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The tone of the M-MET's engines changed as the aircraft began to descend into the Center City Controlled Airspace Zone. The transport cruised out over San Francisco Bay then arced back in toward the city on a slow, easy descent. Some eighty years ago, where the blue waters of the bay sparkled, another city known as San Francisco had hugged not quite the same stretch of coast. Rich with colour and history, it had been a cultural icon for more than two centuries. Then The Earthquake hit. Living on top of the San Andreas Fault, the denizens of San Francisco had been used to earthquakes. Even major tremors had been something that the city's residents had learned to live with. Technically, The Earthquake was a series of shocks at or close to 8 on the Richter Scale with their epicentres directly under the city on a previously quiet fault that branched off the San Andreas, but survivors and their descendants called it The Earthquake. It was possible to hear the uppercase letters when they spoke of it. Those skyscrapers not destroyed had been so badly damaged they had to be demolished. Freeways became twisted ribbons of destruction. A large portion of the old city had been reclaimed by the sea, the very coastline altering in the land's own memorial to the tragedy. Hundreds of people were killed, many more injured, bereaved and homeless. The entire planet mobilised itself to aid in relief efforts. The only redeeming feature of the disaster was the fact that the death toll numbered in the hundreds rather than the tens of thousands: alert seismologists, armed with more technology than had been available in years gone by, had issued warnings forty-eight hours prior to the big quake, but still, many people had declined evacuation, refusing to believe that it could ever happen. Human beings have always been stubborn and the foundations of New San Francisco had been laid within two years of the old city being abandoned. A commemorative park was built over what was deemed to have been the epicentre of the quake. The construction site, then the city itself came to be nicknamed "Epicenter City." Eventually, the name was shortened to "Center City" and it stuck. The ISO Tower loomed over Center City, easily the tallest structure in the cityscape. No one built above sixty floors any more, not in these parts, where despite humankind's best efforts, Mother Earth could still spring the odd nasty surprise with a shrug of her geological shoulders. No-one except the ISO, an organisation whose influence (and ability to flout local planning regulations) was exceeded only by its literally stellar hubris. The design of ISO Tower had won several architectural awards and had been duplicated in cities throughout the Federation. Fetching as it was, however, the design didn't allow for any external landing pads of sufficient size to accommodate anything larger than a small helicopter or Mini Multi-Modal Transport, which necessitated the incorporation of an executive hangar at Level Ninety. Osprey broadcast a veritable plethora of encrypted codes, its transponder working at maximum capacity, to trigger the opening of the blast proof doors before easing into its allotted space and settling onto the reinforced concrete floor. "See you later, Chief," Princess said as Anderson and his security detail rose from their seats. Fran Patrick smiled dazzlingly at Jason, who limited himself to a smirk as Colonel Jones gave her subordinate a stern look. Jones and Fran disembarked, sounded an all-clear, and were followed out by Anderson and Thorne. The remainder of the squad trailed behind them, then the hatch closed, and Princess watched through the grubby windows as the group crossed the hangar and vanished into the security station. The M-MET's engines began to wind up again and Jason stirred in his seat. "Now that it's just us," he said, "let's find something halfway decent on the sound system for the trip to Center Neptune!" He punched in a code on the armrest of his chair and the cabin speakers blared into life with music from Dirty Name Five's latest album.

Woo-hoo! It's published! ETA: I'm not commenting so as to avoid spoilers. But...you're in for a great read!

And thanks again for proof-reading and finding all my missed hyphens (they appear to be an endangered species in my writing) and typos! I had to get the dog to round up all the hyphens and pen them for me so I could corner the little buggers and put them in the story where they belonged.

Originally posted by GrumpyGhostOwl And thanks again for proof-reading and finding all my missed hyphens (they appear to be an endangered species in my writing) and typos! I had to get the dog to round up all the hyphens and pen them for me so I could corner the little buggers and put them in the story where they belonged.

Here he is!

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So Rested he by the Tum-Tum Tree The Crown of Thorns command vessel hung motionless in interstellar space. From a distance, it seemed to be made up of black spikes bristling out of a flattish, five-armed star. Up close, however, it became apparent that each spike was in fact a sleek attack ship. Commander Veshkanian had arranged himself in front of his command chair, his cloak partly unfastened in order that it might be thrown dramatically back from one shoulder, its folds draping down to puddle on the floor at his feet. His attention was focussed on the main view screen, which portrayed the image of his Supreme Leader. "You have done well so far, Commander," Zoltar said. "When will you be able to launch your attack on the Gaian home world?" "Soon, sire," Veshkanian said. "The engineer Larian Tche-Ka continues to cooperate. I have no reason to disbelieve him when he says that the home world shields are more complex than those used on the outposts and he continues to develop a solution for us. I suspect he is working at less than his maximum speed out of a combination of guilt and fear, but if we push him much farther, he will break down and may make a fatal error. I believe we are best advised to allow him some time." "I have waited a long time to take Gaia," Zoltar said, the corners of his mouth turning downward. "I can wait a little longer, but be aware, Commander, that my patience is not infinite. Maintain the pressure on your little traitor, but do not trust him. Others have made the mistake of trusting traitors and have paid the ultimate price. You, I hope, are not so foolish." "You are kind, sire," Veshkanian said, bowing. "I will repay your confidence in me by presenting you with victory over the Gaian Commonwealth within the week!" "Be careful, Veshkanian," Zoltar cautioned. "Overconfidence is not something I wish to encourage among my Commanders. You are a clever man. Do not give me cause to think that you are too clever." "As you will, sire. My loyalty and obedience belong to Spectra, the Great Spirit, and your estimable self, always." Veshkanian bowed again, a courtier's bow with an elegant sweep of one arm. When he looked up again, the screen had returned to its view of the star field. Veshkanian straightened and sighed. "How say you, Derel?" The navigator and First Officer considered. "Our leader stands in need of our courage, daring and initiative in order to secure the victory, Commander. We must not disappoint him." "I concur," Veshkanian said. "I will go and speak with the Gaian Engineer." Veshkanian adjusted his cloak (it wouldn't do to trip) and strode off the bridge. He disliked having to deal with the Gaian. Tche-Ka fell somewhere between prisoner and guest: he had initially been bribed into doing Spectra's work, then when the magnitude of what he was doing became clear to him and he balked, he had been blackmailed, then coerced. A truly brave and noble soul would have died rather than betray his world, Veshkanian mused loftily. It didn't occur to Veshkanian to wonder what he might have done had he found himself in Tche-Ka's place. Veshkanian made his way down the companionways of the ship to where Tche-Ka was being held. The Gaian's quarters were as well-appointed as Veshkanian's own and the guards were under strict instructions to treat the diminutive engineer with the utmost courtesy. Outside the room, two guards stood at ease. They were an oddly mismatched pair: one of them swarthy and stout with a pronounced paunch under his uniform, the other tall and bony with the traditional moustache and beard of a tribesman from the Great Desert of Eruk. The Erukian guard also had the sallow, faded complexion of one who has spent too much time away from the Great Desert. Veshkanian tried not to stare at the tribesman's traditional facial hair. It resembled nothing so much as three thin bunches of long paintbrush bristles pulled out and shoved under each nostril and in the end of the chin. The owner of the cultural moustache and beard kept them waxed and neatly trimmed, as befitted a proud Erukian, and at Veshkanian's approach, he snapped to attention and saluted. "Hail, Spectra!" the Erukian declared at full volume. Veshkanian remembered now, why these two [9] had been assigned to guard the engineer: everything else they touched turned to complete and utter ignots. [10] They seemed to be handling the guard duty well enough, however. "Hail, Spectra!" the short, paunchy guard echoed, saluting belatedly. "I would speak with Engineer Tche-Ka," Veshkanian said. "Sir!" the Erukian barked, saluting again and almost smacking himself in the head in his enthusiasm. "Very good, private," Veshkanian sighed. "Just open the door." "Sir, I must announce you properly!" the Erukian declared. He turned on his heel, rapped sharply on the door then flung it open and bellowed, "Commander Veshkanian to see you, Engineer Tche-Ka!" "Thank you, private," Veshkanian said, and stalked into the room. He waited for the door to be wrestled shut behind him. "Greetings, Tche-Ka," Veshkanian said. The lone occupant of the room was standing next to his chair. At four feet six inches in height, Tche-Ka was far from an imposing figure and his hangdog slouch didn't help. The engineer was dressed in a hastily altered Spectran uniform, with the trousers and sleeves taken up. The tunic hung off the Gaian's shoulders and had been hemmed so that it ended around his hips. The trousers had been elasticised at the waist and the gusset hung in swathes half way to his knees. The uniform's half mask lay unregarded on the desk. "Commander Veshkanian," Tche-Ka replied. "I am making progress. I have almost finished writing the randomiser solution for the final level of access codes." "You are doing very well, Tche-Ka," Veshkanian said, modulating his voice to keep it as soothing as possible. At the little alien's stricken expression, Veshkanian made an expansive gesture with one hand. "My dear fellow, rejoice! We Spectrans are intervening for the greater good as far as the Commonwealth is concerned. Once any short-sighted resistance on the part of the Gaian military is neutralised, we will be liberating your people from the shackles of their enforced galactic isolation! As a client world of Spectra, you will benefit from our economic and socio-political largesse and be so much the better for it. I will keep my promise to extend my personal protection to your family. You must not doubt me in this. I would be deeply wounded to find that you did not consider me a man of the utmost honour." "Of course you are honourable, Commander," Tche-Ka said, his voice shaking. "I simply worry about my family during the conflict, while you... subdue resistance. They don't understand, you know. My wife..." he shook his head. "It is to be expected," Veshkanian said. "So many of your people have been raised within the narrow-minded confines of an insular society. So few are as enlightened as yourself." Tche-Ka's hunted gaze followed Veshkanian as he paced the length of the cabin and back again, dark cloak billowing. "I confess to you, Commander, there are times when I doubt. I thank you for your reassurance." Veshkanian listened for a ring of sincerity in Tche-Ka's voice but heard only resignation. "I am your ally, Tche-Ka," he said. "Were you to return to the bosom of your people, they would reject you out of ignorance and anger. They do not see the benefits they will gain. In time, however, Gaia will accept Spectra's guidance and sponsorship as she makes her journey toward membership of the larger galactic community. You must trust me. You are, without meaning any offence, largely ignorant when it comes to interplanetary politics. One day, your children and grandchildren will speak your name with great pride, and your compatriots will honour you." "I pray that you are right, Commander," Tche-Ka said dutifully. "Of course I am right," Veshkanian said. "And now I leave you to your work. The great Zoltar is mightily pleased with you. Our... intervention must commence as soon as possible to avoid any possibility of Federation interference. Do not disappoint Lord Zoltar. Lord Zoltar does not like being disappointed."

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Woo! A fantastic ride as always!

That was a great story, Owl. It's been a while since I've read your fics. It's time to reread them. For a while I thought you might say James was Jason's father.

Yeah, we'll never see him again. ... o_O