Elaine Doi—President, Intersolar Commonwealth
Patricia Kantil—Chief aide to Elaine Doi
Ramon DB—Senator for Buta, leader of African caucus
Crispin Goldreich—Senator; Chair, budget commission
Toniea Gall—Chairwoman, Resident’s Association High Angel
GUARDIANS OF SELFHOOD
Bradley Johansson—Founder of Guardians of Selfhood
Kazimir McFoster—Clan member in the Guardians of Selfhood
Bruce McFoster—Ex-Guardian, Starflyer assassin
Stig McSobel—Guardian, leader of Armstrong City team
Samantha McFoster—Guardian, technician for planet’s revenge
Olwen McOnna—Guardian
Adam Elvin—Ex-radical, quartermaster for Guardians
ALIENS
Tochee—Alien of unknown origin
The High Angel—A sentient alien starship
MorningLightMountain—Prime alien from Dyson Alpha
Starflyer—Hostile alien of unknown origin
Qatux—A Raiel, living on the High Angel
The SI—Sentient intelligence, machine based, of human origin
OTHERS
Mellanie Rescorai—Unisphere personality, SI agent
Orion—Parentless teenage boy from Silvergalde
Dudley Bose—Astronomer at Gralmond University, re-lifed
Hoshe Finn—Detective, Darklake city police
Gore Burnelli—Head of the Burnelli Grand Family
Mark Vernon—Engineer
Liz Vernon—Biogenetic technician, Mark’s wife
Simon Rand—Founder of Randtown, leader of resistance
Alessandra Baron—News show presenter, Starflyer agent
Tiger Pansy—Actress in “adult” TSI dramas
Paul Cramley—Professional hacker
Kaspar Murdo—Head janitor at Saffron Clinic
The Agent—Underworld security personnel manager on Illuminatus
Niall Swalt—Junior employee, Grand Triad Adventures tour company
Edmund Li—Officer in Far Away freight inspectorate division, Boongate Station
Michelangelo—TSI news anchor
PROLOGUE
Right from the start, there was something about the investigation that made Lieutenant Renne Kampasa uneasy. The first little qualm came sliding up out of her subconscious when she saw the victim’s loft apartment. She’d been inside loft apartments just like it a hundred times before. It was the kind of plush metropolitan pad that a group of funky TSI soap characters usually lived in: beautiful single people with well-paying jobs that gave them most of the day off so they could enjoy a floor space of around five hundred square meters as they lounged around in an extravagant decor provided by overpriced interior designers. The kind of scenario completely divorced from real life but full of dramatic or comic potential for the scriptwriters.
Yet here she was, a day after the Guardians’ shotgun message that denounced President Elaine Doi as a Starflyer agent, being shown into just such an apartment on the top floor of a refurbished factory block in Daroca, the capital city of Arevalo. The massive open-plan living room had a wide sunny balcony that looked out over the Caspe River, which flowed through the heart of the city. Like all the capitals of successful phase one space planets, Daroca was a rich montage of parks, elegant buildings, and broad streets stretching away to the horizon. Under the planet’s bronze-shaded morning sunlight it glimmered with a sharp coronal hue, adding to the panorama’s graceful appeal.
Renne shook her head in mild disbelief at the fabulous view. Even with the decent salary the navy paid her, she could never afford the rent on this. And it was currently being paid by three first-life girls, all under twenty-five.
One of them was showing Renne and Tarlo in: Catriona Saleeb, a small twenty-two-year-old, with long curly black hair, wearing a simple green dress with strong geometric lilac stripes—except Renne knew the dress was a Fon, which put its price tag over a thousand Earth dollars, and the girl was using it as a casual housedress. Renne’s e-butler printed up Saleeb’s file in her virtual vision; she was a junior member of the Morishi Grand Family, working at a bank in Daroca’s large financial district.
Her two friends were Trisha Marina Halgarth, who had a product placement job at Veccdale, a Halgarth subsidiary that designed chic domestic systems, and Isabella Halgarth, who’d taken a job at a contemporary art gallery in town. They fitted the whole profile: three bachelorettes sharing a place in the city, having fun together while they waited for their true careers to launch, or husbands of equal wealth and status to materialize and carry them off to a merged trust fund mansion to produce their contracted quota of children.
“This is one great place you’ve got here,” Tarlo said as they made their way into the lounge.
Catriona turned and gave him a smile that was a lot more than simple politeness. “Thanks, it’s a family place so we get it cheap.”
“Plenty of wild parties, huh.”
Her smile became teasing. “Maybe.”
Renne shot him an exasperated look; they were supposed to be on duty, not hitting on potential witnesses. He just grinned back, perfect white teeth gleaming out of his handsome tanned face. She’d seen for herself just how successful that grin could be in the clubs and bars around Paris.
Catriona took them over to the kitchen section, which was separated from the living room by a broad marble-topped breakfast bar. The kitchen was ultramodern, equipped with every convenience gadget possible, all built in to swan-white egg-shaped wall modules. Somehow, Renne couldn’t imagine it being used for much actual cooking, not even by the complicated-looking chefbots.
The two other girls were sitting on stools at the bar.
“Trisha Marina Halgarth?” Renne asked.
“That’s me.” One of the girls got to her feet. She had a heart-shaped face and light olive skin with small, dark green butterfly-wing OCtattoos flowing back from each hazel eye. She wore an oversize white toweling robe like defensive armor; she kept clutching at the fluffy fabric, pulling it tighter around her. Her bare feet had silver rings around each toe.
“We’re from navy intelligence,” Tarlo said. “Lieutenant Kampasa and I are investigating what happened to you.”
“You mean, how gullible I was,” she snapped.
“Easy, babe,” Isabella Halgarth said. Her arm went around Trisha’s shoulders. “These are the good guys.” She stood to face the investigators.
Renne found herself having to look up slightly; Isabella was several centimeters taller than she, almost Tarlo’s height. She was dressed in very tight jeans that showed off her legs. Her long blond hair had been gathered into a single tail that reached down to her hips. It was an image of casual elegance.
Tarlo’s grin had broadened. Renne wanted to push him against a wall and shout a warning about professional conduct, wagging her finger in his face for emphasis. Instead, she did her best to ignore the mating dance appraisals going on all around her, and said, “I’ve investigated several similar cases, Ms. Halgarth. In my experience, the victim is rarely gullible. The Guardians have developed a very sophisticated operation over the years.”
“Years!” Catriona snorted. “And you haven’t caught them yet?”
Renne kept her polite expression in place. “We believe we are close to a resolution.”
The three girls exchanged doubtful looks. Trisha sat down again, gripping at her robe.
“I know it’s unpleasant for you,” Tarlo said. “But if you could start by telling me the man’s name.” His grin mellowed to sympathetic encouragement.
Trisha gave a reluctant nod. “Sure. Howard Liang.” She smiled feebly. “I don’t suppose that’s his real name?”
“No,” Tarlo said. “But that identity will have created a lot of data within Daroca’s cybersphere. Our forensic software teams will pull out a great many associated files. We can check on the false identity information, where it was inserted, possibly who was involved forging it. Every little bit helps.”
“How did you meet?” Renne asked.
“Party. We get to quite a lot of them.” She glanced at her two girlfriends for support.
“This is a great city,” Isabella said. “Daroca is a wealthy planet; people here have the money and time to play.” Her eyes gave Tarlo an amused glance.
