The Light-Field

  In Heavensgate, Anselm and Zeven climbed into a transporter inside the loading bay of the president’s interstellar craft, alone. They sped down a ramp from the back of the spacecraft, out of the airport and straight on to Anselm’s apartment.

  ‘How is it that a man of your stature gets to move about by himself so much?’ Zeven marvelled at the lack of security.

  ‘Because I have always insisted on it … I run Sermetica and the USS; they do not run me,’ Anselm advised. ‘I have a life to live too, you know.’

  The high-rise penthouse boasted the best view of Heavensgate’s outlying, floating cities, hovering above the desert planet. The president had his own private parking facility on the rooftop.

  The most beautiful security guard Zeven had ever seen met them at the entrance door to the house. ‘Welcome home, Mr President.’ She took his hand luggage from him.

  ‘Thank you, Tyra. This is Starman.’ Anselm introduced Zeven. ‘He is the son of a departed friend and my charge now.’

  ‘Hello,’ she greeted him warmly. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Hi,’ Zeven replied, rolling with his cover. ‘I’m okay … really.’

  ‘Starman is taking up residence here for a while, so I trust you girls will ensure he’s well taken care of?’ Anselm kept walking and so did Tyra.

  ‘Of course, that’s our job,’ she replied.

  Zeven was stunned to a standstill as he noted the plural. ‘Girls?’

  ‘My housekeepers, Rada and Rebi,’ Anselm explained. ‘You don’t think a place this size keeps itself clean, do you? And unless you are a real good cook, I can tell you now that you’ll be pleased to have these girls around.’

  As they passed through an office area, Tyra headed toward her large reception-cum-security desk. ‘I’ll inform the office of your return.’

  ‘I won’t be going in until tomorrow,’ the president instructed, ‘but I’ll be staying at the government residence this evening.’

  Tyra nodded as she sat down behind her work station.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Anselm grabbed Zeven’s attention from the beautiful security guard, and directed him through the twin glass doors into the penthouse proper. ‘All my personal staff are female.’

  The first thing that was clearly apparent about the magnificent penthouse was the vast amount of sunlight, glass and space. Half the ceiling in the large open-plan living, dining and kitchen area was angled glass windows that allowed direct sunlight to beam into the room. The furnishings were modern, streamlined and chic, even by Zeven’s futuristic standards.

  ‘Whoa,’ Zeven gazed up at the high ceiling, ‘your place in the government sector must be pretty amazing if you chose to live there.’

  Anselm scoffed. ‘It’s nothing compared to this place. This is my escape house. I own it, not the government.’ Anselm headed toward what appeared to be a huge enclosed glass sunroom, which ran off the end of his living room. ‘Now, where are my girls?’

  Zeven followed his host out to discover it was, in fact, a huge pool area, where one of Anselm’s young housekeepers was sunbaking topless and the other was swimming naked in the pool.

  ‘Girls.’ Anselm called for their attention and received very different responses from them. The sunbather pulled on a wrap, whilst the other girl in the pool merely waved excitedly. ‘This doesn’t look very good for my wholesome reputation, now does it?’

  ‘You could have warned us?’ bantered the partially clothed brunette.

  The blonde in the pool climbed out and presented herself dripping wet and naked. ‘What could be more wholesome than young naked women adorning your water feature?’ she asked playfully.

  ‘Absolutely right.’ Zeven had to agree.

  These girls were gorgeous: tiny, slender and fair-skinned — like the girls back on Maladaan — and, apart from their hair colour, they were completely identical in appearance.

  ‘Have you brought us a playmate?’ The naked blonde kissed Anselm’s cheek as she gave him a hug. The brunette kissed and hugged Anselm also, and with one girl under each arm he presented them to Zeven.

  ‘Girls, this is the son of a deceased friend of mine, who is now in my charge —’

  ‘Oh …’ both the girls murmured sympathetically as they left their employer to give Zeven a hug and console him about his loss.

  ‘No really.’ He was going to confess he was not hurting, but as the beautiful twins closed in on him, Zeven thankfully thought better of it. ‘I’m handling being on my own pretty well … lately.’

  ‘You poor, baby,’ said the brunette. ‘We’ll take care of you.’

  ‘Would you like a massage? I give a great massage,’ advised the blonde with much enthusiasm. ‘I’m Rada and this is Rebi.’

  ‘I cook.’ Rebi, the brunette, winked at him.

  ‘And here I was afraid you wouldn’t all get along,’ Anselm said, with sarcasm and a touch of envy.

  ‘Can we keep him, boss?’ Rada pleaded.

  Anselm grinned. ‘I was just about to say that Starman will be staying here for a while and —’

  ‘Yeah!’ The girls began jumping around in excitement, and Zeven was too dazed to respond — he was just so happy to be there.

  ‘But I’m just going to steal him away for a little bit …’ Anselm peeled Rebi off Zeven. ‘We need to discuss a few things before I go.’

  ‘Oh!’ the girls protested, but waved to Zeven as they returned to their recreation.

  Zeven finally found his tongue as they entered the living area once more. ‘You are my new personal hero.’

  ‘And you mine,’ Anselm granted.

  ‘So when do I get to work?’ Zeven rubbed his hands together, eager to delve into his new lifestyle.

  ‘In a few days,’ Anselm said, giving him leave to enjoy his hospitality.

  ‘A few days?’ Zeven was disappointed. ‘What’s the delay?’

  ‘I have a few things I need to organise.’ Anselm seemed exhausted by Zeven’s stamina and headed for the bar. ‘So take a few days off and enjoy the place.’

  ‘What things?’ Zeven followed Anselm and took a seat.

  ‘Well, for starters, you are going to need a flight controller stroke navigator stroke project manager who we can trust to protect your psychic secrets.’ Zeven immediately thought of Leal, but hesitated to suggest him, for fear of exposing his future friend’s Powers or altering his future. ‘I’ll run my problem by the Timekeeper and see if she can suggest someone.’

  Zeven nodded. ‘Good call.’ If Taren thought someone was trustworthy then he did too.

  ‘In the meantime …’ Anselm placed an iced shot of bright green alcohol in front of Zeven. ‘I suggest you take a moment to forget the future, cast off the past and enjoy this present.’ He held up his glass in toast to Zeven, who returned the gesture and drank to that.

  Amusing himself for a few days really wasn’t too much trouble for Zeven. The girls massaged him, cooked for him, showed him around town and even took him shopping for some new threads.

  Amorous and attentive, Rada and Rebi ran around wearing very little most of the time, which Zeven found utterly delightful. Yet he could not bring himself to take advantage of his hostesses — even though they were inviting him to do just that at every given opportunity.

  Yes, Zeven had come to realise that Taren’s Juju stone was a curse upon his love life. If he took it off, he could expose himself to psychic detection and attack — Taren had made this mistake once before and they had both vowed not to repeat the error. If by some slim chance these girls were part of his soul-mind then intimate contact with them whilst wearing the Juju would enhance their psychic skill; Zeven was still nursing the battle scars on his heart from the last time he’d allowed that to happen. The downside of wearing a stone exuding love and goodwill was that one was always compelled to do the right thing. He’d never have thought in his wildest dreams that having sex with young, willing twins was the wrong thing to do. Yet every time the opportunity presented itself to hi
m, Zeven felt sick, fell asleep, got interrupted — and in the end just abstained of his own free will. He was getting a very clear cosmic message that the romp he’d been envisioning since he’d arrived just wasn’t meant to be.

  Anselm’s home security-cum-personal secretary, Tyra, was all business however, and Zeven was rather happy about that, as she scared him. She was a lot taller than he was, dark-skinned, and just as muscle bound. Still, she was all smiles for her president’s charge, and Zeven hoped he’d never see her angry side.

  On the day that marked a week since his arrival on Sermetica, Zeven was eating breakfast by the pool when Tyra found him. ‘The president is sending a transport to collect you within the hour,’ she advised.

  ‘Aw!’ the twins objected.

  ‘But we were taking him sight-seeing today,’ Rada explained their disappointment.

  ‘I guess we all have to go to work sometime.’ Tyra smiled sweetly, and the twins’ reaction was ‘not amused’.

  ‘Sorry girls, gotta motor.’ Zeven gulped down the rest of his juice and made for the shower. He was rather glad to be starting work, as the constant temptations of home were beginning to drive him a little nuts!

  A large, glossy black government transport arrived to whisk Zeven to work as arranged. He didn’t really like being driven around and being taken care of; he needed his own wheels and his own apartment. He’d really had a gutful of being teased by beautiful women; what he badly wanted was some time to himself, or at the very least some male company for a while.

  As he reached this conclusion, Zeven realised his transport was held up at the intersection where the airship service to Heavens-Gardens was located, and the sight sparked the memory of a future friend. Ringbalin Malachi. The future botanist would be studying at Heavens-Gardens University at present. And here I was thinking I didn’t have any friends on Sermetica. Zeven made a mental note to get out to Heavens-Gardens when he had a spare moment.

  In the back of his mind Zeven knew that Aurora DeCadie, Lucian Gervaise’s future personal assistant, also hailed from Sermetica. Sweet, smart and not a risk taker, Aurora would be studying diligently for her business and communications degree at present. Zeven had no intention of going to the university, so he did not expect to cross paths with Aurora before AMIE was up and running — five years from now.

  When Zeven was finally guided into Anselm’s office, he found the president in the company of a man he recognised immediately.

  ‘Rhun?’ Zeven was startled to see him. ‘How did you get here?’ It seemed odd that the man had aged so much since last he’d seen him. Perhaps it was a disguise.

  ‘Sorry?’ said the fellow in question.

  ‘This is Agent Zeon.’ The president cleared up any confusion.

  ‘My bad …’ Zeven suddenly realised this could not possibly be the man he thought it was. Wrong universe, he thought.

  ‘Zeon is the man the Timekeeper recommended to watch your back,’ Anselm advised. ‘He’s a strategist, which ought to come in handy. Agent Zeon, this is Starman, my new —’

  ‘— crash test dummy.’ Zeven held out a hand to Zeon, and his handshake felt like a bolt of positive energy. Zeven wasn’t the only one who noticed the energy transfer; Zeon also had an inquisitive look on his face.

  ‘There is a transport waiting outside the office to take you both to the facility.’ Anselm got straight down to business. ‘As the test site is some distance from Heavensgate proper, you’ll be staying for two weeks and then returning to the city for a week of R&R.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Starman had got his wish. ‘But when I get back I’m getting my own apartment, and car.’

  Anselm was bemused by his decision. ‘If that’s what you want?’

  ‘That’s what I want,’ Zeven replied surely, noting that Agent Zeon didn’t look very impressed. ‘Is there anything you’d like?’ he asked Zeon wondering about his new partner’s discontent.

  ‘I’d like last week back,’ came the curt reply.

  ‘Get over it, soldier.’ Anselm’s reply was equally curt. ‘Don’t make me doubt the Timekeeper’s faith in you.’

  Zeon’s jaw tensed a moment, but then he nodded and seemingly accepted his assignment. ‘The Timekeeper is never wrong, is she?’ The agent sounded like he was reassuring himself on that count. Anselm nodded his head in agreement, in case there was any doubt.

  When the brief was completed, Zeven accompanied Agent Zeon to the transport that would fly them out to the facility. Zeon was walking very fast and seemed pissed off about something. Hence Zeven waited until they were seated alone in the back of their cross-desert transporter before saying anything to his new partner. ‘So what did the boss drag you away from to come baby-sit me?’

  Zeon was pacified by the way the question was phrased. ‘A beach on Frujia … my first real holiday in ten years!’

  ‘That sucks!’

  ‘You bet it does.’ Zeon clearly felt uncomfortable having the cause of his angst on his side.

  ‘We could find someone else if you’d prefer?’ Zeven suggested, politely — offering the man an out now, before they fell out over the assignment.

  ‘Why are you so special?’ The agent wanted to know before answering. ‘Who are you, Starman?’

  ‘A pilot with a death wish.’ He shrugged.

  The agent leant forward in his seat to query in a whisper: ‘But how do you know the boss? We’ve been working with each other for years and I never got wind of you?’

  ‘Well, I’ve known the boss for some time too and you were never mentioned to me either, Zeon,’ Zeven reasoned, using neither Taren’s code name nor her real one; if indeed Taren even knew what her real name was? ‘Do you have a first name, because I’m not calling you Agent Zeon all the time … I’ll feel like I’m under surveillance.’

  ‘Mythric.’

  ‘Mythric Zeon?’ Zeven consulted his memory. ‘Nope … the name is not ringing any bells for me.’

  This man and Zeven had ruled a planet together in another life, another universe, and had been the staunchest allies and friends — why not here too? Zeven, although not particularly spiritually adept, strongly suspected Mythric Zeon was another of his soul group and there was only one way to find out.

  ‘So what’s your real name?’ Mythric queried.

  ‘The president calls me Starman, so that’s my real name,’ Zeven replied. Mythric appeared put off, until Zeven raised the sleeve of his t-shirt to expose his armband. Mythrie smiled broadly as he raised his sleeve to expose the same armband, and then quickly hid it again.

  ‘I knew it!’ Zeven exclaimed, inspired to meet another member of the Timekeeper’s psychic army. ‘The second you shook my hand, I knew.’ Actually he’d known the second he had walked in the room and seen Mythric standing there.

  ‘I felt that too,’ Mythric confessed, seeming happy to learn the Juju stones were responsible for the good vibe between them. ‘So you …’ he lowered his voice to a whisper, ‘… have a Power.’

  ‘And you too,’ Starman concurred, as he stared Mythric back in challenge. With this realisation their excitement cooled and they both sat back in their seats and were notably more guarded.

  Zeven felt Mythric was not so much wary of him, but of anyone who might be listening in — it was a government transport they were seated in after all. So for the rest of the trip, they sat observing each other with smirks on their faces that were impossible to wipe off — wondering how much the other knew, which Power he had and how skilful he was.

  Zeven wondered if Mythric knew they belonged to the same soul group and were bound to support each other in this, and every, life. He couldn’t wait for them to get out of this bloody transport and find somewhere they could speak openly, and he felt sure Mythric was thinking the same thing.

  The test facility was built inside a cavern system, the entrance to which could only be accessed from inside a vast canyon range, which was hundreds of miles from the closest mining colony.

  Upon disembarki
ng from their transport, Zeven and Mythric were met by the Head of Research and Development, Mr Reg Hunzo. He’d been instructed by the president to give the new arrivals a guided tour, and allow them to look over the prototypes they were developing at the facility — everything from spacecraft, to submersibles, public transport, reconnaissance and recreational vehicles.

  There was one spacecraft in particular that Mr Hunzo was very keen to show the pilot, and as Zeven entered the hangar he recognised the make and model at once. ‘I thought your name was familiar.’ He moved in to take a look at the underside of the vehicle’s wings.

  Mr Hunzo was perplexed by Starman’s less than enthusiastic reaction. ‘This is the —’

  ‘— Hunzo stealth interceptor,’ Zeven finished the sentence, remembering that this vehicle had a major fault. ‘You’re using an experimental self-powering turbine on this one, right?’

  Hunzo was stunned. ‘You’ve read the brief.’

  Starman inclined his head to confirm that that went without saying — it was not the truth, but it might allow for the knowledge he was about to impart. ‘Your new turbine is very powerful, Mr Hunzo, and I fear the lightweight metal of the wings and chassis, combined with an inadequate welding system, means that when this vehicle hits even half its potential speed, it’s going to —’

  ‘— get torn apart.’ Mr Hunzo understood what the pilot was driving at, but shook his head to disagree. ‘We’ve done the math on this, and the design will withstand —’

  ‘It’s not the plane’s design that I think you’ve underestimated,’ Starman politely cut in, and then realised that what he was about to claim only a math genius could know. ‘But you might have underestimated the amount of power your turbine will unleash, as it continues to accelerate from the time of ignition.’

  ‘What?’ Mr Hunzo was somewhere between insulted and horrified to be told this by a pilot who looked like he was barely out of school!