial man, but the difference in focus achieved when alone compared to with others was like night and day.


    He slipped the magazine out of the gun and placed them both down on a table. Crossing across the booths he approached the rack like a kid at a sweet shop. He could treat himself to a few rounds of something powerful. The rifles all looked equally threatening and potent, before his eye caught the Javelin. He''d held one before, but never got the chance to fire it. They were designed for operation in vacuum; a single accelerated 4 inch round could penetrate the hull of a ship, or rip straight through an environment suit. He lifted it from its hooks with both hands. It was heavy, and would be six times heavier on Earth. Back at his booth, he brought the scope to his eye. Adjusting to it as he scanned the row of targets. Readying the round was intuitive, and then the Javelin was live. He flicked the bipod legs down and took a seat. Centering the target with the reticle was easy, and then came the focus. Dom breathed in.


    Before he could pull the trigger, his handheld blared. He released his grip and the stock hit the table. Leaving the barrel pointing at the ceiling. He snatched up the handheld and read the message. There was an urgent summon to the station, with no other details.


    Typical. He ran his hand through his short and thinning black hair and let out a long breath through his nose. The message glowed on the screen for a few more seconds before it faded to black. Placing his hand on the stock, he studied the Javelin with a solemn smile. Maybe next time.


    He shot up, sending the chair sliding behind him. He swiftly unloaded the rifle then grabbed it by the barrel and swung it back onto its hooks. Before turning on his heel, retrieving his handheld and hurrying out of the range.


    Two ants were parked nearby and Dom headed for the closest, making sure to dodge the missing patch of Grip on the sidewalk. The paintwork was a black and white checkerboard, as were the seats inside. In the lights'' indigo glow, he selected his destination as the station, and the doors whined closed. He lounged across two seats and considered the summon.


    Plato, and Luna as a whole, had an extremely low crime rate. Some said it was because everyone was too busy to bother with crime. The mutually assured destruction of system-wide collapse keeping everybody working and on their best behaviour. Dom tended to disagree. He believed the president, that the distinct lack of violent crime was due to the distinct lack of poverty. That no one need turn against the law out of desperation to escape debt or hunger. Her detractors called this reasoning little more than propaganda in her ideological war against Earth. But Dom had seen what good people were capable of when the going got tough.


    10 years ago now, he had achieved his lifelong ambition and joined the Atlanta P.D. Earning his badge right when the riots were at their worst, just before the oil ran out. It was only a week later, when the sun rose on the urban battlefield. Pink rays of dawn illuminating the tear gas filled streets. That Dom found himself shaking in his torn riot gear, his baton dripping with the blood of the desperate and starving. The shame almost killed him, leaving him a husk. The idealism that had driven the first 30 years of his life lay broken and dead on those streets. That husk wandered onto a shuttle with nothing to lose, and was dealt luck from the universe that he didn''t deserve. Now he could still be a cop, but under leadership he believed in. Actually helping the innocent and punishing the selfish. Like he was promised as a child.


    His second chance dealt with much lower stakes. The police force on Luna was as minor as the crime it was established to tackle. There were a handful of teams with no more than ten members, his team currently having only five. They were modestly funded and well respected by civilians, which was always of importance to Dom. Alexander Manning''s military was where Luna bared her teeth. With manpower and funding an order of magnitude higher. The police and military co-operated often. Alexander was something of a superior officer to Dom, but the whole system was fluid.


    The indigo lights shifted to an ocean blue as the ant neared the station. Urgent summons were rare but not unheard of. Most days on the job consisted of trivial but rewarding work. Settling disputes or dealing with inebriated teenagers. The nastiness came almost exclusively from the Kodes. The brother and sister led posse of undesirables was the closest thing Luna had to a gang. They were behind around 95% of the serious crime within Plato, and Dom was probably about to be briefed about their latest scene. On the off-chance that this was something else, then Dom would consider the interruption necessary.


    He almost didn''t notice that the ant had stopped, jolting to attention as the doors slid open. He clambered out and straightened himself before striding into the station. The front desk and waiting area was abandoned, like normal. Dom vaulted over the desk and pushed open the door to the back offices.


    There was a pang of embarrassment as he realised the other four were already here and he was the last to arrive. He must have missed some earlier summon, possibly drowned out by the gunfire. The twins looked up with brief smiles as he entered, that faded in an instant as they turned back to their terminals. Neil maintained his unblinking gaze upon his monitor as his fingers blurred across the keyboard. Which was nothing unusual. Vince had his back to Dom and was studying a recording on a large display. He was clearly pretending to have not noticed Dom coming in.


    Despite having known and worked with them for over 5 years, Dom still had trouble telling Sasha and Esme apart. They both grew their hair long, obscuring their face behind waved thick black curtains. Their tan skin was a shade lighter than Dom''s own. To differentiate between them, he would have to go by context. If she was speaking up and rattling questions, chances were it was Esme. Sasha was more of an observer, saving her thoughts until she had worked a strong logical chain between A and B. Regardless they were both excellent detectives and close friends. Perhaps something more if things had panned out differently and Dom was born a decade later.


    Neil still hadn''t blinked since Dom walked in. The scrawny and pale kid looked like he''d spent a substantial amount of time underground before he moved to Luna. But he possessed an apathy about how he was observed that Dom envied. He sat hunched at his desk, a monochromatic T-shirt creased around his arms, pages of text and blurry images reflecting in his grey eyes. The scrap of black hair on his head jutted out in short spikes pointing in random directions.


    Dom walked through the office and the tense atmosphere. Coming to a stop at Vince''s side.


    "Good to see you." Vince said. In a way that sounded like a lousy compromise between: ''Good Morning'' and ''Nice of you to show up''


    "What''s the situation?" Dom replied. Vince turned to him. His hair was a brown mop, his eyes and mouth were pulled to the centre of his face in a way which always reminded Dom of a rodent. His white and flawless skin was thoroughly moisturised, and he always smelt of perfume.


    "See for yourself." The recording restarted and Dom could feel that the whole room was watching it. Silence dominated throughout the runtime... and for about ten seconds once the recording had finished. He felt 8 eyes on him waiting for a response.


    "Play it again." He said. Okay, looks like we do have something different.


    He heard the tapping of keyboards return behind him, leaving only himself and Vince watching the repeat. Solving puzzles was what the job boiled down to. Whether it was a typical investigation or finding the right path to de-escalation. It was all solving puzzles. Identifying unknowns and working the logic.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The recording wasn''t a fake. It would be insulting his team''s intelligence to suggest that. The collective gloomy attitude confirmed they had already verified it within acceptable scrutiny. His next gut reaction was even more ridiculous. There was nothing supernatural here. When she approached closest, you could see light defining curves on her body. Monsters and aliens were still non-zero possibilities, but the rational theory was that this was a human being in a suit. So then Dom arrived at the first, but probably not the most important, useful question.


    What the hell kind of suit is that? Spacesuits were more than just thick clothing. They were complex, robust, wearable computers. Their design had improved a lot since the days of Apollo, but still, nobody anywhere had anything that looked like this. The flexibility alone was groundbreaking, but more impressive was how it was still keeping a human being alive in space. The brute strength alone needed to survive vacuum. As well as the life support systems. Even the minor currents coursing through it to repel moondust. Where was the oxygen? Can she even see out of it?


    Vince was staring from the corners of his eyes, prompting a comment.


    "Where did we get this?" Dom asked.


    "This was uploaded to about every site you can imagine at 6:00 sharp." Vince said, walking over to his desk and scooping up his handheld. "Metadata shows it was recorded at 5:34, seismologists from the University arrived on the scene at 6:09. It looks like the victim was in the process of stealing a meteoric sample when he was attacked." Vince seemed to be enjoying letting Dom know all the details he''d missed by being late. "They recovered the buggy and his body, but the raw recordings had been wiped." Vince leaned back against the desk. "And the meteorite was gone."


    Anything clear on satellite? Was the next obvious question, but again, his team would have already pursued that.


    "What do we have on the victim?" Dom asked instead to the room.


    "His name''s Ty Jackson." One of the twins (probably Esme) said. She looked up from her computer and brushed the hair from her face. "Son of a billionaire on Earth, ran away to Luna after a scandal."


    "What kind of scandal?"


    "The exact kind you''d expect." Esme replied. A quick smile appeared then disappeared on her sister''s face.


    "Fourteen women spoke out against him at the same time." Neil said, his face didn''t look away from his screen as he spoke. "Then they all hushed, Ty ran up here while things cooled off." Neil at last released the mouse and placed his fingertips together as he met Dom''s eyes. "But the most important part is the discussion. There was nothing in the media unsurprisingly, but online he''s been public enemy number one for weeks. People across the solar system are appraising this video of his murder as justice." Neil''s tone was matter of fact and his face emotionless. Dom sunk his head in thought, then leaned over his shoulder at Vince.


    "Has the President been informed?"


    "Alexander''s briefing her now." So nobody knows anything. Dom reasoned. People were stalling, kicking the problem up the chain of command until it was somehow solved. Surrendering to someone else once it seemed options were exhausted. Dom wasn''t going to do that.


    "So what do we know?" He said, in a tone that demanded some response.


    "Female, around five foot ten." Neil replied, slamming his palm against his desk to emphasise the brevity of the profile.


    "And she''s murdered an evil rich boy." Esme added.


    "In a very nice suit." Her twin mumbled. Dom nodded, he was glad someone else was fixating on that.


    "Also her proficiency in manoeuvring in low gravity." Dom said to no-one in particular. He finally walked to his desk and pulled out the chair, needing to get the ideas floating around his head down on paper. The blank page glared up at him for a few seconds, before he began to cover it in scribbled notes. Two minutes later, a promisingly small amount of the page was blank. Identify unknowns, work the logic. He set the pen down and leaned back in his chair. In one section, in scruffy lines of ink he had written: Perfect crime, no witnesses. Why upload to everyone?


    "I suppose the press are having a field day?" He asked in Neil''s vague direction. There were several seconds of silence and Dom was about to repeat himself when Neil spoke up.


    "Only a few outlets have come out with anything so far. Journalists are running out of ways to admit that no-one knows anything whilst filling an article." Dom turned back to his notes and was reaching for his pen when Neil continued.


    "But, the Lunar Times did just post their initial article." Neil made some frantic mouse and keyboard inputs then squinted at his screen as he scanned the article. "And it''s the exact same again, paragraphs of drama with no insight. Everyone''s waiting for an official statement from President Cast." He leaned back into his chair with force. "They have given her a stupid name though..." Something in his tone captured the room''s attention, and he waited for everyone to stop typing before continuing.


    "Void Dancer." He drawled with insincere gravitas. Glances bounced around the room.


    "Well, it works." Sasha said. The room slumped back into the gloom he had found it in. Dom knew this feeling, the powerlessness and frustrating impotence. When there was no clear path ahead and too many unknowns. Alexander and the military might know more, but they probably wouldn''t hear anything until after the President had been briefed.


    For now, they had a barren crime scene with zero prints or DNA. A solar system full of angry people with sufficient motive. And no timeline to recreate, the killer had shared everything willingly. They could try investigating recent environment suit breakthroughs, see who had access. But the most critical information would fall under military secrecy. They could try visiting the scene themselves. But it was highly unlikely that anything useful had been missed by the recovery teams. They could investigate Ty Jackson himself, see if he spoke to anyone or if anyone recognised who he was. He must''ve gotten information on the meteorite from somewhere... There''s something.


    Dom fired up his computer. Vince was pacing across the office, scratching up and down the length of his arm. Whatever spark of enthusiasm Dom had managed to muster was soon snuffed out. For all his flaws, Ty was good at laying low. His handheld records showed he''d contacted no-one, except for a kid at the Uni that he''d bribed. That kid had come forward immediately and shared everything. Volunteering his handheld records for evidence. Ty''s ''vacation'' to Luna was well known, he wouldn''t have been stupid enough to chat with anyone face to face. So the only person he had any contact with was a broke student trying to make some extra cash. This student was scared enough by repercussions that he surrendered to the authorities before they were even on to him. Needless to say, the only person that came from this line of enquiry didn''t fit the profile of the killer.


    Another team was searching Ty''s apartment. The single room was found barren. Nothing out of place, no sign of trouble and no laptop or computer to dig into. They''d keep searching, but the chances they found some clue hidden away were slim.


    Defeated, Dom wrote Void Dancer at the top of his page to fill the time. She had appeared from nowhere, murdered a man, then returned back to nowhere. Without a trace or single clue. What were they missing? He studied his sheet, hoping to draw out some hidden piece of the problem. For a moment, his attention wandered from the scrawled notes to the white empty that surrounded them. What were they missing?


    "Neil." Dom blurted out with more excitement than he''d meant. "Void Dancer is the talk of the internet right?" Neil''s face contorted to a grimace of confusion.


    "Yeah... She''s all anyone''s talking about... Wh-"


    "But who isn''t?" Dom said as he stood up. "Who isn''t saying anything?" Neil blinked and stared into space for a few moments. Vince stopped pacing.


    "You mean the Kodes." Neil whispered as his fingers snapped back onto his keyboard. The Kodes ''gang'' never stopped spewing brainless commentary across social media. With every change in the status quo, some clever observation had to be made. Yet they seemed to be keeping uncharacteristically quiet concerning Void Dancer. A grin started to spread across Neil''s face.


    "Yeah, yea- okay. They haven''t said anything. Nothing from any of them in the last 24 hours." Dom walked around Neil''s desk and watched him at work.


    "They should have said something idiotic by now." Vince said, joining them. Dom looked up and across the office at the twins.


    "What intel do we have on planned Kodes activity for today?" He asked. Sasha tapped out a brief command and responded.


    "They have a weapons pickup in vacuum... 10 minutes ago." She tapped out another command. "We haven''t got confirmation if they''ve received it." Esme glanced between her sister and Dom with growing excitement. Now they were onto something.


    With every case, chasing the object of interest meant following lapses in normalcy. Who hadn''t shown up for work? What job hadn''t been done? Who was angry when they were always kind? Void Dancer had emerged from the dark and murdered a man. At the same time a reliable aspect of Lunar life had lapsed. It was like a footprint.


    "Okay here''s what we''re gonna do." Dom started. "We can''t do much until Alexander gives us a bit more to work with." If there even is anything more to work with. Dom thought to himself. "So we''re gonna quickly check up on our favourite people. Maybe it''ll tell us something, maybe this leads nowhere. Either way, it''s a thread to pull on."


    Esme had already started powering down her computer and gathering her things. Dom continued.


    "I want you three to check out this weapons pickup, Vince and I will pay a visit to HQ." From the corner of his eye, Dom could see Vince flush with annoyance. He looked as if he might say something but Neil interrupted.


    "I''d rather stay here. I''m still working on finding a source on the uploads, and now I want to monitor activity on all Kodes channels."


    "That''s fine, we can handle ourselves." Esme said.


    "Stay safe and report anything immediately." Dom said. They gave a synchronised nod in reply. Vince was already at the door, making a point that he was waiting on Dom.


    Looking behind at the display, the final frame of the recording covered the wall. Years from now, Dom reckoned he would look back on this puzzle as one of the best.

 1.3 (Felix)

    It had just turned 10:00 a.m. Felix was seeing off his second pint, with a third on its way. He placed his empty glass down on a coaster. Covering the small map of Texas that was printed onto it. A trail of white foam dribbled down the side of the glass, coming to rest at the base. Felix rubbed his eyes as the jukebox faded out, before another nostalgic American country song started up.


    The whole pub was themed after the United States. A three foot star-spangled banner hung over the bar. Framed pictures of Presidents and movie stars covered the walls. With one wall dedicated to Apollo: Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins were framed above a model Saturn V. The famous images of cheering crowds and serious scientists surrounding them. Felix sat alone in a private booth, a large and detailed map of the continental U.S. filling the wall.


    Saloona was a favourite of his. Something about the theming and atmosphere made it possible to convince himself he was back on Earth. That he could step outside after a drink and hear the cries of birds filling the sky. Or smell an approaching storm. The people were friendly, mostly Americans. They''d share stories of growing up in the States, the innocence that encompassed their formative years and how it died when the world turned sour. The Americans didn''t seem to notice or care that their tales were shared by thousands from every continent.


    It wasn''t just them: Everyone on Luna had suffered as democracy wilted. Everyone on Luna had experienced a point of no return where they had to flee to the stars. And everyone on Luna was mourning somebody they''d left behind.


    Felix didn''t mind, anyone had the right to be a bit solemn or self-centred once they''d had a few drinks.


    It was a bit more lively than usual. Some nonsense circling through the news feeds had the regulars uncharacteristically animated. An old man with a voice like gravel was talking sternly with the barkeep while pointing at the screen behind him. Across most tables people were chatting at each other while they all stared at their handhelds.


    The excitement didn''t rub off on him. Felix felt the same as every morning. Not only because he was avoiding whatever sensationalism was spreading this time for as long as possible. But because he couldn''t honestly remember a day when he felt different. Picking out a particular day from the last year of his memories was like trying to differentiate bricks from one another. Maybe he should find some resolve to fix that. Maybe he shouldn''t burn away hours in the same pub every morning. Or maybe whatever enrichment could be gained on the dead rock he was stuck to wasn''t worth the effort.


    It was when the familiar waves of melancholy were about to crash, that Isaac arrived with the third pint.


    He held a glass in each hand that glowed amber in the bar''s hazy lights. He placed one in front of Felix and the other on his own coaster. His one had a small map of New Hampshire.


    "Murder in the moondust!" Isaac exclaimed as he sat down. "Rich boy murdered by a shadow. It''s all very exciting."


    Felix took a long swig before replying. "I''d gathered that much..." It was hard not to pick up the basic elements when the story was everywhere. "But I don''t wanna talk about that right now."


    "You never wanna talk about anything." Isaac said. His voice annoyed but face sympathetic. Carefully, Felix set his drink back down on the table. Without the reliable pull of a full g, liquids were much harder to keep contained in glasses. It was common that people would forget where they were a few drinks in. Bring the glass to their lips with a bit too much enthusiasm, and end up throwing the contents all over themselves. Another of Luna''s annoyances.


    Felix stared at the swirling foam on the surface of his pint. The fog of melancholic frustration still hovering around his mind. He pictured what he must look like to an outside observer, and grimaced at the thought that whatever their negative assumptions might be, they were probably accurate. His sadness was a malfunction he had more or less surrendered to. He had worked through it and knew the solution. But the effort required made the solution infeasible. He simply didn''t care enough about himself to care about himself. Circles and circles. He thought as the bubbles swirled. Circles and circles.


    "Well I don''t like quiet." Isaac said. "So I''m gonna try and change the subject... What about the pedo?"


    "The pedo?"


    "Yeah. The pedo."


    "How am I supposed to know who or what you are talking about just from that?" Felix asked.


    "Y''know! Prince Bernard. The King''s brother."


    "Oh. I thought all that got dropped?"


    "Yeah, which doesn''t mean much in the way of his innocence." Isaac said, turning his palms towards the ceiling in a lazy shrug. "But! His niece, the blushing bride Princess Olivia... Still has him banned from the wedding. So behind closed royal doors they clearly know something''s up with him." Isaac''s eyes were wide. Felix clung to the conversation as a distraction like one might cling to wreckage in a shipwreck.


    "They could just be avoiding a soiled reputation." Felix said.


    Isaac ignored him. "He''s supposed to be arriving on Luna tomorrow. Reportedly to meet the bride and groom face to face and sweet talk his way back onto the whitelist."


    "Olivia''s on Luna right now?"


    "Has been for a while, they''ve got an above-ground place somewhere in Spectrum." They both took a long draught from their drinks. Isaac glared at Felix through the glass, prompting some response. Felix sank his head and thought for a few moments before speaking.


    "I was in London when Olivia was born, were you?" Felix started. Isaac nodded in reply. "I was just a kid but I still remember it. Even when she was an infant she was their trump card. There''d been anger and resentment stewing for a while, but as soon as the pictures of a cute baby swaddled in pink flooded the news feeds, all discontent was smothered. And every few years, whether it be the royals or the government. Protest was met with her first words. Uproar was met with her first steps... But that wasn''t the worst part. After we lost the house, when we were living on the streets, when my mum followed my dad to the grave... The worst was how it worked so well on me. How it made me happy to see her pictures and watch her videos. How I gave myself so joyfully to their obvious trick."


    "You couldn''t pretend you were any better than anyone else." Isaac said, wearing an understanding frown.


    "Yep." Felix said. "She''s just as bad as the rest of them. She''s probably done everything Bernard''s accused of and then some."


    "I guess she''s got what Bernard doesn''t. For true immunity you need to be rich and beautiful."


    "Tell that to Ty Jackson." Felix said. Isaac''s mouth crept to the side of his face in a sly smile.


    "I thought you didn''t want to talk about that."


    "I don''t." Felix said, and saw off his pint.


    They sat for a while in a comfortable and mutual silence. Patrons came and went, as did waves of enthusiasm in the news channels. Nothing new, they were all talking over each other to announce their continued ignorance.


    Luna''s synthetic alcohol was starting to have an effect now. Felix''s cheeks and fingertips started to numb, but the dejection remained as strong. Isaac was staring into space. Following his eyes, Felix saw a table of students in a spirited but friendly argument. It was utterly pathetic that the mere sight of other humans being happy stirred such a profound sadness within him. He wished there was something more to it than jealousy. That he wasn''t just a lonely old man, bitter at what he''d had and lost. But the truth was unavoidable, and no amount of self-awareness could dodge it.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    The youths cheered, and Felix turned away. Isaac was still staring, and when Felix traced his gaze more carefully, he arrived at a woman.


    She was sitting alone at a small table for two, sipping at something colourful. She looked vaguely middle-eastern, with dark-brown hair hovering delicately at her shoulders. Felix flicked his eyes between her and Isaac.


    "What are you staring at?" Felix asked.


    "That woman."


    "Why..?" Isaac turned to face him. His face was flat but his eyes exposed a hidden amusement.


    "You could go talk to her." Isaac said, with a softness that caught Felix off guard.


    "Are you serious?"


    "Kinda. Look, I know you''re struggling bu-"


    "And embarrassing myself is supposed to help how?" Felix interrupted.


    "We both know that this," he said, stretching out his arms and gesturing to the whole bar. "Can''t continue. Something''s gotta change." Felix shook his head in bewilderment and sunk back into his seat. "Look, you go over, say hi. She says she has a boyfriend or whatever and you come back. At least you did something, tried something."


    "Why are you doing this right now?" Felix asked.


    Isaac ignored him. "Or, you go over, say hi. She doesn''t have a boyfriend. And you keep going until you fuck it up. Then you come back." Felix glanced anxiously back over to her. She was studying her drink, her chin resting on her palm, her fingers curled against her cheek.


    Issac continued, leaning closer to him and lowering himself nearer to the table. "You''re both in here at this hour, both alone-"


    "Wow, so much in common-"


    "The atmosphere in here with what''s going on is quite... conversational. It''s a unique opportunity-"


    "Isaac-"


    "For a bit of relaxed-"


    "Isaac-"


    "Low stakes-"


    "Isaac, it is not happening."


    "Plus she''s quite hot." Isaac muttered quickly as the doors of the conversation slammed shut.


    They looked at each other in mutual disappointment. Felix gave a last look towards her as he said what he hoped would be the last words on the matter.


    "We''re both pushing 40. I think we''re a little old for this schoolboy shi-" The derailment of his train of thought was almost violent. As he turned to face her, he met her gentle eyes. And her smile was like ice to a burn.


    "Holy shit!" Isaac exclaimed. A grin spread across his face.


    Felix recoiled away from her and stared at the table. "Grow up, it''s just a smile, it isn''t an invitation."


    "Oh come on! The Felix I knew a year ago wouldn''t hesitate if a girl gave him a smile."


    The insult was deep. Felix shot an offended glance up at Isaac, but he remained stern. He knew he''d struck a nerve and kept going.


    "Window of opportunity closing..."


    "Shut up."


    "You only get this stressed when you''ve gotta make a tough decision. And a decision''s only tough when the choice that goes against your instincts has obvious merit."


    Felix clenched his teeth and breathed deep, not quite believing what he was about to do. Isaac continued.


    "You literally have nothing to lose."


    "Now you sound like my sister."


    "So I win?" Isaac said. Wearing a hopeful but tentative smile. Felix unclenched his jaw, breathed out slowly, and against every instinct, stood up.


    He shuffled out of the booth before he''d really processed what he was doing. Progressing in small shambles towards the border of his comfort zone. He ran his hand along the edge of the table as he went, anchoring himself to safety. As he reached the end his index finger stuck to the corner. His brain caught up and the anxiety welled, an intense force compelled him to sit back down. But he resisted looking back towards Isaac and with what little resolve he could muster, severed his last link with security.


    Untethered, he walked towards her table. Every anxiety and insecurity he hadn''t had the energy to worry about for a long time bombarded his mind at once. He hadn''t thought about what he was wearing when he put it on this morning, he wasn''t even sure of the last time it was washed. His hair was greasy, his stubble was patchy and untidy. He couldn''t remember the last time he''d properly looked in a mirror. Again he pictured himself as an outside observer, and found himself concerned for the woman.


    The chorus of unease crescendoed into indifferentiable noise, which hushed to silence immediately as he arrived at her table.


    "Hi." He said. The syllable had leaked from his mouth without thought. She took an agonising few moments to sit up slightly and meet his eyes.


    "Hi." She replied. Her eyes were a deep brown, and whatever analysis was being performed behind them was locked absolutely out of view.


    "Mind if I sit?" His voice was steady, but the heat was already in his face.


    "Sure." That was quick, this is going too well.


    The chair squeaked against the floor as he pulled it out and sat down. She glided her drink across the table to her side, opening for conversation. Her face was thin, bones defining her cheeks and eyes more than her skin.


    "You been here before?" Christ. The words tasted like coins as they left his mouth. She smiled but it didn''t reach her eyes.


    "A few times. But never this early. I suppose I was nervous of the kind of people that would be in here at this hour..."


    He swallowed and went for it. "This one''s called Felix." He said, reaching out an open hand.


    This time, the smile reached her eyes. "Maria." She said, and shook his hand. The same thinness was in her fingers. "Are you a regular then?" She asked. Felix nodded. "You don''t sound American?"


    "No, I''m English." Felix said. A complementary question of where she was from was expected. But the sentence kept forming and dissolving in his mind - catching on his tongue. "How long have you been on Luna?" He asked instead.


    "Oh... eight months now. Which I suppose is eight... days. With how the Sun misbehaves up here."


    Felix grinned, and by instinct suppressed the joy that was behind it. "Yeah that takes a bit of getting used to." She asked her complementary question wordlessly in her eyes. "Oh, I''ve been up here since the beginning." He said. Her eyebrows moved, and she could''ve been surprised or impressed... or neither.


    "I''m guessing you don''t get stuck to the floor then?" She said. Self degradation in her tone.


    "Only once I''ve spent enough in here." He replied, and they both smiled. "You have a fitting name for Luna." He said. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Historically, when people looked up at The Moon, like, from Earth. The darker kinda circular patches were thought to be oceans or lakes. So they were called ''seas'', or, in the original latin: ''maria''."


    "Huh." She said. Felix panicked. That was weird. Why the hell did you say all that? But she seemed genuinely interested. Or at least... moved. She was looking past him and her thoughts seemed even further away. "Thank you Felix." She said at last, and he didn''t even try to dissect what that meant.


    Whatever kind of flow he was building had stumbled. Keep going until you fuck it up. Echoed in his mind. Felix peered over his shoulder to see Isaac. But he had vanished. Felix turned back around to confront her. Think of something to say and think quick, otherwise the conversation''s gonna turn to-


    "So. What do you think of all this?" She said, pointing to the screen behind the bar. They''d given it a name: Void Dancer, and some plastic news anchor was yapping about how a statement from President Cast was imminent.


    "I suppose I''m grateful for the bit of excitement." Felix said, hoping the conversation would move to something else.


    "Quite a lot of excitement really, at least, relatively. Even if it''s short lived."


    "I dunno, I think it''ll drag on."


    She wore a smile that Felix read as cheeky. "You think? You don''t have faith in our fearless leader to restore paradise?" She said.


    A stone dropped into his stomach. He had meant that the media would hang on to the story as long as possible, nothing about her.


    "Are you not a fan?" She asked, seemingly seeing the discomfort on his face.


    "I- uh- have a bit more of a personal relationship to Robyn Cast than most people."


    "Oh! Do you work for her?" She asked.


    "No- I..." There was no avoiding it now, he''d just have to say it. "I''m- I was a... soldier." Felix said, and for the first time couldn''t look her in the eyes.


    He watched as she realised in a sequence. You were a soldier. You were in the November Escalation. And the anniversary is in a couple weeks.


    "Oh... sorry." She said. You shouldn''t have to apologise for my weakness, that isn''t fair. He thought, and tried to casually wave the apology away with a perceptibly shaking hand.


    "How are you?"


    And there it was. The three words. The tiny, stupid question which had made him give up on therapy. His sadness, his malfunction, he thought about it more than anyone else - and even he had no hope of adequately explaining it with words. When he thought of the malfunction, the dark, impenetrable shape. He saw it as a fractal. Infinitely sprawling and complex and sharp. No words could define its border. Any word, no matter how academic, intricate or well-chosen - was too big, too clumsy, to fit into the grooves of the fractal. The shadow which enveloped his life was infinitely elaborate. And words had finite resolution.


    "I''m okay." He said.


    He shouldn''t be surprised. Of course it all fucked up. Of course any hope of today being any different from the rest was squandered. He should''ve just stayed at his table alone. This was a mistake. A waste of time. Circles and circles. Circles and circles. Circles and circles and circles and circles and circles and circles-


    "I get it." Maria said. Felix wasn''t sure how long they''d spent in silence. "Sometimes I feel like everyone up here is lying to themselves a bit." Felix met her eyes again. "Because, we''re all up here running from something. And if Plato isn''t perfect, then we never escaped what we were running from." Her expression was cold, she stared at the table for a few moments, then finished her drink.


    "Yeah..." was all Felix could say. They sat for a few moments in silence then, at the same time, looked up and met each other''s eyes. "Well," Felix continued "That whole perfection thing''s getting pretty shaken right now." As they both turned to the screen behind the bar, and caught the closing words of President Cast''s official statement.

 1.4 (Robyn)

    "We are working on clarifying those unknowns, but for now that is all we know. Thank you." Less than half a second after she''d concluded speaking the crowd of reporters lurched forward. They thrusted their microphones at her - over and under each others'' shoulders - as they shouted their questions into the shared noise. Robyn amused herself by picturing the mass as some gigantic hedgehog shuffling towards her.


    She turned away and hurried back into The Prism. The necessary evil of the statement to the press was completed; and the cabinet and Alexander were still in conversation in Conference Room 1. After the video had been played, there hadn''t been a beat of silence. The simple questions were met with long-winded answers, the trickier questions were met with long-winded excuses. She figured the hopes of having a full day''s discussion on the Summit and wedding were certainly gone.


    Those two elements were already occupying all of her efforts and the majority of her waking thoughts. And now someone had thrown a third and much more volatile element into the mix. However, she didn''t feel overwhelmed by the sudden disruption of Void Dancer. Maybe deep down she expected the issue to be resolved soon and without any more mess. Or maybe she had reached the saturation point of stress where other problems just bounce off. Like a sponge that has taken on all the water it possibly can.


    She started down the hallway which led to the conference room but hesitated. As much as talking to the press was annoying, it was nice to step outside the heat of the cabinet''s discussion. To breathe some air that wasn''t thick with speech. She decided to delay re-entry for a while longer and swung open the door to the women''s bathroom.


    Inside, soft and calming music was playing, but it didn''t work. Robyn needed something fast and noisy. Walking over to the mirrors, she had to watch her step, there was no Grip in bathrooms. She planted her hands wide in front of a sink and stared downwards, letting her head hang unsupported by her neck and shoulders. Her head felt heavy, and she wasn''t even under full gravity yet. Motionless, she just breathed for a few seconds, before running her wrists under the cold tap. The pleasant coolness travelled up her arms, through her chest and across her face.


    A latch clicked behind her, and a stall door creaked open. A short, red-haired woman stepped out, and was half-way to the sinks when she met Robyn''s eyes in the mirror. She froze. She looked between the sinks and the exit. Seemingly debating fleeing the situation versus being seen leaving without washing her hands - by the President. Robyn smiled and looked away, moving to dry her hands and not cause anymore stress. The woman moved slowly to the sinks and started to wash her hands, her eyes fixed on the process.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Are you new here?" Robyn asked. The woman''s eyes widened and a smile of bewilderment spread across her face.


    "Uh- Yes. I started about a week ago." Her voice was light and bouncy in a way that reminded Robyn of musical theatre.


    "What''s your name?"


    "E-Everybody calls me Pen."


    "Are you enjoying working here at The Prism?"


    "Oh I''m loving it. It''s a bit weird to admit but it''s the happiest I''ve been in years." She coughed and laughed nervously as if she''d revealed more than she''d hoped. Robyn for the first time noticed a small red birthmark below her eye that resembled a teardrop.


    "I''m very happy to hear that." Robyn said, her tone as comforting as possible. "Any problems? Anxieties?"


    "No, not really. Well there''s- no nevermind."


    "There''s what?"


    "Well, you know Kry?"


    "Ahh, the nightclub. The one in Red?"


    "Yeah. There''s some traditional thing for newbies there tonight."


    "Not your thing?"


    "Absolutely not my thing."


    Robyn laughed. "Look at it this way, Kry is the go-to choice of club for politicians... you have nothing to worry about."


    Pen grinned, and some weight seemed to lift from her face. Robyn didn''t want to keep her any longer, despite how much more pleasant this conversation was than the one she was returning to.


    "Nice to meet you Pen."


    "Y-You too." She heard as the door swung closed behind her. Robyn savoured the fleeting warmth of the genuine human interaction, before plunging again into Conference Room 1.


    The men were still in animated discussion. She caught the gist as she walked back to her chair: Appearances were what was at play. An unusual and maybe delicate situation was set out before them, and the whole world was watching. Every nation would scrutinise every move. Every newspaper would publish every mistake. This was going to be tricky.


    She sat again at the head of the table, Alexander Manning was on her left.


    "I believe you should remain principally focussed on the Summit, Madam President." He said. "Others will deal with... this."


    "What is your plan Alexander?" She asked.


    "I''ll leave soon to coordinate the investigation. I''ll dedicate a section of military personnel and set up a team from law enforcement squads."


    Robyn nodded. "We both know who''s going to want to be a part of that."


    "Actually, from what I hear, Dom and his team are already onto something."

 1.5 (Dominic)

    Dom wasn''t big on philosophy. Nor was he a fan of psychology. If he was honest, he didn''t really know the difference, he just knew he didn''t like them. He''d never be able to explain or justify it, but he found solace in the idea that eight years ago, he died.


    The idea was that the Dominic Rorke who had walked the Earth for the first 30 years or so had died on Earth - along with everyone else. That man had lived and learned, tried and failed. And now he was gone.


    That man had nothing which Dom still had, and Dom couldn''t at all relate to him anymore. So if he wasn''t alive within Dom (or anyone else), where else could he be? The only feasible answer is that he died. Melted into the hordes of faceless dead. A failure too great, a game truly lost.


    Dom was not a young man, but it still felt like he, the man he was now, had only been alive for those eight years. Any memories from before that were wrong. Not his own. More like stories he''d heard someplace than lived experience.


    Throughout this short life, there was one centrepiece: He had been working with, against and around the Kodes for the entire run. They emerged in Plato''s trial by fire birth and had remained ever since. A dark and sludgy pool where the runoff of Luna''s crime converged. Dom''s whole team was intimately familiar. Their timetables, grand plans and office politics. They were all you needed to study to understand the criminal action within Plato - And Vince still didn''t understand them.


    Dom was sitting with Vince now. They were in an idle ant, overlooking the Kodes'' headquarters. The place was silent, no-one in or out for almost half an hour. Something was definitely up.


    Their HQ was the worst kept secret imaginable. The police knew the place inside and out, Dom had scouted it many times, but he''d never actually been inside, of course.


    The leaders of the ''gang'' were a brother and sister duo whose active contribution began and ended at their last name. A couple of childish brats who made opportunistic use of the flimsy governance in Plato''s early days. They smuggled in guns and drugs, giggling together as they snuck in contraband behind the teacher''s back. Kodes was never genuine, just some morons'' best guess at what an actual gang does based on films they''d seen.


    And they persisted today, with the same, exhausting, bullshit. But there''s the part that Vince doesn''t understand. The Kodes only persist as successfully as they do because they''re allowed to. It was one of the first actions taken by President Cast, and the first of many decisions that earned her Dom''s respect.


    They could be taken down in an afternoon, but what mess would replace them? They were the single keystone for all of the ugliness, so the cops saw everything. From petty to major, the police often knew something was coming before the perpetrators.


    Further, kids were always gonna wander into something nasty. It seemed much better that they get tangled with an ''organisation'' that employed about as many undercover informants as actual members. The Kodes siblings were complete idiots, and in their own way, they were keeping Plato safe. Dom smiled to himself, but Vince was still scowling.


    "How long until we go and get a closer look?" Vince asked


    "Right after I check in with Sasha and Esme." Dom replied.


    Vince was by far the newest member of the team. When Dom started all those years ago, he had met and connected with the twins after only a few weeks. He''d met Neil a few years later. There''d been many other kind and genuine people who''d rotated in and out of their squad, but those four were at the core. Vince had joined a few months back, and had only been on Luna for a few weeks before that. He was still strongly rooted in the Terrestrial... Holding onto pride from a personal or collective history on Earth wouldn''t have turned many heads on Luna - before last November. Nowadays, it certainly doesn''t lead to amiability.


    "Sasha, Esme. Report." There were a few seconds of silence, then Dom''s earpiece buzzed to life and (probably) Esme replied.


    "In vacuum now, only a few minutes from the pickup spot. Going radio silent until we''re clear."


    "Roger." Dom nodded to Vince, and they both climbed out of the ant.


    Dom patted his right hip and felt the comfortable and familiar mass inside his holster. He was going to confirm whether Vince was ready but he was already strolling towards HQ.


    The Kodes had established their homebase within a quiet part of Orange. It was one of the oldest areas of Plato, and the construction was quite tacky. Initially, the designers had just tried to copy what roads and buildings looked like on Earth, resulting in an uncanny dissonance. Eventually, they developed Plato''s unique aesthetic. But the brick buildings on this street still carried an inherent unease.


    Vince arrived first at the alleyway entrance and waited outside. He casually panned the street in each direction as Dom crossed the road. He arrived and stepped straight into the darkened brick tunnel which led to the back door entrance. He adjusted his gait as he transitioned from the Grip''d sidewalk onto the bare stone of the alleyway. As soon as he was out of sight, Dom unclipped the strap on his holster and rested his hand readily on the grip of his pistol. Vince followed immediately behind, guarding the rear.


    The alley opened up into a small open-air area. Walled-off by tall chain link fences topped with barbed wire. They enclosed a square of concrete on which stood a large dumpster, the Kodes'' back entrance and, presumably, their most intimidating guard. Dom looked upon the space having paused at the end of the tunnel. The fences were in terrible condition. They hung limp like wilted flowers, the barbed wire only running along half of their length. Large holes had been cut into most of them, with wide gaps where the fences met the brick walls of the surrounding buildings. Beyond the fences, was a dark and complex maze of unused space that no pedestrian was ever supposed to find themselves in.


    From this angle, Dom couldn''t see the door nor the guard. With his palm still on the grip, he peeked around the corner. First there was nothing, and then he saw the door. It looked heavy, with multiple locks and covered in peeling red paint. He peeked further, then he saw the man lying down. Dom saw his feet, then his legs stretched straight, then the blood.


    The pistol was in Dom''s hand in one movement. He swung out of the alley and swept the space. Vince was close behind, also wielding his gun. The small area was empty, apart from the two of them, the dumpster, and the corpse.


    "Jesus Christ." They said in unison.


    He didn''t seem to have any injuries from the neck down, his torso was covered in blood, but apparently untouched. His face was a mess of blood and bone. Dom could make out glimmers of white which he assumed were teeth. Vince knelt down closer and pressed his fingers into the man''s neck.


    "Dead. Blunt force."


    "Guessin'' from this." Dom said, kicking a bloodied sledgehammer towards Vince. Dom stared into the darkness beyond the fences, but it remained still.


    "We going in?" Vince asked, his voice hushed.


    Dom answered with action. Stepping over the body and studying the door, seeing if there was a way to open it. He was considering the bolts and locks when he noticed the obvious fact he''d overlooked. The door was already open. A thin crack of darkness separated the peeling paint of the door from the worn brick of the wall.


    He turned back to Vince. He was patting the corpse down, flipping over the man''s shirt to reveal an empty holster. Vince looked up and met Dom''s eyes, then noticed the same oddity with the door. He quickly rose and took position on the other side of the entrance, his aim ready at chest height. Dom also raised his weapon. They waited for a few seconds, Dom strained his ears but there was no sound from the inside.


    The door opened outwards so he couldn''t just kick it. Instead, he stuck his right foot into the gap between the door and the wall. Then, after planting his left foot solid, swung out his right across the floor, pushing the door open with it.


    The hinges moaned as the door came to rest, but neither Dom nor Vince fired, and no audible reaction came from within. Dom was looking at a wall, so Vince must be looking further down the corridor. There was a held moment of caution, and then Vince entered first, Dom close behind him. He gave a final wary look to the still darkness beyond the chain-link, then stepped across the threshold.


    The smell at first seemed like rust, but it quickly resolved to blood. Just inside, another two bodies were slumped against the featureless brick walls. An exit wound was visible on one''s head, the other had bled enough from his throat to cover the floor. Vince didn''t bother checking if these two were still alive.


    Above them a single strip of energy efficient lights droned. Painting the scene in a sickly pale hue. The duo continued down the corridor and the building remained silent. The corridor opened into some form of common room. There were two poker tables, several couches and a multitude of screens. As well as two more dead bodies.


    Dom and Vince quickened their pace now, beyond the common room the apparent path of fighting led down another short corridor. Dom realised where it led, directly to the heart. The siblings'' office. Outside the office was a small seating area, plastered with maps of Plato and degenerative cartoons and slogans. Sitting beside the door to the office was the Kodes'' final line of defence. A broad and muscular bodyguard, with a gunshot to the back of his head.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    They prepared to breach the final door, then again noticed the same trick. It had been left open just the smallest amount. Vince kicked the door in and cleared the room, Dom just two steps behind. Inside, the room had been given a lot more care than the rest of the HQ. The walls were an extravagant white and silver that was trying to imitate marble. In the centre, a long, glossed table which might even be real wood. At either end, a man and woman sat. Slumped over. Heads down flat on the table. Between them, in the very centre, was a small, black rock.


    Tentatively, Dom walked to the woman, then lifted up her head. Unsurprisingly, it was her. The sister. Her throat had been slashed. Vince was by the man and lifted him up. It was him. The brother. He''d been shot in the eye.


    Vince pulled out his handheld and began to make frantic inputs. Dom trudged to the middle of the table and picked up the rock. It had an irregular shape and shone strangely in the light. It was slightly smaller than his fist.


    "Don''t touch it!" Vince whined. Outrage on his face.


    "She can pull this off. You think she can''t wear fucking gloves?" Dom snapped.


    "Doesn''t mean we don''t do this properly." He said, then raised his handheld to his ear. "I need your best CSI guys at Kodes HQ. Now. I don''t care about procedure or paperwork. I''ll speak to Manning personally if I have to. Just get them here. Now."


    Dom dropped the meteorite back onto the table and backed up from the scene until he hit a wall. He felt like his mind was on fire but no thought was going anywhere. Like desperately pedalling a bike on its lowest gear. He wanted to check if Sasha and Esme were okay but didn''t want to distract. He wanted to surrender to some higher link on the chain of command. He wanted answers. He needed answers.


    * *


    He didn''t really notice when the CSI guys arrived.


    "Okay, I''ve managed to get something off the cameras." Somebody was saying.


    "Dom!" This one was Vince. "Get over here they''ve got something."


    Dom cleared his mind with a shake and walked over to the small crowd of people surrounding a laptop. The woman operating it cleared a mess of windows from the screen and enlarged a single video file. It was footage from the Kodes'' own security cameras.


    "This is all there is in the storage. No audio." The woman said. "It''s been doctored, or more accurately, it''s been edited together."


    The crowd leaned in closer.


    The first camera was outside. It was pointed towards the chain-link fences, mounted to the wall just beside the back door. The security guard was pacing back and forth, entering and exiting the frame. The video cut to a new angle. This camera was mounted on the wall above the fence. It saw the whole of the outside space, as well as a small section of the dark, brick alleyway which led to the road.


    The next cut took them inside. It was the other side of the back door, two men were smiling and talking. The camera looked down the whole length of the hallway.


    Next, the common room. Two more men, sitting separately and watching screens.


    Next, the seating area outside the office. The bodyguard had his hands crossed in front of him. He looked bored, and not much older than 20.


    Finally, inside the office. The siblings were chatting and drinking from mugs. Dom knew their names of course, but had always preferred referring to them as simply: The Brother, and, The Sister.


    The video cut back to the first. The guard strode from left to right, then from right to left. Over and over. It must have been at least 90 seconds. Dom focussed on the grainy black of the space beyond the fence. Convinced a shape would resolve from the void.


    But she didn''t come from the dark.


    The guard was in the middle of the frame looking slightly downwards when she shot in from the right. She was already swinging the hammer, and he only looked up a few degrees before he was struck in the face. His head whipped backwards and they both flew out of frame to the left.


    Cut. Now the full view of the outside. A full and clear shot of her. She was still wearing the suit. It was a deep and complete black, which made the shadows of the back alleys seem grey by comparison. She took a knife and pistol from the guard, his body still twitching as she worked.


    She held the gun in her right hand and the knife in her left. She picked up the sledgehammer also in her left and banged it twice against the door before discarding it. Knife and pistol ready, she hid slightly to the side.


    One of the men opened the door. Wide, not just a crack. Fucking amateurs. He noticed the body and approached. He probably didn''t even see her before she lunged. She thrusted the knife from below, planting it deep in his throat. She barrelled through the door.


    Cut. She fired once at the second man''s head before he even had a chance to aim. His head spun. Dragging his body with it into a slow and macabre pirouette.


    Cut. The men in the common room jolted to attention and started fumbling for their guns.


    Cut. The muscle outside the office stirred and moved closer to the door he was guarding. He unholstered his pistol with slight professionalism.


    Cut. Panic appeared on the sibling''s faces. The brother grabbed a gun from under the table and the sister started barking something at the door.


    Cut. Void Dancer was walking slowly down the corridor. Occasionally shooting into the common room to suppress fire. The light of the common room shone at the end of the corridor and the end of the camera''s view. An awkward arm appeared and tried to blindfire back into the hallway. Before the bricks next to his hand exploded and the arm retreated. The two men were standing either side of the doorway where the corridor met the common room. Dom could tell because the idiots were standing with their feet poking beyond the wall. And if Dom knew where they were, so did she.


    Cut. She threw her gun through the doorway and the morons followed it with their eyes. She burst from the corridor and seized the man on her left''s gun with both hands. At the same time, she swept her leg up and kicked the other man''s hand. His gun spiralled into the air - revolving around a strange centre of mass.


    She wrenched the gun from the first man''s grip and it went flying across the room. She landed a tough punch on his nose and he staggered backwards and tripped. The second man was charging with a forceful but clumsy punch. She easily dodged and stuck the knife between his ribs. His arms curled up in pain and he turned his back to her. She crossed her arms, placing one hand on his ear, the other on his jaw. In one swift movement she spun his head - and he slumped to the ground. As the first man recovered and was marching towards her. She caught the twirling pistol as it fell and fired a single, clean shot into his forehead.


    Cut. Muscle was fully focussed. Aim trained and ready on the corridor she would surely approach from.


    Cut. The siblings were shouting at the door, their mouths fluttering silently in the video.


    Cut. Void Dancer strode out from the common room and towards the office.


    Cut. She appeared from the hallway in front of muscle. Her steps were slight and calm - her head was slightly lowered.


    Muscle squeezed the trigger three times but nothing fired. His gaze turned to the useless pistol in his hand and then she sprinted at him. She struck the gun from his hands and pinned him to the wall. Her left hand covered his mouth. Her right hand jabbed a gun hard under his chin. His eyes were wide with mortal fear, he raised his shaking hands above his head.


    They stayed for a few seconds. Muscle unable to do anything but stare at the unmoving, featureless, black face. His eyebrows lowered and his eyes seemed to ask ''What do you want?'' In some kind of response, she pushed with her left hand. Forcing his gaze towards the door to the office. She held him there for a few more seconds.


    Then, she pulled him from the wall and had him face the door. She rotated herself behind him, pushing the gun hard into the back of his head. Her slender frame was completely hidden behind his. She pushed him forward and he approached the door. He said something out loud.


    Cut. Inside, the siblings looked at each other. Then the sister went to open the door. At the same time, her brother took a few steps back and lowered his gun. The sister pulled the door open slightly and then it burst fully open. Muscle flew through. Blood gushing from his head. The Kodes patriarch traced his path with his aim, neglecting the real danger. By the time he realised, Void Dancer already had his sister in a chokehold.


    Her left arm was around her throat, the knife pressed into her cheek. Her right hand still held the pistol, and it was aimed directly at him.


    He pointed his gun at both women. Barking unheard words in rage that didn''t even begin to mask the truth of the terror in his eyes. Void Dancer did not move.


    After a few moments the rage subsided. His hand was rattling so vigorously with fear that even if he did fire he wouldn''t hit anything. His sister started to cry.


    Again, Void Dancer did not move, and he seemingly got the message. He tossed the gun to the side and held his hands open and high. Dom couldn''t read lips, but he might''ve said ''Okay, now we talk?''


    Void Dancer did not move. Then without any apparent provocation, she plunged the knife deep into her hostage''s neck. In a slow and tedious motion she gauged a cut from ear to ear that must have been at least three inches deep.


    The sister fell forwards but Void Dancer caught her hair. The wound blossomed into a crimson scarf in the low gravity. She weakly brought up her hands and scratched at her face. Painting herself red with her own blood. Void Dancer waited until her arms fell limp at her sides before dropping her to the ground.


    The brother was gone. He fell to his knees slowly. His mouth hung open and his eyes didn''t blink. The look of a human mind that had shut down in the face of overwhelming adversity. The child''s play gangster was stripped away and the terrified little boy at the core was revealed.


    Again, she waited for several moments. Then strode across the room, pushed her pistol hard into his eye socket, and fired. His corpse twisted and crumpled onto the floor. The recording lingered on the unchanging scene for several seconds, then finally ended.


    Nobody said anything. A mutual agreement to prolong the silence. As long as the silence remained, they wouldn''t have to talk about it. Wouldn''t have to face it...


    Vince spoke first.


    "We need more men on this. Now." The crowd started to dissipate, some beginning to tap out inputs on handhelds. "Interview every undercover officer we''ve got. Try and get some kind of timeline..."


    He continued on. Saying to figure out who''d messed with Muscles'' ammo, to I.D all of the dead, and so on. Dom said nothing. He had no interest in showing off and winning favour with the military boys. Instead, he retreated to a corner and watched. His chest felt hollow, and his mind was spinning.


    His earpiece chimed and Neil interrupted his sulking.


    "Dom. We''ve got a new upload. I''ve verified it''s from the same place as the first so it''s genuine. It''s a slaughter at Kodes HQ from their own security cameras... It''s everywhere."


    "That''s what we''ve just found on their own system... do you think-"


    "Yep." Neil interrupted. "They probably set it up so that your viewing of the file triggered the upload. I''ll head over there now, could be useful in tracking down their location."


    "Okay." Was all Dom could say. The hollowness evolved into a subtle sickness, and he felt the remaining energy drain from his body. He glanced at his handheld and saw that the twins were no longer radio silent.


    "Sasha, Esme, report." The silence before the response felt longer this time.


    "Just finished up here." Esme said. Her voice had the recognisable slant that came from wearing a space helmet. "Their shipment arrived but it''s been looted. The two Kodes boys that were sent out to get it have been killed. Both GSW."


    "Do we know what was stolen?"


    "Well, it''s been picked clean. Guns mostly, rifles and long-range vacuum stuff. What''s the situation at HQ?"


    "Bad. Get back to the station now. That''s an order."


    "Shit... um- okay."


    "Roger." Her twin responded, and the connection went dead.


    Dom sank backwards and rested his head against the wall. He wondered why this low feeling had taken over his body; and then a bolt of shame struck through him when he realised what it was. He was grieving. The Kodes were moronic. Their refusal to grow up had gotten dozens of people hurt, and some killed. But he still felt for them. Those two, the centrepiece of his eight years of life. They were gone. Suddenly and forever. Swallowed into the pitch black shadow that now loomed over Plato.


    Maybe he shouldn''t be ashamed. Maybe some form of human connection is inevitable no matter what. Maybe this was healthy. Dom didn''t know, he fucking hated philosophy.


    He closed his eyes and unclenched his jaw. All of a sudden, this particular puzzle had gotten a lot less fun.

 1.6 (Felix)

    It was getting late. Felix was sitting alone at a table, finishing his last pint. As much as he might resist the truth of it... today hadn''t been so bad. Isaac had ''I told you so'' rights whenever he next showed up.


    He had never returned once he disappeared, and Maria had left a few hours ago. Since then Felix had been contemplating in solitude. Analysing his actions while emptying seven or so glasses. The conversation had gone reasonably well, he thought. It certainly could have gone a lot worse... but his blunders kept repeating in his mind. One in particular:


    "Do you have any family up here on Luna?" He had asked.


    She swallowed before answering. "It''s just me and my son."


    He hoped that the minor surprise on his face read as nothing more than minor surprise. But he feared that she had seen it as some form of disappointment. Now, hours later, Felix was concerned that some part of him really was disappointed. That she''d seen straight through the surface, to the truth of it. Whatever. He had no energy left for that class of self-assessment, not even when he was sober.


    Regardless, the misstep clearly hadn''t been catastrophic. He''d tried to recover with a ''must be tough'' or something similar; and she''d gone on to say:


    "I''m with this... group. And they''re incredible. They''ve really helped me make sense of things up here. And they''re so good with Sol."


    Felix had smiled, then the conversation moved somewhere else.


    Hours passed, and with each exchanged word Felix felt himself returning. Impressions of the confident person he had once been re-emerging, like a hand pressed from the other side of a curtain. In the end, she checked the time on her handheld and apologetically cut the conversation short.


    "I''m sorry. Some friends are looking after my son, I have to pick him up now." She rummaged a pen from her pocket and scrawled something onto a coaster. Then slid it across the table as she stood and pocketed her handheld. Her number was written across the small map of California.


    "It was nice to meet you Felix."


    "You too."


    And then he was alone.


    For the first time in a long, long time. Some orange embers began to glow within the mound of barely smouldering ashen coals. And then, in a panic, brought on from perhaps nothing more than the basic and primal aversion to change; he doused the pile in water such that no hopeful fire could catch.


    Empty glasses began to tile the table as he spun the coaster in his hands. Almost smudging the number to a point of illegibility.


    He drank. Feeling his sphere of awareness shrink as the hours progressed. From the whole bar, to just his table, to the space immediately around his body - then to the confines of his own skull. In the cramped space his thoughts bounced. Bumping into walls and crashing into each other. Getting hotter and angrier like commuters crammed into a subway car.


    They buzzed and multiplied, brewing from anger to hate within the crucible. There was no action taken nor word spoken. So the pressure was never relieved, it only grew.


    How quickly a glimmer of positivity had been overpowered. Was this just how it worked? Was he doing this to himself? Circles and circles.


    Something from outside was trying to enter now. Some input from some sense:


    "...sident Cast''s statement on the dramatic scenes from within Kodes HQ this evening. Channel 2 will keep you updated as this shocking story develops. And now the weather."


    Stupid joke. He thought, a gag picked up by Lunar news anchors that had now become something of a tradition.


    He groaned and pushed his fists into his eyes. ''President'' Cast was certainly getting a fair dose of celebrity today... she was probably loving it.


    Something clicked, and now the steam of anger had a direction to point to.


    Maybe he''d go pay her a visit.


    The stumble from the table to an ant outside wasn''t as bad as some in recent memory. He keeled headfirst through the door and crashed softly onto a seat. Before lethargically selecting the top, north most of the minor domes: Red.


    As the ant began to trundle away, he refined his selection of destination - hitting pretty close to her house.


    He slapped himself awake and tried to appear a bit more proper, as the ant''s colourful interior lights resolved to a solid and darkened red.


    A stifled hiccup squeaked from his mouth as the ant slowed to a stop and the doors raised open. It took a while to clamber out onto the street. Once he managed the minor acrobatics, he had to wrestle with the Grip. As he''d planted his feet in an awkward orientation such that he had to unstick himself before he could walk.


    During the ordeal, he suspected someone might''ve spotted him. As when he finally approached the tall security gate, it was already open.


    He avoided eye contact with any guards as he hurried through. And then swiftly strode up the gravel path towards her house.


    Perhaps there should have been some reservation as he reached the front door. But there wasn''t. He pounded the door three times with a loose fist.


    When she opened the door, Robyn cycled through concern, shock, then amused bewilderment. Before stepping back and opening the door wide, inviting him inside wordlessly.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He swayed slightly on his heels, and then Felix Cast crossed the threshold into his sister''s home.


    "You know, of all the people that I thought may be visiting me tonight you were not one of them." She was saying behind him as he sauntered inside.


    Her place was a mess. Shoes were piled by the front door, small scraps of detritus spotted the floor and every surface was buried beneath assortments of unorganised mess.


    "Don''t get me wrong, it''s nice to see you. But y''know, a message would be nice." She continued. On one side a wine bottle stood next to a half-full glass.


    "I just thought I''d stop by..." He said as he reached for the bottle. She snatched it away before he could grab it and placed it aside.


    "Just thought you''d stop by?" She said. "Well, you''re supposed to, aren''t you? When was the last time I saw you, like, 3 months ago? It was supposed to be every two weeks. Remember? That''s what we agreed when you somehow convinced me you didn''t need therapy."


    He grimaced. "It''s been tough."


    "I know" She said, comfort dripping from the two syllables. "I sympathise with that, especially right now. But I have explained that it''s not exactly fair on me to-"


    "How was your day?" He spoke over her. Resistance flushed her face for a second before she dropped it.


    "Fine." She began. "I was in a meeting for most of it. Right now I''m just trying to sort out a few last things then get an early night. I''ve got an early shuttle tomorrow for Earth. They''re holding the UN summit at one of the orbital stations, so I''ve got a two day trip..."


    She droned on. Lying. Obviously omitting the parts Felix was asking about. Now who wasn''t being fair. This was why he never bothered checking in. She''d got so into her role that now she was even answering his questions like a fucking politician. An anger bubbled and burst through the bounds of silence.


    "Speak to me!" He shouted. Her mouth snapped shut and expression steeled. She stared at the floor and knotted her hands for a few moments before meeting his eyes again.


    "You want the truth? I''m stressed." She seized her glass of wine and finished it. "The summit is the first piece of diplomacy since you know what and it''s looking like we''re gonna get slaughtered. Then, I''ll get back just in time for the wedding, where I''ll get my face pushed into whatever mess I made at the summit. But I suppose the factor that you want me to admit is today''s developments. And yes, the surprise terrorist isn''t bloody helping... Happy?"


    Felix retreated a step. Why had he wanted this again? He couldn''t remember.


    "Okay." She said, "Now you. Speak to me. Why are you here?"


    "It''s been a weird day..." He trailed off.


    "That''s not fair. If I''m honest with you, I should get honesty in return. Especially when I haven''t heard from you in-"


    "Leave me alone." The words were completely instinctual, no thinking part of him meant them.


    "Leave you alone? That''s what I have been doing! For three months."


    "It''s just been hard." He said.


    "One message during three months isn''t hard."


    "How would you know?"


    She seemed offended. "Christ Felix you''re not the only one struggling." The complete drop of sympathy struck him harder than he thought it would. The heat of the anger in his mind was contained no longer.


    "Oh no! I''m sure your job and responsibilities are grating. I''m sure it''s exhausting to sit in a meeting room for hours while Crane and the others run Luna for you. Let me guess what was said today: ''Oh! don''t worry yourself with this Madam President, we''ll sort all this out. You just keep rehearsing your lines for the summit.'' - I''m in charge of this shithole as much as you are."


    Her eyes burned with the unmatched power of rage in union with sadness. "Is that why you came here today? To insult me? Tear at my character?"


    Wait, no. That wasn''t why he''d come was it? How had this gone wrong so quickly?


    "Well you''ll have to try harder." She said, throwing her arms up into a shrug. "You think I don''t know that? You think I''m some delusional megalomaniac, that I can''t handle an attack on my authority?"


    "No, I-"


    "I know that I''m far more a figurehead than an actual politician. I know that Luna would collapse if it were left solely up to me. But I don''t cry about that, I don''t hide from that and I don''t give up playing my role."


    "Everybody''s playing their role." Felix grumbled. "This Void-Woman is just the latest performance. The gossipers get to play journalist, the children get to play soldier and you get to play leader."


    "Why? Did you come here tonight?" Her voice was low and unassailable.


    "Because I know what''s gonna happen now. You''re gonna spend the next weeks chirping about crime rates and employment and scientific breakthroughs. Drowning everybody in just how legitimate a state Luna is."


    "Why wouldn''t Luna be a legitimate state?" She was still steadfast.


    "A question that isn''t even a question." He shook his head as he spoke. "We''ve just convinced ourselves it is with all the distractions and performances and media streams." He let the moment hang in the air before unleashing it. The truth. The fact that Robyn had once seen but was now blind to. She couldn''t see it through the fog of ersatz society that was of her own making.


    "A city on the fucking Moon will never not be ridiculous." Her expression didn''t break. "You''re gonna repeat the same shit you always have: We won! We escaped the corporate greed that destroyed Earth! - But we didn''t win. They forced us to flee to The Moon. Have you forgotten how absurd that is?"


    "Not at all."


    "This socialist promised land you led us to is a utopia without oxygen. A million square miles of nothing. We live in caves and force our kids and babies to grow wrong. That is if they even make it out of the womb alive, given all the radiation."


    Felix continued: "They won, Robyn. And they have every right to laugh at us as we pride ourselves as a bastion of democracy and freedom... Where the only spot of ground that doesn''t lead to agonising death is trapped under a dome."


    "What do you suggest we do then?" She snapped. "Give up? All start waxing about how we live in a lie encased in misery?"


    Felix had hoped that the release of pressure from his mind would at least make him feel better. But if anything he felt worse. Why did he even come here?


    "And my fake government." Robyn continued. "Should I quit? Should we all not bother? Is that what you''re suggesting, anarchism? What are you fucking 12?"


    "No I-"


    "No, of course not. You''re just taking up the bold and academic practice of vaguely pointing in the direction of problems without even a hint of a suggestion of answers." She took a few steps closer. "I am sorry that the promise of a brave new world fell through for you. But I still believe in the Luna experiment. And I will play my part in it."


    He was sorry. That''s all he needed to say. I''m sorry. He''d made a mess, for no reason. Just spreading anger to another person and inflicting sadness. But he''d never be able to say it. To apologise. It would open too much. He just spun on his heel and tried to flee wordlessly. He made it as far as the door.


    "Wait!" She called from behind. "I''m sorry, I''m sorry, I''m sorry." He felt her crash into his back and wrap her arms around his chest. "I- I didn''t mean. I''m so sorry. There''s just a lot going on right now."


    He turned himself to face her and joined her in embrace. He wrapped his arms around her head and rested his chin on her hair. For as long as he could remember, they had always had the right height difference for his head to rest perfectly on hers when they hugged. All four arms tightened, and for a moment the universe faded away.


    When they released, her eyes were shiny with the precursor of tears.


    "Just... Don''t make it three months next time." She said, lightly pounding his chest. She spun away and dragged both hands through her hair, facing away from him.


    Felix stepped back across the threshold and into the sunlit ''night''.


    "I''ll apologise when I''m sober." He said, then pulled the door closed.

 1.7 (Neil)

    "Everything in life is a game." Neil''s mother had told him once. "The stakes may change from a dollar to a marriage to a nation, but it''s all games." She was obsessed in a way, she had studied them, the mathematics of them. How every interaction between human beings boiled down to a set of players, rules and win conditions. It was her philosophy, and of course Neil would adopt it, but he added one clause: ''Everything in life is a game, and I play to win.''


    Now, everyone was back at the station, even Alexander Manning was here. He was revealing some potentially useful information from military sources, as well as establishing the bureaucracy for the investigation. Neil half listened. He had a dozen programs running at once on his computer, and a dozen more hovering in his mind. If he listened to Manning now, he''d drop something.


    The head of Luna''s military was an unemotional man. He was tall, with a short blonde scrap of hair that was greying into a striking silver. He paced as he spoke. His long, grey trench coat reached down to his knees; and lagged behind him as he moved, almost like a cloak. He gestured to a display behind him, and at this particular moment it seemed to be worth Neil''s attention.


    "From our satellites, we suspect they used a Hopper." He said.


    That made sense... The short range, tin can shaped ships could drop in and out of Lunar orbit with very little fuel. As well as ''hop'' from one point on the surface to another. Also, the use of ''they'' confirmed Neil had missed whenever it was officially decided she wasn''t working alone.


    "It seems they got up to speed, she jumped off - maintained her momentum with this ''skipping'' action we see in the video. Then murdered Ty Jackson, and later got picked up by that same Hopper... It''s impressive coordination but not unfeasible with flight computers and enough planning."


    Neil scanned the room. Vince was attentive, his back straight and hands on his desk. Like the know-it-all child at the front of a classroom. Esme was meeting Manning''s eyes, Sasha was studying the satellite reading behind him. Dom was standing in a far corner, shadows obscuring his face. This case seemed to have hit him somewhere vulnerable, and Neil hoped Void Dancer was dealt with soon, for his sake.


    "Their hopper climbed up into low Lunar orbit and outside the satellites'' range - becoming indeterminable among other traffic. What we do know is this first attack was at 5:34, and she was back down within Plato at Kodes HQ for 6:11-"


    "What do we have on the meteorite?" Esme interrupted.


    If he was annoyed, he didn''t show it. "The professor at the University says it''s one of the most boring samples that''s fallen... we''re not pursuing it further." Esme leant back and crossed her arms. "So, she must have landed at some point between those times, but from the logs at the docks, it''s clear she used an unlicensed airlock." Manning continued.


    The unlicensed airlocks were a classic problem for the police. During Plato''s construction, teams had often stuck a small but functional airlock closer to where they were working for the sake of convenience. With no centralised government at that point, it meant that Plato now had dozens of off-the-record airlocks dotting its perimeter. Ideal for illegitimacy.


    "I''m assembling a force from this and other law enforcement squads." Manning said. "Dom?" Dom''s head shot up. "I''m giving you the lead on this force, keep everyone in line and I want daily updates."


    "Understood." Was all Dom said. Neil couldn''t resist looking at Vince. His glare was sharp with boyish annoyance.


    Manning kept talking, but Neil had heard everything he needed to. The rules of the game hadn''t changed, but the optimal strategy may have. Sinking back into his computer, he was positive he was only one clever idea away from cracking the source of the uploads.


    His focus was deep, and he worked for hours. Each time he looked up, fewer of his squadmates remained. Dom had left first, then the twins together. Neil checked the time and the clock had marched a few hours past midnight. Vince was still here though, probably making some kind of statement. Neil noticed as Manning approached him.


    Once, many years ago. Neil had gone to visit his mother in prison. On this particular visit, with thick reinforced glass separating them, the microphones and speakers connecting them had been broken. Not wanting to waste the precious time they had to see each other, they''d enthusiastically mouthed their words and communicated with rudimentary sign language. The next visit, the microphones were working, but they still chose to communicate in their own strange way. A personal game, restricted to only those two players. It was one of the fondest memories Neil had, shared with only his closest friends.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    And thus Vince and Alexander didn''t know he could read lips.


    "You shouldn''t be jealous." Manning said, almost whispered.


    "About what?" Vince said.


    "I know you wanted lead on this investigation, and it''s not like I don''t believe you deserve it. Quite the opposite. I want to keep you close."


    "Okay..."


    "Keep this between us, but our intelligence has reason to believe that Void Dancer is working with inside knowledge from either military or police. I want you as my personal eyes and ears within this force, understood?"


    "Yes sir."


    "Now go get some sleep." Without delay, Vince packed away his things and hurried out of the station. Then Manning approached Neil. "You should get some sleep, tomorrow''s gonna be a long day."


    "I''d rather not." Was all Neil said, and hoped it was enough. Manning''s brow furrowed for a second and then relaxed.


    "Okay then, but I''m staying too and I won''t be quiet. I''ve got to make a few calls."


    Fine by me. And then the focus was back. Minutes turned to hours and 100 lines of information danced across his screen. Somewhere within them had to be the way forward, the optimal move. He was in a trance of problem solving that he hadn''t felt in a long time, the energy was intoxicating. ''Everything in life is a game, and I play to win.''


    He didn''t know how long the trance had lasted, but it was shattered when Manning came charging towards his desk.


    "There''s been a third attack. A nightclub, Kry, in Red." Neil just sat still for a moment. Adjusting to reality after the trance. "Come on!" Neil considered protesting, but the unavoidable ''that''s an order'' was already on his face. He relented and rose from his computer.


    Within seconds, He and Manning had strode out of the station and into an ant just down the street. Manning entered the destination and then his special credentials to get them there faster.


    "If this place is in Red, how close is the President?" Neil asked.


    "Her household guards say she''s safe, I''ve ordered an extra team there just in case."


    The ant accelerated forcefully and soon enough the blue hue of the interior progressed to a darker indigo. The military man looked serious, and for the first time today Neil found himself genuinely concerned. Was Plato actually in danger? Was Luna as a whole under threat? Just what were the stakes of this game?


    The indigo looped back around the spectrum and resolved to a deep crimson. As they neared Kry, the ant passed a group of people fleeing in the opposite direction, then another, then two more. At last the ant stopped as forcefully as it had started, and Neil was nearly thrown from his seat. Manning forced the doors open and Neil was close behind him. People could still be seen running at the ends of the street, but immediately outside the building was lifeless - an unsettling quiet. The lights from within flashed and ran through the rainbow. Illuminating the small front entrance against the otherwise abandoned street. The two men darted inside.


    There was no music. That''s what Neil noticed first, the subversion of the expectation. The entrance led directly to a wide and tall hallway, with two bars on each side. They too were abandoned, half¨Cfilled and spilled cups littering the counters. They moved further inwards, taking extra effort to walk with the strengthened Grip lining the floor. The hallway led to the main dancefloor, where three bodies were scattered. With the dark and constantly changing lights, It was hard to tell whether they were moving or how much they''d bled.


    A staircase led from the main dance floor to another, next to it a sign read: ''Warning! Grip-free dancefloor! Only for the experienced!'' But a gate was closing the staircase off.


    Manning rushed over to one of the bodies, Neil took out his handheld. In the same moment, one of the speakers crackled to life, and an ancient song began to murmur in the otherwise silent building.


    ~''We get it almost every night, when that Moon is big and bright. It''s a supernatural delight, everybody''s dancing in the moonlight''~


    Neil tapped at his handheld, trying to get access to the building''s security cameras. Then, he saw it. The next move. An opening in the game.


    "Aha!"


    "What is it?"


    "On the security camera''s network, there''s somebody else trying to get access. It must be them. Tryna'' get their next highlight video. I can track ''em from this, and get a location on the source of the uploads!"


    "Oh." Was all Manning said.


    ~''Everybody here is out of sight, they don''t bark and they don''t bite. They keep things loose, they keep ''em tight. Everybody was dancing in the moonlight''~


    Neil met Manning''s eyes after the strange reaction, but he was looking through him. When his gaze didn''t change, a pit of dread began to open in Neil''s stomach. He twisted his feet free of the Grip and slowly turned around.


    Then he saw her.


    Almost invisible against the surrounding darkness, she stood unarmed and statuesque. Neil felt fear like he never had before. Fight and flight screamed in one cacophony, and adrenaline shot through his entire body. He could feel his coursing blood hitting abrupt walls at his extremities.


    And yet she did nothing. Only the morphing and spinning lights creating the illusion of movement. Then, without any apparent provocation, her head twitched, switching her object of focus. It was a small and instantaneous action that reminded Neil of a bird.


    He followed her adjusted gaze and turned back to Alexander Manning. He was in silhouette, the tails of his trench coat fell delicately in the low gravity - as he''d just drawn his gun. His aim centred on Neil''s head.


    His mind was thrown into chaos. Only one despairing thought coalesced before the end: I''m not even playing this game.


    "I am sorry Neil." Alexander said, and then fired.


    The Grip prevented his corpse from falling, and instead suspended it leaning back awkwardly. His arms fell vertical, and a lazy stream of blood led from the back of his head to a thick pool on the floor. As the final chorus echoed:


    ''Dancin'' in the Moonlight! Everybody''s feeling warm and bright, It''s such a fine and natural sight! Everybody''s dancin'' in the moonlight!''

 2.1 (Dominic)

    He hadn¡¯t realised. Not properly, not yet. Neil is dead. The information had come from his eyes and ears, travelled to perhaps the surface of his brain. But it hadn¡¯t sunk in. It was the small limbo between touching something hot and pulling your hand away. The pain hadn¡¯t been computed yet. At some point, some day, it would.


    Dom had no idea what would happen on that day.


    Kry was swarming with people in uniform. Sasha, Esme and Vince were somewhere, with a dozen other cops milling around along with a few military boys. Alexander Manning had been carted off to hospital a while ago, the corpses however, were processed with less urgency.


    They¡¯d brought Neil out in a black zipped-up bag. Dom and the twins had followed the stretcher out as he was wheeled away. Then they stood just outside the entrance as he was carried out of view. Dom was still outside now, his watch counting pretend time said it was 4:23 am, but the ¡®sky¡¯ felt more like noon. People filtered in and out of the nightclub, with stern faces and awkward gait. An occasional flash of light filled the darkness, some from official police photographers, but most from the growing army of press arguing with the walls of officers either side of the street.


    An eruption of flashes came from behind him, and he didn¡¯t bother to look at what had stirred them up, until a voice called to him from their direction.


    ¡°Dominic.¡±


    He turned, and saw President Cast approaching him.


    ¡°Madame President.¡± They had met a few times before, but only in the early days. It had been years since they¡¯d spoken face to face. He was quite surprised she even remembered his name.


    ¡°I have to board a shuttle for Earth in a few minutes, but I wanted a summary before I left. From you.¡± She said, her face flat and unemotional.


    Dom¡¯s eyes strained against the storm of flashes breaking behind her. The border dispute between the frenzied press and the police was teetering on violence.


    ¡°Let¡¯s step inside.¡± Dom said, gesturing to the entrance.


    As they walked, people stood aside and adopted formality as they noticed who she was. Dom felt a ghost of anxiety, as if he should feel nervous about talking to somebody so important. But the worry was lost in the limbo, diluted in the pre-pain.


    Just inside the entrance a small table had been set up, there were a few evidence bags and some tablets strewn across it. She tapped a screen and a photo of one of the victims at the scene appeared.


    ¡°Three casualties were found at the scene.¡± Dom began. ¡°Two have been pronounced dead, the other was rushed to hospital and is currently stable.¡± The president turned away from the table and met his eyes. ¡°Two officers arrived before backup converged, Alexander Manning was one of them. They were seemingly attacked soon after arrival¡­ one died but Manning was only injured, the hospital believes he will survive.¡±


    ¡°I hear the other officer was a friend of yours.¡± She said, her face holding a stern sadness which was incredibly well rehearsed if it wasn¡¯t genuine. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡±


    ¡°Thank you ma''am.¡±


    She looked past him to the animated crime scene of the dancefloor behind him. Her jaw was clenched and she seemed on the verge of breaking composure.


    ¡°So she¡¯s killed 12 people in less than 24 hours¡­¡± She said.


    ¡°14.¡± Dom grumbled. Her eyes snapped back to his. ¡°There were two Kodes gang members who were killed in a vacuum pick-up. It probably wasn¡¯t her personally but almost certainly on her orders.¡±


    ¡°Fuck.¡± She whispered in a quick syllable. She turned back to the table and swiped the tablet. Another photo of the crime scene was revealed. Then another. She kept swiping until one stopped her, she flinched and her hand shot backwards from the screen. The photo was of one of the victims, a youngish red haired woman. She had a small red birthmark below her left eye that resembled a teardrop.


    Right. Dom thought. Kry was frequented by politicians, she might be staring at a dead friend. He studied her face, and her composure was on an even thinner knife¡¯s edge.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ma¡¯am, were you familiar?¡±


    ¡°I only met her today.¡± She muttered in a weak voice. Her gaze was soft but unblinking, staring down at the photo.


    She swallowed. Then turned back to Dom, professionalism washed over her body from the face down and the returned authority sparked some tension within him.


    ¡°I want her dead or captured within the week, do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±


    She reached deep into a pocket and brought out a blank handheld. ¡°You have every privilege.¡± She said as she handed it to him. He looked down at the blank rectangle and locked eyes with himself in the glass, a short connecting wire jutted from the main port. He understood what privileges meant.


    ¡°Thank you ma¡¯am.¡± Was all he said, but he was speaking to the back of her head. As she walked away, he reached down and turned off the tablet. The corpse dissolved to black, but an illusory afterimage lingered for a split second against the void. He pocketed the new handheld and brought out his own. He sent a summons to the station to the whole team, figuring they may as well get started now. Nobody was going back to sleep after this.


    He had started to leave when something rumbled on the table next to him. Still sealed in the evidence bag, Neil¡¯s phone buzzed with the summons he had just sent out. Dom stared for a few seconds, then spun around and hurried out of Kry, trying to avoid thinking about how much that hurt.


    * *


    The four of them got back to the station at around the same time. Dom was standing in the middle of the room, swaying on his feet as he tried to find the right words to usher in some productivity. Vince was staring into space, Sasha took to hiding her mouth behind clasped hands. Esme was glaring angrily at Neil¡¯s empty desk. All four were completely silent.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I was approached by-¡± Dom started.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Esme screamed as she shot up from her desk. In the same movement she grabbed something glass from her table and hurled it against the wall. It shot through the air in a perfect straight line. The weak gravity not having enough time to drag its path into an arc. It shattered into a hundred flecks of debris against the concrete - spreading in a roughly star shaped pattern.


    She stormed from her desk to the door, her sister was up just behind her. She caught up to her and pulled her back by the shoulder, then placed herself between Esme and the door.


    ¡°Hey. Hey. Look at me, look at me, look at me! Just breathe okay, breathe.¡±


    The rest of the consolation was too quiet for Dom to make out. He watched as the final shards of glass came to rest on the carpet, as the station again fell to silence, except for Sasha¡¯s whispers and Esme¡¯s muffled sobs. He sympathised, of course, but couldn¡¯t stop himself wincing. Catharsis was in many ways inevitable, the human body and mind wasn¡¯t built to maintain high emotion for a sustained period of time. It was just that every time he gave into catharsis himself, it felt like losing.


    ¡°This is a break of routine.¡± Vince said softly, Dom raised his head. ¡°This attack is different from the others.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no upload.¡± Dom had missed that. And the significance of the absence only grew as he thought about it more.


    ¡°What else?¡± Dom asked.


    ¡°I spoke to the same tech guys that were at Kodes HQ, this time all of their security footage was wiped, nothing for us to find¡­ Also, before the wipe, their system was hacked by two separate devices.¡±


    There was the thread to pull on, the lapse in routine. If only Neil was here.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Dom said. ¡°Neil would have tried to access their system the moment he arrived. I reckon the answers to this little mystery are on his handheld, or maybe just more questions.¡± Dom reached into his pocket and produced the blank handheld the president had given him. He turned around to look at the twins. Esme had her head down on her sister¡¯s shoulder, but Sasha was paying attention.


    Dom spoke to the room. ¡°The president gave me this. It¡¯s some backdoor shit that can give us access to any handheld. It seems like the way forward to me. It¡¯s just - does anyone object, morally¡­¡±


    Sasha pulled herself free from Esme and walked towards her desk, she pulled out a drawer and produced the evidence bag with Neil¡¯s handheld. At least someone had the presence of mind to bring it back to the station. Dom thought.


    ¡°Neil wouldn¡¯t have hesitated.¡± She said, unsealing the bag and handing the contents to Dom. He walked to his own desk and Sasha and Vince followed. He plugged the short wire into the main port of Neil¡¯s, connecting the two devices. After a few seconds both screens lit up to a dark grey, then small loading graphics spun in sync across the two displays. It looked promising for a few more seconds, then the spinning icons stuttered and vanished. The backdoor¡¯s screen went dark, then text appeared on Neil¡¯s. Dom couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    The text read: ¡®Greetings big brother! If you¡¯re in the market for a backdoor exploit that actually works, I¡¯d be happy to help. Actually wait, no I wouldn¡¯t. You can all go fuck yourselves :)¡¯


    ¡°Of course.¡± Sasha said, in a voice of love dosed in joy and sadness.


    In much smaller text near the bottom, Neil had written: ¡®On the off-chance someone has a legitimate reason for this attempted breach. Please enter my mother¡¯s name:¡¯ followed by a blinking underscore. When Dom tapped it, a keyboard appeared.


    ¡°Please enter my mother¡¯s name?¡± Vince said. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be hard to find.¡± He hurried over to his computer and started working at his keyboard.


    ¡°No.¡± Esme said, catching everyone off guard. She wiped her eyes and started walking over to the others. ¡°Remember? His mother was some cyber-criminal who got in trouble with the government. He told us how she died in prison.¡± She reached the desk and started tapping something onto the keyboard. ¡°He doesn¡¯t want her actual name, he wants her alias.¡±


    Esme entered: ¡®Morningstar¡¯ and hit enter. After a fraction of a second the text disappeared and they were met with Neil¡¯s desktop.


    ¡°Nice one Es.¡± Sasha said.


    Dom remembered now, at the conclusion of a particularly lengthy campaign of drinks: Neil, the twins and himself had got chatting. Neil had shared the story of his mother, and her crusade against an illegitimate government which eventually claimed her freedom - then her life. Neil adored his mother, and was always one to protect his own privacy. For them to know ¡®Morningstar¡¯, he must have trusted and respected them above all else. It was a revelation that should have brought happiness - but it only made Dom feel worse.


    On his desktop, several programmes were still running. Dom started flicking through them and eventually landed on something interesting. Neil¡¯s feats of programming were already quite incomprehensible to Dom at the best of times, but through the blur of syntax he thought he could make out the essentials. It looked like Neil had found another device trying to connect to Kry¡¯s network and had then initiated a hack on said network in order to get a location for the other device.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Sasha said, snatching the handheld away and unplugging it from the backdoor. She brought it over to her computer and started working. Furiously tapping at her own keyboard while darting her gaze between her own monitor and the mess of data from Neil¡¯s programme. Her sister soon joined her and leant over her shoulder at her work.


    ¡°Oh Neil, you are brilliant.¡± She said, ¡°He got a location.¡± Dom and Vince stood up in sync as Sasha spun her monitor around at them.


    ¡°He set up all of these programmes to run automatically, so they worked to find them even after he-¡± Sasha choked on her words. ¡°Anyway, he found their device on Kry¡¯s network then used that to grab a location on the two uploads¡­ but it¡¯s coming up as some barren spot out in vacuum.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where the privileges come in.¡± Dom said, tossing the backdoor handheld over to the twins. ¡°I think it also has classified military intel.¡± Esme caught it and plugged it into Sasha¡¯s machine, then spun the monitor back around.


    ¡°Yeah it does.¡± Sasha said, ¡°There¡¯s loads of jargon and security though, give me a couple minutes.¡±


    The minutes stretched and Sasha kept the whole room in suspense. Her sister got increasingly impatient, her grip on Sasha¡¯s shoulder getting tighter and tighter as the silence passed by. Sasha didn¡¯t waver though, she would not present anything until she was ready - everyone would have to wait.


    ¡°Okay.¡± She finally said, ¡°I think I¡¯ve got it¡­ that spot of nothing out in the dust is actually an old Chinese base, allegedly abandoned after the November Escalation.¡±


    ¡°Anyone else want to test that theory?¡± Esme said, pushing away from the desk and swiping up her things from her own desk.


    ¡°Affirmed. Let¡¯s move.¡± Dom said, as he and the twins started for the door.


    ¡°Woah, woah hang on.¡± Vince started, ¡°Just the four of us storming the castle? Shouldn¡¯t we call this in?¡± Dom stared blankly back at him, ¡°We should at least wait until Mr. Manning is out of the hospital, right?¡±


    The twins were already out the door, unbothered by Vince¡¯s protests.


    ¡°Look, you can call in all the backup you want, but I¡¯m not giving her another second to scurry out of reach, understand?¡± Dom said.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you-¡± His face flushed with a brief but powerful anger. ¡°Nevermind¡­ You¡¯re the boss anyway.¡± He rose from his desk and shuffled out of the room with his head low and jaw clenched.


    Dom followed him out the door. President Cast wants her captured and she¡¯ll get her today, he thought. No one else is dying.

 2.2 (Robyn)

    Rockets were notoriously undignified. Physics had presented the problem of the gravity-well, a pit of potential energy that one must escape in order to venture beyond the home planet. Humanity¡¯s response had been one of brute force, stacking together a tower of high explosives and setting it off in controlled carnage; defeating physics by unleashing chemistry.


    In the space age, rockets were launched from Earth every day. Dozens of brute force affronts against nature, roaring into the heavens and blazing across the sky. Robyn would never forget what it was like to leave Earth, the power of the engines beneath her, the force exerted on her body as the 500 ton monstrosity barreled higher and higher - faster and faster. In the battle between physics and chemistry, someone had forgotten about biology.


    In comparison, escaping Luna was child¡¯s play. As she blasted off towards Earth, the roar of the engines was there, the force and sense of speed were there - but it was hardly comparable. Luna tried not nearly as hard as Earth to keep its residents stuck to the surface. Soon, they were in orbit. Robyn loosened the straps of her seat and started drifting out of them.


    Pushing against the soft fabric she started floating towards a window. In this low orbit, the silver-grey expanse of Luna filled the entire view. From Earth, Luna would be in its third quarter, with only half of the surface in the light; for Plato, it was close to ¡®noon¡¯. Plato itself was just about visible from orbit, the crater certainly was, and the 7 domes of the city stood out against the small circle of dark-grey. Of course, it would be far more identifiable in a few days, when night fell across the crater and the colours shone amid the pitch-black.


    Robyn remained at the window as the shuttle continued to the far-side - the half of Luna that had remained a captivating mystery to humanity¡¯s imagination for thousands of years. It was a shame, really, that once we finally got a glimpse in the 20th Century, there was no climactic discovery at the end of the enigma. Just another hemisphere of grey, this one more heavily cratered than the familiar one.


    The craters did tell a story though, another word on mother nature¡¯s character. Humanity may have been thinking up creative ways to kill each other for centuries¡­ but they still hadn¡¯t matched The Universe¡¯s elegant idea: A very heavy rock, moving very fast. Luna itself was a testament to this philosophy: Her fiery birth being the product of a young, unstable Earth smashing into another doomed protoplanet. The incomprehensibly huge storm of debris eventually coalescing into the dusty pearl that now silently orbits its master.


    It was fitting. Robyn thought. What is Luna? If not detritus reformed.


    A soft voice announced through a speaker that the passengers should strap themselves back in, as the burn for Earth was about to begin. Robyn was flying in what she supposed was the analogue of a private jet. There were 6 seats in her compartment but she had the whole space to herself, a handful of staff were accompanying her to Limina, but they were seated elsewhere. She placed a palm against the window and pushed against it to begin drifting backwards. The empty seats passed by her as she floated back to her seat, they were hefty and wide - designed to cushion passengers against the strong g force, with three interlacing sets of flexible straps. Eventually she bumped against her seat and started re-securing herself.


    There were a few tense minutes as the ship completed the last of its orbit, and then a countdown until the escape burn began. At zero, the engines roared to life and Robyn was pushed into the padding. As their speed climbed and climbed, she pictured the image of Luna out of the window, shrinking with each passing moment - Plato becoming less and less identifiable. It felt like she was abandoning her home.


    It would take two days for the ship to reach Earth. The small pocket of life would streak through the big empty at speeds beyond where human comprehension ended, but the journey itself was quite devoid of entertainment. Most people would bring a book or a backlog of their favourite albums, but Robyn liked to face it unaided. She was sprinting towards Earth, her erstwhile home and current political foe. She would face a congregation of the most powerful people on the planet and not any among them could be considered an ally. It was, in every sense, a trap. She had a lot to think about¡­


    * *


    Once upon a time, there was planet Earth, and it enjoyed a century or so of brilliance. It was that bit with the science and the martyrs and the democracy. That small moment where things were getting better for everyone, when the future was almost exciting. It was that part when the world was kind.


    Of course, such a section of human history didn¡¯t actually exist, but it was hard not to be overly-positive through the rose-tint. It all didn¡¯t seem so bad now, looking back from after it had ended.


    When it did end, it was slow - undignified and anticlimactic. Democracy melted like an ice cube in tepid water, stirred by the unseen hands of the corporate elite. The glory of that century ended as the number of billion dollar companies shrank, as they devoured and absorbed each other like microbes on an agar plate, leaving only a resilient few. The promise of freedom and justice disintegrated when the politicians vanished from the parliaments, replaced by businessmen and attractive-faced puppets.


    With the peak crest, planet Earth found herself, for perhaps the first time in millenia, heading downhill. So when the fuse on the stubborn and exhausting time-bomb of climate ran through, and it was not a dud, the downward slope pitched into a nosedive. When the comforts of the first-world vanished in an instant, and the violence erupted, who would rise and seize control after the dust settled? But the very men whose greed had caused the crisis in the first place.


    When peace came, the buildings across the planet where the rituals of democracy had been held were filled again, but they were haunted. Filled with marketable impostors with powerful friends and exquisite media training. The electorate had never been so powerless - the men at the top, were not the men at the top.


    It was the bit with the corruption and the erosion and the regression. When science ground to a halt and human rights vanished like a magic trick. That long moment when things were getting worse for almost everyone, when the future wasn¡¯t worth thinking about. It was that part when the world gave up.


    Eventually, they needed something big to fight over. Something to write propaganda about. So the superpowers, as they had in the Cold War, looked out into the night¡¯s sky¡­


    When one particular conglomerate sent out their new ships with grand plans of colonisation and new industrial frontiers. They thought little of the 15,000 desperate grunts they had ¡®hired¡¯ to actually build the thing. They were certainly surprised when the workers seized control of the project, claimed The Moon for themselves and successfully established ¡®Luna¡¯ without getting themselves killed.


    The surprise turned to worry as the scientists started leaving. When Earth¡¯s best minds, having endured years of begging for scraps of funding, chased after the exciting promise of a new frontier. An emerging nation state that pledged to respect their research and forge a new home for scientific discovery. Soon, Luna had a monopoly on IQ. The spark of democracy had proven itself genuine, and it would not lightly fade.


    An annoyance to the powers-that-be of Earth. No doubt, several plans were formulated to wipe every trace of the colonisers off of the rock; to crack open the habitats and leave them choking in the dust. But they never came to be, instead, they turned to their media - and now the illegitimate occupiers of Luna were no longer brave explorers, but troglodytic traitors. Selfish rule-breakers who had left their friends and families to die on a struggling Earth.


    But the colonisers stood firm and Luna grew; the first domes were erected and the population steadily grew to 100,000. When at last the essentials were in place and the time came for the first election, the people chose the voice that had inspired them to rise up and had instilled hope throughout the uncertain days of hunger and weeks-long darkness: Robyn Cast.


    Robyn¡¯s first 5-year term had been characterised by growth. Construction of Plato itself and other scientific and civilian projects on the Lunar surface had been the main effort of the population. 100,000 people as one, giving their time, effort and genius to the realisation of an absurd dream. When Robyn was re-elected, the passion and energy carried through, and further reaches of the Lunar waste were covered in the chromatic vivacity of human potential. All the while, the jealous marble-blue eye of Earth loomed in the cloudless sky, staring and unblinking.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The threat was incorporeal for the most part. There was the odd spy base or satellite, the occasional strongly worded speech or breakdown of diplomacy. But it wasn¡¯t until 2 years into Robyn¡¯s second term, when the animosity escalated into a frightening actualisation. It was last November, when mankind¡¯s first interplanetary feud would draw first blood.


    But Robyn didn¡¯t like thinking about that part of the story.


    * *


    The braking burn at Earth felt somehow harsher than the one providing escape from Luna. When at last the thunder of the engines cut out, and the invisible weight was lifted from her chest, Robyn took a few breaths to steady herself. The two day journey had been about as taxing as expected, Earth had been looming larger and larger with each hour, but now it was huge.


    The undeniably gorgeous cradle of civilisation dominated the view from the same window she had stood at two days prior. Long streaks of wisp-like clouds hung over the multi-hued blue of some immense swathe of ocean. The vast coastline of an unfamiliar landmass peeked out from the horizon, Robyn puzzled at it for a moment, then realised it was just South America, but ¡®upside-down¡¯.


    A door at one end of the compartment slid open with a mechanical hiss, and the pilot took a Grip-adhered step into the room.


    ¡°Welcome back to Earth Madam President.¡± She said with a soft smile, ¡°We will be making a rendezvous with Limina in one hour.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Robyn replied, and the pilot slipped away again back to her post.


    Her eyes drifted back to the silent giant outside the window. She had prepared as much as she could for the summit, now it was time to face it. Plato may be in need back home, but right now, her place was here - she had to defend Luna on this front. Regardless, she was trying to avoid thinking about the situation she had left behind as much as possible. Partially because she couldn¡¯t do much from here anyway, but mostly because any update on Void Dancer conjured the image of Pen¡¯s corpse back into her mind. There¡¯ll be justice for her later¡­ This week, you must remain focussed on the summit.


    * *


    Limina was quite old, and technologically outdated by modern standards, but it was still visually striking. The spinning station resembled a wheel: six two-hundred metre long ¡®spokes¡¯ connected a circular band of spun-up walking space to a spherical hub in the centre. The outer plating consisted of highly reflective white panels, with spots of golden lights glimmering across the whole of the body. It was one of the first civilian stations, and still remained the largest. Nowadays, it was a luxury hotel for the ultra-rich, an ivory tower high enough to look down upon the whole world. The fact that the United Nations were convening in a place like this was such an explicit microcosm for the state of the World that it was almost sickly.


    The ship adjusted itself meticulously in its slow union with the station¡¯s docks. Limina¡¯s mighty pirouette became even more impressive as it loomed larger and larger in the final metres of the approach. At last, there was a soft thump as the ship and the station joined, and a few patient seconds passed before the pilot gave the all-clear.


    Robyn and her staff manoeuvred themselves weightlessly to the airlock. Once everyone was accounted for, a member of the flight crew worked at a wall panel and both doors opened. Outside was a large and busy space comprising Limina¡¯s main dock. The outer wall was lined with dozens of docking ports, small crowds of people hovered around the airlocks, some clambering out of their ships, some climbing in. Strips of black Grip led from the outer wall and joined at a large, central front desk, where further crowds were idling. The walls and floor were a decadent, marble-esque off-white, with streaks of bronze and silver. Between the strips of Grip, utterly useless and purely decorative pillars connected the floor to the ceiling. Up high in the centre, above the front desk, an elaborate chandelier hung in the air - suspended by nothing.


    Just outside their airlock three suited men stood with their arms behind their backs, one of them stepped forwards with a serious smile.


    ¡°Welcome to Limina Madam President, if you would follow us down to the ring we will show you to your rooms.¡±


    Robyn stepped forward first, peeling her foot from the Grip of the airlock and planting it down onto the Grip of the docks. It felt off, the material was too firm and wasn¡¯t adhesive  enough¡­ Earth had never been able to make Grip like Luna did. She traced the black strip as she followed behind the men, her staff just behind her. Their path led them to one of many elevators spaced out across an adjacent wall. As they approached, several members of the crowds took notice; they were mainly professional-looking businessmen or politicians, wearing an expression somewhere between distrust and false indifference.


    ¡°Take care here.¡± One of the men said, as they stepped over the thin threshold that separated the stationary hub from the slowly rotating carousel of elevators. The carousel comprised the wall of the hub opposite the airlocks. Only a small arc of the full circular system of elevators was accessible at any given time, with new doors rotating in and out of view constantly. After a guest stepped onto the carousel, they had about a minute to enter an elevator before they¡¯d be forced off the carousel at the far wall. It was, as the name suggested, like boarding a theme park ride, and was a somehow constant obstacle for the hotel¡¯s more senior guests.


    The party was led briskly into a large elevator. Once they had all shuffled inside, one of the men lent forward and pressed a button on the controls, beginning the descent. Robyn tried to picture it in her mind: the elevator would first rotate itself, shifting 90 degrees in pitch, so that the descent shaft that ran along Limina¡¯s spokes was at her feet. Then they would descend from the weightless hub to the spinning ring, the artificial gravity strengthening with each moment.


    The initial rotation was slow, still in zero gravity, the Grip and the passengers¡¯ stomach muscles were all that was needed to keep everyone in place. Then the descent began. Immediately the spin was obvious, a strange and invisible hand pushing her softly towards the ground. Just a few seconds later, the hand was twice as strong, a few more moments passed, and the hand was as strong as it was on Luna. As the strength increased past the familiar, the weight of her own body progressed from discomfort to pain.


    In the bizarre dance of physics, there was also the nauseating inclusion of coriolis¡­ the invisible hand didn¡¯t even have the courtesy to act straight down, but instead at an awkward angle - pushing the elevator¡¯s occupants into an irregular lean.


    At three quarters of the way down, her knees started to protest at the suddenly increased load; shortly after her back joined the chorus of complaint. She found herself willing for the descent to end. Whenever the hand stopped, would be its strength for the days to come, she wasn¡¯t sure she could endure it if it got much stronger. One of the suited men peered over his shoulder at the Lunars behind him, an almost-smile was upon his lips.


    All of a sudden, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open with a chime. Her staff shifted uncomfortably behind her under the hand¡¯s force, but she remained still.


    ¡°Right this way.¡± He said, and the party followed after him.


    They stepped out into another extravagant display, some kind of foyer. A real tree stood in the centre, surrounded by an assortment of seating and tables. Two huge windows spanned opposite walls, out of one, the small, pale circle of Luna stood out against the black. Out of the other, the colossal visage of Earth spread across half of the view. Robyn lent to the ear of one of her staff.


    ¡°Follow them to the rooms, then find me here.¡±


    ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±


    She stepped away from the group and started for the window, the planet having already swept a small distance across the glass in the station¡¯s swift rotation. The few dozen steps of the journey were tricky. By all physical laws, the centripetal acceleration shouldn¡¯t feel any different from Earth¡¯s gravity, but it was still¡­ off. Once she reached the window, it was hard to deny the view as anything less than breathtaking. The grandiosity and the inhuman power. The eternal strength and the cosmic fragility. The everything and the nothing. It was difficult to reconcile whether one should feel small in comparison, or huge in the apparent superiority of the view from high above.


    ¡°Mrs. Cast!¡± A voice called from the other end of the window. When she turned, she saw Eddie Marshall approaching her. He was a celebrity, billionaire, and President of the United States of America. He had obscene influence in a dozen fields, and majority ownership in every media conglomerate in the Western Hemisphere - he knew that she wasn¡¯t married.


    ¡°Mr. President.¡± Robyn replied, walking to meet him in the middle and accepting his outstretched hand.


    ¡°How was the journey?¡±


    ¡°Pleasant, thank you.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry about the spin,¡± he said with a frown, ¡°I did ask about slowing it down but they said it would wreak havoc on the plumbing.¡±


    Robyn forced a smile. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, I spent my childhood running, jumping and falling under the same gravity as you. It¡¯s familiar.¡±


    ¡°Well if there¡¯s anything we can do please-¡±


    ¡°And how was your journey?¡± She interrupted.


    He fiddled with his expensive watch before he spoke. ¡°Getting to orbit still scares the shit out of me.¡± He said, chuckling. ¡°But I¡¯m glad everyone¡¯s made the effort. I¡¯m optimistic about the summit¡­ which should be on track to start tomorrow as planned.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± She said, before abruptly spinning on her heel and moving to leave.


    ¡°Are you planning on visiting the surface before you return to The Moon?¡± He continued, unbothered by her attempt at escape. She turned back around to face him, the continental United States had lumbered into view behind him.


    ¡°No¡­ I don''t think I¡¯ll have the time.¡±


    ¡°That is a shame¡­ It would be nice to get some fresh air.¡±


    She didn¡¯t bother with the smile this time. ¡°I¡¯m breathing just fine here.¡± She said, before turning her back on his grinning face.