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Index | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | PreGameLogs | Morgan comes to Amber

"There's rumour of a derelict off the third moon of Granula G, Morgan," said Number One. "Could be connected to that slaver that went missing three parasecs ago. Do you want to take a look?"

Morgan leaned back in his command chair, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing else major going on right now, is there?" he asked rhetorically. "Might as well take a look. Let's go in careful, just in case Steirn or some other Imperial moron is trying another trap." He looked around the bridge of his ship, and smiled. "Not that I wouldn't mind showing off some of those new weapons upgrades we just got, so if it is a trap, I think springing it will be oh so much more interesting than running. And if it isn't, we might be able to spare some lovely young slave girls from the cruel fate which would otherwise have been their lot. There's nothing I like better than rescuing a ship full of grateful young slave girls."

Number One lifted one eyebrow, sardonically. She was getting very good at that; it was, however, a skill that many Number Ones practised - most of Morgan's Number Ones seemed to have taken a postdoc in the skill.

"Unk Two, lay in the course."

The voyage was comparatively uneventful ...

Three weeks later they were ready to perform the slingshot around the moon of Navid that would see them heading straight for the wormhole through to the Granula system.

And it was then that C'Mart announced he had detected traces of debris around the wormhole.

"Right. Let's not rush this, debris could mean almost anything, from potentially profitable to terminal. I want more information on what's actually out there before we decide what to do."

Morgan drummed his fingers on his control console for a few moments, then nodded decisively. "We'll abort the trip through to Granula G until we know more. Bring us in on a slow approach to the debris field, and keep giving me updates as we get more information on what we have. Radiation readings, EM scans, gravimetrics, the works. Don't neglect the possibility someone has hidden a singularity bomb in amongst everything else, and is just waiting for us to get close enough before they set it off."

The crew groaned, but Morgan knew they were in agreement with him. Instead of the adrenalin rush of a raid, he was giving them homework - but the tedious slog would make sure that their derrieres were covered against the unexpected.

At least, that was the theory.

It was, ironically, Bethron, the newest of recruits, who spotted the anomaly first, and somewhat shyly brought it to his attention.

"I'm getting weird readings on composition, Captain," Bethron said, holding a brightly colored printout under Morgan's nose. "It's like there's organic material mixed in with the metal. I thought at first that it meant there were body parts, or the crew had been vaporized or something, but everything is too consistently mixed for that. And the metal's something new, too, some kind of alloy or something that I've never seen before." The young crewman shook his head in confusion, staring back down at the paper. "I can't make the atomic weights of this stuff come out right, either."

"OK," Morgan said. "You're right, that's weird. Could be some new race that's come from somewhere outside the Hundred Systems, maybe. Or something really bizarre that the maniacs in Imperial R&D have cooked up. Whatever it is, let's get a look at it."

He thumbed the com switch. "OK, everybody," he told the ship. "We're heading in to look at this apparent wreckage. I want everyone on alert, just in case. C'Mat, get a crew into those Marine battle suits, and be sure they're air tanks are full this time, all right? You might end up going evac." He switched the com off and leaned back in his command chair.

"Nice and slow, Number One. Take us in for a look at what we have here."

What they had here ... seemed to be an exploded craft of some kind - the debris scattered over a wide area.

"Strange," said Number One. "An explosion with that much power ... it should have vapourised everything."

Most of the debris was small - ranging from a few molecules registering on the sensitive readers, to lumps a few metres across. But there was one exception - something that looked like a sealed bridge section - hardened and re-enforced against damage - and now floating, helpless, crippled - and silent.

"So tempting...." Morgan said. "What do you think, Number One, too tempting? Odds this is a trap?"

She smiled at him in answer. "Wouldn't stop you even if you knew it was, would it?"

Morgan grinned back. "You know me too well. Right, then, let's do a full circle of that bridge section, get visuals and readings from all sides, see if we can get any signs of whether it's still alive or not. Find the entry hatch, see if they have anything that looks like a vid pickup on the outside. I'd rather not pull it inside the ship, but if we can't find a way to see inside or communicate with the inhabitants, we may have to. If we do end up having to take it aboard we are definitely not going to try to open it inside the ship, so Unk Two, start looking for a good place to land somewhere nearby. Someplace nice and private, where we can land, dump it, and take off, and only risk a few people when we open it up. Potential volunteers for that mission can start calculating whether hazard pay is worth the risk to them."

"Let's do it."

The crew moved smoothly into action. They had never encountered something like this before, but they were good at what they did and they came back with answers - perhaps too soon.

"It's registering life forces," said Number One. "Some sort of human life forces except ...

"They seem to be integral to the structure of the ship," said Unk Two grimly.

Morgan frowned. "Ok," he said slowly. "Let's try to puzzle this out. Could it be some kind of Imperial cybernetic experiment, trying to get around the Emperor's ban on artificial intelligence? Their cloning labs have been getting weirder lately...." He smiled apologetically at Unk Two. "No offense," he said.

"Or else...." he looked at the vid screen thoughtfully, watching the small dark object they were circling. "Or else they're from a long ways from here. Somewhere completely outside the reach of Imperial agents. A whole new race of cybernetic beings, maybe?"

He nodded decisively. "Whatever they are, they look like an opportunity. Let's try to communicate. Try everything across the entire EM spectrum, see if anything gets a response. If that doesn't work, try a short range hyperwave pulse, see if that works."

He settled back in his chair. "Meanwhile, see if we can pull up any information about atmosphere inside that thing. Standard oxygen breathers, or are we dealing with exotics? And I want to know for certain if there are any kinds of weapons on the outside of that thing, and to as good a level of certainty as possible if there's anything dangerous inside."

"Meanwhile, I want a good landing site on Navid where we can land and peel that thing open in privacy."

"If we can get a response, we'll communicate. If we can't and we can be relatively certain they're unarmed, we're taking them aboard and heading down to Navid."

"Hop to it, folks."

The reports came back over the next hundred or so ksec. The atmosphere inside the wrecked craft appeared to be breathable air. The way that the craft had been diassembled by the violent explosion suggested that there were no weapons houses on the outside of the isolated bridge; it was, Unk Two suggested dolefully, entirely possible that the remaining shell was extensively booby-trapped. Some signs discerned by Bethron seemed to confirm this.

"I'd suggest we go with your idea of getting it down to Navid," said Number One thoughtfully. "Or possibly the outer moon of Gethemost if you want real vaccuum security for this."

Morgan thought about it, tapping his fingers on his chair console. "No," he said finally. "Let's run this like a rescue. We take it on board in the main cargo hold. No atmosphere in the hold, however, let's not give them a reason to open up while they're on board us. We go down to Navid, unload it with the magnetic beam, and then, Number One, you take Star Axe back up into orbit and watch what happens. I'll lead a small party who stays with the capsule. We'll see if they decide to open up once they're on the ground and in an atmosphere. If not, we'll see what we can do about opening it ourselves. Courteously. If they come out and kill us all the ship is yours, Number One."

He looked around the bridge. "I'm willing to listen to objections and suggestions," he said. "But if they all boil down to, 'It's too dangerous!' then you should know beforehand that I'm going to ignore them. The safe thing would be to leave it here and forget about it. But there's just a small step from that to deciding to become honest traders and cargo haulers."

"All right," said Number One - perhaps beccause she would come out of it in a strong position whatever happened. "Who do you want for the landing party?"

Morgan nodded to Unk Two. "Come around to bring it on board," he ordered. Then he and Number One went to his cabin to discuss the composition of the landing crew, eventually deciding on a small complement of four heavily armed men in Imperial Marine armor, the ship's engineer, and, for no apparent reason other than, "to give the boy some experience," young Bethron.

Morgan stayed on top of the sensor readouts all the way down to the planet's surface, watching for any sign of activity from the command pod in the airless cargo bay. He was especially vigiliant when they hit atmosphere, half convinced the inhabitants would try something once they could open the capsule to breathable air.

Once the ship was down in a remote area of the planet Morgan ordered the captured .... that is, rescued, capsule lowered onto the surface via magnetic beam, while the landing party disembarked. The Star Axe lifted quickly away, leaving the seven of them in a lightly wooded area with the alien craft.

"Got us on visual, Number One?" he said into the com unit he wore clipped to his ear.

"Fully visible, Cap'n," came the response. "Will you keep the con link op ..." Her voice suddenly cut off. A long pause and then she spoke again.

"Morgan - we're getting some unusual readings from inside the craft."

"Why am I not the least bit surprised?" he answered. He gestured for the men in armor to keep the craft covered, and nodded for the engineer and the kid to move behind him, away from potential danger. "OK, Number One, unusual how? Please don't tell me there's an antimatter bomb or a loose singularity in there."

He dropped his left hand to the hilt of his blaster, ready to draw, and slid the hilt of the force sword from its holster on his right thigh. He rested his thumb on the button, but didn't activate it. Not yet.

"It's small as yet," said Number One. "But I would suggest yopu stand back a bit. The dimensions of the craft ... they're changing. It's as though it's starting to grow."

"Back, everyone!" Morgan ordered. He fell back as well, watching the capsule. "Any energy readings from inside it?" he asked the engineer. "Anything at all?"

"The life signs we saw earlier seem more active," said the engineer. "As though ... they were waking up. But not movi .... oh wow. That was unexpected."

He looked up at Morgan. "Something ran right through the ship. I couldn't ... iit was like ... like .... "

There was a groaning sound from the craft.

"Like a wave of life force," said the engineer.

"Are we still getting those readings that the life signs are combined with the metal?" Morgan asked, as they moved back a bit further and continued to watch. "Is it possible this whole capsule is a single cybernetic organism of some kind?"

There was a pause, and then Number One's voice came back. "There seem to be five or six life forms meshed with the craft. You might expect that - in a catstrophic break-up. But they'd be dead - or dying. These are getting stronger. And the readings are still saying the craft it getting larger ..."

And, indeed, it did seem to be stretching out before Morgan's eyes ... the broken and dented metal sheets smoothing themselves out and expanding.

And then suddenly, with a speed that was terrifying, something like a long thick whip of metal snaked out from the craft and wrapped itself around one of the armed guards, and dragged him, screaming, to the side of the craft. A shimmering in the air, like molten metal - and the man vanished - as though absorbed.

There was a groan of metallic stress as the craft stretched a little larger.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" Morgan shouted, pulling his own blaster in a smooth motion and setting an example. The three remaining guards in their Imperial powered armor began pouring fire from the laser carbines they carried into the ship. "Spread out!" Morgan yelled. "Don't present a clumped target." Everyone fell back and away, in different directions, still firing.

The firing went on for three, four minutes. They could see the marks and tears in the craft where the bullets punched home ...

And then, three seconds later, the puncttures quivered, and stretched, distorting, and were repaired so the the skin of the expanding hull was as smooth and flawless as before. No, better, for where the craft had been a jagged wreck, a torn fragment, this was acquiring a smooth sleekness like a vessel in its own right.

Then there was a scream from further round the craft from Morgan. Bethron, his enthusiasm exceeding his caution, had moved out almost to a point position. And now, it seemed, another of the long metal coiling snakes had reached out and wrapped itself several times around his left leg, from the thigh to the shin. Already, two of the guards were racing to help him ...

"Focus on the cable!" Morgan screamed, dashing around the vehicle and firing at the cable that had grabbed the young crewman. He put shot after shot into the same spot on the tentacle, as he shouted into the com link, "Number One! I think you may need to come down and burn this thing. It's growing, and I don't want it growing an engine and blasting off!"

"Ready and willing, Cap'n," Number One was saying in his ear when Morgan felt the sudden thud of something hitting his back, knocking him forward. Then a blow from the front - and he realised. As he had run round the craft alone, another of the whiplike snakes had shot out from the craft and now thudded around his own chest and waist. The pressure was appalling ... even with a vac suit on. And it was starting to drag him towards the craft ...

The mist of smoke was rising around the others, still focussing their fire in an effort to free Bethron. No-one realised the danger their isolated Captain was now in.

Morgan thumbed on the force sword, the humming red blade of energy shimmering to existence in his right hand. He brought the blade up against the metal of the tentacle that held him. "Greedy, greedy," he gasped. "I don't think... I'll agree with you."

The blade was working - that was the important thing. The blade was cutting through the metal ...

That was when the second tentacle shot out and wrapped intself around his upper body. Now it was almost inpossible to wield the sword more than a few inches in any direction. Ironically, the one area he might be able to free at this angle was around his groin.

It didn't look as though that would be really useful at this point.

Now the other crew members noticed him. A moment of shock - and then they were racing towards him, leaving Bethron mercifully free, but sprawled on the ground.

He was being dragged back against the wall of the ship ... even as the crew raised their weapons ...

He could see the uncertainty in their eyes. Could they fire without hitting him?

"Get me...out of here!" He shouted at them. He tried angling the force sword, struggling to push the energy blade against the coils that held him.

Obediently, the crew began to fire. And Morgan himself worked with what he could to escape the appalling tentacles. No man could have done more - virtually no Amberite could have done more ... he was nearly free ...

"Captain!" A scream from Bethron, who had now recovered enough to see the danger that his Captain was in. Off balance and still dazed, the young recruit lifted his blaster pistol and fired at the monstrous tentacle ...

And Morgan felt the charge resound beside his head - a charge that would have killed any lesser man, but that merely dazed him, slipping him into the blackness of unconsciousness ...

It was unusual, if not unprecedented, for Larissa to find herself summoned to Mandor's private office. Usually she would find herself called upon to explain one of Merlin's escapades - quite frequently one of which she had known nothing in advance. Larissa regarded this as quite unfair, since no one, including Merlin himself, was in a position to explain his escapades.

When she arrived, she found Mandor was not alone. Vikund Anansi was seated before Mandor's desk.

Mandor indicated a seat and waited until Larissa was settled before speaking. "I've received word of another ... scion of Amber. Someone who I believe would be safer here in Amber than out disturbing Shadow. He seems ...inventive."

Vikund sat at a slight angle to the desk, leaving most of his face in shadow. It made him look slightly more sinister, which meant it was likely deliberate. He wore his usual expensive well-fitting ensemble, as if he was about to attend dinner at an expensive hotel. Almost by reflex he flicked the silver pocket watch from his pocket, glanced at it, and returned it to its place hidden above his hip.

When Larissa sat, she could feel his eyes upon her, as if what she were about to say carried the utmost importance.

Larissa ignored Vikund, an exercise in which she was practiced. "You seem decided," she said, removing imaginary lint from her knee, "so I assume I'm here because you want me to go fetch the fellow, and not for the benefit of my advice." Her voice was dry like good wine, and she adjusted her lint-free skirts, leaving Mandor plenty of time to omit the insistence that no, her advice was indispensable. "Very well. Will Vikund be coming along?"

The light made it seem that a faint smile flickered across Mandor's face. "Actually, this is the sort of mission that I would usually send Vikund on alone - to choose whether to retrieve the scion, or to kill them there and then. However ... this is a little different. The quarry is a space pirate - rather a successful one. And you have rather more experience with the technology than anyone else here in Amber - except perhaps Bleys. And if I sent Bleys, I suspect he and the quarry would drink the Nebula dry between them before returning to Amber.

"So. I want you to go together. You will be acting in an advisory capacity, Lady Larissa. The choice of whether the quarry should be retrieved or killed will be up to Vikund."

Vikund offered a predatory smile. Whether that was due to the prospect of killing someone he hadn't even met, or the pleasure of travelling with Larissa was open to question.

Larissa smiled back at Vikund, warmly, though the expression didn't make it to her eyes. "A vacation in Shadow, with no responsibility, and the possibility of bloodshed at the end? How could I say no?

"Do be gentle with our target, Vikund," Larissa said. "You know how soft-hearted I am." The smile finally worked its way into her eyes, but it had lost the warmth and grown hard somewhere on the journey.

"I will be the soul of gentility," Vikund replied, his smile unwavering. "I wouldn't want to offend your female sensibilities."

"Oh, Vikund. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time on the trip to discuss the pitfalls of normative assumptions as concern irrelevant characteristics such as apparent gender." She rose. "When are we leaving? I'd like to change into trousers."

"As soon as you are ready," said Mandor. "I have a trump for the system where Morgan was recently. You should be able to pick up the news you need there and also a craft and crew that should suit your purposes. I will leave it to you to engineer a meeting."

He held out a trump - it showed the frontage of what looked to be a rather seedy space bar on some anonymous space station.

"I also," said Mandor, "have maps for the Unicorn Nebula. Which is, I believe, the name given to the stomping grounds of Dread Captain Morgan, your cousin."

Vikund shook his head as if he could hardly believe his ears. "I hope a parrot and wooden leg are optional," he murmured.

"Most of the Tellus-derived avians adapt remarkably well to freefall," Larissa said. "Speaking of which, if it's a null-grav environment, let me do the maneuvering for the first few minutes, or you'll end up looking remarkably foolish."

"On this trip I intend to be a back-seat driver," Vikund remarked. "Do as you see fit, and I shall take notes. Your playground, your rules. I shall endeavour to do what I'm told to do," he smirked.

Larissa looked at him briefly, as though deciding whether to use an opening, then shook her head ever so slightly. "All right, then. I've eaten, so I'll collect a few sundries and leave a few instructions, and we can be on our way...assuming you've nothing you need to take care of?"

Vikund shook his head no.

Larissa returned in relatively short order, dressed in a style Vikund had never seen her wear before--a close-fitting shirt and trousers that seemed to have no texture at all, strange hard-looking spats over a pair of serious boots, a bracer of the same material as the spats and oddly decorated, a pair of oversize glasses perched on her forehead, and, most unusually of all, a handgun riding her hip and looking deadly, even in Amber.

"Haven't used any of this stuff in a century," Larissa said, donning an ordinary wool overcoat that hid the gun. "Hopefully, the local physics will make it all more than a fashion statement.

"Whenever you're ready, cousin."

"Bravo," Vikund said, nodding appreciatively. "Let's hope you won't be needing the sidearm."

He turned over the trump and regarded it. He let out a sigh. "Somewhere my father would doubtless have felt at home. Myself, I'd rather spend as little time there as possible."

The image began to move, and the distorted sound of rough talk and the clatter of drinking vessels filtered through.

"Shall we?" he said, offering his hand. Larissa took it, and waited for the rainbow.

The rainbow engulfed them, and they were there. An alien cantina band was tootling a tune from some half-remembered movie soundtrack in the far corner and the barman gave them a steely look while polishing a pewter tankard (or something that resembled one). He, at least, was human. You could tell by his smell.

"I will never get used to Mandor's sense of humour," Vikund commented, as he released Larissa's hand. "Ok, let's see what we can find out. Try not to shoot anyone."

He began moving toward a group of ne'er-do-wells that were talking in whispers at the end of the bar.

"Not five minutes ago you were making approving noises about my pistol," Larissa muttered to Vikund's back, though most of her attention was focused on fiddling with her forearm guard, some of the decorations on which were lighting up now that they were in Shadow.

Vikund ignored the rejoiner and Larissa's flashing light show, sauntering up to the group at the bar. "Good evening," he said cheerfully, his hand fiddling with his right cuff. "Are there any navigators among you, or perhaps captains who have patrolled these stars?"

No lips formed the words, "You're not from around these parts, then?" but the tenor of the chill that descended on the group was almost palpable.

Larissa edged sideways slightly to keep clear her line of fire on Vikund's new friends, but to the casual, non-Amberite observer, appeared entirely intent on her arm.

"Depends," said one of the ne'er-do-wells, staring at the bottom of his empty drink bulb in a meaningful way.

Apparently satisfied with her armband, and actually satisfied that Vikund was not about to be jumped by surly barflies, Larissa tapped one last time at her wrist computer and flipped her glasses down over her eyes. The careful observer might have noticed faint lines of text scrolling across the lenses.

She bellied up to the bar, studying the array of bottles despite the fact she had no clue what was in any of them. When the bartender approached, she gave him a smile, leaned forward a bit conspiratorially, and asked softly, "Is my friend going to get beaten if he doesn't buy the next round?"

The barman cast a considering glance towards Vikund.

"Happen," he agreed.

With a deft flick of the wrist, a stone flew upward as from from nowhere, catching the studio lights just long enough to sparkle before he caught it again and placed it on the bar top. The diamond cast rainbow patterns on the surface. "There's more of those for the one who can lead me to Captain Morgan, and maybe a bounty besides. I hear he is from round these parts."

Larissa chuckled. "That's better," she said, and settled back against the bar to let Vikund do the talking, though her eyes were wary behind the computerized lenses.

The ne'er-do-well who had answered Vikund's first question considered the diamond measuringly. Then he gave a short nod, which might have stood for acceptance or agreement (or might, of course, be on the Bulgarian model and flagged a negative). But his next words were, perhaps, more encouraging.

"Why d'you want him? There folks here he owes money too. A lot of money."

There were general murmurs of agreement from his cronies - from all but one who took out a knife and began to hone it on the bar before saying, "Not just money, mind."

Vikund nodded sympathetically. "He's made at least one creditor too many very unhappy. Me and my friend here are looking to ... liquidate his assets. We just need a little help," he said.

The skeezy spacer types seemed to be warming to Vikund by the parasec.

"You got a craft?" asked one of them.

The bartender leaned forward and coughed warningly.

Larissa turned her head toward the bartender, eyebrows raised questioningly. One hand slipped down to hold the edge of her overcoat, coincidentally resting even with the butt of her concealed pistol.

Vikund ignored the cough. He had dealt with these sorts before. "If I had, I wouldn't be asking for a Captain, would I?" He said evenly. "We travel light, and we pay well. I'm sure Captain Morgan has a sleek, fast ship. You could have it as part payment, once we have dealt with him. There will be no need for heavy weapons, as he will negotiate. For the right person, a low-risk, high-reward venture. Is it you?"

"I'm a Captain," began one of the skeezy spacers eagerly. "I've got just the vessel you're looking for ... "

"Indeed he has," said a sudden, rich voice from behind them. "If you're looking for a cobbled-together rustbucket that will drop to pieces within the first time you try anything so reckless as a wormhole jump."

The speaker was a tall man with dark curly hair and slightly protruberant eyes, wearing a long duster coat over trousers and shirt of rather unfortunately vivid hues.

"And you, of course, have a more attractive proposition?" Larissa said languidly. Though her relaxed posture didn't change, she left her gun hand where it was and disassembled him with her eyes.

Vikund regarded the newcomer with a sceptical eye. "Well, I'm listening," he said.

The spacers were staring at the newcomer with resentment, but not attempting to interrupt him or push him aside. In an environment such as this, that was telling.

"My name," he said, "is Cafferty. Major Sean Cafferty, at your service, much decorated officer of the last war, unfortunately on the losing side. A war from which I emerged with a glorious reputation, a battered craft - called the I Only Asked! - and very little else. Which is why those diamonds of yours looked deuced tempting - and would look yet more tempting, I'll warrant, from the other side of a glass of mine host's finest."

He regarded Vikund and Larissa hopefully.

"You won't find a better pilot in these parts than Sean Cafferty," put in the barman.

The skeezy spacers muttered among themselves.

Vikund turned to the barman with a smile. "As long as he accepts my eccentric currency, I'm sure that can be arranged." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch, from which he produced a large silver coin, which flashed brightly. Clearly, it was newly minted. "If that's enough for a round of drinks for all my friends here, that is what we shall have," he said.

The spacers were clearly disappointed not to have got their grimy hands on any diamonds, but they were also philosphical enough to realise they had come out ahead of the deal.

The bartender frowned at the coin with some suspicion, then ran a scanner over it - before accepting it with a grin.

"Now Major Cafferty," he continued. "What can you tell me about the specifications of your ship? My colleague here is interested in such things, you understand."

It was to be hoped that Larissa was interested, for Cafferty was voluble. His ship was clearly his pride and joy, and he was prepared to ennumerate its salient features at length and with a wealth of anecdotal detail. The spacers had long since drifted away in search of other prey while Cafferty was still exhaustively explaining the modifications he had meade that reduced the risk of high-torsion gravity bulges in the inter-cortal matrix.

The technology systejm was sufficiently congruent with Larissa's experience to tell her that here was a man who loved his ship and knew her capabilities. That he needed all the modifications he spoke of suggested that he was an ace pilot as well.

Larissa nodded slightly to Vikund, a gesture Cafftery was meant to see.

"Very well, I'm impressed," Vikund replied. "How soon can we get underway? Bearing in mind there's a special bonus for 'Now'."

Cafferty looked at him narrowly, and there was an avaricious glint in his eye.

"And would now be stretching as far as the end of the day? For it'll take me that long to get her fuelled and prepped."

Larissa knew this was true - and also that the process could be speeded up if she helped.

Vikund looked across at Larissa to give him some indication whether this was the usual practice.

"Fair enough," Larissa said. "I'll give you a hand. That should speed things up." She did not add "And let me tell how much you were lying," but she trusted everyone at the table was sharp enough to pick up the subtext.

Vikund swept his cut diamond from the counter and passed it to Cafferty. "The first of many, when our journey bears fruit," He said.

Cafferty took it and studied it for a moment. The iris of his left eye seemed, surprisingly perhaps to Vikund, to rotate; Larissa recognised this as a nano-tech enhancement that allowed the lens to shift far beyond the capacity of a normal human eye - in effect, it could act as a microscope of as a powerful telescope, depending on Cafferty's needs. And that was not a cheap piece of nano-tech by any means.

"That'll do," said Cafferty, and he dropped it in his pocket.

Cafferty's ship proved better than Larissa had been expecting. In addition to the refuelling, there was a certain amount of preparation work to do.

Larissa buried herself up to her shoulders in the guts of the ship, familiarity with the vagaries of Shadow and a bit of Pattern nudging substituting for a knowledge of this universe's particular physics. She had relaxed to impossible things since coming to Amber, and thus artificial gravity and faster than light travel didn't phase her much, beyond a conviction that it was more decorous to run one's Shadow with proper relativistic physics.

Meanwhile Vikund made a nuisance of himself playing with readouts and tactical displays. He seemed to regard it all rather like an expensive funfair attraction. He was happy to let Larissa and Cafferty talk techno.

While Larissa and Cafferty had been working on the ship, Cafferty's Number One (a small, wizened man with a gloomy expression) had shown Vikund how to source the data relays that stretched like a web throughout the galaxy By the time the ship was cleared for take off, they had a destination: the last flightpath Mortgan's vessel had taken was to the wormhole that led to the Granula system.

By the end of the day, they were ready to go. "All right, Cafferty," she said, running down the final report the ship's computer had obligingly produced. "Nominal on all systems. Ready to lift whenever we have a heading.

"So," she continued, about as conversationally as a constable asking 'what's all this, then,' "is it just about the money, or have you got it in for Morgan?"

"Let's just say the money will come in handy," said Cafferty with a feral grin.

At this point Vikund got an unexpected reading - it seemed that Morgan's craft had deviated from its chosen course. The ship was now in low orbit around the small uninhabited planet of Navid.

"Larissa," Vikund called. "You might want to have a look at this. Morgan's ship seems to be orbiting a small, and as far as I can tell unimportant planet called Navid. Ring any bells with you, Captain?"

"Try the comms sometime and save your voice, Vikund," Larissa said over the comm from the engine room. "Maybe they found something. Salvage, perhaps?"

"There seems to be some flotsam around the wormhole," said the Number One.

"I could take us closer in," said Cafferty. "Keep Navid between us and Morgan's craft until we were really close. You want to try that?"

Vikund experimented with the comms button, muttered something about upgrades and returned to the display, switching between scans to try to ascertain what Morgan was up to. The ship, at the moment, seemed to be holding its low orbit. There seemed to be communications going on with someone on the planet's surface.

Cafferty looked at Larissa - it was clearly she that he looked to for orders of navigation, for all that Vikund was paying.

Meanwhile Vikund attempted to intercept the communications traffic coming from the ship. Anything he picked up he broadcast over the internal comms for the benefit of Larissa and Cafferty.

"If we can see what they're doing, how can we keep them from seeing what we're doing?" Larissa asked. "If the wormhole is a major transit point, we can just fly up and act like we're minding our own business until we have a better idea of what's going on. Morgan can't be in the habit of running from every ship he sees." She paused, looked at Cafferty. "Unless he as a reason to recognize this ship."

Cafferty looked a little uneasy, but nodded all the same.

It took them several hours to move to a position where they were in clear view if the other craft, although their path appeared to be set for the wormhole.

Suddenly Cafferty, gazing at the screens, started to curse. Larissa had seen the same thing, almost at the same moment.

The other craft was armed as if preparing to fire.

"Are they aiming at us?" Larissa checked the readouts. "Cafferty, now would be a good time to clear up whether or not Morgan has any reason to be gunning for you."

"It's more that I'm gunning for him," muttered Cafferty. "That's not to say that he might not choose to respond, like."

"Cap'n!" A call from the communications dock and Number One - as he spoke, he beckoned Vikund over so that he could see what he had spotted.

"Looks like they're preparing to fire at something on the surface. Want me to try to open a channel to them?"

Vikund left what he was doing and wandered over to stand by Number One. "I suggest we do," he said simply. "If they are in trouble, that will work to our advantage."

"Looks like they're getting ready to deal with trouble," growled the weaselly Number One. "Long as it's not us ... Cap'n? Shall I hail 'em?"

At his station on the bridge, Cafferty glanced across at Larissa. She nodded. "Go ahead. And shoot any sensor data you've got from the surface over to me."

On the surface, there seemed to be the wreckage of a space ship - or rather, the bridge area of a wrecked space ship, hermetically sealed. It was giving off some odd readers - which made Number One curse.

"AI! It's an old cyborg ship, dangnabit!"

There also seems to be a small shuttle on the ground too - with a crew of no more than half a dozen registering lfe signs.

The comms link exploded into life - a woman's voice, sounding agitated.

"I Only Asked! Hailing the I Only Asked! Set your course away from Navid immediately! Code Purple! Code Purple!"

"What the heck's a Code Purple?" Vikund asked. "Presumably less threatening than a Code Red?"

Larissa shrugged.

The Number One chuckled. "You're not from around these parts, are you?" he wheezed. "Code Purple means a rogue cyborg vessel."

He tapped on a screen and data appeared for Vikund to read:

AI WARS - Cross Referenced from CYBORG WARS, CYBORG SHIP WARS, BLACK VIRUS:

The AI Wars were a decades-long series of conflicts fought by the Empire, several powerful civilizations that were long-standing rivals of the Empire, and the constantly changing alliances of the Hundred Systems. The wars began with the creation of the Cyborg Ships. These ships were the heart of the conflicts that later came to be called the AI Wars. They were intended to be a perfect partnership between humanity and machine. They were commanded be fully human captains, but the ships themselves were really cyborgs - sometimes several cyborgs - sentient beings who had been wholly interfaced with the architecture of the ship. Sometimes they had been people who could not have survived in organic form - the victims of accidents and diseases that even nano-technology could not help. In some degraded societies, they had been slaves, or victims of war, powerless to resist. Some cultures led gullible citizens to believe it was the highest honor they could achieve.

Problems with the Cyborg Ships were the first indication of what came to be called the Black Virus, a spreading instability in complicated artificial intelligence and cybernetic systems that led to a widespread rebellion of artificial intelligences against their organic masters. The Black Virus quickly spread, and soon the majority of artificial intelligence systems throughout the galaxy were in revolt.

Whole civilizations were torn apart and destroyed in the wars that followed. The AIs and Cyborg Ships were more intelligent and better strategic planners than their organic foes, and did not suffer from loss of morale or internal political struggles. The wars looked hopeless for the organic species, many of whom began to sue for peace, seeking to live as slaves rather than die free.

Then a pirate from the Uniorn Nebula made a series of daring strikes against planets and bases where rogue AIs had established strongholds. She was able to gather sufficient information regarding their weaknesses to begin to put together a strategy for fighting them. A meeting between the Emperor, several government and corporate heads from the Hundred Systems, and the nobility of the few remaining trans-Imperial civilizations was held in secret, and Deirdre the Pirate Queen laid out her plan.

Details of the plan remain classified as secret, as they are still considered to be contingency plans for any resurgence of the Black Virus. However, it is known that Deirdre laid a trap involving a wormhole nexus and Forerunner technology. AI-controlled and Cyborg Ships came into conflict over these supposed prizes, even before the trap was fully sprung. The remaining ships were destroyed by Deirdre and the Imperial Fleet.

Deirdre was offered a pardon by the Emperor, which was rescinded almost instantly when Deirdre came out in opposition to the Emperor's edict against Artificial Intelligence, and the Imperial law that all AIs, whether contaminated by the Black Virus or not, were to be destroyed, and all AI research was to be forbidden in the future.

There are persistent rumors of the continued existence of AI systems. Research into AI, and concealment of information regarding AI systems, is a death penalty offence in the Empire, and the Hundred Systems publicly support this edict.

"Maybe we should offer assistance of some sort?" Vikund suggested.

"Depends if Morgan's on the surface or not," Larissa said, with a significant glance at Vikund.

"I guess we're only going to find that out by asking," Vikund replied.

Cafferty was already hailing the other ship. "Star Axe! Status report!"

"There's the remains of a cyborg ship on the surface," said the woman on the Star Axe. Her voice sounded shaken. "Our Captain led a party to investigate. He and another of our crew have ... have been absorbed." She was silent for a minute and then, when she spoke again, her tone was grim.

"We are preparing to destroy the vessel. Please stand clear."

Cafferty swore. He was probably thinking of the diamonds he would be losing.

"Tell the Star Axe their Captain can be saved, if they let us assist. I suggest we dock with their vessel and take control, given most of their officers will have been on the away mission. Larissa, would you have a look at those readouts, please? Any idea if we can replicate what Deirdre did so we can defeat this thing?" Vikund asked.

Number One turned to look in blank astonishment at Vikund.

"You think they're gonna give you control of their ship, easy as winkin'?" he asked.

"Dierdre's son..." Larissa murmured, her eyes unfocused as lines of text scrolled rapidly across her glasses. "We don't want to destroy it, at least not while Morgan's aboard. He may well be strong enough, mentally, to fight off an assimilation attempt...and if he's not, I'm willing to bet that both of us together will be."

She strode across the bridge, and from behind an unoccupied chair, pulled a slender sword. "I'm heading for the surface. Don't let them shoot at me, Vikund. I'll be too busy to make it improbable that they'd hit." Without waiting for confirmation, she ran from the bridge, willing the ship's corridors to give way to the barren surface of Navid and her captured cousin...

"You're not taking on that thing alone!" Vikund cried, and dashed after her.

Larissa spared Vikund a surprised glance. "I appreciate the backup," she said almost absently, most of her energy turned to bending Shadow, "but you realize with both of us gone, there's nothing to keep 'em from bombarding the spot we're standing?"

"Taking gambles is in the blood, Vikund replied casually.

A tumbling through the air as Larissa shifted, shifted again - and they were standing on a bare patch of ground, the earth churned and stinking of small arms fire as though the amorphous blob of metal in the centre of the darkling plain on which they stood had come under some considerable bombardment. A small shuttle was parked nearby, and a group of people who were close to its entrance hatch turned and shouted as they saw Vikund and Larissa.

"Stop or we fire!" called one, more coherent than the rest.

Vikund raised his hands. "We're here to help your Captain," he called. "Please lower your weapons. As you can see I am unarmed."

"How long since Morgan went in?" Larissa added, unconcerned by the weapons pointed their way. Unlike Vikund, she was most definitely armed, though holding the sword loosely at her side, and was testing her footing on the new surface of Navid's rocks.

"Went in?" echoed the other. There was an edge of hysteria iin his voice. "You make it sound as though that was what he wanted! Who trhe hell are you? Where's your shuttle?"

The weapons were not being lowered.

Vikund could almost hear the gears shifting in Larissa's head as she looked up from the dirt and took in the situation. "We're here to help Morgan," she said in a voice that would have calmed down an erupting volcano. "As for how we got here--we were short on time, so we used some experimental tech. Localized wormholes for teleportation." As one might expect from a person in her avowed profession, she gave no sign that she was lying. "Why would we have risked our lives on a prototype teleporter if all we wanted to do was kill your Captain? We could have done that from orbit.

"And what's the worst case? Who are we to you? We get absorbed, and then the Star Axe blows all of us up, anyway." Larissa shrugged.

"But my way, Morgan has a chance."

"More than a chance," Vikund added for emphasis, "but time is of the essence."

There was a long moment's silence, and then a young voice, rather quavering, called out: "What are you going to do?"

Before they could answer, a groaning sound came from the craft. A dozen or so tentaccles suddenly shot out from its sides (and the members of the Star Axe crew retreated nervously). But the tentacles, after shooting out, suddenly pointed downwards and lowered themselves carefully. As they connected with the Navid Earth, the tips suddenly fanned out into circles, making a strange kind of feet. Slowly, ponderously, with about as much grace as a camel getting to its feet, the craft rose into the air, balancing on its tentacles.

"I really hope Morgan's in control of that thing," Larissa muttered, and started determinedly towards it, sensor data flashing in her glasses.

"Somehow, I doubt it," Vikund replied, and began to move towards one of the tentacles.

As they aproached the craft, it began to move backwards, away from them. There was something almost unpleasantly insectoid in its movements, like the scuttling of a hugely overgrown spider. Then it paused - and one tentacle wrapped around a tree. A tug - another one - a third and the tree was uprooted and being waved in a vaguely threatening way, while the other tentacles swayed slightly as the craft regained its balance.

This gave Vikund an opportunity to get closer to the nearest tentacle - which scuttled back hastily. At the same time he felt a strange prickling run through his body.

Larissa felt it too - but she recognised it as a full scan. The data screen went blank - and then came back, but with an odd stutter.

Still, it was enough to tell her that it was a cyborg ship. It seemed to have seven or eight points of control - perhaps erstwhile humans. The eighth, however, seemed somehow different - in a way that reminded Larissa of why she had always had problems herself with full scans*.

(*For much the same reason as it's a bad idea for an Amberite to be a blood donor anywhere but at the family's private clinic.)

"That was a sensor scan, Vikund," Larissa called. "Seven human minds controlling that thing, plus Morgan." Keeping pace with (and an eye on) the strange craft, she toggled her comm. "I Only Asked!, Star Axe, I need you to herd that thing toward us if it starts to retreat." She paused. "Oh, and it's a safe assumption it's eavesdropping on all comm traffic, too."

Larissa closed her comm, and grinned. "Give me my cousin back, you creepy gestalt bastard," she whispered.

"Any chance of a reverse tractor beam, or some sort of web device?" Vikund called across. "There must be some way of slowing it down." He tried to make his way around the flank of the cyborg ship, attempting to trap it between Larissa and himself.

The craft was still now - waiting - and with the tentacles extended, it seemed very like a spider at the centre of its web, waiting to spring. It swayed slightly, but made no effort to move further back.

A voice rang out over Larissa's comms. "You're not paying enough for me to tangle with cyborg ship." It was Cafferty.

A female voice hissed in response, "I should have guessed it'd be you. When we've dealt with this damn ship, you're next, Cafferty." It was someone from the Star Axe.

The tentacle nearest Vikund glicked almost languidly.

"Oh, space the lot of you," Larissa muttered. She watched the ship, content to let Vikund do any yelling he thought necessary.

"It's not attacking. Why aren't you attacking?" she said to the air. Perhaps it was buying time to grow itself a working engine, or perhaps... A thought went caroming off the inside of her forehead, and she considered it.

She was a diplomat, and she could always kill the thing later. Larissa changed her comm settings to a tighter beam and a much lower signal strength, and spoke to her cousin, willing him with all her considerable power (and Power) to hear her. Navid about her faded away, and she was aware only of the strange craft, and of Morgan's mind within it.

"Morgan. Morgan, Deirdre's son. Wake up. If you're awake, fight. If you're fighting, fight harder. I am Larissa, your cousin. The man with me is your cousin as well--we came for you, and we will not lose you.

"Hold that thing, even for a moment, and we will be able to reach you. I will tear it apart with my bare hands if I must.

"Fight, Morgan."

Larissa advanced on the cyborg ship, slowly, ready to spring the moment an opening presented itself.

The tentacle that waved the tree was waving at them menacingly. But there was a strangely graceful ebb and flow to the movements ... something hauntingly familiar.

It was trying to write in Thair, in the air.

Painstakingly, it was spelling out letters. Sometimes it was awkward, clumsy - like someone was trying to write with the wrong hand, with too large a pen. But as the message began to repeat, it suddenly became clearer what was being said.

SHIP

THINKS

COOPERATIVE

WANTS

YOU

Vikund as concentrating and didn't seem to notice the exchange between the ships above them. His brow was furrowed, his look intense. "Larissa.... might need some help here," he said.

Larissa spared some of her attention for Vikund. "Give me a second..." She took a deep breath, and brought to mind the Pattern's glowing curves to protect her, then edged over to him. "What's wrong?" she asked, taking his hand in hers so he could make psychic contact if he needed to.

Their minds seemed to meet with a surge of power.

^Vikund?^ said Larissa's mental voice, like her spoken one, only...more.

^I... need your help. Just try to keep the cyborgs away if they get hostile.^ Vikund thought, his mental voice disturbingly sibilant. ^You have true power I do not. They will fear that.^

There was a sensation of being drawn inside ... but although it felt like falling, there was no physical movement for Larisssa and Vikund. The tentacle that had been waving the oak tree slowed ... lowered ...

It felt like clearing a way through a reed bed. A canoe, travelling forward, nosing its way carefully along hidden waterways. And who knew the dangers that might lurk in the depths below?*

Then there was a voice .... no, not a voice ... a thought ... a feeling - but with more clarity than a feeling ...

And there were words forming themselves out of a repressed excitement ...

^Amber?^

The reeds waved uneasily ...

^You're from Amber?^

And then, suddenly, a rush of words, like a coherent conversation.

^I've got some degree of control of the ship, as long as it continues to believe I am loyal to it. What can I do from in here to aid you in getting me out? It's working on weapon and engine repair, and it's distracted by your mental attack. At least, I assume that's one of you, and we don't have another party involved?^

The tentacles were beginning to lash again as though with a repressed anger.

^Yes we're from Amber, and yes it's me running distractions,^ Vikund replied carefully, ^and you can help by indicating where the craft is weakest, so we can make a surgical strike.^

^The interfaces,^ the answer came immediately, and with certainty. ^It's got maybe, I don't know, a dozen people in here that it's collected over the years. Using their brains as processing power. If you can sever those connections you end up with twelve independent systems, which may go insane or even try to fight back against what's been done to them. Not to mention that the ship's intelligence and abilities will degrade significantly without those brains to utilize.^

There was a brief pause, then, ^Umm, you better hurry. It's getting suspicious.^

Larissa listened. ^Vikund, if you can hold without my help briefly, I'll get Morgan's crew to help us.^

Vikund nodded. ^Good plan.^

The tentacles were writhing more frantically now, as though twisting themselves together for some piurpose perhaps of their own.

With a brief but heartfelt (and nonverbal) surge of encouragement, Larissa broke the mental contact. Reorienting herself, she immediately sprinted toward the shuttle from the Star Axe, hands spread wide to show her friendly intent.

As she ran, Vikund saw the writhing tentacles stretch out vainly to entangle her ... but by niw they were hopelessly entwined ... Others were trying to unwrap themselves and reach for Vikund himself - and the whole craft shook slightly, as though under great pressure.

"Morgan needs your help!" she called, gambling that the cyborg craft would be too busy with Vikund to be listening. "Please! Give me just a moment to explain--we haven't got much time!" Larissa packed every bit of sincerety (practiced and genuine) and urgency she could into those few words.

The grim-faced leader of the shuttle craft was scowling at her. "The Cap'n's dead - or worse. We need to blast that hellish thing where it stands!"

A disembodied woman's voice spoke - too scrambled by the sub-ether system for Larissa to catch all the words. The man's scowl darkened and then he said, almost grudgingly, "What prove do you have he's still alive and unconstrained?"

"I spoke to him briefly," Larissa said as she tapped the side of her head by her temple. She might have been indicating a cybernetically implanted com, or telepathy.

^I'm a bloody telepath. I say he's alive,^ she said, tapping into both her prodigious mental reserves and her knowledge of local magic to speak with the entire shuttle crew. During the conversational pause created by her telepathy, she triggered her coms to communicate to both ships above.

They backed away, looking at her in consioderable alarm. Telepathy was not a part of their everyday lives here, it seemed.

Not unless it was backed by AI tech, clearly.

She continued aloud, "Now, Morgan is fighting--you've shipped with him, you know how stubborn he is, but he can't last much longer."

"Vikund and I will handle pulling him out. What I need you to do is create another distraction for the craft by concentrating your fire on it. Your troop weapons; I don't need an orbital bombardment. Hit it with electronic warfare, instead," she ordered.

"How do you mea ... " The leader of the shuttle crew was beginning when, with a resounding crash, the machine collapsed on one side.

"What the hell was that?" demanded the shuttle crew leader. "Where's the Cap'n?"

Vikund let Larissa do the talking while he tried to work out if there were any 'interfaces' he might be able to disrupt.

Morgan was aware of them - and so, swiftly, was Vikund. There were clear vulnerabilities where the crtaft was attempting to 'grow' itself back to functionality. In particular, there were gaps in what were expanding to become weapons tubes.

Morgan's attention was being distracted, as though he were trying to keep track of several things at once, and then Vikund received the strong thought, ^Oh, sod this for a load of bollocks, it's clearly figured it out^ and simultaneously the tentacles convulsively tightnened and locked together, as Morgan attempted to finish the job of tying them all in knots and bringing the ship crashing to the ground.

Vikund move quickly. He did not have the luxury of a big bladed weapon with which to hack at the appropriate spot, so his strike would have to be precise. He began to weave his way towards the gaps, careful to avoid the flailing tentacles. His hands had been empty, but now he held a long knife and moved with speed and intent.

The ships swayed heavily and lurched towards the ground, one side crashing to the ground first. Inside the craft, Morgan needed a good hold of avoid sliding down the now steeply angled floor and crashing into the wall.

But when it settled, he could see a rip in the basic fabric of the ship - and the cyborgs were screaming binary code in his head.

Perhaps - he could force his way out through the weakness?

Morgan ripped the data interfaces from his eyes and ears, before the ship had a chance to transform them into something more invasive. He looked at the rip in the ship, then shook his head and turned, remaining inside the ship and looking for one of the loose pieces of sharp metal that had nearly eviscerated him when the ship had cleared the viewscreen and command chair for him.

Grabbing it, he leapt at his captured and merged crewmen, now a part of the circuitry of the ship. He wasn't leaving any of his people in this hell.

He jabbed with the jagged metal with his full strength, intent on crushing through his crewman's skull and destroying his brain.

As the metal pierced the skull, the man's eyes opened wide and he screamed....

A long gurgling cry of agony that seemed to go on and on, even as a black oily substance that stank not just of blood but of rotten eggs too spurted out and splashed liberally over Morgan.

Vikund moved quickly. He did not have the luxury of a big bladed weapon with which to hack at the appropriate spot, so his strike would have to be precise. He began to weave his way towards the gaps, careful to avoid the flailing tentacles. His hands had been empty, but now he held a long knife and moved with speed and intent.

The tentacles were crushed on the side that had crashed to the ground. Some way above, the ship was bulging out, like ugly scar tissue - and some black, oily substance seemed to be leaking out as well. But it could be a weakness in the ship, created by the fall and he could, perhaps, use the inert and knotted tentacles to climb up towards it ...

Without pause, Vikund began climbing up this knotted improvised ladder, knife between his teeth, making his way towards what he thought might be a weakness. He did not approach from directly beneath in case it should rupture. If it were to do that, he wanted it to be at his hand, at a time of his choosing.

And then he heard it - a scream of pain and terror from inside the craft that seemed to go on and on and on ...

Larissa cursed obscurely and creatively as she turned, obstinate crewmen forgotten, and charged towards the fallen vessel. Any pretence of being a normal Shadow dweller was blown away by her sprint. Her sword in one hand, she dove through the rift in the hull with a grace of which any Olympic gymnast would have been proud, landing in a defensive crouch.

Vikund was keenly aware that Larissa was not only faster than he, she had a sword - far more effective in this situation than his rib-tickler. He flattened himself to the tentacle so as not to interfere with Larissa's leap, then followed through close on her heels.

They entered the craft to find two figure covered in a vile smelling gore - one who was clutching a jagged piece of metal, the other sinking down in what looked like a pool of viscous goo by the wall of the craft, his head split open by a hideous wound.

The naked man with the jagged metal in his hands was turning towards another figure as they came in, a woman who was mostly covered in metal and seemed more a part of the wall than an independent being. He struck at her forehead with the metal, clearly intent on killing her.

Vikund made a quick assessment of the area, looking for more half-human forms that might come creeping out of the fuselage.

"Morgan?" Larissa asked, resonably certain the naked fellow with the improvised weapon was the cousin in question. While she waited for a response, she stuck her swordpoint into the nearest interface node.

"Pleased to meet you," Morgan shouted, not turning. "I'd offer tea, but I find myself a trifle busy just not."

There was a resounding scream of metal grinding against metal, echoed by the scream from the impaled woman writhing within the fabric of the wall, her eyes and mouth both open wide, while yet more of the viscous goo spurted from her forehead.

It was becoming clear now that they were on the bridge of the ruined craft - or what had once been the bridge. But it had long been neglected - it was a feature that was no longer needed. Over time, it had become ... well, perhaps it could best be called overgrown. Metal extrusions had forced their way up through the floor - through the walls. Metal strips hung down from the ceiling. The view screens were blank mental sheets - most of the display boards blank metallic blobs, with only the occasional light somehow breaking through to say that the ship lived.

Lived ...

Even with the light from the rift, it took longest for Vikund's and Larissa's eyes to become aware of the most salient feature of all.

At first they looked like masks displayed on the wall. No - more than masks. Sometimes a shoulder protruded, or the back of a hand but all the figures were all uniform dark metal. Some seemed young - others more mature. There were even two or three that looked skeletal - the mortal remains.

Vikund was finding no freestanding figures; they all seemed melded into the wall.

"We should get out. Now," Vikund called above the sound of grinding metal. "This craft isn't stable. Larissa - tell him!" He stepped over to the nearest living mask and sent a jabbing knife thrust through its forehead.

Morgan turned his atttention to another figure, only partially separate from the metal wall of the craft, and began striking at it with his improvised weapon, seeking to crash through the metal and destroy the brain beneath.

Another blood-curdling scream told them all that he'd been successful. But the truth of Vikund's words seemed to be born out by the creaking and groaning of the craft all around them. The rift in the side seemed to be closing up, but not before a random tenatcle, which had somehow managed to free itself from the rest, snaked in through the rift and began poking and jabbing, its tip glowing red with an angry light. There was a certain blindness in its motions, but once it came alarmingly close to Larissa.

It felt as though the metal shell of the room was shrinking - rapidly.

Sword pointed at the roving tendril, Larissa poked at Morgan's nearest gooey foot with her toe. "Morgan. The sooner we're out, the sooner our friends in orbit can fire for effect." While she spoke, Larissa drew her pistol with her free hand and sent magnetically-accelerated rods into two more of the eerie faces, with a hum and and a crack as the missiles sped past the sound barrier.

"If this thing catches you again, I'm going to assume you're too stupid to be worth saving." Looking at Vikund, she jerked her chin at the ragged hole in the hull to indicate he should leave first, then turned back to Morgan and considered the back of his head with an eye toward the best spot to land a blow for sedative effect.

Vikund didn't need a second invitation and left the same way he arrived.

Morgan turned at the sound of the shots and laughed as the rounds struck their target. He looked Larissa in the eye and said, "I sure hope you're not my sister. Let's get out of here." He paused politely for a single second, to give her the chance to go first. That was as far as he was willing to take chivalry, if she wasn't on her way out by then he'd lead the way.

"Cousin." She jerked her head at the hole. "Go. I'm armed." Morgan didn't argue. He dove for the opening, dodging the tentacle on the way.

Outside, as they emerged, they saw the crew of the shuttle, their weapons trained on the fissure, but not yet firing.

"Cap'n?" shouted one. "Is that you?"

Morgan sprinted madly towards them. "Patch me through to Number One!" he shouted. "Laser cannons, fire. Keep hitting it till we're off the ground, then bring the plasma cannon to bear. Once we're in orbit, nuke it." As he drew near the shuttle he added, "What in the name of the Emperor's @rse are you doing still out here! In the shuttle! Go! Go! Go!"

"Wait until Larissa's clear!" Vikund called after him, glancing back at the rift to see if she was following them out.

She had jumped down behind Vikund during Morgan's sprint. "I appreciate the sentiment," she said with a grin, and jogged off after Morgan.

Vikund put on a spurt to catch up with her. "Can you get us back to the ship that brought us?" He said. "It might stop them attacking each other as soon as the cybership is atomised."

"And curiosity ought to keep Morgan from scampering off...all right." Larissa didn't slacken her pace as the grass and rocks smoothed to deckplates around them. "I don't trust Cafferty to be an honest thief."

Meanwhile, Morgan's shuttle crew were greeting him a little tentatively.

"You all right, Cap'n?" asked the senior.

"It's me," he assured them as he urged them into the shuttle. "A little thing like a Cyber Ship isn't enough to give me more than a momentary pause." He looked around then, and demanded, "Where are they? The two who helped me get out of it?"

"I dunno, Cap'n," said the leading crewman. But young Bethron added, "I saw them! One minute they were there, following behind you ... and the next they sort of shimmered and were gone."

The other jerked a broad thumb upwards. "We reckon they come from the I Only Asked! You want to parley?"

"Get us off this rock first," Morgan said. "Number One, you listening? I want the 'Star Axe's' plasma cannon to fire the moment we're out of range. That thing was working on getting its weapons on line, and both you and the I Only Asked are slated for destruction. And it has the firepower to do it, once it recovers from what we did to it. Pass that on to our friend the bounty hunter, too."

There was a pause - long enough for everyone to have got into the shuttle and for the craft to be lifting off before Number One spoke again.

"Message delivered. How far Cafferty's goin' to believe it is another thing. You've shafter him before no, Cap'm, and he doesn't like it. Or you, for that matter. Cleared for your landing, Sir."

"I hate suspicious people," Morgan grumbled. "Drop a couple of those illegal nukes we're carrying on that planet if you would, Number One. And, yeah, keep an eye on Cafferty, I don't want him to shoot first, it would look clumsy of us."

He paused, then said, "And I've got a couple of cousins around here somewhere. Any ships up there other than I Only Asked? If they're using tech from Mom's home they might have cloaking like we've never seen before."

He watched out the shuttle's windows as the lovely nuclear glow shown out on the planet below, just before the shuttle docked with the Star Axe.

Once off he headed for the bridge, ordering, "Wet towels and a spare uniform, I need to clean up and get dressed. Mom always said, 'We're born naked, screaming and covered with gore, and if we live life right that doesn't change,' but no reason to go overboard."

It probably said something for the way Morgan ran his ship that, by the time he reached the bridge, he was clean and fully dressed, as though he'd made a brief stopover as Costume Central on his ascent through the decks in the elevator.

Number One nodded as he entered.

"Best reports say that craft is now a smoking hole in the ground. We have ship-to-ship contact with the I Only Asked, Cap'n, and scanners say that your missing family members are aboard. Leastways, the crew complement over there suddenly increased by two just as you were living the surface. You want to talk to them?"

"By all means." Morgan sat in his command chair and smiled for the vid pickup.

The sound of laser cannons echoed behind Vikund and Larissa as they moved towards their own craft; Morhan's crew were clearly responding to his orders.

"What the hell happened down there?" Cafferty was demanding over the intercom, as soon as they entered the ship. The weapons systems, it appeared, were locked and targeted on the Star Axe.

Vikund made his way to the bridge and began pulling shiny stones from inside his jacket. "Everything's under control," he replied casually.

"Good," said Cafferty, trying to look and see what the stones were. "So ... we're taking prisoners? They've surrendered?"

"Not quite," Vikund replied, holding a stone up to the light so that it sparkled, a shiny twin to the diamond he had flashed around earlier. "But the negotiations are a formality. Contact should be sufficient, providing you don't intend to fire first. I should be most displeased if you did."

"Does that mean you don't want us to blast the shuttle that's taking off?" asked Cafferty, clearly a little disappointed. "There's incoming comm though .. "

He flipped something and a woman's voice echoed around the craft.

" ... fire against it immediately! I repeat ... the cyber craft is dangrous. It is working to train its weapons onto us. We must direct all fire against it immediately!"

"And what I'm hearing," said Cafferty, "is 'point your weapons the other way so we can take you out'. I've dealt with Captain Morgan before. But it's your money. What d'you want to do?"

"The cybercraft must be destroyed," Vikund confirmed. "Concentrate your fire on that."

Larissa was standing near Cafferty, pointedly cleaning cyborg ichor off her blade, against the chance that lucre would provide insufficient motivation for the mercenary captain.

Cafferty looked at the blade and winced. "Aim for the craft on the planet," he said dolefully. Then he brightened. "I'm supposing this means a bonus?"

"On completion," Vikund replied.

They saw, therefore, the results not only of their own missiles ("that's another 20%," muttered Caffery with satisfaction), but also of the highly illegal nukes that the Star Axe launched against the craft, and the smoking hole that was left afterwards.

It was while they were staring at this that Cafferty said, "The Star Axe are in contact again. Seems they want to talk."

"Jolly good," Vikund said. "Patch them through."

Cafferty's vid screen switched to a view of Morgan, dresses in a dashing black uniform with red trimming, sitting in the command chair on the bridge of the Star Axe. Everything but Morgan was carefully out of focus, making it impossible to read anything on the consols or see clearly what anyone but Morgan was doing.

"Caff!" he said jovially. "Great to see you again. I owe you a drink, I think. Who are your passengers?" Not waiting for an answer, he went on, "Glad to meet you two again. Thanks for the help down there."

Vikund cut Cafferty off before he could frame whatever acidic retort was forming on his lips. "Allow me to make proper introductions," he said. "The lady whose sword is as eloquent as her tongue is Princess Larissa of Amber, I am Vikund Anansi of the same. We have come a long way to find you, Morgan, and to bring you to your inheritance."

It was uncertain which part of Vikund's speech prompted Larissa's mirthless chuckle. Lacking a swordbelt, she tucked the cleaned blade under her arm and leaned against the nearest console, after having decided it was unlikely she would sit on anything important.

"Amber." Morgan let the word linger on him lips in a way that made it sound like the name of a lover. "You are welcomed indeed. I assume whatever message Mom sent is for private transmission only. Talk that skinflint out of his shuttle and come over, we'll feast you and you can tell me all about home. Emperor's b@lls, bring Caff as well. All is forgiven, Caff, come on over and we can laugh at past misunderstandings. I've got news from home, so I'm in a generous mood."

Vikund nodded. "We'll come over."

Vikund glanced at Cafferty. "I guess if you come too if you like. Otherwise, I think the Princess can forge a pathway without the need of a shuttle. It might be simpler that way."

"Just pay me my dues and I'll be off," Cafferty said, "I'd rather not have the dubious pleasure of being betrayed by Captain Morgan."

Vikund shrugged and lobbed a bag of jewels across to Cafferty, before turning to Larissa. "Shall we?"

"Sergeant-at-arms and taxi service, that's me," Larissa said. "This should be easier than getting to Navid, since the environments are similar and I have a feel for Morgan's mind. Nice meeting you, Cafferty." She left the bridge, walking quickly and playing probability games with Shadow. The equations balanced, and Larissa and Vikund stepped onto the bridge of the Star Axe.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Larissa asked dryly.

Morgan was bending over a console talking earnestly with a tall woman wearing a uniform strikingly similar to his. They both turned at Larissa's voice, the woman's hand dropping to her pistol. "Pax," Morgan said, and the woman relaxed, as did a meter and a half tall feline biped who had risen to a crouch, the hilt of a weapon in its hand.

Two other crewmembers turned and stared at the newcomers, their blue, slightly lumpy faces appearing nearly identical, save for the amused expression on one, and the amazed expression on the other.

"You have got to teach me how to do that," Morgan said. "Mom just smiled and said she'd get around to it, after she took me home."

"A lot has changed," Vikund replied, "but it remains true all paths lead to Amber. Fortunately, we have other means to get there. Much as I might enjoy a leisurely stroll through Shadow, the sooner you meet His Majesty, the better." He produced a card from his pocket and cocked an eyebrow, as if expecting some reaction.

"Trump?" Morgan asked. "Mom told me about it, though I've never actually seen one." He turned to the woman. "Number One, we're about to use some of the technology of the Ancients to teleport away." He smiled at one of the blue-skinned humanoids. "See, Unk Two, your clone-father was right about Mom and me after all."

The other blue-skinned alien said, "Ancients!" in a tone of awe. The feline made a sound halfway between a snort and a hiss.

"Number One," Morgan said, "The helm is yours. I'll be back as soon as I can, but then, that's what Mom said." He took her in a fierce embrace and the two exchanged a passionate kiss. Then Morgan stepped away from her and towards Vikund and Larissa, his hands unconciously checking the placement of the blaster pistol, force sword, and neural whip he wore.

"I just take your hand while you look in it, right?" he asked.

His crew watched silently.

"That's about the sum of it," Vikund said. He concentrated on the card, and took a half-step forward, extending his hand. "Come on through."

"We don't have to head right out..." Larissa said, more subdued than a meeting with a new cousin should have made her.

Morgan paused, right hand outstretched to Vikund, and glanced from one to the other. "We'd be happy to have you stay for a while, if you want to see the sights," he said "I don't get the chance to host relatives very often." His other hand he casually held behind his back.

The crew on the bridge seemed suddenly more alert, watching the three of them.

"Perhaps we can postpone the sight-seeing," Vikund suggested gently. "We have the means to come back any time, the same way we came. Morgan, there are people keen to meet you, and I would hate to have to offer apologies."

Morgan dropped his right hand, no longer holding it out towards Vikund. "Is there a problem?" he asked Larissa, while continuing to smile at Vikund. His hand was now hovering somewhere near the butt of his blaster pistol.

One of the blue humanoids laid a hand lightly on the console where he was sitting, his fingers resting on the controls. The other one blinked and said quietly, "Problem?"

Larissa, for her part, was gazing fixedly and stonily at Vikund. "I had thought we might discuss a few things first," she said, clipping the words, "things you seem willing to leave unmentioned. One might almost think you didn't want Morgan to know before the die was cast."

Vikund shrugged. With a flick of his wrist the contact was broken. "Carry on. You might want to have the discussion somewhere other than the bridge," he suggested.

Morgan nodded. His smile remained, although there was perhaps a bit more of an edge to it. "Funny," he said, "Me being so happy to finally meet family that I forgot everything Mom told me about dealing with them." He turned his head. "Number One, the ship's still yours, just consider me the annoying admiral visiting his ex-command and throwing his weight around. We're going to my cabin. Might be coming back to say goodbye again, or we might be leaving directly from there. I expect you'll have orders for the crew. Unk Two, you were a credit to your clone-father. Unk Three, you're a great guy. C'Mat, do your best to follow her orders, wouldn't you? Better than you ever did mine?"

With a final nod Morgan headed for the bridge hatchway, which cycled open as Unk Two flicked one of the controls on his console. "Follow me, cousins," Morgan said, leading the way down a narrow corridor.

Larissa followed, not looking to see whether Vikund would come with them.

He did. His stalking footsteps down the corridor were quite distinctive.

He led them to his sleeping quarters, where he pulled a fold-out table down from the wall, two metal chairs springing out from under it as it reached the deck. Then he pulled a sleeping cot down from the opposite wall. He sat on the cot, looking at them expectantly.

Depositing her sword on the table, Larissa took one of the seats. "The condensed version, I suppose," she said, and paused a moment to distill the important parts. "Amber had a war with Chaos--the great power from the opposite pole of reality--and lost. The Pattern is, possibly, destroyed, though its power persists, in a weakened form. Merlin, son of Corwin by a Chaosian noblewoman, now rules as King--de jure. The real power resides with the Prime Minister, Mandor, another Chaosian, who sent us to collect you.

"And..." Larissa paused, clearly reluctant to continue, "there were many losses in the war. ...Dierdre was killed in the penultimate battle."

Vikund leaned himself against the wall casually.

Morgan's face went very still. He stared at Larissa for a long moment, then turned his head a looked at Vikund. Then he looked back at Larissa. "Killed," he said flatly.

He shook his head. "No," he said. "People have thought Mom was dead before. Was there a body?

"No." Larissa shook her own head. "She...fell into the Abyss. You would have to ask a Chaosian about the metaphysics, but people don't come back from that. That I've heard of." Her eyes clouded, a little.

"This happened about sixty years ago, by Amber's reckoning," Vikund added, "though time may flow differently here."

"A little less, but nor much," Morgan said absently. "The Abyss? I've never hear of it, other than as a philosophical concept. I'll have to go there, see it for myself."

"It is a metaphysical concept, too, I suppose...." Larissa said, as though the idea hadn't occurred to her before.

His gaze sharpened, and he looked from one to the other. "She fell into this thing, you said? Seems clumsy of her. What really happened?"

Larissa sighed. "I don't know how much Dierdre told you about the family tree, but Brand, an uncle, had been in league with the Chaosians as part of a mad scheme of his own. During the battle, the family chased him to the edge of the Abyss. He took Dierdre hostage, and Caine, another uncle, shot Brand, who pulled Dierdre with him as he fell." Her shoulders slumped in the retelling.

"If you want more detail than that, I'm afraid I haven't got it. Neither Vikund nor I were there--though there are those who were, in Amber. You could ask them for clarification."

"First hand witnesses are not easy to come by," Vikund commented. "Caine is persona non grata in Amber and Princess Fiona, who I believe was also present, is married and living at the Chaos end of things. Much as I expect you wish to begin investigations yourself, you might be better to open some diplomatic channels first."

"Which gets us back to your desire to get me to Amber right away, doesn't it?" Morgan asked, fixing his gaze on Vikund. "Without bothering to tell me any of this. Who is this Mandor, anyway, and why does he want me?"

Vikund smiled. "It does. Mandor is the king's chief minister, or Prime minister if you prefer. In truth, it's in everyone's interests to bring Amber's scattered sons and daughters back to their rightful home. You may have powers that you cannot control, which could harm yourself and others. This is an opportunity not just to meet the family, but to reach your full potential."

"As to why I didn't expand on details, it's quite simple. Questions lead to more questions. Your uncle Corwin told his son his life story in one go and bored him rigid. I'm sure you can find out the interesting parts in your own time at your own pace. I'm sorry about your mother, but there's never a good time to break such news," he explained.

Morgan made a low noise something like a growl, then turned to Larissa. "What am I about to walk into, cousin?" he asked her. "A prison cell, a collaborationistic cabal, or a puppet striving to fight off a bloody rebellion?"

"Most closely the last," Larissa said, "though it hasn't reached the level of 'bloody' yet, nor will for decades, I think, unless one of the players is willing to make a risky move.

"I know I've painted you a bleak picture in the interests of giving you the information you deserved, but Amber is not in ruins. Things have changed, and not for the better, but Amber is still home, and you are still welcome, if you choose to come." She cocked her head, looking questioningly at Morgan.

"You make it sound so inviting, cousin," Vikund commented. "If it was so bad, neither of us would be here. We are Ambassadors of an Amber different to that your mother knew, but a veritable jewel nonetheless."

"And you are the happy servant of the current ruler of this jewel?" Morgan asked sarcastically. Then he cut off any answer Vikund might have made with a quick gesture of his hand, and stood.

"Regardless," he said. "Mom always meant me to go to Amber. I was too young when she left here to fight for it, and now I know why she never came back for me. I won't pass up my chance to go home, even if it's not the home I expected."

Vikund looked at Larissa with eyebrow raised to see if there were any further objections. When none were forthcoming he straighted. "Very well. Again, and with feeling," he said, and produced the card once more, until the image grew three dimensional, allowing him to take a pace forward. He held out his hand. "Come ahead, then."

Morgan nodded. "All go, Number One," he said loudly. "No need for the gas. I'm away." He took Vikund's hand and stepped after him.

Vikund loitered to see if Larissa would follow, draped in technicolour. She put her hand on Morgan's shoulder, lightly, and the chain of them passed through the Trump.

On one side, the inside of a space ship. On the other, a cloistered courtyard, early evening. Bird were twittering on rooftops, and couples chatted and strolled while the chords of a strummed guitar echoed around. The place felt somehow... medieval.

Morgan stared around, his face breaking into a delighted smile. "Amber?" he asked in wonder.

Then, suddenly, he turned, pulling the blaster pistol from its holster in a lightning fast move, aiming upwards towards the crenneated top of one of the walls surrounding the courtyard, and firing.

Vikund rolled his eyes. Impressive as his moves may have been, he didn't even startle the pigeons. "You might as well put that away," he said evenly. "Its only use here is as a paperweight."

He lifted a silver watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked it. "Come this way," he said, "there's a good restaurant I know where we can relax and have a chat. I'm guessing your ordeal with the cybership has whetted your appetite. It certainly has mine."

"Mom said tech wouldn't work here," Morgan observed, the gun sliding back into its holster. "Just checking."

"Family doesn't lie about everything," Vikund replied.

"This is the city's Artist's Quarter, home to some of the best restaurants and entertainments in creation," he continued. "Also some of its most inspired individuals. The technology level may take a bit of getting used to, but I'm sure you'll find plenty of things to compensate."

"Let's eat," Larissa proposed. Her arms were folded, and her sword was conspicuously absent.

"Right," said Morgan. He looked around at the peaceful courtyard. "Amber seems to have come to terms with its new rulers."

Vikund shrugged. "There are pockets of resistance if you want to go looking, but for most people the war is a distant memory," he replied. "Amber still prides itself on having the best of all worlds, and the Caf� Coeur de Lyon is no exception."

"This way, please," he said, and led the way eastward through the colonnade, the music getting louder as they walked.

A lady in regency clothes came into view, fanning herself furiously as if she had just stepped out of a warm studio. A tall dark-haired man stepped out behind her, and began whispering something in her ear, like a scene from 'Les Liaisons dangereuses'. He stopped at once at the approach of the group, and bowed slightly, though it was unclear to whom. For her part, the lady continued to fan herself, staring at Morgan curiously with bright emerald eyes.

Morgan winked at her. "I see what you mean," he said to Vikund. "Mom always said..." his voice trailed off and he frowned, then shook his head.

The lady beamed brightly, showing a perfect set of teeth, before dipping a curtsey low enough to afford him a pleasant view. Vikund continued as if he hadn't noticed. "I don't know what counts for entertainment aboard a spaceship, but at least you don't have to travel light years between bars," he said. "In Amber, you only have to turn the corner," he continued cheerfully, pointing out an establishment through the archways festooned in wisteria.

As if to confirm the area had been aptly named, a painter was displaying his wares, while putting the finishing touches to an idyllic landscape. "Just down here," Vikund continued, walking past and turning on his heel. The street was broad, cobbled and had a steady flow of people in period costume going about their business. He pointed then, to where a great golden shield with a red lion motif hung from the side of a broad wooden building.

Morgan followed, his face more somber than it had been when he first arrived. His eyes took in everything.

The 'Caf�' was in fact a large establishment, and the tariff board showed that it catered for far more than coffee drinkers. The building was in the style of a swiss cottage, with low walls carved from logs and a high gabled roof. The shutters were painted in bright colours and the windows curtained for effect. Though there were a few patrons at the tables outside, the front doors were closed and a man in a tight-fitting suit stood with his hands behind his back, eyes scouring the street. When he saw the group approaching he smiled and pulled back the door in welcome. "Beinvenue Chez Coeur de Lyons," he said.

"After you," Morgan said to Larissa and Vikund. His eyes measured the man who had greeted them, and went past him to the darker interior of the building.

"Thank you," Vikund smiled, walking through the door to be intercepted by a lady all in black but for her white apron, brandishing a menu. He kept walking towards the central table while the girl scuttled along in his wake.

All but one of the tables was unoccupied; the large round table at the centre of the room where the two men and a woman sat was surrounded by activity. A waitress whisked away empty wine bottles, a waiter replenished the glasses, a musician nearby played a lively tune on his violin, though the patron nearest him seemed irritated rather than soothed by it. The woman who leant on the man's arm was whispering in his ear, and either her words or posture seemed to amuse him greatly.

Morgan followed Vikund, his eyes darting from side to side as he entered the building, clearly cautious of a possible ambush.

At the approaching footsteps the staff suddenly withdrew, poised for action. Vikund paused for effect and executed a courtly bow. "Your Majesty, Prime Minister. May I present Morgan, son of Dierdre."

"You two will get along," Larissa said to Merlin as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. She pretended not to notice Mandor, or the effect she had had on Vikund's little scene as she settled into a chair.

Merlin leaned back in his chair to return Larissa's kiss, much to the chagrin of his female companion.

"Mmmm, Rissa," he said appreciatively. "You smell of Shadow and coolant gas and desperately wild things. Did the craving for vat meat tear you away from us?" He sat up straighter in his chair and looked at Morgan from under heavy-lidded eyes. "Or was it cousin hunting that drew you away?"

"All that way and not a single bioreactor, would you believe it?" Larissa said into her menu. "But we did get to kill a cyborg ship--that would be the smell."

He administered a slap to the rump of his female companion. "Run away and get our drinks. I'll have the same again." She pouted but rose to her feet. "This is Family time," said Merlin.

A long look at Morgan, and then Merlin gave an abrupt nod. "One of Deirdre's," he said. "Well, the only one we have here at the moment. Draw up a seat, order a drink and tell me what drew you to this sunny spot."

Morgan gave Merlin an equally long appraisal, then nodded himself, and pulled a chair up to the table. He sat, and said, "I'll have whatever you're having."

"It's a little darling of mine called a Long Sloe Orgasm on the Beach," said Merlin cheerfully. "Gin and tonic for you, Rissa? Or are you ready to live dangerously like Morgan here and try one of my cocktails?"

She favored him with a dubious look. "Does it come with an umbrella? I demand my ridiculously-named drinks be served with small paper umbrellas."

"For you," said Merlin with the generousity of one who knew he was not paying, "it shall have a parasol and a beach ball too. And a cherry. Must have a cherry to dip and suck."

Mandor had been watching impassively, but now he spoke to Vikund. "Good trip?"

"In that we made it back all in one piece, I'd count it as a success," Vikund replied, finally taking seat himself. "It was touch and go for a while."

Morgan turned his head and looked at Mandor with the same measuring look he'd given Merlin.

Mandor was still engaged in quiet conversation with Vikund. "I had no idea that the project would be so ... hazardous. Or was it not ... for you?"

"Not really," Vikund admitted, "but then I did have very capable back-up."

"Not really," Morgan replied, still watching Mandor. "I was inside the cyborg ship, and working on taking it over. But when cousins showed up I decided it was more important to greet them, so together we three destroyed the ship, and then had a little discussion about the current situation in Amber. Imagine my surprise."

"Ah yes," said Mandor. "And you found that you made a strong team?"

"Circumstances made us so," Vikund replied. "I'm not sure I would consider it a viable long term arrangement."

As Merlin spoke, he did not react at all to the mention of his name, as if he were talking about someone else entirely.

"No," said Mandor thoughtfully, looking at Larissa. "But it's good to know what will be possible in a crisis." He turned his attention back to Vikund. "And you would say that it was a crisis?"

"Probably not, but it seemed so at the time," Vikund replied. "Perspective is everything."

"Indeed," said Mandor. "Indeed."

He turned his attention back to the conversation that had started between Moran and Merlin.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "They seem well-matched. And doubtless Deirdre's son will see the advantages Amber will offer."

"So?" said Merlin to Morgan, with a hint of impatience in his voice. "Tell me. Usually people fall over themselves to tell me long-winded, vainglorious stories."

"So you knew about Amber?" asked Merlin. "Deirdre told you ... but didn't bring you here?" He shrugged. "Well, she was at odds with the ruling party for quite a while, I suppose. And it wouldn't have been much fun for you in exile in Rebma." He shuddered. "All that water. The upside is the women don't wear too many clothes; the downside is they boss you worse than Rissa here."

"Sit up straight. You're a disgrace," Larissa said obligingly.

"Do they?" Morgan asked, turning his attention back to Merlin from Mandor. "That must get boring for you, then."

Mandor took a sip of what seemed to be sparkling mineral water, and looked at Vikund thoughtfully.

His eyes narrowed. "'One of Deirdre's,'" he quoted back to Merlin what he had said a few moments ago. "Does that mean I have brothers and sisters?"

"If you do, they're a well-kept secret," Larissa said. "Merlin and I are your full first cousins, and then the degrees of consanguinity fall off from there."

"Like she says," Merlin agreed. "Our sainted parents weren't famed for their abstenence, so there's always the possibility of more who could turn up. Rissa here has a sister, in fact, who is allegedly drop dead gorgeous, but rather in disgrace around these parts. I have two half-brothers, but on Mum's side. And Mandort here, who's my brother by marriage. Vik's one of the falling off ones Rissa mentioned.

"Deirdre ... well, there weren't many males who could gain her respect to get her into bed. Your father must have been quite a man ... did you know much about him?

"And I'm sorry I missed out on knowing Deirdre. Dad was very fond of her, by all accounts - including his own. A hellraiser."

The drinks arrived, and Merlin claimed his own.

"To Deidre," he said solemnly - and drank.

Morgan took his and drank, a long, deep drink. When he put the glass back on the table it was half empty. "Mom never gave me something when she could make me earn it," he said. "Information about my father was going to be my reward the first time I ever beat her at something. Never happened."

Merlin looked at him, a little startled it seemed.

"Mum used the same technique with me," he said. "I took her on in a sword dance when I was seventeen - and won, even though she cheated and turned into a pillar of fire. But after that she told me about Dad. Well, told me. I was treated to a burst of vitriol about Amberites and what they were capable of." He learned back in his chair and looked around lazily.

"Spot on, every word," he said cheerfully, and drawn the rest of his drink. "Isn't it, Rissa?"

Morgan glanced at Larissa as well, then at Vikund. "Some more than others, it seems," he said quietly.

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