Preston Doh - sci-fi short story

Prehston Doh

“I’ll go,” Prehston Doh said, even though there were two new Lans fresh off the last transport who could easily take care of it.

The man behind the desk looked a little put out but smiled nonetheless at his junior officer. “Come now, Doh, why not let one of your young Lans have a chance to prove himself, and you can come with me to the curah match instead. You’re really cheating yourself out of a treat,” he added before Prehston had a chance to decline the offer. “And then, I’ll show you where the High Quarter hides its real restaurants – none of that Fey Fong rubbish you youngsters eat.” Brentt Koi patted his expansive belly for emphasis.

Sometimes it was hard for Prehston to remind himself that this portly older man with his small, jovial eyes was the head of the Raw Materials Division and one of the ten most powerful men in the Empire’s 33^rd Perimeter.

Brentt Koi eyed the young Doh expectantly.

“Thank you, Koi,” Prehston replied at last, “I’d be happy to take you up on that offer.”

“Excellent!”

“But the match doesn’t start till sundown. I’ll have plenty of time to find the stray.”

The Koi threw up his hands in defeat and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He chuckled and fumbled for a dyleth stick out of a pretty coloured-glass dispenser. “I have a weakness for it,” he sighed. “Such a shame that it should be so very fattening.” Brentt gestured for his junior officer to take one.

Prehston shook his head. “Never developed a taste for it, Koi.”

“Oh well, all the more for me.” The Koi shook his head, amused. “You’re an oddity, young Prehston, you really are.”

Prehston watched the Koi suck on the sweet paste.

“Very well Doh,” Brentt Koi said, licking the remnants of dyleth from two sausage-like fingers, “you’re dismissed.”

Prehston walked out of the Koi’s office gratefully. With long, purposeful strides he headed down the corridor that led to the back of the Command Compound. With every step, the rough rusty stone seemed to close in on him. The glow of the sun at the end of the corridor made the interior dark and dingy. Prehston hurried his pace towards the exit, towards the bright light, but when he reached it, it only seared his eyeballs and made his brain ache.

The heat was suffocating. Prehston knew he should have been enjoying his stint on Layertis: the soothing orange of it all, the heat, the dryness. Of all the planets annexed by the Raw Materials Division, Layertis was by far the cushiest. That was probably why Brentt Koi had stationed his headquarters here rather than on some more important planet. But nothing on this paradise had offered Prehston Doh an ounce of pleasure, and it irked him that he couldn’t account for it.

This secondment should have amounted to a welcome break from the gruelling Koi Development Programme or KDP as it was commonly referred to. Involving a secondment of apprenticeship in every single Division of the 33^rdPerimeter, it was the most prestigious career path any young Cillah could take. The success rate was low, but Prehston had progressed through to the last few stages with flying colours.

This, too, should have pleased the young Doh, but for the past couple of months Prehston had been dogged by an uneasy detachment from everything. He tried to brush the useless, destructive malaise out of his mind. What he needed was a bit more action, that was all. It was just pre-graduation jitters.

He walked into the dojeh pen at the back of the Command Compound and saddled his favourite mount. There was no point taking a cruiser: the Jemenyii couldn’t have gotten far and Prehston would have a much better chance of finding it at ground-level.

The Doh let out a shrill whistle and the dojehbroke into a gallop. This afternoon, Base was more or less deserted. It was too hot, even for the heat-loving Cillah. Prehston rode the dojeh towards the camp’s gates, two massive circular towers built from Layertis’s ubiquitous coarse orange rock, when something behind the farthest gatepost caught his eye. He pulled on the reigns and jerked the dojeh to a sudden halt, eliciting a grunt of indignation from the mount.

The sight that greeted Prehston made his blood boil. Two Lans he had never seen before – no doubt the same two he had just requisitioned – were kicking a struggling female Jemenyii and throwing empty bottles of drink at her. They must have been very drunk, because they didn’t even notice the Doh jump off his mount and march towards them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Prehston bellowed.

The two Lans whirled around. The Jemenyii scampered away and braced herself against the stone of the gate tower, as if it could somehow offer her shelter from her tormentors.

The Lans gawped stupidly at their superior before staggering at attention and offering rather sloppy salutes.

“Doh!”the tallest one said. “Just having a bit of fun Doh… s’been a long trip and all...”

The other Lan, a short, plump fellow, gave a sheepish smile. A mistake.

Prehston lunged and grabbed the Lan by the collar, lifting him clear off the ground.

“This is the most appalling display I’ve ever seen from an officer. There is no drinking on duty,” Prehston spat an inch from the Lan’s round face, which was taking on a sickly green tinge, “and there is no bloody messing with the slaves. I swear to God,” he shook the Lan for emphasis, “I’ll send your sorry butt right back to Allocations if I ever see either of you step out of line again.”

The stout Lan nodded frantically. Prehston released his hold and set him back down. He turned to the taller Lan, who had stood at attention the whole time but whose slanted black eyes were inscrutable.

“Is that understood?” Prehston asked him.

“Doh, yes Doh!” he replied.

“Good. Report to my office first thing tomorrow morning or there’ll be hell to pay.”

Prehston remounted his dojeh, who had been pawing the dusty dirt impatiently, and took off.

***

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The two Lans walked in and saluted. “Roob and Cibi Lans reporting!” barked a tall Cillah with black hair, a hooked nose and a mouth so thin it almost disappeared when he wasn’t speaking.

Brentt Koi looked up from his console. “Report.”

Roob approached the Koi’s desk. “He caught us drunk, goofing with a bitch. He got pretty angry, Koi; threatened to send us back on the next transport. Pretty sure he’s taken us for a couple of boobs.”

Brentt nodded approvingly. “Excellent. And what’s the matter with you,” he asked pointedly at Cibi, who was stood near the door looking greener by the second.

Roob answered for his partner. “Got lost in the part. Drunk a few bottles too many; not used to the sun.”

The Koi snickered. “Very well. Dismissed – but keep a bloody tight eye on him, understood?”

“Yes Koi!” Roob said. “But Koi, perhaps it would help if we knew what exactly we were looking out for.”

Brentt’s black eyes became glassy. “Did I ask you to think?” he snapped. “Now get out of here and do your fucking job or you’ll be back cleaning sewers on Paerow 2 quicker than you can say ‘shit’.”

***

The dojeh carried its charge swiftly across the desert.

Prehston couldn’t help but marvel at the speed of the indigenous beasts. A vehicle still had to be invented that could handle sandy terrain better, and the ride was smoother too: the animals moved differently than the quadrupeds of Cillah, seemingly gliding rather than galloping. They were incredibly low-maintenance too, feeding off an element in the desert sand which was in abundant supply. As for the little watering they required, they could get that for themselves: water-pockets were scattered throughout the desert, but you had to know where to find them, and dojeh, over the millennia of their evolution, had evolved almost foolproof olfactory senses.

Watching the sea of vermillion dunes sweep past him, Prehston started to feel at peace for the first time in months. There was nothing in sight, but then again, he didn’t expect to see the Jemenyii hanging around in the open desert. Unlike the Cillah, the conditions of Layertis were anathema to the slave race. They dehydrated quickly and couldn’t bear up to the heat.

It only took Prehston an hour for him to find the stray. He could see it, in the distance, approaching one of the many outcrops that dotted the region. A jagged mass of rusty spires created by the acid rains of Layertis’s most recent geological epoch, the outcrop rose up like a freakish, misshapen castle. A few more minutes and the Doh would have lost the stray within one of the outcrop’s many fissures, and then he would have been at it all night.

Prehston wondered, not for the first time, why Jemenyii bothered to escape at all. It wasn’t like they would ever be able to survive very long out in the desert on their own. And even if they did, what kind of life was that, wondering the desert like a hermit? He supposed their reasoning powers were not developed enough to counter their animal instincts.

Prehston looked up. The sky was turning blood-red; the sun would be going down soon. He whistled and the dojeh doubled its pace. Roping-ins were becoming more and more frequent. There was something wrong with the security tag system that kept the Jemenyii corralled within Base boundaries: every once in a while, one of them would malfunction and show a slave still present when they had in fact made a dash fort it.

When the slave finally spotted Prehston Doh’s advance, it scrambled to climb up into a large fissure in the rock, but in its panic it was clearly struggling to make any headway. Prehston was now within lassoing distance of the stray.

He slowed his mount down and took a good look at the Jemenyii. What he saw left him momentarily startled. He hadn’t expected it to be a female. Females of the species were usually extremely docile, and he’d never heard of one making a run for it.

Prehston watched the Jemenyii redouble her efforts to climb the outcrop as he uncoiled the lasso from his belt. With one smooth movement, he had it around the Jemenyii. The Doh yanked the lasso, the metallic twine biting into the female’s sides, and dragged her down from the rock. He pulled her along the sand kicking and screaming. Her dress rode up her thighs, displaying legs that had been scraped raw by the climb.

The Doh took a closer look at the girl. She couldn’t have been more than one or two years past puberty. She had the red tresses, green eyes and fair skin that were standard issue in her species, and she was tall and well built, as all Jemenyii were; it was one of the reasons that they made such good manual workers.

Wow, pretty.

The thought had flitted across Prehston’s mind before he could do anything to stop it. He felt an unpleasant flush rise up to his cheeks. He had no idea why his mind had gone there and didn’t like the implications one bit, but right now there was no time to contemplate the issue any further.

With one hand, Prehston grabbed the struggling Jemenyii girl by the throat and hauled her upright. She kicked at him viciously and plucked at his hand, but it was futile – Prehston was also well-built, especially for a Cillah, and he held her off easily. Tiring of the charade, he tightened his grip around her throat until she stopped kicking. The girl struggled for breath and started going red, but she still gave him a baleful glare.

A corner of Prehston’s mouth twitched into a half smile: he’d never seen behaviour like this in a female Jemenyii.

“Right,”he told her, “I can see you’re a lively one, so we can do this one of two ways. Either you come quietly and don’t give me any shit, because I’m late for a date, or,” he lifted his fist up to her face meaningfully, “I give you a good whack and take you back unconscious.”

Her lips tightened.

“It’s all the same to me,” he shrugged.

The girl ceased her struggles, nodding her assent as much as she could with Prehston’s hand still tight around her throat.

“Good.”Prehston released his grip and the girl collapsed on the sand, gasping for breath and rubbing her throat. He removed the lasso from her waist and retied it around her hands.

***

The white-haired man stepped back within the shadows of the fissure and watched the scene unfold.

For once, he was not sure how to proceed. He wanted to help the girl; she must not come to any harm.

And yet…

As soon as he had set eyes on the large Cillah, the images that had been stuck motionless in his mind for so many months had begun to unravel.

And now the scene before him looked familiar. What was it that had happened next? He strained to recall the memory, but the images were fading away nearly as fast as he could summon them up.

Even though it was getting dark, the white-haired man could see the bronze of the Cillah’s uniform. That meant he was a Doh. A Doh.

The man watched the Doh lasso the struggling girl as if in slow motion. In the last dimming rays of the sun, he caught a good look at her captor’s features. He knew he would not interfere.

***

They were nearly halfway back to Base when the dojeh started snorting and whining with increasing frequency, eventually coming to a complete halt.

Shit, I’m going to be late, Prehston thought. But truth was, he wasn’t really looking forwards to three hours of curah and having to listen to Brentt Koi’s blow-by-blow analysis of it later tonight.

Prehston dismounted his dojeh, lifted the Jemenyii girl off unceremoniously and set her down. Her hands were still bound by the metallic twine of the lasso; Prehston untied the other end from his belt so she could stretch her legs.

The Doh wandered up to the nearest dune and sat down. He watched the dojeh sniff the ground and claw at the chalky orange sand until the animal found what it was looking for. The dojehlapped at the water seeping up from the subterranean pocket with snorts of pleasure.

The sky was deep purple, nearly black, but a low level of light was afforded by Layertis’s two small yellow moons.

Prehston got out his canteen and drank as he watched the Jemenyii girl with mild curiosity. She stood dumbly where he had set her down, her eyes downcast. Jemenyii were pretty slow at the best of times, and their females particularly so. Now he had a chance to study to the girl properly, he decided that, although a fine specimen, there was nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary about her at all.

As if sensing this unflattering conclusion, the girl looked up and edged towards Prehston. She settled herself a small distance from him and eyed his canteen enviously.

Prehston was so surprised he almost laughed. He’d never seen such plucky conduct in a Jemenyii. With deliberate gestures, he replaced the lid on the canteen and clipped it back onto his utility belt.

The girl threw him a reproachful look, which only made him want to laugh again. This was turning out to be not such a dull day after all.

The dojeh looked like he had finished relieving his thirst. Prehston was about to get up and make his way back to his mount when he saw it. It was barely visible under the dim moonlight.

His breath caught in his throat. Paradoxically, he felt his heart stop and his pulse start racing at the same time.

The Doh turned his eyes slowly towards the Jemenyii. “Get it off,” he said through clenched teeth.

The girl looked up at her captor. Jemenyii cognitive abilities were not highly developed, but they understood rudimentary language.

“On my thigh – on my left thigh, right there.”He indicated the spot with a glance. “Get it off.”

How could he have been so stupid as to sit down without having secured the area? What kind of rooky mistake was that?

He glanced down at the creature, careful not to move a muscle. Translucent-grey and crab-like, this creyl was not a particularly large one, but one bite would still kill him within minutes. There was no known antidote for the Cillah. Jemenyii, on the other hand, were immune to the venom of Layertis’s chief pest, which was why they were used almost exclusively to work the planet’s rich quarries.

The girl glanced down at the creyl, then at Prehston. She seemed to be thinking in her own, slow way. Surely she was smart enough to realise that she could walk away right now and there was nothing Prehston would be able to do about it. Or, he wondered, did she have the malice as well as intelligence to irritate the creature into biting her captor?

“Obey me, slave,” Prehston said, his voice still commanding but softer now; he did not want to provoke her. “Remove the creylfrom my leg at once.”

Prehston watched her mull it over, her fine red eyebrows furrowed in a frown, for what seemed like ages. He could feel the sweat running down his back in steady rivulets.

Finally, the Jemenyii reached over, her hands still bound by the lasso, picked up the creature with two careful fingers and squeezed. Transparent, puss-like fluid oozed through her fingers.

Prehston breathed a long sigh of relief. Too close. Thank god the girl had obeyed him. He stood up on shaky legs and released the Jemenyii’s hands from the lasso. Prehston was a meticulous officer, disciplined (some thought) nearly to a fault. But one thing he was not: ungrateful. The girl had essentially saved his life.

“Go on,” Prehston said with a wave of his hand, “get out of here.”

The girl didn’t move. Prehston gave her a little shove.

“Look, I’m letting you go, can’t you see?”

The Jemenyii looked at the young Cillah and an odd expression crossed her moon-lit features, but she didn’t move a muscle.

“Fine– stay here, see if I care.” Prehston strode off towards the dojeh, stealing a glance over his shoulder to see the Jemenyii following him. Unbelievable, Prehston thought. They run away when you don’t want them to and stick around when you ask them to sod off.

When he reached his mount, Prehston stopped and waited for the girl. Without another word, he picked her up and helped her back onto the dojeh.

***

Prehston was pleased that the match was barely halfway through by the time he arrived at the Desert Arena, Layertis’s only stadium. Curah was such a popular Cillah pastime– and on the Layertis Base in particular – that the stadium was more or less entirely reserved for the sport. On Layertis, however, curah players were exclusively Jemenyii males. In the opinion of some, the strength and stature of the species made the sport all the more interesting and violent. Layertis’s matches were becoming legendary, attracting a wide range of visitors.

The Arena was elegant and monumental, despite the fact that it was built almost entirely out of indigenous rock. Tonight the place was packed; hardly surprising, for this was the season’s big final, advertised ceaselessly on the local sports network for the past two weeks. People from all around the 33^rdPerimeter of the Empire (and some even farther afield) would be attending tonight.

Prehston Doh entered the lobby and let an attendant take his coat. A beautifully made-up usher girl in a red suit led him to the Koi’s box. It was, naturally, in a prime spot: right at the front of the ring.

Brentt Koi looked pleased to see his junior officer arrive. “Ah, here you are Prehston; I told you to give that roping-in job to someone else,” he chided. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it at all.” Brentt waved the Doh over to a seat on his right, next to a woman Prehston had never seen. “Let me introduce you to this exquisite young lady,” the Koi said. “Lalayna, this is Prehston Doh, the youngest Cillah ever to enter the Koi Development Programme.”

Prehston smiled as graciously as he could.

“Prehston: Lalayna; cultural attaché to the Cillah Ambassador to the 1^st Perimeter.”The Koi gave Prehston a look which left him in no doubt as to the significance of the woman’s social status.

Lalayna was a classic example of Cillah High Class sophistication. Her glowing olive complexion complemented the luscious black hair piled high on her head. She had a petite, graceful frame and large intelligent eyes. Even the most miserly judge of female beauty could not begrudge her the accolade of charming.

Prehston took both her hands in his and bowed his head, as was the proper form between two members of the opposite sex.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Prehston said.

“As am I to make yours,” Lalayna replied with a warm smile.

Brentt Koi observed the exchange with interest. “Very well, very well,” he said. “Now sit down, both of you, and pay attention. Luckily for you, Prehston, you’ve arrived at the best junction. They’ve been neck and neck so far, but if I’m right about this – and I always am,” he added, “Red Giant is running out of options and is going to take a beating in the next round. It’s just as I predicted: Blue Hornet is out-witting him. It’s like I always say, size doesn’t always get you the ‘W’.” The Koi’s eyes sparked with excitement.

Prehston turned his attention to the ring as the next round began, aware that Lalayna was paying more attention to him than either Blue Hornet or Red Giant.

***

The match had ended in the best possible way. Blue Hornet, just as predicted by the Koi, had triumphed easily over his opponent, displaying a grasp and execution of curah strategy that was, Brentt Koi informed Prehston in convulsions of ecstasy, utterly inspired.

Then the Koi had then taken Lalayna and Prehston to a very exclusive Moorah restaurant in the High Quarter. The entire establishment, from floor to ceiling, was panelled in a luscious dark wood, in keeping with Moorah traditional taste. Although Prehston did not say so, he thought it a refreshing change from the uniform orange of Layertis’s rocky architecture. From the ceiling hung brightly-coloured lanterns of ephemeral fabric in the shape of Moorah animals. There was a circular fountain in the centre with flowers floating on its surface that released a delicate scent.

Their table was right by the fountain; once again, the best in the house for the Koi.

“You know, Brentt Koi,” Lalayna said as she took a seat, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten in a Moorah restaurant before”.

“Please, my dear, just Brentt to you. And I’m glad to be the one to introduce you to such refined cuisine. Of course, the food becomes more sophisticated the closer you get to the 1^st Perimeter – but I don’t have to tell you that, my dear.” The Koi patted her hand paternally. “But considering this is only 12^th Perimeter cuisine,” he continued, “I have to say I was very impressed when first acquainted with it.”

A waiter dressed from head to toe in white came and handed out menus of translucent crystalplate sheets on which cornflower-blue, gold and jade letters appeared whenever physical contact was made with them. Very elegant.

“Now,”Brentt Koi said, “I insist that you both try the toasted reichel and bourte soup, because they’re out of this world. But other than that, do not let me say another word about the cuisine. After all, why waste such a pleasant evening –and on the back of such a fabulous curahmatch – on talk of food when we have such delightful company. Lalayna, tell us all about your work in the 1^st Perimeter. It’s not every day I get to hear about the centre of the Empire and young Prehston here has more than once told me of his ambitions to join the Diplomatic Strata once his Koi training is completed, isn’t that right, Prehston?”

Prehston nodded politely, cringing privately at the Koi’s obvious attempts to make him look good. Lalayna winked at Prehston conspiratorially as soon as the Koi looked away to his menu. It was difficult not to like her.

***

The hangover was awful. Prehston opened an eye and felt the morning sun shoot through his pupil like a spear. Fragments of disturbing dreams drifted in the back of his mind. The orange of the desert sand became the orange of a head of long tresses. The head turned to reveal eyes too green to be real, and the pretty pink lips of the face broke into a girlish grin. Prehston’s stomach lurched. “Not again,” he muttered, gripping his head – whether in frustration or pain, it was a toss-up.

For a few seconds he had absolutely no idea where he was. And then it came back to him. The dinner at the Moorah restaurant, Lalayna, Brentt Koi’s clumsy ploy to get them together by pretending he had‘paperwork’ to attend to, suggesting Lalayna and Prehston go on to one of the more trendy High Quarter bars for a few drinks.

“I worry about you, young Prehston,” the Koi had said to him when Lalayna had gone to freshen up. “You know your father and I go back a long way; well, I feel a kind of responsibility towards you.”

“Koi, really, there’s nothing–”

“I’m old and fat,” Brentt cut in, “but I’m not blind. I know for a fact you haven’t found yourself a nice girl ever since the beginning of your KDP, and that’s a long time. What a waste of a strapping young lad like you. Mark my words – this one’s a good’un,” he said, winking in the direction the lovely Lalayna had gone.

And he’d been right. Lalayna was perfect, and not just because of her incredibly good connections and fine High breeding. Prehston had been surprised what a genuinely kind person she was.

Lalayna had told Prehston the whole story – of how a 33^rd Perimeter girl had not only made it onto the prestigious Diplomatic Circuit, but to the 1^stPerimeter, the socio-political core of the Empire. It was almost unheard of.

They had stayed up talking the whole night, and drinking far too much. Prehston had no recollection of leaving the bar. He looked around the room he now found himself in. He was in an enormous penthouse suite, in a bed large enough to hold five people. The room was lushly decorated in creams and blues with thick-pile rugs strewn about the floors. It was window-less but there were large skylights overhead, which was how the blasted sun was getting in to torment his fragile head.

Prehston stumbled out of the bed and felt a rush of blood go to his head. He steadied himself on a lamp and realised he was stark naked. He squinted and looked for his suit; it was folded neatly on a chair in the corner of the room.

He was donning his clothes when the door opened. It was Lalayna.

“Oops, I’m sorry,”she said when she saw she’d caught him with only one leg in his pants. She put one hand over her eyes and laughed.

“’s alright,” Prehston slurred, his mouth dry. He scrambled to pull his trousers up. “You can look now.”

She handed him a cup. “Here, I brought you something that will help.”

“Oh, this is exactly what I need.” Prehston took a sip of a viscous, dark liquid. “I can’t tell you how much my head is killing me.”

“Yes, I felt the same way too, although you drank far more than me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Prehston had vague recollections of drinking a seemingly endless string of roham shooters. It wasn’t like him; Prehston had never been one for overdoing the drink. “What else did I do,” he asked, a wary expression on his face.

Lalayna laughed again. “Nothing much, I’m afraid. You passed out in my cruiser; I thought it would be easier to bring you back here.”

“Oh that’s great – charming,” Prehston muttered in embarrassment. Then an alarm went off in his head. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Noon,”Lalayna replied. “Why?”

“Shit! I can believe this, I’m about three hours late!”

***

Roob and Cibi Lans had reported to Prehston’s office first thing in the morning, as instructed by the Doh the previous evening. They had spent a good hour waiting for their superior officer before Cibi suggested asking Brentt Koi for Prehston’s whereabouts.

“Don’t you worry about Prehston,” the Koi had told the Lans. “He’s exactly where he should be.”

Roob’s slanted black eyes had narrowed even further in suspicion. “So when is he coming back?”

“When he comes back,” the Koi had replied, cramming a stick of dyleth in his mouth and looking very pleased with himself.

In the end, Prehston had drifted in a little after lunch. He felt like hell but was pleased to find his two new Lans standing at attention outside his office.

“Excellent,”he said. “You two, come with me.”

They left the Command Compound and took a cruiser to the quarries.

“I want you to take me to the slave that escaped yesterday,” Prehston said to Roob and Cibi.

“Why?”asked Roob.

The Doh’s right eyebrow arched as he glared at the gaunt Lan. “Did you just ask me a question?”

Roob had hit a nerve. Prehston knew questioning of a slave was a long way below his job description, but he had the good excuse that he’d been working on cracking the problem with the security tags for a month now. Prehston hadn’t thought it all through yet – his head was throbbing, his mouth felt like a cesspit and he couldn’t get the picture of that damned Jemenyii out of his mind. And the heat, that blasted heat, wasn’t making it any better.

Roob’s mouth tensed as he bit back a caustic reply. Something in the Doh’s eyes, which were ringed with purple shadows, seemed to change his mind.

With nervous hands, Cibi Lan pulled up his trousers, which were perpetually trying to part company with his rotund waist, and looked relieved his partner had left it alone for once.

The two Lans took a while locating the girl. It was hard, Roob explained to the Doh, because those dumb Jemenyii all looked the same, didn’t they? Prehston pointed out that they were all stamped with serial numbers, but Roob’s retort was that he didn’t much like getting that close.

The girl – serial number 999456678-DHS-L – had been assigned to the eastern quarry today. Prehston commandeered the quarry master’s office and had her brought in.

“Here she is, Doh.” Roob dragged the Jemenyii girl behind him dropped her on the floor thick with the fine, sandy dust that covered almost everything in the quarries.

Prehston did not look at her directly. He took a seat behind the quarry master’s desk.“Pick her up.”

Roob was too busy sneering at her, so Cibi leant forward and helped her up.

“You’re dismissed, Lans,” Prehston said, his eyes still avoiding the girl.

Cibi turned to leave. Roob’s mouth curled into a smirk, then he shrugged and followed suit.

Only once the door had closed did Prehston let his eyes rest on the girl. She was looking down to her feet, as was proper. Last night, in the dusk of the desert, Prehston hadn’t noticed how cleanly her red hair shone. It was unusual for a slave. Her pale skin was flushed and covered with a slight sheen from the manual work.

“How did you escape, slave?” Prehston’s voice was like broken glass. He had no intention of letting his guard down.

The girl showed no indication that she had heard a thing.

“Answer me!” he shouted.

The girl backed up towards the door.

Perhaps the wrong approach. Prehston stepped from behind the desk and smiled. His voice became conciliatory. “I never thanked you about the creyl”.

The Jemenyii looked up, her expression doubtful, and met his eyes. Was it just him or was a blush spreading across her cheeks? She held his gaze for a few seconds, then her features smoothed themselves out and she smiled at him.

Prehston felt his resolve wavering. What influence was this girl wielding over him?

“It’s ok, you can tell me,” he reassured her. But Prehston wasn’t prepared for what came next. It was as if someone had turned the volume up in his head.

My name is Reggan.

Each word tore through his skull. He covered his ears but the words continued to echo like a bell, and then a searing white light exploded before his eyes.

“What did you say?” Prehston whispered. His complexion became chalky as the blood drained out of his head.

And then it came again, like a tide washing him away from the room, from the solidity of the floor.

You’re welcome.

It still hurt like hell, but this time Prehston had been ready for it. He had watched the girl’s mouth closely, and he was sure her lips had not moved at all.

Prehston didn’t know how many seconds passed whilst he collected himself. The girl –Reggan (since when did Jemenyii have names?) – looked back down at the floor as if nothing was amiss.

“What the hell did you just do to me?” Prehston meant to shout, but it came out as a croak.

A small smile played on Reggan’s lips. Fine, he thought. Two can play that came.

The Doh crossed the floor in a flash, the click of his military boots muffled by the dust. As tall as the girl was, Prehston still towered over her by a head.

Reggan’s smile died and her eyes became serious, but there was something in her expression that made the blood rush back to Prehston’s cheeks. How dare she look at him that way? Indignation and a tinge of some other emotion he had no intention of acknowledging flooded through him.

“Listen,”he said softly, but there was no mistaking the threat in his voice, “I have no idea what you just did to me a second ago, but I can promise you by the time I’m through with you you’ll be begging me to listen to you. I want to know who you are, how you escaped, where you were going, how you just spoke to me, and I want to know now.”

Reggan’s eyes widened in what Prehston thought was fear, but then she broke into a wide smile.

You won’t hurt me.

It wasn’t as bad this time, the volume was going down in Prehston’s head, but it had still made him flinch.

“Oh really?” Without warning, he pulled his and back and smacked her hard across the cheekbone.

Reggan’s head snapped round and she clung to Prehston instinctively to stop herself from stumbling back. Her right hand flew to her cheek, which was smarting from the violent blow, but her left hand continued to cling to Prehston’s bronze uniform.

Her green eyes watered and her lip trembled imperceptibly. Prehston was nearly winded by a pulse of unfamiliar emotion. He might as well have struck himself. It felt as though some kind of personal threshold had been breached, as if the contact, even though violent, had been too intimate. And now the look on her face made him feel horrible, guilty. He had no idea what thoughts his deep-brown eyes were betraying right now.

Then Reggan did the one thing Prehston did not expect. She let her hand fall from her cheek, stepped forwards and slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

Prehston stopped breathing. He could not move, much as he wanted to. He could feel the top of her hair against his neck, and her scent was different than anything he’d ever encountered, sweet and fresh at the same time.

He couldn’t tell how long they stood this way, motionless, a thousand thoughts flying through his head. His mind seemed to have detached itself entirely from his body, and he fancied he could see himself and the young Jemenyii girl from across the room. Eventually, a small voice reminded Prehston that this was not such a good idea. That it was time to move. Now.

Prehston reached behind his back and gently pulled Reggan’s hands loose. He could not look at her, and did not look at her, as he crossed the space to the door in two long strides and let himself out of the quarry master’s office.

Prehston found his two Lans leaning against a stack of carved columns ready to be shipped. Cibi snapped to attention as soon as he spotted the Doh, but Roob took his time, his salute pointedly half-hearted.

Prehston composed his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression. The sun annoyed him, its brightness somehow intrusive, as though laying bare his mind for all to see. For a second he was terrified that everyone around him could tell exactly what had happened in that cabin and what thoughts – thoughts he could barely acknowledge himself – had gone through his head.

But Cibi and Roob looked no different than usual, the fat one eager to please and the lanky one itching for a chance to be insubordinate. As for the foremen and slaves, they were merely going about their business, throwing the occasional glance in Prehston’s direction because it wasn’t everyday you saw a Doh.

Paranoia was the biggest enemy, Prehston knew that well. It wasn’t so much a matter of getting found out as of giving oneself away.

“Roob, Cibi,”Prehston barked, “take her away and meet me at the cruiser.”

***

As soon as they returned to the Command Compound, Prehston rushed off to his office and dismissed his two Lans on some random errand. He wanted them well out of his hair. His thoughts were crystal clear now. Prehston had always been able to compartmentalise emotions, no matter how strong. Maybe that’s why he had done so well on the KDP.

The Doh locked the door, sat down at his desk and typed an address in the console. A revolving red crescent, the Cillah symbol, indicated that the transmission was being put through.

The viewer lit up to show the face of a young Cillah male. He wore a black scientific coat and had a mass of overgrown, shaggy black hair. He was thin, but in a glamorous sort of way.

“Hi Stahn,”Prehston said.

Stahn’s wide, generous mouth formed into an impish grin when he saw who was on the other end of the transmission.

“Prehston! Unbelievable. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for like, months, and now you call me out of nowhere just when I can’t really talk, which is, like, an incredible thing in itself.” His informal prattling belied the speedy, efficient manner in which he was slotting a batch of vials into a rack. “How are you doing, matey?” Stahn peered at Prehston, no doubt clocking the shadows under his friend’s eyes. “You look like shit, cookie; told you you’d work yourself into an early grave.” Prehston rolled his eyes and Stahn let out a low chuckle. “So, how’s sunny Layertis?”

Prehston mouth broke into a lopsided smile. “Sunny.”

“Well, I can see you haven’t changed – as verbose as always.” Stahn quickly finished sorting his vials before giving his friend his undivided attention. “Right, you’ve got about thirty seconds before I have to go into a pretty important meeting with the Koi of Organics – we’ve discovered something fantastic, but won’t bore you with details… so, to what do I owe this honour, your grand holiness?”

“Stahn, it’s really good to see you. I’ve missed you, you know?”

“Sure,”Stahn said, but his smile wavered. It was not like Prehston to be effusive. In fact, Stahn couldn’t remember the last time Prehston had ever said either of those things. The best he ever got was ‘hi’, ‘where the hell have you been?’ or a brusque nod. “Go on,” Stahn said, “what’s up?”

“Ok. I need you to do me a favour, and fast. I need you to look into Jemenyii psycho-cognitive abilities. I now you have access to Psychometrics.”

“Yeah, sure, I suppose I could… but what for?”

“Stahn, you’re going think I stayed out in the sun too long, but I’m not dreaming this up. I swear one of them spoke to me telepathically.”

Stahn frowned. “Yeah, ok. I don’t think so though. I mean, Jemenyii IQ and mental makeup are far below normal, that’s the whole point. That’s why they’re slaves, like, right?”

“I know, I know – just do this for me. Find out everything you can about any telepathic abilities they might have, I don’t care if it’s just anecdotal evidence. And let me know as soon as you got it, ok?”

“Sure buddy, no problem.” Stahn glanced over his shoulder and Prehston could see a couple of scientists entering the lab in the frame. “Look I’ve got to go,”Stahn said, “but do not fret my Lord, I’ll get back to you before the end of the day.” He winked and the viewer went black.

***

Roob Lan leant idly against the wall outside Prehston Doh’s office with chubby Cibi standing next to him. Both appeared to be in deep conversation.

Roob nodded at a couple of Dohs walking past, who frowned back at his unprofessional posture. This seemed to amuse Roob to no end. Once the Dohs had passed, Roob turned towards the wall and removed a small electronic device from it. He took out his ear receptors and put the lot in his belt-pouch.

“C’mon, Cibi,” he said. “I’m not sure what that was all about, but I have a feeling we’ve about to get a well-earned pat on the back.”

***

It had been a long day. Nothing out of the ordinary, just routine Doh duties, but if Prehston’s excesses from the night before hadn’t put him at a disadvantage, his experience with the Jemenyii girl that afternoon certainly had.

Prehston, still sat at his console even though his shift had ended ages ago, rubbed his face wearily. God, he thought, I just want to go to bed.

But there were still three hearings – disciplinaries – that had to be held. If he hadn’t been so late getting to work and hadn’t gone off to the quarries in the afternoon he would have wrapped them up long ago, so he couldn’t permit himself any real self-pity. Besides, he was still waiting for an answer from Stahn, and he was loath to retire without it.

Prehston touched a pad on his console and his schedule for the day lit up. The next hearing was in section JB12, at the other end of the Command Compound. He yawned, stretched and smoothed his dark-brown hair, which had developed strong copper highlights under Layertis’s fierce sun. He donned his bronze uniform jacket and clipped his utility belt around his waist. He was just about to open the door and leave when he heard the beep of the incoming transmission.

***

Prehston made his way to Medical with brisk steps. His heart was pounding with anxiety, which was stupid. True, the timing was off-schedule, but the Command Compound roster would have shown that Prehston hadn’t logged off duty yet. Psychometric testing was a regular, run of the mill action once you hit the rank of Doh. He’d gone through it dozens of times. The difference was that, until now, Prehston had never had anything to hide. His record was so straight that on his last secondment in Agrinomics, the other Dohs had taken bets on how long Prehston would last without a single reprimand on his record. So far, no one had won.

Was today the day? Had he fallen from grace at last? Prehston refused to accept it. He’d done nothing wrong. He must remember: he’d done nothing.

Even though Prehston kept repeating this to himself like a mantra as he marched through the stony maze of corridors, he wished he hadcommitted some small misdemeanour, whished he had some kind of ‘offering’ that would leave him off the hook from having to deal with what had happened this afternoon.

Prehston reigned in his thoughts before entering a sparse, metallic room. Medical was the only part of Base that was not orange. The walls, ceilings and floors were lined in Creamite, a silvery compound that cut out all electronic transmissions so Base’s operations would not interfere with the sensitive medical equipment.

Prehston sat himself down at the small metallic table that stood in the middle of the room.

Perde Mellio 1^stClass entered, a short, utterly non-descript Cillah with kind medium-brown eyes. 1^st Class Mellios, the elite of the medical corps, were rare: Perde was the only one assigned to the Raw Materials Division. but no one else had clearance to conduct Doh-level Psychometric Assessments.

Perde Mellio sat behind the table, the dull grey screen between himself and his subject concealing an array of dials and viewers. His voice nasal, yet soothing on the nerves.

“Thank you for responding so quickly, Prehston Doh,” he said. Prehston suppressed an ironic laugh: as if he had a choice. Perde smiled at his interlocutor the way a doctor with a good bedside manner does to a dying patient, and Prehston knew this was all the Mellio would say by means of introduction.

“Please attach the sensor to your right arm,” Perde instructed. With a gesture that was more fitting to an Arena hostess than an interrogator, he pointed to a thin, silvery armband lying on Prehston’s right. It was plain metal apart from two green flashing lights.

Prehston smiled to himself. Perde never varied his patter an inch. Prehston did as he was told with calm, careful motions. It was important to stay calm, and tonight more so than ever.

“Please relax, this will cause no pain,” Perde continued smoothly. “You are not required to answer. You may think about anything you wish during the assessment. Thank you.”

And then the questions began. Perde’s tone was monotonous, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.

Since his last Assessment, had Prehston failed to carry out his duty? Since his last Assessment, had Prehston embezzled or been party to the embezzlement of any funds? Since his last Assessment, had Prehston lied to a superior officer? Was he aware of any irregular situation which he had failed to report?

Prehston let the stream of questions wash over him. He had nothing to hide, and he knew the questions by heart. It was only the last one he didn’t want to hear right now, even though it had never caused him any concern before.

Before he could prepare for himself, it came.

“Since your last assessment, have you done, or thought about doing, anything sexually illegal or perverted?”

Prehston felt his heart smash against his rib-cage. A brief image of Reggan flashed before his eyes. He watched Perde for any reaction, but he knew that the thoroughly-trained professional Assessor would never betray a Positive Line by his reactions.

Perde looked up from his dials and gave Prehston a genial smiled. “Thank you, Prehston Doh. This concludes our assessment. You may remove the sensor.”

***

There was probably no need to worry. If there had been any Positive Line, Prehston would have been detained for further tests, but Perde had released him with the same polite indifference he showed everyone.

Prehston was not a pervert. Sex was only loosely regulated; the only thing that was not tolerated, the big taboo, was bestiality. And Jemenyii, as slaves and a lower species, technically qualified as animals.

Mating between Cillah and Jemenyii did occasionally happen, but the resultant social stigma (rather than the minor prison sentence) acted as a powerful deterrent. Dubious sexual tendencies were not so heavily scrutinised in the lower governmental grades, but the higher one got, the purer one had to be.

And Prehston was pure.

He had barely so much as dropped a piece of litter in the street. He had never had a stray thought towards Jemenyii females in his life. In fact, he’d been so busy he’d hardly had a stray thought for females full stop. And now this… this girl. What was she doing to him? It wasn’t his fault. It was obviously her. She was doing this to him. And he was going to find out how and why before he got off this desert.

Prehston glanced at his time-viewer as he left Medical. He’d missed his first hearing, but he’d able to make the second and third.

***

By the time the last hearing finished, it was all Prehston could do to keep his eyes open. He sighed at the thought of finally going to bed, but he knew he’d never get to sleep without checking if Stahn had got back to him first, so he decided to swing by his office and check his messages one last time.

The first thing Prehston saw when he walked in was the red message touchpad flashing. He sat down and scanned through the first message – it was from Lalayna. He’d listen to it tomorrow, he told himself with a twinge of guilt, because he’d already ignored her transmission earlier on today. The next two were from Doh Curtesh regarding the disciplinary Prehston had missed due to his Assessment. He continued to scan through until he reached what he was looking for.

His friend looked awful on the viewer – pale, sweaty and… serious. Prehston couldn’t remember the last time Stahn had ever been serious about anything.

“Ok buddy,” the message began, “I did what you wanted.” Stahn’s breathing was laboured and his eyes darted intermittently about the room. “I looked it up –hey, I thought you were full of it, you know I did, but I guess I don’t know squat, because you hit the nail right on the head.” Stahn ran a hand through his hair and it slicked back with sweat. Then he must have heard a sound because he whipped his head round to watch something at the back of the lab which the shot wasn’t capturing. Satisfied with whatever it was, Stahn turned back to the viewer.

“Yeah,” he continued, “the Jemenyii most definitely have developed psycho-cognitive abilities. Unfortunately, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Look, the files were security coded, Koi Access Only. But you know me, I couldn’t resist it, buddy. I hacked the codes – don’t ask me how,” he added dismissively with a ghost of a cocky smile.

“Anyway, I’ve fucked up big time. It’s set off some kind of alarm and the Constabulary is on its way. I’m up for interrogation. I’ve got to go – don’t worry about me. I’ll get a slap on the wrist and a big fine, that’s all.” His expression turned nonchalant, but it looked forced. “I’ll delete all traces of this message but you better do the same down your end if you don’t want to get dragged into this. I’ll call you when I get back. You owe me big time, cookie,” Stahn added with a wink.

The viewer went blank. The message coding showed that it had come in two hours ago. Prehston punched in Stahn’s address and pressed Transmit.

At first there was no pickup, so Prehston assumed Stahn wasn’t back yet, or that he’d gone home. Then the viewer lit up. Instead of Stahn, a middle-aged scientist, a woman with tired eyes, was sat at his desk. “Science Hub 445, Laare Kepler 2^nd Class speaking, how can I help?” She was probably the lead research scientist of Stahn’s lab.

“Prehston Doh. I’m looking for Stahn.”

The woman pursed her lips and pulled her shoulders back, as if composing herself.“I’m very sorry,” she said, not unsympathetically.

Why was she apologising? “Where is he?” Prehston asked, trying to ignore a wave of apprehension that felt like a rock had been dropped in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m afraid Stahn Kepler 3^rd Class was involved in an unfortunate accident an hour ago.”

Prehston stiffened. “Is he all right?”

“I’m sorry, Doh.” The Kepler’s voice faltered a little.

An accident. A bloody accident.

Prehston sat, stunned. He must have ended the transmission somehow, because when he looked down, the viewer was blank. He tried to stand but his legs felt like rubber and his throat constricted until he could hardly swallow. Prehston did what he was good at. He shut off his emotions and started thinking. Then he left his office and headed for Brentt Koi’s.

***

Medical – Confidential – Clearance 15

Status: Urgent

Date/Time: 100>05>33’22’31

Source: Perde Mellio 1^stClass

Target: Brentt Koi

Message: Prehston Doh: Psychometric Test Results

Score: 8/10

Positive Line: Sexual Perversion

Unreported Irregular Situation

***

Brentt Koi had been most sympathetic, most helpful. He’d assured the Doh that he would monitor the investigations on Cillah and let Prehston know anything they turned up.

Prehston had filled the Koi in on the essentials – omitting, obviously, the reason why he had wanted Stahn to research Jemenyii cognitive abilities in the first place. His excuse was that it was part of his investigation as to how the security tags were getting disabled. Since functional tests hadn’t turned up anything yet, he was looking into the possibility (however remote) that the slaves were disabling the devices themselves. The Koi hadn’t seemed interested anyway.

Throughout the meeting, Prehston was ashamed to find that his mind kept wandering back to his Psychometric Assessment. He knew it was self-absorbed, worrying about his record when his best friend had just died under suspicious circumstances, but he couldn’t help it. He tried to steer the conversation round somewhere near the general topic, but the Koi wasn’t taking the bait. Prehston decided he might as well ask the Koi straight out. After all, wasn’t he something of a favourite of Brentt’s, who went ‘way back’ with his father? Whatever the result, Prehston thought the Koi was likely to help him out rather than hang him out to dry – even for a perversion positive.

“Koi,” Prehston said, “I’ve just taken another Assessment.”

Brentt smiled.“Yes. Got the results.”

“All good?”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about Prehston – as always. Go get some rest, you look half-dead.”

***

Prehston went back to his quarters feeling drained and broken. He had known Stahn his whole life. They’d met as kids at the Academy on Cillah. Stahn had become a stable companion in Prehston’s lonely childhood – his father had always been too busy with work and his mother had died in childbirth. Stahn and Prehston had been inseparable ever since – that is, until Prehston has begun the Koi Development Programme and Stahn had stayed on Cillah with the Scientific Corp. Then Prehston hadn’t kept in touch with his best friend as much as he should have. He had told himself it was the workload, but he knew that was only part of it. The last couple of years had changed Prehston, and he wasn’t sure he wanted the changes to be scrutinised by the one person in the world who could see right through him.

He didn’t know what he would do without his oddball of a friend, who had always managed to get a smile out of him and had kept him from becoming a stuffed shirt with a poker up his arse, as Stahn used to say. Prehston had taken it for granted that he would always be around.

Prehston got into bed and turned out the lights; he needed to think. But his exhaustion soon pulled him into a restless sleep. Half-sentient dreams began to roll out in his mind. Of Stahn grinning stupidly. Of Stahn and him fishing on the shores ofLake Gorash, of sneaking out of the Academy to go out on the town and meet pretty girls, of playing cards in bed until the wee hours of the night, the conversation turning increasingly ludicrous as the hour grew small.

The images were dimming and a deeper sleep was shrouding Prehston’s mind when a brilliant picture of Reggan shot through. Prehston tried to wake himself up, but it was like quicksand; the more he struggled, the more the image gained in intensity.

He was in the desert, on Layertis. The night was dark, but the stars were legion and the two moons bright. She was standing in a thin white dress, the light desert breeze moulding it to her young body, her red hair flitting in the hot breeze.

When she saw Prehston approach, her smile radiated such pleasure that he was taken aback. In the dream, Prehston wasn’t entirely himself. He was not stiff or careful. He was taking loose strides towards Reggan, his brown shiny hair ruffling in the breeze, a wide, white smile contrasting with his beige complexion. Prehston watched himself pick her up in his arms and they both laughed, as though there was nothing amiss, nothing strange. He felt a sense of happiness so intense he hardly knew what it was at first.

“I knew you’d come,” Reggan said.

“I’ve missed you,” he heard himself say to her.

“How much?” she asked, running her finger along the side of his jaw.

He pressed his body against hers and leaned his head towards the side of her neck. Her scent was intoxicating. He brushed his lips softly on her pale skin.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he murmured.

She moaned a little and Prehston’s mouth worked its way up her neck, his breathing becoming uneven. His mouth then met hers.

Prehston woke with a start and sat up in the dark, his heart beating way too fast, his body drenched in sweat. He was torn between terror at what he had just let himself dream, and a hollow sort of emptiness that felt as sharp as if a knife had been plunged in his chest. Without thinking, he threw on his uniform and left his quarters.

***

His mind was a blank as he galloped through Base’s gateposts on his favourite dojeh. Perhaps it was the fact that it was the middle of the night, or that he was struggling with lack of sleep as well as a hangover, or perhaps the shock of Stahn’s death – or maybe all of these combined. He rode the dojeh hard through the desert towards the outcrop where he’d first found Reggan.

It was warm, but the breeze was strong and the stars were out in force. In fact, the night was indistinguishable from the way it had been in the dream. The diffuse light of the moons allowed him to see a shape standing on a dune just before the outcrop. It was her. Prehston brought his dojeh to a halt and walked the rest of the way.

As he approached, Reggan smiled, but the smile was shyer than the one in the dream.

“I knew you’d come,” she said, her voice so soft it was nearly a whisper, but out loud, not in his head this time.

Prehston felt a jolt at the words. The next line came unbidden into his mind, but it seemed absurd to even consider uttering it. He had to keep a grip on reality.“How did you escape?” he asked instead, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

Reggan laughed and walked towards him. She reached out a hand but Prehston pulled back uncertainly.

“How is this happening?” he asked.

Reggan’s smile fell a little. “I’m not sure.”

“Reggan–”he paused, feeling odd at using a name for a Jemenyii, yet it also pleased him.“Don’t do this. My best friend just died trying to find out how you’ve been talking to me in my head. I’m not sure, but I’m probably headed for a court-martial because of you. I don’t have much time. I’m not even supposed to be here, someone will find out–”

“I’m not supposed to be here either,” she interjected. Her expression was serious now, even a little a fearful. She threw a quick glance at the outcrop behind her. “All right,” she agreed, “I’ll tell you everything I know. Our race used to be as intelligent as yours, maybe more. We have abilities – things we can do with the mind. Talking telepathically, mostly. Two thousand years ago, the Cillah invaded our territories and found a way to suppress our mental abilities. There was an added bonus – it reduced our IQ massively and made us more passive.”

Prehston struggled to think with the concept. Had could history had been so thoroughly re-written?

“But – how?”Prehston asked. It didn’t make any sense; to his knowledge, Jemenyii were not subjected to any kind of mass ‘treatment’; unless it was something that had been passed down the centuries genetically.

“It’s just an electronic frequency,” Reggan explained. “The results are instantaneous. There are emitters hidden in every planet with a Jemenyii population. The effects are permanent.”

“But then how did you–”

“Well that’s where it gets interesting. We don’t really know how, or why, but over time, there started to be rare exceptions, people who were immune. There are only four of us on Layertis. Apparently there are a few more and Dörmtang and Kerszen. We can’t communicate with them clearly, the distances are too great.

“There is one whose abilities are greater than all of ours. He was the first. He escaped years ago, and has been hiding out here trying to unravel the mystery, trying to figure out how to counter the effects of the frequency. We escape every once in a while to bring him supplies, and we’ve been covering our tracks relatively well. We can disable the security tags, but sometimes they reactivate themselves – that’s what happened to mine last night. We set free others from time to time to keep any pattern from emerging.”

Prehston’s eyes tightened as he listened. He suddenly felt exhausted again. “God, I don’t know what to say.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand wearily over his face.

“We need your help, Prehston.” She looked at the tall Cillah anxiously.

“How?”he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Look the other way when we go. Don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you,” she blurted, as if she was afraid he would say no. “And,” she added, briefly casting her eyes away, “stay in touch with me”.

“All right. I won’t tell anyone, you don’t have to worry about that. Hell, it’s not exactly in my best interest to. But understand one thing: I’ve dedicated my entire life to the Cillah government; I won’t betray my people.”

“Of course,” she said quickly.

There was a silence, then Prehston spoke, more to himself than anyone else. “So, that’s how you’ve been speaking to me in my head.”

“Well– yes and no.”

“What does that mean?”

“Our telepathic abilities are intra-species. I’ve never heard of someone communicating telepathically with another race. I don’t know why I can speak to you. I thought there was something different about you the first time I saw you.” She looked away again, and whatever she thought of made her cheeks colour. “So I tried to see what I could do when you brought me back to Base.”

Prehston’s eyes widened with curiosity. “When did you try?”

“During the night.”

“I see.” His mind flashed back to the disturbing dreams he had had the previous night – god, was that only yesterday? It seemed like a week ago.

“Maybe something new,” Reggan hypothesised, “some kind of adaptation or mutation that has arisen as a result of the electronic nullification of our psycho-cognitive powers over the last two millennia.”

Prehston watched Reggan speak with a half smile. It was odd listening to a Jemenyii talk of mutations and millennia; sort of cute. But this was no time to get soft.

“I’ve got to go,” he told her.

“I know,” she said with studied equanimity, but it did not completely conceal her disappointment.

Prehston stood as if rooted to the sand a few inches from the girl. His senses became keenly aware of her presence. The breeze blew her long red hair about her and the ends caressed his cheek. He fought the urge to touch her pale cheek, and with more effort than he was willing to admit even to himself, he turned around and remounted his dojeh.

***

Prehston had only managed another few hours of sleep after returning to Base from the desert last night. He was still battling with a thick exhaustion, and it didn’t help that the meeting was dragging on tediously.

Prehston forced his mind to focus on the old Doh rattling off some scheme to reduce the cost of shipping, but his thoughts kept straying back to Stahn and the enquiries Prehston had launched this morning. He had tried to be careful with his questions, but by linking himself to Stahn’s investigations, surely the Constabulary would be onto him soon. But he was past getting worried about landing himself in trouble, even though he knew he was crossing a line from which he was unlikely to return. He may well have to wave goodbye to graduating the KDP. He couldn’t imagine what his father would say, but there was no point thinking about that now.

It was odd that the threat looming over Prehston’s exemplary service record didn’t bother him. It should have. Prehston smiled despite himself. Was the euphoria some kind of gallows humour, or just the fact that he hadn’t felt this alive in years? His thoughts never strayed very far from Reggan, and it was as though something squeezed his heart every time his mind conjured up her image.

The drone of the Doh’s voice continued and Prehston drifted into a daydream, which it was interrupted by a loud beep from the intercom panel. Prehston pushed the touchpad.

“This is Prehston Doh,” he said.

“Doh, Brentt Koi is requesting your presence.”

“I’ll be there as soon as the meeting finishes,” Prehston replied.

“Negative, Doh – the Koi requests your presence immediately.”

Prehston frowned. He couldn’t think of anything urgent enough for the Koi to interrupt the Doh Revue. “Very well,” he told the voice at the other end, “I’ll be there immediately.”

***

As soon as Prehston opened the door to the Koi’s office, he knew the game was up.

Brentt was stood by the side of his desk looking out the window. The air in the office felt chilly despite the sweltering heat. Prehston could see the Koi’s face in profile. There was nothing friendly about the old man today. Something in his expression, in the cold set of his small black eyes, sent a shiver down Prehston’s spine.

He closed the door behind him. “Prehston Doh reporting.” At moments like these, what else was there but form and decorum?

“Doh,”Brentt acknowledged, still looking out the window. “Let’s not beat about the bush. I’ve tried to be a friend to you, I really have.” His voice was flat, but it had a steely edge. “I think you and I both know what your test revealed.”

Prehston nodded imperceptibly.

The Koi turned around at last and sighed. “I wanted to leave it alone; had no interest in taking it up at all. Now look at what you’re making me do. I’m trying to help you, can’t you see? You could be the youngest Koi in all of Cillah history. What you’ve achieved is unparalleled. Don’t throw it all away on a passing fancy.”

Prehston raised an eyebrow.

“Yes– I know about the girl.”

Prehston’s blood turned cold, and he was surprised to find himself feeling violated rather than ashamed. Worry about Reggan burned urgently in the back of his mind. There was a slight twitch of tension in his jaw, but otherwise his expression remained impassive. He shrugged.

“Nothing to know about,” Prehston said. “I think the girl’s got a crush on me or something.” His mind scanned through the last two days’ events. Brentt must be referring to the incident in the quarry mater’s office; it was no doubt those two idiots, Roob and Cibi, keeping tabs on him for the Koi.

“Look Prehston: I don’t want to talk about it anymore than you do.” Brentt shuddered, as if the idea revolted him. Prehston fought a brief impulse to step forward and smash his fist into the fat man’s jaw. “So just drop the whole thing,” the Koi continued. “Get back to work, leave these absurd enquiries alone – all respects to your friend – and I’ll forget about it too.”

Ah, so that’s what this was all about. Comprehension dawned on Prehston. The Koi had been monitoring his transmissions this morning, and no doubt the one between him and Stahn the day before.

Brentt saw Prehston’s hesitation. “No one ever need know about it,” the Koi went on, “just you and me.”

Yeah, Prehston thought, I’m sure you’ll keep the secret nice and safe – at least until the day you need to blackmail me.

“What about the possibility of Jemenyii psycho-cognitive abilities?” Prehston asked.

“A myth,” the Koi replied in honeyed tones. His obsidian eyes bore into Prehston’s. “The accident with your friend: a mere coincidence. His discoveries: lies manufactured no doubt by some ‘anti cruelty to slaves’ beatnik group. Does it really matter to you either way?”

“I suppose not,”Prehston replied. “The girl?” he said, his voice sounding bored.

“Captured. You led us straight to her with your little midnight desert tryst. We also found another two male Jemenyii hiding in the desert. One of whom went missing years ago. He didn’t respond to torture, but the younger one did and we found out there was one more like them on Base. I suppose I should thank you really, we had no idea. Dörmtang and Kerszen authorities have also been alerted. Doh Sternein is designing a new security tag system as we speak so this doesn’t happen again.”

Prehston nodded.“Understood, Koi. Permission to return to duty.”

The Koi waved his fat fingers towards the door. “Of course. Oh, and I forget: Lalayna has been trying to get in touch with you – you haven’t been returning her transmissions.”

“Oh.”

“Now why don’t you go and see her as soon as you can, Prehston. She’d be good for you. Not just because she’s a nice girl, if you get my meaning. Put all this behind you.”

“Yes. I’ll give her a call, thank you Koi.”

***

After having Tech check and countercheck his office for bugs, Prehston pulled a favour with a young Tech Assistant who hero-worshiped him to have temporary high-security clamps on his routers. He posted a Lan he trusted outside his door and cleared his schedule. Time would be limited.

He set about tirelessly hacking into some of the lower-security files Stahn had accessed. The problem was, despite his Doh ranking, he didn’t have any Scientific clearance. It was long, laborious work. He’d nearly reached the last security wall without triggering off any alarms. He had also pulled every string he could with Base’s other Dohs to find out where Reggan had been taken, but no one was talking. Bloody bastards, Prehston thought. He knew his impeccable record and stupid swot attitude would come back and bite him in the arse one day.

The hour was late. Prehston rubbed his neck, trying to work the stiffness out. He’d hardly had any sleep for two days now. He could probably afford to get a few hours’kip; he’d been meticulous with covering up his tracks.

It was unlikely the Koi would catch on for another twelve hours or so, although his finding out was inevitable. Prehston knew what would be waiting for him if he didn’t get any solid evidence.

Perhaps it was time to get some help. Just one more call before getting some sleep. Prehston punched an address into the console and put the transmission through.

***

He returned to his quarters and crashed out on his bunk without even removing his shoes. Sleep came immediately, and so did the nightmare. Prehston could see Stahn laugh at something or other in a cruiser. And then an impact, the whole cruiser collapsing on itself like a toy model getting crushed, Stahn’s expression of dread, his head smashing against the side of the cruiser, the gushing blood.

Prehston woke feeling sick. He turned the lights on and they blinded him momentarily. God I feel like shit, he thought. What he needed was a cold shower.

He stripped his uniform and boots as he staggered to the sanitation cubicle. He pressed a button and the door slid back with a low hiss. The water was jetting down in steady streams all around the cubicle. Prehston stepped in groggily, with barely a few seconds to enjoy the feel of the shower on his sore muscles before feeling the pain.

The bites were multiple.

There were six or seven creyl crawling about the cubicle, small, translucent, deadly. Even if Prehston had looked down when he’d entered, would he have made them out amongst the splash of the water jets?

Prehston jumped out of the shower and clutched his feet instinctively, examining the bites. There were about four of them on his feet and ankles.

“Shit shit shit!” Prehston swore. He let out a yell of frustration. He ran out the sanitation cubicle to the communications console. He pressed Emergency, but the console was dead. None of the touchpads were illuminated. Prehston’s heart rate was going through the roof. There was no antidote. The only hope he had was to get the poison cleaned out of his bloodstream, and if he was going to have any chance of doing so, he needed to get to Medical now.

Prehston grabbed a towel, wrapped it hurriedly around his waist and headed for the door. He pressed the release button but it didn’t budge an inch. He pressed it again. Nothing. He opened the door’s control panel and started checking the connections of the opening mechanism, but there was nothing amiss.

Prehston glanced around his quarters frantically, looking for some way out that he might have missed, but he knew there was none. All officer quarters were windowless and soundproofed for security reasons.

He returned to the console and continued pressing keys like a demented man, but his resolve was quickly slipping away. With multiple bites, the heart seizure would come any moment, and then the paralysis.

It seemed like such a stupid way to go. He thought of his father. Hadn’t spoken to him in months. Hadn’t even had the courage to call him after Stahn’s death. Then he thought of Reggan. There was no logic to how he felt, he knew that, but he was gripped with an onslaught of regret.

Prehston felt his heartbeat slow down and a sense of peace reign over him, the sense of peace that comes from knowing the game is up and there’s nothing you can do about it. He waited.

And then he waited.

***

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Cibi Lan moaned.

“Shut up you imbecile,” Roob Lan snarled at his corpulent partner. He was hunched over a small screen in a deserted corridor.

Cibi paced up and down the corridor restlessly. “I can’t believe this. First the girl, now this!” he wailed.

Roob looked up from his screen. “Give me a break, Cibi. What’s one more or one less Jemenyii bitch to you?”

“It’s illegal to kill slaves.”

“Oh, yeah – whatever. As if anyone actually gives a shit. It’s like saying it’s illegal to commit adultery.” Roob snorted derisively. “Look Cibi, I told you I’d take care of the girl if you didn’t want to do it, but you insisted on handling it yourself, so don’t come complaining to me now. Honestly, I don’t know how you ever made it to Lan. Is it hard walking around without a spine?”

Cibi’s eyes flickered momentarily away from Roob’s sardonic stare. Only Cibi knew that the girl wasn’t dead. He’d never intended to kill her. In fact, that was why he had taken the assignment. Instead of killing the Jemenyii, he had fiddled the records and assigned her a new serial number and bribed a few minor officials to fake her death and disposal.

He didn’t really know why he did it. Maybe he was just sick of being the bad guy. No, Cibi corrected himself: he was sick of Roob, and Roob’s vicious, vindictive character. Besides, he sort of liked Prehston Doh. He was a handsome, noble fella with real class. Didn’t see that often nowadays.

If Roob ever found out, Cibi had no doubt that the mean-spirited Cillah would personally kill him. Roob seemed to take any sort of noble feeling as a personal insult. But Cibi had felt somewhat justified: the order had never been legal. It was against the law to kill salves. And he had felt secure in that knowledge – well, up until a few seconds ago when Roob had dismissed it as a merely nominal law.

“Ok– but what about this?” Cibi asked. “A Doh? Are you nuts? Forget Paerow 2, Roob. It’s a court-martial for us if they ever find out and they’ll throw away the key.”

Roob shrugged. “Just following orders. I’m sure the Koi knows what he’s doing. Besides, no one will ever find out –it’s going to be an accident, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes at his partner’s stupidity. Then something on the small screen grabbed his attention. “Whoah! He’s getting up. What’s he doing? He’s walking towards the sanitation cubicle. He’s going in now, Cibi!” Roob’s voice was alive with morbid fascination.

It sent a chill down Cibi’s spine. The short Lan held his breath and looked over his partner’s shoulder at the screen. They both waited, Cibi with dread, Roob with relish.

Hardly any time elapsed before they saw the Doh rushing out of the cubicle and inspecting his feet, darting to his console, pushing buttons feverishly, then moving onto the door. Roob let out a low chuckle. They continued following the Doh’s movements.

“Anytime now,”Roob muttered quietly to Cibi.

They waited.

Roob looked at the time-viewer. “It should be over by now, I don’t get it.”

They waited another five minutes for good measure, then Roob had to accept the impossible. “Shit. I can’t fucking believe this. Let’s get the hell out of here. His controls are still in lockdown, he’s not going anywhere. We’ve got to wake up the Koi and let him know. Shit,” Roob swore again.

Cibi let out a quiet sigh of relief and followed his comrade.

***

Prehston sat at his console, stunned. Several theories ran through his head as to why he was still alive, but there was only one that really made any sense. And he couldn’t believe the Koi had gone this far – who else could have ordered the lockdown of his quarters? He cursed himself for having so completely underestimated the Koi.

Prehston didn’t know how long he had sat at his console in contemplation, his back to the door, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. Then the console’s touchpads suddenly lit up and he saw, in the reflection of the blank viewer, the door of his quarters opening. Brentt Koi entered, flanked by Roob and Cibi.

Prehston noted that they were armed. Deadly weapons were hardly ever used – clearly the Koi had no intention of letting Prehston off the hook.

“So,”the Koi began when Preston showed no sign of turning around to face him, “looks like I won’t get my convincing accident after all.” It seemed as though Brentt was discussing nothing more important than the weather.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Prehston said, his back still to the Koi. “I’m warning you – back off or you’ll regret it.” As he spoke, his left hand moved imperceptibly towards a touchpad on the console. Then he swivelled around to face the room, his broad back blocking the viewer, but he did not stand.

Prehston’s threat seemed to amuse Brentt. The Koi chuckled, then the chuckling grew into a loud guffaw “Very good, Prehston, very good. I like it when you show your teeth. To be honest, I’ve never been able to stand you. So stiff, so perfect…so boring. But there’s another reason you’ve never really been my stick of dyleth.”

Prehston glared at his commanding officer.

Koi Brentt lifted an eyebrow. “You will not ask me the point of my dislike? Very well then, I’ll tell you myself, although if you’re half as smart as your profile says you are, you’ll have figured this out yourself.” The Koi walked to the couch opposite Prehston and sat down. “You, my boy are a mongrel. A bit of a freak, if you will. Depends how you look at it I suppose,” he said, and shrugged.

Prehston’s expression was inscrutable.

“And I, for one, always thought it would end badly. Your father was adamant it would be fine. After all, he’d paid for the best Mellio 1^st Class of the 33^rd Perimeter to do design the genetic blue-print. You see,” he explained, “your mother couldn’t conceive. As you know, there’s no solution to that nowadays, but your mother so desperatelywanted a baby. You were the first one,” Koi Brentt mused. “The experiment was a success. You grew up a healthy, strapping lad – they couldn’t quite tone down the Jemenyii stature. The two sets of genes mix brilliantly, you see. Most of the gene sequences that would betray Jemenyii characteristics were eliminated or buried, but there was a nice little perk of a side-effect: high IQ. Your mother would have been proud; shame she didn’t make it,” he added, mock sympathy tainting his voice.

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Prehston said, “but I’d more or less figured out the essentials myself.”

“You’re an abomination, a half-breed,” the Koi spat back. “I knew you’d never be able to make it through the programme before your true nature tripped you up.”

“You’re assuming this bothers me,” Prehston replied.

A mean look entered the Koi’s eyes. “Well… perhaps I haveoverestimated you. But I think I know something that will definitely bother you. Your little girlfriend’s dead,” he announced.

Preston felt his head about to explode. But when he spoke, it was as if Brentt Koi hadn’t said a word: “You’ll suggest a plan to the Koi Council to emancipate all Jemenyii, remove their Slave Status and relocate them to colonies.”

Brentt barked a laugh. “Don’t you get it, boy? You ain’t got diddly on me. You’re the one who will do whatever I tell you if you don’t want your dirty little secret getting out. You’re career will be over – hell, you’re life will be over. Do you think anyone in the 33rd Perimeter will want anything to do with a half-bread?”

“I’ve obtained evidence of everything,” Prehston continued. “How we literally brainwashed a whole race and used them as slaves. How we’ve lied in our application for Incorporation into the Empire. How we’ve turned a whole species into little more than animals.”

“They deserved it!” Koi Brentt slapped the arm of the couch in frustration. “Don’t you see, Prehston? That’s what they did to us. What goes round comes round. They deserved it! If you just let me explain it to you, you’ll see–”

Prehston cut him off. “And as for my career, you can take it and shove it where the blasted sun doesn’t shine. I want no part of a regime that victimises a race like we have.”

“Oh, very noble sentiments, well done. Let’s see if you still feel the same way after you’ve been cast out, a social pariah.”

“I’ll tell the whole 33^rd Perimeter what you’re sitting on.”

“Ha! Go on, I dare you. You’re a child. Don’t you realise all the Kois are in on it? You would have been too once you’d been sworn in.”

“1^stPerimeter Ethics Committee will never stand for it; once they find out they’ll rescind Cillah Incorporated Status,” Prehston retorted.

“No one will ever believe you!” The Koi stood up and started pacing around Prehston’s quarters with bouncy steps. “Besides, I think you’re bluffing: you have no evidence,” the Koi said as he picked up a small Shorg statue on top of a cabinet and made of show of inspecting it. “It’s tougher than you think getting an issue raised to the Committee’s attention: they have 36 Perimeters to regulate. And even if you did manage to get some evidence, do you really think anyone will care? Prehston, you’re so naïve…” The Koi shook his head. “No –you’re going to do as I say, otherwise I’ll have to make the facts known. You’ll be drummed out of the service and no one in the entire Perimeter will want to touch you with a bargepole. And then think what will happen to your father when the news gets out…”

Without warning, Prehston swivelled back round to face the console’s viewer. “Did you get all that, Lalayna?”

Confirmed. Lalayna’s voice came from the console. I patched the transmission directly to the 1^st Perimeter Ethics Committee. The Special Constabulary is on its way.

Prehston swivelled back round to see the Koi’s fat face turn grey.

“Friends in high places,” Prehston explained with a shrug. He stood up and took off his towel.“You don’t mind if I get dressed?” he asked.

The Koi froze uncertainly. Roob sidled towards the door and the corners of Cibi’s mouth lifted into a smile.

***

The past few weeks had been a blur. Prehston sat in his seat, looking out the transport windows at the myriad stars and observing the officers bustling around him. The 1^st Perimeter had, for the first time in years, personally stepped in outside of the core Perimeters to remedy the Jemenyii situation. A relocation and social adaptation programme was in full launch, supervised directly by the 1^stPerimeter Ethical Committee.

Prehston had come out of this rather better off than he had anticipated. The 1^stPerimeter Special Constabulary had taken a shine to him, and offered him a position. Lalayna had encouraged him to take it, but Prehston would have done so anyway. He didn’t want to stay anywhere near Cillah territory, for more than one reason. Lalayna had been outstandingly supportive. A good friend. Prehston knew she wanted more, but it was not something that was his to give. His soul felt empty; exhausted.

Prehston had more or less learned to discipline himself into not thinking about it during waking hours. But at night, there was nothing else he dreamed about. He thought the dreams would calm down, in time, but they only seemed to get more intense, more urgent.

Prehston tried to focus his mind on what lay ahead, but instead Reggan’s face appeared before his eyes, and it made his chest hurt. He hated it.

His reverie was interrupted by a young Lan with curly hair and a friendly face.“Doh,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you Doh – a message has come in for you.” He handed Prehston a communiqué slip.

“Thank you Lan.”Prehston slipped it into the console in front of his seat. It was a coded message. There was only one word, and then a series of numbers and letters, the pattern of which Prehston knew all too well. The word was: ‘Alive’.