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‘You know what it reminds me of?’

‘Aulis Crater,’ said Roz.

They both shifted in their seats, uncomfortable.

It took fifteen minutes for the transport to get close enough to the Temple for a good look. A circular building with four spokes, a tall, sharp cone rising from the centre.

All the holograms and sims didn’t compare to the building itself, real and stark against the starry sky. The largest religious building in the solar system. The home of the Goddess, the heart of the Adjudicators. Chris felt a chill down his spine as they passed almost overhead, the tip of the cone pointing up at them like a finger.

‘Blasphemous,’ murmured Roz.

‘What?’

‘I was just thinking,’ she said. ‘If there was… another Nexus.

Under the Temple. If this was another fake crater.’

‘I didn’t think you were a believer,’ said Chris.

Roz tilted her head to one side, watching the landscape. ‘There are some things that shouldn’t be messed with.’

‘Yeah,’ said Chris. ‘Let’s hope there was only the one.’

The Ithaca Chasma was a massive gash in the moon’s icy surface, a hundred klicks wide, five deep. It wrapped around three-quarters of Tethys. Chris and Roz were still in the viewing chamber when the passenger ship passed over its edge. In the distance they could see Ithaca City.

‘Looks like a kid’s toy box,’ said Chris. The city was a knot of buildings and lights, one huge dome covering the city centre, dozens of small domes and shapes clustered around it like 184

building blocks. And around those, hundreds and hundreds of spacecraft.

Chris grinned and got up, walking right down the front, almost pressing his nose against the insulated hyperglass. Roz followed him down, taking a front-row seat.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘There’s an old Indigenous Class carrier, in for repairs. And there’s a whole flock of those brand-new Vipers.

Looks like they’re having their weapons fitted. And look! Holy cow! The Gulf of Tonkin! Look at the size of that baby!’

As they drew closer to the city, the transport slowly cruising down, they could see the flags. Stiff plates of metal at half-mast.

Some of the domes were painted with alien symbols.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your quarters. We’ll be arriving in Ithaca City in ten minutes. Please be ready to disembark. Thank you for flying Solar Transport.’

Neither of them was carrying much. Roz had brought a small bag of essentials; she stopped in the spaceport to buy a few more bits and pieces, while Chris thumbed through the spaceship magazines in the newsagent’s.

‘Do you want to grab a hotel room first, or have –’ she looked at her chronometer ‘– lunch?’

‘Let’s have lunch,’ said Chris. ‘Get the feel of the place.’ He held up the book he’d bought, the Lonely Galaxy Guide to Tethys.

They took the slidewalk to the city centre. The most expensive hotels and shops were right in the centre; the price got lower the closer you got to the edge of the dome. ‘You pay for sky,’ said Roz.

And it was sky. During the day, a constant simulation of Earth weather was projected on the surface of the dome. It was surprisingly convincing – though the liquid-crystal clouds would always threaten, never rain.

The Ithacans were a mix of human and alien – lumbering Martians, Skags in overalls, bulky Hith – jostling elbows and appendages in apparent unconcern. On Earth, the aliens would have been in little groups by themselves, or alone, keeping to one side, eyes fixed on the ground. Or they’d have shuffled or slid up 185

to you, asking for spare change. Here they were literally just part of the crowd.

Chris was reading the guidebook, miraculously avoiding collisions. ‘Here’s a good place,’ he announced. ‘A Jeopard bagel bar.’

They got off the slidewalk and went in. It was a small place done up in simulated wood, with a small crowd at the counter, selecting ingredients from the display.

The Jeopard serving them was a skinny, muscular cat-man, wearing white shorts and sleeveless top, slicing bagels with a knife gripped in thick fingers. As Chris watched, the alien