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Prologue

Since the beginning of time, the beings known only as "the Ancients" patrolled the universe. Where they came from--no one knew. How many were their numbers--also a mystery. What was their purpose?

Ah, on that question, some could venture a guess.

Some called them angels, backed by divine intervention. Others took a dim view of the Ancients' activities, cursing their unwelcome interference. Meddlers, mediators, spawns of the devil; the list was as endless as the boundaries of space.

The Ancients cared not for the accolades, nor the opprobrium of other lifeforms. They had a job to do, and one must admit, they did it well.

* * *

Once again, She entered the beloved star system of Sol on a mission. Only an infinitesimal fraction of time had passed since She and her beloved partner had visited Earth with the purpose of saving the Milky Way Galaxy. A successful outcome had blessed them all, however a new threat now brought danger much closer to home. Earth itself was in jeopardy.

As was her way, She traveled ahead of her companion, eager to reach the dazzling beauty of the solar system's third planet. But the sight of a monumentally huge slab of rock floating aimlessly in space stopped her progress, which allowed her mate to catch up with her.

"What troubles you, my own one?" He reached out with his bodiless form to offer her an intangible embrace. "Is it this asteroid? Do you sense something wrong with Vesta?"

In the vast distance of space between Mars and giant Jupiter, the asteroid Vesta was the one of the largest remaining fragments of the former fifth planet. Long ago, too long to mention, a battle had been fought over this star system. She and He had warred with the vicious Sarthox, an equally prehistoric race of beings. The Ancients had won, but at a cost. Without conceding defeat, the Sarthox caused this world to explode, which spewed fragments of its newly-born glory out into the solar system and beyond. All that remained were barren bodies of rock and dust littering the celestial skies to create this asteroid belt. Then the Sarthox retreated, never to return until...now.

The time for reflection had past. She gathered up her immense volume and proceeded to the third planet from Sol. "It is not Vesta, per se, that agitates me. Evidence of the Sarthox's ruthless destruction is right before us, and now they imperil our dear Earth--our very first venture as a unit."

Arriving at her destination, She paused above the outer edges of the living planet's atmosphere. "This jeweled orb is so dear to me. I cannot bear to think...." She stopped. If She had eyes, She would have cried.

He coalesced his molecules next to hers, then mingled them together, in an attempt to soothe her. "My own one."

A gentle buzz vibrated through her, comforting and energizing. She readied herself for the task ahead. "Stay here. I have an idea."

Down She went, through the rich, murky atmosphere layering her favorite world. Heavier and heavier She grew with Earth's gravity. She did not stop until She reached land. For a moment, She absorbed the sights and smells of Humanity here on the home world. She stretched her infinitesimal mass out to analyze the myriad of sensations bombarding the airwaves. What She needed, who She needed was....

Here! She gazed down at a small, one-story red brick building. Through the large glass window, She observed a number of very young Humans, all females except for two males. The room in which they stood was brilliant with light, which bounced off mirrors lining three of the walls. One adult rose above these immature Humans, a young woman dressed in white tights and a long, baggy top. She was a teacher, instructing these children to perform some kind of action.

"Let's try again," the woman's vocal chords sounded. "Stretch up tall, heels together and toes apart. Now hold your arms in a soft circle in front of you as if you were hugging a very large ball." The female nodded and smiled approval at her pupils. "Look in the mirror so you can see your posture. This is the first position of ballet, called première."

Perfect. This young woman was the perfect choice. She could not contain her enthusiasm so She surrounded the teacher with waves of energy from her ethereal form.

A puzzled frown formed on the female's face. She did not want to alarm the young woman, so She quickly broke contact, and prepared to return to the freedom of space.

But wait. There was something here. Something not right. An icy tendril of death reached out from one of the four corners of the studio. Unprepared for this contact with evil, She shivered.

We have been waiting for you, an eerie voice hissed into every molecule She possessed. The Games begin. Prepare for battle.

She spiraled upward faster and faster to escape the Sarthox presence. Finding her partner, She relayed the dreadful news. "It has begun."

He compressed his celestial matter to encircle her form. "I feared as much. Come, we must decide what additional assistance we can provide."

With much regret, She and He left the solar system to journey out to the center of the galaxy.

-PART ONE-

Morituri te salutamus.

We who are about to die salute you.

A gladiator's cry to the Roman populace before facing death in the arena.

Chapter One

Well, that was really weird. Blade Sinclair staggered back until her hip hit the wooden rail, or barre, attached to the studio wall. Out of the blue, the strangest feeling had come over her. For a second, she'd felt as if she'd been completely surrounded by...love?

Ten pairs of wide eyes watched her, devouring her every move, so she steadied her nerves and continued the ballet lesson. "Who remembers the second position or seconde?"

A petite girl, barely higher than the barre, raised her hand. "Feet apart, arms out, Auntie Blade." She gracefully demonstrated the proper form.

"That's right, Naomi. Now everyone get into second position."

As the children scrambled to stand with their feet turned out and arms extended to shoulder level, Blade circled around them. "Stretch your legs," she commented to one pupil. "No stiff hands," she corrected another.

She was brand new as their teacher, barely a month under her belt. All in all, it was an enjoyable experience, and they, in turn idolized her as only four or five-year-olds could. They even called her "Auntie" although just one of the students actually had a right to. Little CeCe, a minx of a child, with two bobbing pigtails instead of the required bun, wanted to be a ballerina like her aunt.

Blade smiled. Although the classical dance form had been around for about a thousand years, little had changed during the millennium. One needed discipline, determination, and whole-hearted dedication to become a professional ballet dancer in 2458. The same had applied to the ballerinas of yesteryear. One also had to follow the rules. CeCe, with her dangly pigtails and bright leotard complete with its own fluffy tutu, often disregarded rules. She had her own mind about things, even at the tender age of four.

Leading her students in a basic bending movement, or demi-plié, Blade fought to control the flare of pain in her right knee...and the memories it always dredged up. Once upon a time she had danced the part of Aurora, in French choreographer Marius Petipa's timeless ballet, 'The Sleeping Beauty.' It was a role that every ballerina aspired to, a role that arguably could be considered the pinnacle of a classical ballerina's career.

The role of Aurora could be hers no longer. An incorrect landing from a leap across a Moscow stage had torn a ligament in her knee.

To Blade's credit, she had fallen gracefully and her partner reacted quickly by picking her up. She even managed to continue dancing until the end of the performance. But by then the pain was excruciating. No amount of ice water or physical therapy helped. In the end, she had to have surgery, and therefore was sidelined from the rest of 'The Sleeping Beauty' production. The damage had been far-reaching--to her reputation and to her knee.

Blade automatically checked her posture in the mirror and smoothed a stray hair back into her dark, tight bun. Her career as prima ballerina was over. She was washed up at age twenty-five.

Forty-five minutes of class time never seemed like enough, and soon it was over. But perhaps it was for the best that the lesson was short for the attention span of young ones was understandably brief. Before the children dashed off to their waiting parents, they all performed the formal bow or curtsy of good-bye, in ballet called révérence.

"Don't forget to practice your steps," Blade called out to them. "See you next week."

The studio door closed leaving her and CeCe alone.

"I'm hungry," CeCe announced. "I'm gonna have a big burger and fries." She wandered over to the play area in the entryway and began making pretend dinner in the toy kitchen set. "Want me t'make you one, Auntie Blade?"

"No, thank you, honey. Even pretend burger and fries have too many calories!"

The little girl was used to her aunt's Spartan diet, so she nodded and occupied herself with plastic cooking utensils while she waited for Blade to take her home, as was their usual routine.

Blade removed her overly large top to reveal the leotard underneath, then returned to the studio to stretch and practice. Carefully lifting her right leg onto the barre, she sighed. Even though her knee injury had ended her career, she still had to go through her moves everyday. Joints that were unused would stiffen up, and if she ever danced again, she'd risk further injury.

Dance again? She shrugged at her foolishness. Well, she could dream, couldn't she?

She grit her teeth against the pain, and after warming up, she slowly slid across the floor, counting beats in time with the background music. Deeply engrossed in her training session, time passed quickly, but she was roused from her trance by the unexpected sound of voices traveling in from the entryway. Not just CeCe's high, squeaky tone filtered in, but a deep, cultured one as well.

Who was out there? Worry propelled Blade's feet to the anteroom. "Hello?"

She latched her gaze onto a distinguished older gentleman with perfectly coiffured white and grey hair and matching trimmed beard. He was sitting on a tiny yellow chair and held a cup of make-believe tea in hand, all the while talking earnestly to CeCe. The artificial scent of hamburgers from the play kitchen was in the air, along with another scent. Something unrecognizable.

Blade raised her voice. "May I help you?"

The man's smile dazzled. "I am in hopes that I haven't disturbed your practice, Ms. Sinclair." He stood and made a courtly bow. "Plevake Va-Thor, at your service. My grandson, Fernando, has greatest honor of attending your most valued class."

"I like Fernando," CeCe piped up. "He tells funny jokes, doesn't he, Auntie Blade?"

"He certainly does." Blade grabbed her top and quickly put it on. She wasn't usually uncomfortable in her ballet clothes, but this man, with his sardonic eyebrows and glowing eyes, seemed to take too much pleasure in her barely clothed form. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Va-Thor. Fernando is a joy to have in the class. Would you like to hear about his progress?"

Before he had a chance to answer, the play kitchen's bell beeped, releasing the aroma of freshly baked bread. CeCe immediately forgot the adults and returned to her task of preparing dinner.

Mr. Va-Thor made a flowing gesture with his arm. "Perhaps we go inside to talk? It's not about Fernando that I unicoptered here."

"Certainly. CeCe, we'll be in my office if you need me." Blade led the way through the studio to her tiny cubbyhole. She had to admit she was intrigued. If he didn't want to talk about his grandson, then why was he here?

Entering the office area, she pulled out a folding chair for him, then sat behind her desk.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Va-Thor?"

He appeared equally at ease on this seat as he had in the miniature playset chair. With a manicured hand, he stroked his beard and gazed at her. Everything about him, from his flowery speech to the fine cut of his tailored linen suit bespoke a gentleman of refinement. However, for some reason, the short hairs on her neck stood at attention.

"You can do much for me, Ms. Sinclair. And I, in turn, can do much for you."

Blade smiled grimly. That was a line...or proposition she had heard many times, whether here in Hackensack, New Tri-Metropolis or Greater Paris, or even in the wilds of the African Serengeti. There was no need to respond. She would send this joker on his way--

"Would you like to dance again, Ms. Sinclair?"

Does the Earth revolve around the sun? She bit her lip to hide the sudden pain the man's words caused. "Of course." Her voice came out raspy, as if unused to speech.

"Do you know about upcoming Olympic Games?"

"Everyone knows about the Olympic Games." She stretched out her throbbing leg and sat back in her chair. Well over three thousand years had passed since the first of the Games were held in Olympia, Greece. That simple, ancient competition had evolved into a worldwide event bringing athletes together to promote peace and good will.

But then over three hundred years ago the Great Migration had taken place, dividing Humankind into two groups: those still on Mother Earth and the larger group that left to colonize the center of the Milky Way Galaxy. The latter group was also responsible for creating the Galactic Core Coalition, the GCC, an alliance between Humans and other lifeforms.

With the bulk of Humanity gone from its home, the drive to compete in an Olympic Game was lost--the flame of the fabled torch had flickered out...until now. In only one month, the "Galactic" Olympic Games would return, once more to be held on Earth.

Athletes from the four corners of the Milky Way would have the opportunity to win or lose on Earth's playing fields. This was big, big news, almost as big as when Earth was allowed to join the Galactic Core Coalition six years ago.

Mr. Va-Thor's steady gaze disturbed her. His eyes, a peculiar shade of violet, seemed to smolder with hypnotic intensity. "So you haven't heard of the new event that has just been added."

There were over one hundred athletic events. And perhaps even more that non-Humans competed in. Blade longingly eyed her empty studio through the doorway. Too bad her practice had been interrupted. "I guess not, Mr. Va-Thor. But what of it?"

"Air ballet, Ms. Sinclair. Singles and pairs." He raised his sardonic eyebrow. "Interested?"

The walls of her tiny office closed in on her, suffocating her. Her heart pounding, she rushed over to the open door to hold onto the doorframe while she concentrated on controlling her breathing. Pictures of floating on air while doing a grand jeté--a traveling leap across the floor--also floated before her eyes. It was the most graceful sight she'd ever imagined.

She quickly licked her lip, lusting after the opportunity to dance once again. "I-I've never heard of air ballet."

But all too soon, she came back down to the ground. "I have a knee injury."

He placed his fingertips together, forming a pyramid and rhythmically pressed them together to an internal beat. "True, my dear. However, the location for this event will be held on your satellite."

She shook her head. She must've been a little slow today. "My satellite?"

"Terra's satellite. Luna." His urbane voice held a note of disapproval.

Blade glanced over into the entryway to make sure CeCe was still safely playing, then she reseated herself to study this person. No one referred to the Moon as Luna. Nor did natives call Earth, Terra.

"Who are you?" she bluntly asked.

"May I call you Blade?"

This wasn't the time for social niceties. She skewed her lips. "Yes."

"My thanks." Mr. Va-Thor waved his hand. "It matters not where I'm from. My son, Jevake, competes in air ballet. He--"

She had to interrupt. "Is Jevake Fernando's father?" She knew full well he wasn't for when the child's mother, Valke, registered, she listed Donald as the father.

The man's beard seemed to vibrate with indignation. "My daughter Valke is the mother." He allowed the rebuke to hover in the air. "I continue. Jevake needs a partner. I have researched the best of available dancers and decided upon you, Blade, as our gladiator, as it were."

This was too much to take in. The temperature must've dropped in the room so she rubbed her hands together to get warm. "But why do you want me?"

As he shrugged, she heard a rustling sound. His crisp white shirt, evidently made with the stiff, shiny fabric of taffeta, crackled with his movements. Hundreds upon hundreds of costume changes had given Blade an eye and an ear for various textiles. Taffeta, for a man's garment, surely was odd.

"I have chosen, and Jevake respects my decision." He folded his arms against his chest as if to indicate that his decision was final. "With Luna's gravity one sixth that of Terra, surely you see that your injury will not impede you in the slightest. You needn't worry about paperwork or any other details. I have connections and will take care of everything. All you have to do is travel to Luna, and practice with Jevake."

Mr. Va-Thor leaned in closer to make his next point. "And win the gold."

His predatory smile gave her chills. "It isn't as easy as that, Mr. Va-Thor--"

"Plevake, please."

Plevake, Jevake,...she had a headache. She scooted back in her chair. "The Olympic Trials were just held,...Plevake. The competition is over. Team Earth is in place with the winning names on the Olympic roster, along with the alternates. I can't just step in at this late date. Even if I were ready, it's impossible."

Impossible, maybe, but it was a glorious fantasy. Imagine being able to dance again to the thunderous applause at the finale.

Plevake broke through her reverie. "Not impossible, my young Blade. I speak not for Team Terra, but for Team Sarthox. I am authorized official." He inclined his head. "Our little planet has of late joined Galactic Core Coalition--GCC--and we are most eager to give good accounting of ourselves at Games."

Again his smile sent shivers down her back.

Blade fiddled with her unadorned earlobe. She'd never heard of Sarthox as a colony of Earth...or of Xaspaar, Humankind's new home planet. Then again, there were probably hundreds of worlds she didn't know about--colonies upon colonies. Ever since the GCC opened its doors to Earth, millions if not billions of people, Humans and aliens, visited its sun-kissed shores. Which really took some getting used to, especially since Earth had been so isolated before.

Objection after objection reached her lips. "But obviously I'm not from your world. Surely that isn't allowed."

"A mere technicality."

"And, as you know, I'm not an amateur. Since I'm a professional, I'm ineligible--"

"It is of no import. I believe that particular rule changed back in Terra's twentieth century."

Hmmm. He wasn't buying her objections. "I'm not in good condition. Since my injury six months ago, I haven't been able to train as I should."

"Your abilities will return to you once you practice under Luna's lower gravitational pull." He rose to his feet and slowly paced in the tiny available floor space in front of her desk. "Team Sarthox will sponsor you, Blade, and take care of all your needs. When Games have concluded, you will bring home a gold medal for us, and we..." His grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. "We will have satisfaction of showing the galaxy just how formidable our little planet is."

This couldn't be happening, and yet it was. Plevake Va-Thor stood before her looking every inch a diplomat. He offered her not only the opportunity to dance again, but also to compete in the biggest event ever to be held on this world. But, not to play for the home team, so to speak. She'd be competing against her own countrymen.

However, as a colony world, Sarthox was still part of Team Humanity. It wasn't as if she would be on an alien team.

Damn. If she'd been fooling before about a headache, she wasn't fooling now.

He waited for her answer. By the downturn of his lips under his salt and pepper beard, she could tell he was annoyed that she wasn't doing a gigantic leap with joy at his news.

Well, now that's too, too bad for him, isn't' it? Blade stood and placed her hands on hips. "I'll have to think about it."

"Thinking is good, yes? Do research, also." He removed some papers from a pocket inside his jacket. "Here is information for you to review. And contract. Perhaps your brother will look this data over as well. Get his blessing, eh?"

So he knew about her brother, Ted, too? Plevake had certainly done his homework about her. But that aside, this man was taking a lot for granted. A whole lot. Not the least of which was that she would agree to be on his team, but that she would win a gold medal.

"There is one more thing, Blade. I must have your answer in my hands by Sol's zenith tomorrow."

"Noon?" Her voice raised an octave, betraying her surprise.

Plevake made a practiced bow. "We leave on the three o'clock shuttle to Luna Landing. I return here tomorrow. Until then." His footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor of the studio. He entered the anteroom, kept his good-byes to CeCe brief, and then slammed the outer door shut.

Blade spun into action. She planned to take his advice in a big way. Hurrying into her street clothes, she gathered up her niece and left to consult with her attorney brother.

* * *

"Blade, this is foolhardy. Much too risky."

Blade sighed. She and Ted'd had the same conversation going for at least two hours, first at his midtown office and now at his suburban house. She loved her brother and appreciated his legal expertise and advice, but seven years older or not, he didn't know what was best for her.

"I'm going. That's all there is to it. So what if we didn't find info on Va-Thor? Or on Sarthox? But his planet is listed as a participating GCC member, as are 332 other planets. Besides, representatives of Sarthox are competing in several sports, including air ballet. That's all I need to know."

She could be as stubborn as Ted. They both got that trait, along with nearly jet-black hair, from their dad.

Ted's wife, Willa, always played the peacemaker, and tonight's dinner was no different. She'd had lots of practice refereeing her husband and her sister-in-law during the six years of marriage. "More potatoes, anyone?" Although she was well aware that Blade didn't indulge in starches, she handed her a heavy bowl all the same. "There's nothing like comfort food when you're stressed out."

"Yummy comfort food, yummy comfort food," CeCe sing-songed as she ladled a lump of potatoes onto her plate. She gazed at her father, then heaped a helping of potatoes on his plate, too.

Ted smiled at his daughter, patted her on her head, then pointed an accusing finger at Blade. "What you need to know isn't in that contract. Like who are these people and why are they so fired up to have you on their team?"

It was a natural question. She didn't take offense. On the contrary, she knew all too well that there were many other ballet dancers with more ability. But how could she pass up this golden opportunity?

Bypassing the potatoes, Blade took a celery stalk to nibble on. If only she could defuse the situation so Ted wouldn't worry too much. He had his own family to think about: Willa, CeCe, and another little one on the way.

Blade took a conciliatory tone. "I'll be careful, Ted. Promise. Besides it won't be as if I'm alone on the Moon. Sure, most of the athletes, coaches, and officials will be housed at the Olympic Village in Greece for the earthbound games, but almost 5,000 of them will be camped out at Tychotown for the lower grav sports."

Ted harrumphed as only a lawyer could. "All that's true, Blade, but I particularly don't like the clause that refers to you as a representative of Terra--Earth, of course. What's that got to do with playing for the Sarthox team?"

"Don't know, brother mine, but I'll find out. And after all, this is contingent upon whether my knee decides to cooperate." Fingers crossed, toes crossed, and eyes crossed. "It could be a moot point."

"A moon point?" CeCe left her dessert untouched and scrambled out of her seat to run to Blade. "I wanna see the Man in the Moon! Can I come with you, Auntie Blade?"

Blade savored the child's hug for a moment, then set her aside. Nothing could be more insistent than a child's pleadings. "No, sweetie. It's not for certain that I'm going anyway." But that wasn't really true. She was going. By hook or by crook she would get her chance to dance again.

Ted must've seen Blade's determination for he backed down from his objections. "CeCe, help your mom clear the table, okay? Your aunt's got to get home now. She has a lot to do."

Blade stood on shaky feet. He was right. She'd have to pack, arrange for a replacement to take over her ballet classes, get a neighbor to feed her goldfish....

Her dinner threatened to make a re-appearance. Ted placed his arm around her waist, supported her as she said good-byes to Willa and CeCe, then escorted her to the front door. "I'll be at the studio tomorrow morning."

"No, it's fine, Ted. You don't have to--"

"I do have to. This way Va-Thor knows you aren't just a single woman without family." He gave her waist a squeeze. "I'll make a few tele-calls tonight. Cash in a few favors. I know a track and field coach assigned to the Tychotown group. I did some work for him a while back. Emanuel Benitez is his name. Quite a lively character. I'd feel better if I knew he was going to look in on you every now and then."

The whirl of engines signaled that her unicopter taxi arrived in the parking lot across the street.

Blade nodded and wiped away a sudden tear. The enormity of what she was planning was just starting to hit. "Sure, Ted. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. She struggled against violent winds created by the whirling unicopter blades, then entered the small cab. In less than one minute, the vehicle lifted high above the ground, leaving tiny houses behind. In less than one day, her life would drastically change as well. By this time tomorrow, instead of the light of the silvery Moon shining down on her, she would be bathed in the warm glow shining from Mother Earth.

Blade shivered. She hoped to God that she knew what she was doing.

* * *

Va-Thor found a secluded spot in a rundown alley near the Terran woman's studio. It was as good a place as any to wait until contact time on the morrow. First making sure no Human lifeforms might chance upon him, he cycled down into stato-rest. Next, he willed his exoskeleton to grow--to cover his entire body. If any Terrans did happen to wander down the alley, all they would see was a large greenish brown pod, fuzzy and cold to the touch, but nothing truly unusual to raise the red flag of alarm.

With relief, he reverted to his true form. Maintaining the soft outer skin of these Humans took a tremendous amount of energy. The Hoard had imparted this information about the skin to him, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter entirely.

A communication hiss from the Hoard tapped into his cerebral cortex so he concentrated to decipher it.

"Va-Thor, status on assignment." The Hoard's Project Squamata croaked out the message. "Progressing to next level?"

"All is well, Squamata," Va-Thor transmitted back to the Sarthox nest located in the Sol star system. "The Terran female chosen by the Ancients will agree to our terms momentarily. And if she does not agree, we will exploit her attachment to her young blood relative. The next level will be taken on the Terran satellite. I ready myself to train under the guise named Jevake."

"Excellent," the Squamata hissed in reply. "You are our best operative, and you are aware of what is at risk. The long-awaited Great Spawning is near at hand. This system is abundant in life-giving ammoniacum. The icy plains of Janus beckon us as our future breeding ground."

Although the Sarthox were ectothermic--regulating body temperature by exchanging heat with the surroundings--Va-Thor still shivered. The thought of spawning in cold as bitter as the black of space tightened his internal organs. Biological imperative was important, certainly. However freezing one's gonads off was quite another matter.

The Project Squamata allowed his enthusiasm to squirt. "The Hoard has prepared the battlefield, our other operatives are in place. By our noble plan, by our valiant actions, these puny lifeforms shall be destroyed, and as is our right, Sarthox will reign triumphant." Again came the hiss of excitement. "We travel this vast distance between galaxies not in vain. The Ancients shall taste the ignominy of defeat."

"Honor to the Hoard. Success to Sarthox." Va-Thor gave the standard ending salutation, then completed transmission.

The three bony crests atop his head wobbled with annoyance. Preparing the battlefield was all well and good. However he was the one who would be expending immense reserves of energy, not only maintaining a Human form, but also performing the complex movements in the air ballet competition.

Releasing a heavy blast of poisonous breath, Va-Thor closed his eye slits. May the Legendary Royal Squamata give him strength.

Chapter Two

The year 2458 was an important one for the Galactic Core Coalition--the GCC. In addition to the original fifteen life entities that populated over three billion worlds, a sixteenth had recently been added: the Sarthox. Not much was known about the Sarthox except that they were a relatively young group new to space and the galactic scene. Their star was a Class G sun located in Milky Way's Sextans sector, and they were strongly humanoid in appearance.

This information was in error on all three counts.

Admittance to the GCC usually involved years of careful study by members to ensure the new life entity would uphold the GCC motto of "Govern, Communicate, and Cooperate." Permission to join was granted early however, because of Humankind's intercession on behalf of the Sarthox. It was an unpopular move, for several member races claimed this preferential treatment was because of the Sarthox humanoid shape. Humankind had the distinct advantage of being the most prolific race, of organizing the GCC, and being one of the members of the governing triumvirate--the other two being Wn-Ganites and Kykanopians.

Lately, grumbles of discontent were heard through Xaspaar's great Council chamber. The loudest complaint overwhelmed the others: why should Humans on the Core's main world of Xaspaar be allowed to bend the rules? Not only had permission been given for Sarthox to join the GCC, but Humankind's home world of Terra had also gained admittance. Another irritation was the fact that the location of the upcoming Galactic Olympic Games had been abruptly changed from Kykanop, home of the newest triumvirate member, to Terra. The loss in expected revenue for Kykanop would be astronomical, and to its prestige, incalculable.

Resentment often burned deep, and it was a universal truth that for some, to have a grievance gave meaning to life. Kykanopians now had a new purpose of which Humans from Xaspaar were quite unaware.

* * *

Women. The bane of my existence.

In the Central Control on the GCC's main world of Xaspaar in Xaspaar City, Christopher Bainbridge stared at the Olympic Committee's complaint roster one more time, then shook his head. As expected, female bellyaches outnumbered male three to one. He cracked his knuckles, stretched back in his chair, and asked a rhetorical question. "Remind me again why I volunteered to head Luna's security team?"

"Mean that, you do not," Liisan, the other occupant at the table, wheezed in an admonishing tone. The Yeamonl showed her disapproval by extending her squat body as high as she could, which was only about ninety centimeters or thirty-five inches tall.

"Liisan, what are you talking about?" Then it dawned on him. Liisan and her race had telepathic abilities. She must've read his disparaging thoughts about women. And while she looked nothing like Humans, she was still a female. "Er, I apologize, my friend. I didn't mean any offense."

Standing,--it was impossible for her to sit--the Yeamonl waved one of her upper limbs. "Nothing, it is, Christopher. Those thoughts are yours. However, I could not help intercepting." Her rosy mouth lifted in a smile. "Hopes, I have, your thoughts will undergo a change."

"Maybe, but I'm not holding my breath."

Liisan responded by releasing her stored-up oxygen, then took in more air. "There. Breath I will hold for you."

A Yeamonl making a joke? Despite his somber mood, he laughed.

Busy staffers on this duty shift glanced up from their tasks located around Central Control to focus in on his work area. Lately, everyone's disposition tended to be serious. Laughter was an all too infrequent sound. While every member of the GCC had a stake in the upcoming Galactic Olympic Games, the responsibility for security sat squarely on the shoulders of the Human contingent, or more specifically on the security team based on Xaspaar.

Having the location of the Games on a remote planet and its satellite 30,000 light years away from the galactic core was a logistical nightmare. He'd been to Terra/Luna and back three times over the past two years to evaluate the terrain and set up unprecedented security measures that would protect the athletes, visitors, and Olympic venues. Soon he would depart for his fourth, and hopefully, final trip to that far-flung part of the galaxy, for the Games would begin very soon. He wouldn't get a good night's rest until this blasted event was over.

Sweeping back the overhang of hair out of his eyes, Christopher groaned. "I ask again, why did I volunteer to head Luna's security team?"

Liisan lightly caressed his cheek with the tip of her limb. "Enjoy the challenge, you do. Have an aptitude for surveillance details. And to prove yourself to JorVaal."

Damn. She was right. JorVaal 5 Lanquist, one of the three triumvirate leaders, was revered by all fifteen member races of the GCC, which meant billions upon billions of life entities. He was also a good friend.

Christopher smoothed his hand over his upper lip, still missing the feel of his bristly mustache. Actually, the member race count was now at sixteen, but there was something wrong about the Sarthox that he just couldn't put his finger on. Or maybe he didn't care for them because they didn't seem to play by the rules.

No matter. The Sarthox were members, and that was that. Most likely he was just out of sorts, having bypassed this duty shift's invigoration period--the daily break for food and copulation. The food he could grab once he finished with his tasks here at Central Control. As for the copulation, well, casual encounters didn't interest him anymore.

He glanced over at the Yeamonl and nodded. Again, Liisan was right. Christopher saw the Olympics as a way to redeem himself. Six years ago he had put personal matters over duty and had neglected to pass on important messages to the GCC Council. He also disappointed the mighty JorVaal by failing to reform Mirabelle Kingsley, who had engineered the abduction of JorVaal's wife, the gracious Sophia. Christopher had believed himself to be in love with the traitorous Mirabelle, although she, plainly, did not care for him. After she was captured, he had even taken on the responsibility of transforming her into a model citizen, but she resisted him at every turn. Lor, she preferred life in a penal colony than living with him on his home world of Deneb 4.

He smiled ruefully. So she got her wish and now resided on Draconis 12 while he coordinated security measures on the lifeless rock known as Luna. This time the stakes were even higher. He had better not fail again.

A tap on the shoulder caused him to turn around in his chair.

"Roche and Darvis reporting for duty, sir." The two security officers--one tall and the other stocky--made a snappy salute with an equally sappy smile. No doubt they both had enjoyed their invigoration period with the willing females of Xaspaar.

Christopher sighed. He could admit--to himself--that he envied his team's carnal good fortune.

Liisan shuffled away from the table. "Let you gentlemen get on with business, I will. Much to do, and time is limited. If our paths do not cross sooner, see you at the Games." She waved two limbs in farewell as she made her way toward the exit doors.

He signaled for his men to sit. "So, Roche, what's the status on Tycho building 402? Has the pressure leak been sealed?"

Lenny Roche, a fellow Denebian colonist who was as lean as he was tall, rubbed down his bushy mustache. "To tell you the truth, Chief, I, uh, I haven't checked communiqués from Tychotown as yet."

Pleasure before business was unacceptable. Christopher should know; he'd made that mistake before. "Do so. With all dispatch."

Roche reddened and his Adam's apple bobbed once or twice. "Sure, Chief. Be right back."

Drake Darvis watched his partner leave, then loosened the collar around his thick neck. "My turn to bake, eh, Chief? Here is my report. Motion sensors are in place, from the white heat of the surface to the spacious caverns below. Photocams are spread out like lava throughout Tychotown's Olympic Village. Sizzling suns, no one can even start a fire without being under surveillance! You can count on it, sir, security is tight."

Christopher made a non-committal sound, for tight security was always in the eye of the beholder, wasn't it? He observed his team member's grim expression. Darvis hailed from the binary star system of Capella in Auriga sector. With two super hot yellow-orange giants for suns, Capella 8 colonists could never escape their planet's ever-present heat. As a result, these folks always peppered their speech with "hot" phrases or analogies.

"I am counting on it, Darvis. Me and everyone else staying on that monotone moon." Not that Luna was unusual in its colorless state. Most tiny worlds tended to be assorted shades of grey.

He stood. "We've done all we can at this end, Darvis. Time to head back to Tychotown. Be ready for transport after Xaspaar City's sunrise services tomorrow. I'll alert the rest of the team." The flight to Terra involved traveling through dangerous wormholes--six of them, in fact. It was not a trip for the fainthearted.

"Yes sir." Darvis made the GCC salute, then slowly maneuvered toward a nearby workstation and stopped to chat with various staffers.

Since most of his team was on-site already, Christopher only had to punch in ten codes on the communication board for the remaining security members. In addition to Roche and Darvis, he had four other Humans, two Wn-Ganites, one Yeamonl, and one Kykanopian. They all quickly confirmed, the one exception being Kartos, the Kykanopian.

Christopher turned away from the board, leaned against it, and shut his eyes and ears to the distractions of blinking lights and the hum of ongoing discussions all around him. Massaging the bridge of his nose, he concentrated on steadying his breathing. If there ever was a fly in the ointment, it was Kartos.

"Chris, is something wrong?"

The musical voice belonged to none other than the gracious Sophia. Lor, to be caught displaying vulnerability to the mighty JorVaal's consort.

"Sophia!" Christopher snapped to attention, temporarily setting aside his Olympic woes. "It's been a long time...it's a pleasure to see you...again." He spoke the truth. Her natural beauty had no rival here on Xaspaar nor anyplace else in this galaxy. When she had first arrived here from her home on Terra, he had foolishly hoped that perhaps she might consider pairing off with him. But JorVaal had taken one look at her dark hair and ebony eyes, and that, as they say, was that.

She was still as lovely as she was six years ago. He clamped down inappropriate thoughts, for after all, she was JorVaal's woman. "How go things in Janus City? How are your twins?"

Sophia's smile could light up Xaspaar's dusky night sky. "Active. Very active." She glanced around Central Control and noticed, as he did, that they were attracting the data technicians' attention. She slipped her arm through his. "Let's go someplace quieter to catch up on things. This place always gives me the creeps."

* * *

Once outside the confining walls of Control, Christopher led her through a corridor to a communal area decorated with potted leafy trees and upholstered chairs. Xaspaar City was an indoor complex; citizens rarely, if ever, escaped from its confines. This was in sharp contrast to the new city of Janus, built to enjoy the beautiful rigors of Xaspaar's varying climate.

Sophia settled in a chair and smoothed back her luxurious mane of hair. "You look good, Chris. GCC's security uniform suits you."

Christopher felt a flush rise to his cheeks. He'd never been able to handle a compliment with confidence. To regain his equilibrium, he brushed a speck of lint from the sleeve of his cobalt blue shirt. The shirt and black pants were too tight for comfort; at least in his opinion. "Er, thanks."

"And you've shaved your mustache." Sophia leaned closer to him. "I like this new look."

Without thinking, he skimmed a finger over his upper lip, still regretting the smooth feel. "You know how Xaspaar is about hair. Though things have changed a bit, facial hair continues to be frowned upon."

She nodded her understanding. Between her long hair and his mustache, they had been oddities on this planet. A knowing smile lifted her lips. "Any women in your life, Chris?"

Women. Surely that was the last topic he wished to discuss. "No." His reply might have sounded too harsh, so he explained, "I suppose I'm too accustomed to women on Deneb 4. They're not ambitious and career oriented like females...here."

He corrected himself just in time; he'd started to say, Like Mirabelle, although there was no need to curb his words. Sophia knew all about Mirabelle.

Shaking his head to disperse his somber thoughts, he signaled for an auto-server. "Enough about me. Would you care for a drink, Sophia?"

They both decided on oxi-water. Christopher lifted his glass in a salute. "Are you and JorVaal planning to attend the Games? At the last Council meeting it was uncertain whether you would go."

The first lady of Humanity gave a laugh that exposed the long line of her neck. "Are you kidding? We'll definitely be there. I wouldn't miss the chance to go back home for anything. It'll be good for Joe to see that Earth isn't as old fashioned as he's been brought up to believe. I can show him and the twins off to my relatives and friends." Her expression grew serious. "The only reservation I had was those nasty wormholes but Marcus and Nona are old enough to travel through them now."

Christopher lowered his voice. "So those rumors of sabotage at the Games don't worry you?"

She laid her hand on his. "Joe trusts you for the job, Chris. As do I. I know you've got everything under control."

He wished he could be as confident. He wished--

"Bainbridge."

There could be no mistaking that deep voice. Christopher stood, turned around, and faced Sophia's husband. "JorVaal."

Tall and rigorously built, JorVaal 5 Lanquist was not a man to be trifled with. And with his steely eyes blazing and determined jaw jutted out, he was a most formidable sight.

And right now his sight was fixated on Christopher. "You must have Olympic concerns well in hand for you to waste time on idle conversation so close to the start of the Games, Bainbridge."

Although the man's eyes were piercing blue, their color could've been mistaken for jealousy green. Christopher hurried to placate his leader. "Please, have a seat, JorVaal. Sophia was just telling me about your upcoming trip."

"Joe, get off your high horse." An amused twinkle lit her brown eyes. "It was my idea to issue Chris a reprieve from that dark control room."

By his lowered eyebrows, it was obvious the mighty JorVaal didn't care for his wife's interest in another man. He sat next to Sophia and possessively held her hand.

Christopher withheld his smile. Given the same circumstances, he'd do the same thing, too.

"So what is the status at the Lunar Olympic site? Personnel in place? Patrols established? Perimeters protected? Security breaches investigated?" JorVaal barked out his questions as if Christopher was a novice.

Which he wasn't. Prior to this assignment and his post as Council representative from Deneb 4, he had been head commissioner, responsible for security of his entire planet. He controlled his voice to keep his annoyance from showing. "Sir, we are well prepared. My team has been trained to provide security services in both routine and unusual circumstances."

His wife nudged JorVaal in the ribs. He must've interpreted the glare in her eyes for he cleared his throat. "Apologies, Bainbridge. My intent was not to doubt your competence."

"No apology needed, JorVaal. There can be no dispute--these Games are the most ambitious, the most grandiose in Olympic history. And as such, they are an extremely tempting target for fanatics."

Christopher glanced out into the corridor and spotted an approaching Wn-Ganite. He recognized the man as one of the data technicians from Central Control. Whether he carried information for him or JorVaal was unclear.

The technician stopped in front of JorVaal and saluted. His edges glowed translucent and through his blue skin, blood vessels could be seen pulsing in his head. The tech turned to Christopher. "Ssir, a thoussand pardonss for the interruption. Thiss information jusst received from Tychotown headquarterss." The Wn-Ganite handed a crypto device to Christopher, saluted again, then left.

Christopher read the message, read it again, then shook his head. "Lor, now it gets even more interesting. This communiqué says the Sarthox are planning to include a Terran on one of their teams. It's not yet clear which team nor which Terran."

There was no other word for it: Sophia fumed. "I'll be snowed! I can't understand that at all. The very nature of the Olympics is to represent your country, or in this case, your world or your race. How could this person agree to compete for a...a competitor?"

JorVaal patted her hand. "Peace, my dear one. Reports have not yet indicated that a Terran has agreed. Although that might now be the case since there is a considerable time lag between communications--thirty thousand light years separating us, to be precise." He gave a heavy sigh. "Those Sarthox have been nothing but trouble ever since admission."

Christopher jumped at his chance to get the answer to a question that had been nagging at him. "I was off-world at the time of admission, taking care of...you know." No need to mention the name of that female traitor. "Why were the Sarthox granted membership so soon after contact? I was under the impression that a new race had to be studied for a few years."

JorVaal shrugged. "As I recall, several Human colonies sponsored them. Bokar, Shaula, Eltamin, Alvitar, even Deneb--the ambassador who replaced you was strongly in favor of admission. I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sophia clapped her hands together. "Yes, I remember now! You were sick when the Council was voting so you stayed home. Your deputy, Fredd, felt he had no choice but to go along with the majority."

JorVaal's lips thinned. "It was merely a temporary ache in the head."

Again, Christopher withheld his smile. Ill health was uncommon here on Xaspaar. JorVaal took his affliction as a personal affront.

Christopher checked his timepiece. It was past time for him to be on his way. "I fear I must bid you both adieu. There are many loose ends to be tied before I go. Our transport leaves for Luna Landing right after tomorrow's sunrise services."

He shook JorVaal's hand, but before he could shake Sophia's, she gave him a hug. "We'll see you at the opening ceremony, Chris."

Christopher left the Lanquists in the communal area, then quickened his steps back to Central Control. A knot twisted in his gut. It wasn't the story about the Sarthox admittance to the GCC upsetting him, but the fact that a member of Humanity would agree to compete for them, against Humanity.

Sophia was right. What kind of person stabbed his own race in the back?

The answer to that question was obvious. Only a traitor was capable of such disloyalty.

Christopher let out a resigned sign. He'd just finished with one traitor; now he had to deal with another?

Chapter Three

Luna Landing had to be the craziest place in the solar system. Of course Blade had never been off-planet before so perhaps all spaceports were the same: mindlessly directing incoming travelers into jam-packed tunnels and corridors only as wide as the span of her outstretched arms.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. In any case she couldn't test her observation because there was no room for her to actually extend her arms. She glanced around at the crowd of Humanity--and otherwise--that pinned her in place on the line to see the customs inspector. Everyone looked as tired as she felt. The two day journey on the shuttle had almost been as crammed full as these corridors, and sleeping in chairs had never been one of her favorite pastimes.

Moving an inch at a time as she waited, Blade took a sniff of recycled air. There was a metallic smell to it, and also something else: the odor akin to a school gym locker being opened for the first time after winter break.

Plevake Va-Thor, who had been her constant companion during the entire trip, gave her a smile. "Once we leave terminal, Luna Landing does open up, I assure you." He lifted his head and twitched his chiseled nose. "The oxygen-nitrogen mix is rancid in here. Would you like some Air-To-Go?"

All along the walls of the corridor stood colorful characters hawking bright blue bottles of Air-To-Go. One young man who looked like he was in his teens and whose hair matched his product bottle, seemed to make it his mission in life to follow them until they bought his merchandise. She'd thought the vendor too forward, but the longer she remained in line, the more she understood the need for access to "fresh" air. All the same, she shook her head. "I'll be fine, Plevake. Thanks."

After almost an hour, they reached a spot where an official checked each new arrival, one by one, then directed them further.

"Blade, since I am not Terran, I must go on a different line. I will meet you at the baggage area, yes? Wait for me there."

The terminal official looked at Plevake's documentation card, and pointed to the corridor on the right. With a wave of his manicured hand, Plevake departed into the tunnel until he was out of sight.

Blade was instructed to follow the crowd to the left. The persistent blue-haired peddler trailed alongside her. "Air-To-Go, missy? It'll perk ya up. Guaranteed to put a rosy glow on them there pretty cheeks of yers!"

Funny how this guy waited until her "protection" left before he started accosting her. Blade looked him straight in the eye and said firmly, "No, thank you."

Evidently the word "no" didn't have the same meaning on the Moon as it did on Earth. "Aw, ya don't know what ya say. Look, yer a newbie here, I'll cut ya a break. Half price--five credits. What do ya say, baby?"

Baby? Why, she was almost double his age. He looked like sixteen, at the very most.

She straightened to her unimposing height of five feet five. "I say no. I'm tired, stiff, overwhelmed, and extremely grumpy, so don't bother me." To be truthful, there was one thing she wasn't grumpy about: Luna Landing's artificially enhanced gravity. About three-fourths Earth normal, it wasn't aggravating her injured knee.

"Next!" the customs inspector called. As the person in front walked to the counter, Blade readied her paperwork. She was up next.

But the young man refused to go away. She snapped at him. "And if you don't leave me alone, I'll tell the authorities that you're a first class nuisance."

He had the audacity to grin as wide as a crescent moon. "Ho, baby! Yer a live one, all right. Tell ya what, this one's on me. Gessius is my name. Friends call me Gess." Reaching into his shoulder bag, he pulled out the bright blue bottle. "Consider this a welcome to LL."

"LL?"

"Luna Landing." He handed her the Air-To-Go. "Save it for when ya really need a breath of fresh air, K?"

"Next!"

With one hand holding her documentation card and paperwork and the other with the blue bottle, she was distracted when she reached the customs counter. Who could blame her with all the noise and the constant blur of motion surrounding her? After she handed over her papers, she looked back to see Gessius but he had melted away in the crowd. She couldn't spot him, even with his sapphire hair.

"First visit to Moon?" a rough-faced inspector inquired.

"I'm here to compete in the Olympics."

Evidently that didn't cut any ice with him for he raked his gaze over her, frowned, then jerked his thumb in the direction of the security booth.

Blade didn't mind the extra inconvenience of being scanned and analyzed by magnetic rays. Security was tight, as it should be.

Nothing beeped in alarm, and now bored, the inspector waved her through. "Next!"

As she walked down the corridor, excitement began to build. She was actually here, on the Moon. With a bounce in her step, from enthusiasm as well as the lower gravity, she headed for the baggage area.

Plevake's distinguished face was nowhere in sight among the many aisles overflowing with boxes, luggage, and other traveler paraphernalia. Blade claimed her two suitcases and made her way to a bench. While she waited, she did some seated exercises to stretch out her muscles. To stay in top form, a ballet dancer had to practice everyday. To compete in the Olympics, an athlete had to work out from dawn to dusk.

A shiver of nervousness trickled down her backbone so she concentrated on her breathing to chase the jitters away. For two days, she'd had no physical activity. She'd had no choice; the shuttle had been an old-style sardine can. Once she arrived at her room in the Olympic Village she would have to train constantly to make up for lost time.

She really must've zoned the terminal noise out for when someone spoke to her, she jumped.

"Hey there, featherweight! What are you doing sitting on the bench? The transport to Tychotown is over yonder."

An athletic-looking young woman with short dusky blonde hair and tight Spandex parked her bags next to Blade and wiggled down on the seat. "Going to the Village, aren't you? So am I. Lower grav track and field's my game." She held out a strong hand for a shake. "Heidi Norris, at your service."

Blade returned the shake and almost winced from the power in the woman's grip. "Blade Sinclair here. How did you know I'm competing?"

Heidi Norris threw back her head for a hearty laugh. "No mystery there, girl. With that bewildered look on your face, what are you doing on Luna? Either you're a pleasure-seeker, vacationing on this hedonistic rock, or you're here for the Games. Since I don't see any sugar daddies hovering around you, you must be a competitor. Where's home?" She folded her muscled arms against her chest, looking well satisfied with herself.

The thought of Plevake Va-Thor as a sugar daddy was ridiculous in the extreme, and Blade was hard pressed not to burst out laughing herself. "Earth, and you're right about the Olympic part. I'm in the air ballet--singles and pairs. But I'm also with someone."

She stood and looked at the odd assortment of passengers emerging from the second pathway. Beings with translucent edges, huge wooly creatures, extended accordion-like lifeforms...the variety seemed endless. She usually didn't see many aliens back home. "He's not a sugar daddy though. I'm waiting alone because he hasn't come out of customs yet."

Heidi also glanced in that direction. "Doorway number two, hey? Your guy is an alien?"

Blade shuddered as she sat back down. "Alien? No. He's from one of the colonies. He's my sponsor. I'll be partnering with his son."

"Really?" The woman lifted her eyebrow. "I'm a colonist myself, from the Denebian system, and I processed through the main tunnel, as you did. My mistake."

Blade took a good look at the person next to her. Tall, well-developed legs, and tanned complexion, she did have the outward demeanor of a runner but still, suspicion flared. Spaceports were notorious for being places where strangers preyed on the gullible. "How did you know which way I came through?"

"You're a slight, little thing, Blade. Delicate and wispy--adjectives a sturdy farm girl like myself can never hope to be called. I noticed that peacock blue pest harassing you and decided to keep a watchful eye. I mean, after all, we're all on the same team."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself." Blade turned back toward the second corridor and spotted a white and grey trimmed beard. Yes, it was Plevake just entering the baggage area. She stood and waved her hand to catch his attention. "Here's my sponsor now, so I'll be on my way."

"Sure thing. Maybe I'll see you later." Heidi hoisted her luggage back on her shoulders. "Hey, I've got a great idea. Maybe we can be roomies."

Didn't this girl ever get the hint? "No, I don't think that would be a good idea."

Heidi went on as if she hadn't heard. "I'll ask my coach, Manny. He has a lot of clout--he's a regular moonie. Maybe Manny can swing it."

Before Blade had a chance to protest again, the young woman weaved her way into the surrounding crowd. "I'll catch the next transport to Tychotown and get the ball rolling," she called back. "See you!"

Scratching at the bun that tightly bound her hair, Blade shook her head. Lately everyone she met seemed pushy.

But pushy people were unimportant. She was here, on the Moon, with a mission, not the least of which was to win the gold.

Ready to start her adventure, she grabbed her suitcases and headed toward Plevake.

* * *

The atmosphere inside the transport to Tychotown was much the same as on the shuttle that had departed from Terra's Newark Spaceport for Luna Landing. Indeed, the smell from rotting Humans was just as pungent. Va-Thor rotated his head to scan the various lifeforms huddled within the craft. All were soft, all were alien. He grew weary of this close proximity to these beings and also of the repulsive body he wore. Without thinking, he vented a trace of pure ammoniacum.

The response was immediate: people coughed. Imitating the action, Va-Thor walked over to one of the few windows on the craft to gaze out at the view. This satellite had a stark beauty; its monochrome landscape consisted of jagged mountains, dark lava plains, and cruel craters created by meteor impacts long before recorded time.

In the distance against the backdrop of a black sky rose a gleaming silver city encased beneath a translucent dome: Tychotown. The seven deadly sins of Humanity were housed within the dome: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth. Plus many more only whispered about as if saying the sin aloud would somehow damn the speaker.

Sin...or virtue didn't interest the Sarthox. What was best for the Hoard was what was all important--a simpler philosophy which made for an easier way to live.

His Terran female maneuvered past the others and stopped by his dorsal side. Her sweet, flowery scent invaded his hidden gills, and in response, he flapped them once to categorize the aroma. Hyacinthus orientalis, also called hyacinth, he decided. A Terran fragrance.

"Isn't it lovely?" Blade Sinclair breathed as she gazed out at the dancing lights of the city. "Of course I've seen holo-pictures of these impossibly narrow, gravity-defying buildings, but what picture can do justice to the real thing?"

"Indeed." Va-Thor smiled, an action that uselessly parted the facial lips. Why these Humans performed this action was a mystery, but they did it with such frequency, it would've been remiss of him not to follow suit. "Tychotown is known throughout the galaxy as a mecca for self-indulgent sensualists."

A ripple occurred over her soft covering of skin. He classified that as a shudder. What had caused the vibration?

"Well, I don't know about that." She shrugged. "But the Corona Opera Center is rumored to have better acoustics than anyplace on Earth. My mother's dream was for me to dance here. And now I'll have that chance, thanks to you."

"On the contrary, my dear young Blade, it is our team who thanks you, for with you, the likelihood for winning the gold in these Games has increased a thousand-fold. My son is eagerly awaiting your arrival."

A pink blotch appeared on her facial cheeks, and then spread upward toward her hairline. His compliment embarrassed her; for one so talented, she was extremely modest.

"I-I will do my best, Plevake." She pointed to a strip of lights lining the docking area. "We'll be landing soon. Let's find a seat."

He spotted two seats toward the back of the transport and urged her in that direction--away from the crowd so that they might, perhaps, sit by themselves. Not that he anticipated difficulties from the others, but he had to protect his investment. Blade Sinclair was the key to the Sarthox invasion. As a citizen of Terra, she represented her planet...and her solar system.

Once they were both settled, Plevake tapped into his energy reserves to maintain alertness until he could cycle down into stato-rest. It had been two solar days since rejuvenation and his last contact with the Hoard. Although he preferred to have his Terran female close at hand, it truly was more convenient for him that Humans required separation when housing the sexes. During their stay at the Olympic Village, at least he would have privacy to take care of his needs.

The days ahead would tax him as surely as the Sarthox needed ammoniacum to survive. May the Legendary Royal Squamata give him strength.

* * *

This place is sealed tighter than a drum. After disembarking, Blade walked right into a nightmare. Not that she expected a welcome mat, but the scores upon scores of police officers looked anything but friendly as they steered newcomers off to holding pens awaiting verification of credentials and clearance badges. Security was king here. What a strange first impression of Tychotown.

"Didn't we just go through this at Lunar Landing?" She dragged her two suitcases behind her as she followed the travelers in front of her. Less gravity or not, she was as tired as if she'd just completed a performance of 'The Sleeping Beauty.' "I feel like a heifer in a herd of cattle being lead to slaughter. Maybe I should moo."

"Moo?" Plevake's salt and pepper eyebrows knitted together. "What is--?"

"The sound that cows make," she hurried to explain. She'd heard that outside the solar system, cows or beef, were unknown. Hard to believe that most of the galaxy's inhabitants had never tried a nice, juicy steak. "Never mind. Looks like we'll be separated up ahead. Since it's so late already, how about if we just go on to our assigned apartments and meet in the morning? After breakfast, you can take me to the practice area and introduce me to your son, Jevake."

Plevake seemed to appreciate her idea. His eyes, usually glowing, had dimmed during the trip, and it was obvious that he was tired, too. "You do not mind if I don't escort you? I fear I am more weary than I realized. My thanks, young Blade. Until tomorrow then." He made a small bow and headed for the waiting pen assigned to the green group.

Blade's housing assignment was color-coded red. And red rhymed with bed. She yawned. If only she could bypass all this security and dive headlong under the covers.

A gentle tapping on the back caused her to come to with a start. As impossible as it sounded, she must've dozed off standing up.

"Regrets to awaken you, however move ahead, we must." A small creature, only about three and a half feet high or so, waved several slender limbs at her.

Blade blinked to immediate awareness. She'd read about Yeamonls before but to actually see something that looked like the bellows of an accordion.... She quickly moved up in line. "I'm so sorry! I guess I fell asleep."

"Not to worry." The Yeamonl smiled. "Here for the Games, are you? I am Liisan, member of the Olympic Committee."

They exchanged a shake between hand and limb.

"Good to meet you, Liisan. I'm Blade Sinclair, here for the air ballet competition."

"Blade? From Terra, are you not?" Now an extremely wide smile spread across Liisan's face. "Foretold your coming, the Ancients did. I--" She suddenly stopped smiling and shuffled back and forth. The Yeamonl released a blast of air before she continued. "Pleased I am to make your acquaintance."

"Who are the Ancients? Are they supporters of ballet?"

"No matter now. Talk later about this, we shall. I go topside to the Half Moon Hotel for my stay and you go underground to Olympic Village--red division, yes?" Liisan waved one limb in farewell as she moved over to another line. "Good luck, Blade."

Blade rubbed at her temple. That was odd. The Yeamonl seemed to regret mentioning the Ancients, whoever they were. But Blade was used to fans. As a prima ballerina, there were enthusiasts who made a career out of following her every performance. And when she injured herself, she received so many floral arrangements that she'd sent the overflow to nearby hospital wards. But how could news of her addition to the Olympic roster have traveled so quickly? After all, she'd only just agreed to be on the team two days ago.

Obviously the dance devotee hotline was working overtime. Very often privacy proved elusive when a person was in the limelight.

Shrugging away this depressing thought, Blade took one last look out the space terminal's window at the silvery structures and sparkling lights of Tychotown. She hadn't known the Olympic Village was under the Moon's surface, and it was a sure bet she wouldn't see the light of day for a long time to come.

* * *

After plummeting down elevators, or pneumatic conveyors, as they liked to call them here, traveling across housing sectors, and walking through dimly lit corridors, Blade finally arrived at the door numbered R170--her temporary apartment. She inserted her clearance badge into the entry slot, and the door slid open to reveal a small common area with two bedrooms located off to the sides. An antiseptic smell reinforced the notion that there was no place like home--her home in Hackensack, New Tri-Metropolis, to be precise. She stepped inside and glanced around at the sparsely furnished area.

"Hey there, featherweight!" Out from one of the bedrooms bounced, of all people, Heidi Norris. "Long time no see."

Blade set her suitcases down with a sigh. "So we're roommates?"

"Yeah! I had Manny, my coach, pull a few strings. Isn't it great?" She took a leap to land flat on a many-pillowed sofa, then scrambled upright and sat cross-legged. "This is a fantastic place. We have a snack area, a lavatory, and even a virtual reality window! Only grubbers have VR windows on Deneb 4."

She sprang up again and hurried to the VR window. "I programmed a view of my planet for you." A rather uninspiring vista of tilled soil and small buildings under amber skies brightened the wall. "This is a picture of my co-op collective."

Blade shivered at the barren landscape. Of course she was partial, for no place in the galaxy could compare with Earth. "What's a grubber?"

"They prepare the land for crops and we pay a yearly homage to them. Half our take. It's a raw deal so most everyone dreams of escaping. I got out and my brother left, too, but my parents and younger sister are still plowing the fields for the grubbers." Heidi switched the VR screen to a topside picture of Tychotown. "What's your home like? I've never been to Earth."

Glancing at the local time posted on the wall clock, Blade sighed again. She only had a few hours to cram in practice, sleep, and getting ready to meet her new partner. There were no extra moments for girl chitchat.

"Earth is beautiful, Heidi. After the Games, you need to hop a shuttle and visit." Blade headed into the vacant bedroom. "But you'll have to excuse me. I'm exhausted, and I need to stretch out, then grab a few Zs before the morning catches up with me."

"Hey, no problem." Instead of taking off for her own bedroom, Heidi parked her bottom on Blade's single bunk. "Y'know what'll give you energy? A blast of that air they were selling at the spaceport--Air-To-Go. Revs you right up."

"I'll give it a try. Thanks." Blade pulled out the complimentary blue bottle and followed the instructions by placing a mask over her nose. She pressed the top, then inhaled deeply. Almost immediately the fog lifted from her brain. Once more she inhaled, and felt not only a boost of energy, but less achy, and definitely more alert.

"You're right, this is great stuff. I'll save the rest for when I wake in the morning." After she resealed the bottle, something fell onto the floor.

Heidi bent over and picked up an iridescent circle, smaller and thinner than a dime. "Will you look at this!" She slapped her hand over her mouth and ran into the common area. When she returned, she held her hands out, empty. "I left it in there. It's got to be a bug."

Maybe the Air-To-Go wasn't as effective as Blade thought because she couldn't figure out what her roommate was talking about. "A bug?"

"Yeah, y'know, a surveillance gadget. Something to keep track of your movements. I think it's only for location capability, no sound or pictures. I'm not sure, though.." Heidi scratched at her short hair. "Why would anyone want to bug you? Do you have enemies here?"

All of Blade's new energy seeped right out of her. She sagged down on the bunk next to Heidi. "I-I don't think so. I just arrived. Why would anyone want to monitor where I go?" Another thought occurred to her. "How do you know so much about intelligence devices?"

Heidi shrugged her broad shoulders. "My brother is a wiz at surveillance stuff. So y'know what we should do? The word is 'misdirection.' Let's plant this bug on somebody else."

"Oh, I don't know. I don't think--"

"I do." Heidi dashed back into the other room and retrieved the device. "I'm a little hungry," she loudly stated. "How about if we go to the Crescent Café for a snack?"

"If we must," Blade mumbled as she fell in step with her fellow Olympian. The bug had to have been attached to the Air-To-Go bottle. Maybe it was just a way to keep track of newcomers to the Moon--a security feature for the Games.

Hmmn. Recollecting back, she thought that blue-haired vendor now looked more sinister. But to be fair, perhaps he wasn't aware of what was piggybacked to his product.

Even at this early hour, the Café was crowded, filled with athletes and Olympic staff huddled around communication stations to send messages back home, wherever home was. But although there were plenty of decoys to choose from, finding the right one was difficult, for Blade didn't want to burden just anyone with the surveillance device.

Soon she spotted familiar blue bottles hanging out of a stocky young man's bag. Another vendor of Air-To-Go. He wasn't Gessius, but he'd do.

She nudged Heidi. "That one."

"Perfect." Heidi winked.

Blade sauntered over and collided with the man. "So sorry! I don't seem to have my Luna legs yet."

As the man accepted Blade's apology, Heidi deftly slipped her hand in and out of his bag containing the bottles of air. The bug would now track a different target.

"Success!" From a safe distance away, Heidi smiled.

Blade also grinned, but then yawned. So much for ballet practice. She'd better concentrate on getting as much sleep as possible. "Now that that's done, it's bed for me."

Heidi nodded. "Yeah, I'd better hit the sheets too or Manny will have a fit."

Returning to the apartment, Blade and her roommate said good-night, and slipped into their respective beds.

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