‘Mindhacks are dangerous,’ Dad had said. ‘Especially one designed for a different kind of neurophysiology.’

‘Meaning an ordinary human.’

‘You’re human enough for me, son.’

Now, in the descending capsule, they were chatting like normal folk; but it was an act, therefore underlining the difference between Roger and his college friends. They would be worrying about academic assignments, granting them an importance that seemed nonsensical to him. Even Alisha, who should find everything easy, seemed tense about her studies.

His tu-ring chimed, and he accepted the incoming call.

‘Hello, Alisha,’ he said.

Dad raised an eyebrow, clearly visible beyond the virtual head-and-shoulders image of Alisha in Roger’s smartlenses. So Roger had just been thinking of her. It wasn’t as though he thought about her all the time, was it?

Was it?

‘Roger, did you have a nice holiday?’

‘It was, um, relaxing. I guess.’ He switched to subvocalizing, as his parents smiled. ‘Is everything all right with you?’

‘I guess. I talked to the Luculenta woman, Rafaella Stargonier.’

‘Er . . . Right, the one Helsen needs as a guest speaker. How did that go?’

‘A bit weird. Wants me to demonstrate my knowledge of the subject. Show her some original research, which she’ll incorporate in the talk with full acknowledgement.’

‘That is weird.’

‘Actually, it’s the sort of mindgame Luculenti like to play, and it’s her real fee for making the effort to come visit in person.’

‘You so don’t need my help in researching anything.’

‘I do, even if it’s just someone to talk to. And it’s not just that. My father’s been acting odd, even asked about you. Er . . . I didn’t mean to say that, actually.’

‘So you don’t plan everything you say?’

‘Hardly. So, do you want to just go for a walk or something when you get back?’

In his mind’s eye, nothing to do with virtual holos, he saw himself holding hands with her.

‘Yes. Let’s do that.’

A feeling of lightness meant the capsule was slowing; or perhaps it was something to do with the promise of Alisha’s company.

‘And if you have any original thoughts on realspace hyperdimensions ’ - her image smiled - ‘I’ll make sure you get a mention, too.’

‘All right. Deal. Um . . . We’re just reaching ground level now.’

‘Then I’ll see you soon?’

‘Sure.’

‘Good.’

Her holo faded. Roger blinked at Dad.

‘Just someone I know,’ he said.

‘Right.’ Dad glanced at Mum. ‘You know my expertise is in diplomacy, don’t you?’

‘Er, sure, Dad.’

‘So just how is your love life, son?’

‘I—’

Mum laughed, and in a second so did Roger.

‘I’ll get back to you on that,’ he said.

Once on solid ground beneath a clear green sky, they called for separate aircabs: one for Mum and Dad to go straight home, the other for Roger to return directly to Lucis City. They hugged and made smart remarks before climbing into their respective vehicles.

Then Roger’s aircab ascended, giving him a nice view of the great braided quickglass mass of Barleysugar Spiral reaching straight up through the atmosphere. Seconds later, he was at altitude, speeding towards the city.

Original thoughts on hyperdimensions?

He pondered this.

Is that the way to your heart, Alisha Spalding?

If it was, then he, Roger Blackstone, had insights other people lacked. Because it was not only Pilots who traversed mu-space - there was one other realspace species who had that capability . . . plus they could manipulate realspace in a way impossible for Pilots. They were part of the reason that Pilots maintained an intelligence service.

There was a resource right here in Lucis City that could help Alisha, a research institute that was theoretically not secret, but whose lack of public interfaces meant it was hidden away as if invisible. It was only because Dad kept an occasional watch on the place that Roger knew of its existence, dedicated to studying the aliens who no longer kept an embassy on Fulgor, though they once had. At some point they simply stopped coming - removing trade competition for Pilots - for no reason that anyone knew. Well, perhaps intelligence services had secret information, but one thing that was public knowledge was the impenetrability of the aliens’ motives.

Zajinets were strange.

TWENTY-FOUR

EARTH, 2146 AD

There were going to be repercussions for bringing Sharp back to Earth. Rekka had known that since she first had the idea. In orbit around EM-0036, when the so-called pre-contact team assembled in the passenger hold, her colleagues were eager to meet Sharp - Mary Stelanko, as team leader, was the first to converse with him - but their raised eyebrows and wry faces were a clear signal. Everyone was used to interpreting dry regulations on the ground, in the messiness of real situations. They might be envious of Rekka’s work with Sharp; but they were glad they would not be facing the same bureaucratic grilling.

Luckily, this ship carried the new delta-bands instead of injecting anaesthetics. It took a few minutes to reconfigure a band for Sharp’s use. His neurology, while not even DNA-BASED, had emergent structural similarities to Terran evolution; and his species slept after a fashion: more like dolphins than humans, shutting down different parts of the brain at different times. It was Rekka who placed the band on his forehead beneath his antlers, as he lay back on a morphed couch big enough to hold him. His amber eyes narrowed to horizontal slits, then closed.

Then the team lay on their own couches, activated their delta-bands - and woke up in Earth orbit, beginning a gliding descent to Desert One, some thirty kilometres from Tucson Crater. Within minutes they were on the ground, settling before a collection of geodesic buildings. Several vehicles were advancing: big TAVs in UNSA white-and-blue, their thermoacoustic engines whispering.

One TAV was designated to go straight to the xeno facility. Rekka got in with Sharp, and no one objected. Inside the vehicle, Piotr Poliakov nodded to Rekka while staring at Sharp. Poliakov scarcely glanced at Rekka for the duration of the drive, or their walk - surrounded by UNSA scientists and security - through the air-conditioned corridors, heading for the lab suite they had activated with only minutes’ notice, since the Pilot had informed them from orbit of the extra passenger.

But not all xenos were new species to be investigated; some familiar entities used the facility as a place to stay when visiting the base, since rooms could be altered to create chemically comfortable environments. Now, two lumpy shapes far bigger than humans were lumbering this way: one formed of red Arizona sandstone, all pebbles and boulders; the other more amorphous, formed of rubbery yellow sulphur (an allotrope, bearing the same relation to the more common powdery form as ozone bears to oxygen), but glistening with inserted quartz, or maybe diamonds.

Rekka had never seen a Zajinet before, not for real. Of course these two individuals - big, roughly humanoid, but only in outline - were clothed in Terran substances; their naked forms would be glowing lattices of light, usually of one pure frequency: often crimson, the colour of burning strontium; or the green of igniting copper; or occasionally an odd shade of sapphire blue.

The sulphurous individual clomped past Rekka, Sharp and the others, as if it had not noticed them. But the sandstone figure stopped.

<<No ending, though we have met.>>

<<Electric taste, they can not.>>