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the terrorist who’d almost cost Humanity its freedom. He’d
been convinced the Dactari threat had been a lie. His parents, two former CIA
operators, had become staunchly anti-government and they had taught him
everything they knew.
    He’d thought the ‘Alien Invasion’ was a UN plot to take over
the planet. He’d set up a failed attempt to destroy key equipment at Moffet
Field, followed by a spectacular freighter-bomb in the Hudson river that
completely destroyed the UN headquarters.
    Then he’d gotten pinched in Calgary where he was lying low
and working on a construction crew. The two soldiers patrolling the bus station
may have claimed he was ‘resisting arrest’ or maybe they didn’t even bother. At
least the long recuperation gave him something to occupy his mind while he lay
in his tiny, windowless cell.
    It was a hell of an eye-opener, to say the least, when Agent
Guilderson had brought in a captured Dactari to meet him.
    All those people dead in New York and he’d been about as
wrong as a person could be…
    Once he was mobile, he’d stood in front of a military
tribunal where he was sentenced to death. Though officially a corpse, he spent
several years working as a carpenter on a small Caribbean research base. The
government had wanted him alive on the off-chance that one of his old cronies
might try to step into his footsteps, so they hid a tracking chip somewhere on
his body and put him to work. He’d helped to build the research facilities that
developed the new pitch drives.
    Now, fifteen decades later, Cal was surprised at how much he
missed that warm humid air.
    He ducked reflexively as the magbike operator flew them
under a slow delivery unit before weaving through a tangled mess where an
accident had just occurred. The occupants of one of the vehicles were staring down
into the cold foggy depths of the central atrium with ashen faces. A red
pulsing glow indicated an emergency vehicle was down there somewhere.
    He was always surprised at the little things that crept up
on him. Why should he be nostalgic about the almost oppressive heat of his
former prison? He could hardly be nostalgic about the people; most of them
would still like to kill him, even though they now made full use of his skills.
    He knew if he were ever captured or killed on one of these
worlds, he was completely on his own. Back home they’d probably declare a
holiday.
    He grinned as the foot plates increased their restraint
gravity. Magbike operators were notoriously reckless but they were popular
because they were the quickest way to get around in Tsekoh. With the restraint field maxed out, the operator threw them into a
right hand roll and nose-dived straight down into the heavy fog that always
filled the lower levels during ore processing shifts.
    A massive ore carrier flashed past on their right, filthy
yellow paint slicked with grimy moisture, and Cal whooped with the thrill of
the ride. He knew the operator of the bike had a heads-up display and was just
trying to scare his passenger.
    Cal was goading him to try harder.
    The operator obliged. He headed for the pinch .
It was a narrow point in this section of the atrium, only two meters wide for
ten levels in either direction and it was the corner of a seventy degree turn.
If anyone was coming in the other direction, the heads up display wouldn’t know
until it was too late.
    They entered the pinch at full speed. No vehicles struck
them but a foot grazed off the operator’s helmet as they sped through the
narrowest point. A chorus of cheers and shouts followed them out and Cal looked
back to see the daredevil who had jumped across the two-meter gap. He was
outside the railing, but his friends were holding him by the arms, pulling him
in as they disappeared around the corner.
    Definitely no sign of being followed. No sane operator would
be willing to follow a magbike cab down here. They dropped another five levels
and came to a swerving stop at a roughly-cut hole in the