Part 0 and Prologue

Kinetic Energy

Metastable Equilibrium

Paradigm Shift

Epilogue

The Times, December 12, 2021
DOZENS OF PEOPLE HELD AFTER MORE RIOTS IN NEVADA
By Christian Bentley

Dozens of people were taken into custody early this evening after a second day of rioting in the small town of Fallon, Nevada. Officers on horseback and riot police with dogs clashed with around 100 missile-throwing residents in the town's central square for a second day running in an attempt to keep two neighbouring factions apart.

Captain Frazier McFadden, a Fallon police spokesman, said that there had been 32 arrests. He added that three detainees had been taken to hospital, one with an eye injury and two with severe burns. Many others hurt in the fracas had been untraceable by the local medical services, and were presumably removed from the scene to be treated elsewhere.

The violence was triggered by events two days ago when local residents denied a family, whose children had previously been identified as having unusual abilities, access to an exhibition being held in the Churchill County Museum. A group of the family's supporters then gathered to force their way into the museum, eventually commandeering the area and sitting in protest, chanting slogans and openly displaying their unusual abilities. In the early hours of the morning this group dispersed, but violence erupted the following day when local residents took the law into their own hands and began systematically attacking the homes of anyone involved in the previous day's protests.

Capt. McFadden, speaking about the incident, said: "It started at the same time and the same place two days running. There were between 100 and 200 hundred activists each day. They began by shouting racist comments to other local families upon whom suspicion had fallen. Yesterday's violence is believed to have started after residents threw bottles at a group of passing children from the local school. As the frightened children ran off, the rioters tried to break windows of homes and businesses known to belong to suspect families. The police then moved in, but soon found themselves becoming a target for the residents' anger.

"We had to use horses and dogs to bring the situation under control," Capt. McFadden added, "and we had to order the closure of schools and businesses in the area, then evacuate the people from them. We had the situation under control by 7 pm."

"I'm innocent," one of the accused said, as he was led into the local police station. "All I was doing was standing up for the rights of my own children to live in a untainted society. None of us want these freaks in our town, with their perverted talents. We're just fighting for the rights of normal citizens."

The flare-up of violence came at the culmination of several months of growing unrest in the region. Similar scenes have been witnessed in towns across mid-western America in recent weeks. A spokesman from the county Sheriff's office advised all people to be on their guard for the so-called 'new species of man', warning that if they were allowed to propagate in every town and city in the region, violence like that seen in Fallon could not be avoided. He warned that he and his officers would not be held accountable for the safety of any 'Tomorrow Person' who displayed their abilities in public, and advised them to vacate the area immediately.

*****

Somewhere on the distant edge of the solar system:

"The lasssssst of the marker buoys have been deployed, Captain," hissed the lizard-like creature at the science station. "Our sensor net is now complete. No shipsssssss or transporter beams can crossss this region of space without our immediate detection."

"Hmmm, very good, Commander," replied the Captain, preening the delicate crimson scales on either side of his ovoid head. "We are three cycles ahead of sssssschedule." The Captain looked up from his console. "Display the target area with a visual reference for each of the buoys."

The overhead viewscreen filled with an image of swirling clouds of interplanetary debris. In its centre the distant sun could be seen, and around this star each of the nine planets moved in their silent and ceaseless orbits. Littered with trillions of icy objects, ancient relics of the primordial solar nebula from which the solar system was formed, this area of space was well beyond the orbit of Pluto; out of sight of both the astronomers of Earth and the locals' Watchdog satellites, unless they knew where to look, of course.

A diagrammatic representation of the sensor net appeared, superimposed upon the image, and the Captain gave a satisfied nod. "This debris is very convenient way of hiding our fleet," he commented.

"Indeed, Captain. I believe the humans call it the Oort cloud."

"And the buoys' positions are totally undetectable from the Earth?"

"Yes, Captain. Each buoy has attached itself to one of the larger comets of this region. They form a complete ring around the outermost section of the solar system. I musssst say that our technicians have carried out a commendable job." A flashing light appeared on his console and the Commander removed his gaze from the viewscreen. Flicking a switch, he began to nod in response to the incoming telepathic message. Coughing to regain the Captain's attention, he looked up expectantly. "Captain, the other ships report that they have reached their designated coordinates and await further orders." He paused, anticipation at the next phase of their mission showing in his posture. "What shall I tell them, Sir?"

Rising slowly from his seat, the Captain waved his long tentacled fingers in the direction of the viewscreen, and its display disappeared in response to his telekinetic command. "Tell them that they must continue to wait."

"Wait, Sir?" the Commander asked, confusion returning to his countenance. "Wait for what?"

Preening himself once again, the Captain hauled his heavy bulk towards the exit, his long black cape moving in rhythm with his awkward gait. Reaching the doorway, the Captain paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Tell them that now we wait for the Inquiry's verdict!" Moving out into the dimly lit corridor, the ship's captain left the Commander alone on the bridge to deliver the message.

*****

Jiddah, Saudi Arabia:

Pain was all he knew: the excruciating pain of a million souls inside his mind...

Fear was all he sensed: the terror born from drowning in a sea of other people's feelings...

Oblivion was all he craved: the dreamless sleep that would drive out the devils from his heart and carry him to the silent place where swirling patterns of colour danced like an eternal dervish, dispelling the pain of reality.

*****

Aisha stared down from the moucharabiah into the street below. From her vantage point behind the enclosed wooden panels no one could see the once-proud mother of five sons as she struggled to comprehend the tragedy unfolding within the high walls of her home. The narrow street was almost deserted now, the vehicles parked up at the kerb-side, disgorging their passengers into the local halls and mosques in time for evening prayers. Allowing her gaze to wander over the opposing buildings, ornately decorated with their turquoise-painted carvings and deeply shadowed balconies, Aisha wondered whether her neighbours had ever experienced as traumatic a decision as the one she now faced.

Lowering her gaze to the rug where her youngest son, Farooq, now lay writhing in agony, forcibly restrained by his elder brother and slipping further into unconsciousness with every passing moment, she closed her eyes and prayed. They will come, she thought to herself - although she knew that, like the searing heat of the day, hope for such a miracle was almost spent.

"They will come, In sh'allah - God willing," she murmured aloud, as much to herself as to her son crouched before her. "They will not leave Farooq to die... They will come."

Ignoring the chanted prayers of her other children kneeling at the back of the parlour, Aisha looked into the dark eyes of her eldest son, Qasim, head of their household since her husband's death two years earlier. Shaking her head despondently, she watched as he pushed harder onto Farooq's flailing limbs in an attempt to quell the fit that had fallen upon him some hours before.

"And what if they don't?" Qasim sounded desperate. "We cannot hide this from the mutawa for ever. Sooner or later the imam will discover the truth and inform the religious police, making your decision doubly painful."

Aisha felt her temper flaring. "I will not send my son away to die," she protested, although she knew that her assertions were gradually being eroded by the mental storm that had blown into Farooq's mind with the morning light, devastating the peace of this day. "You saw what happened to those other families. The moment they announced what was happening was the moment they condemned their own kin. I will not have Farooq's blood on my hands." The memories of the public executions were too horrific for Aisha to contemplate just now, and far too close to home. She was one of the lucky ones; her own changes had occurred while she was away at a family wedding taking place in the neighbouring town. Helped through the worst of it by another woman guest, she had managed to hide her abilities on her return. That was over ten years ago now, and as the political situation worsened, she realised that to ever reveal what she had become would doom her entire family.

Qasim looked up at his mother, a deep sadness behind his eyes. "He cannot stay here, Mother. You know the punishment for harbouring one of these..." his voice trailed off as he saw his mother's utter despair, although he hardly understood the true nature of her misery. The burden she felt living this lie was great - almost too great at times - and now that the same thing was happening to her youngest child, Aisha was torn between two loyalties. Helping Farooq herself - although in reality she hardly knew where to start with such a task - would ease his immediate suffering, but would expose the deception she had struggled to maintain for so long, putting her entire family in a difficult situation. To call out telepathically was also too great a risk. The stranger had warned her long ago that people were listening. People who could not be trusted...

Aisha understood all too well Qasim's obligations to expose anything he found out about her, but her decision not to help Farooq was causing her equal heartache. Taking a deep breath, Aisha stared down at her eldest son, determined to follow the only logical path still open to her. "We will wait. That is my final decision. I have heard it said that these people know somehow, when one of their kind is in pain. We will wait for them to come to his aid. They will take him away and then we will be free from the threat of discovery and retribution by our neighbours."

*****

Out of the cacophony of noise that filled his consciousness, two distinct voices struggled to be heard. They called his name, desperate to hold him within the moment, desperate to tie him to the painful reality that he so desired to leave behind.

(Link your mind with mine...)

(Imagine yourself at one with the cosmos...)

(You are being reborn...)

(Concentrate on my voice to guide you home...)

But their minds could no longer command him. He was already too far along the path and did not intend to go back now. He would break the ties that bound him to this mortal life and float free of his pain. (No! Go away! Leave me alone,) he cried (You are the djinn come to tempt me. But you cannot break me. You cannot...)

The voices seized the thought, turned it around and threw it back at him.

(Break out!)

(Listen to us, Farooq... you are breaking out. You must listen to our voice and follow it back. You must link your mind with ours and let us guide you through the storm. We will not abandon you, Farooq... we are here with you, even now. You are breaking out, becoming one of us... This is the threshold of a new life, the doorway to a new existence... You cannot turn away from your destiny.)

And now he began to listen, the weight of their unrelenting words somehow drawing a veil of hope across the million other souls within his mind.

The insistent voices washed over him, through him and finally, laying aside his pain, they became part of him. The younger of the voices, only now recognisable as female, was washing him clean with her joy. (Imagine that you are a rose blooming in the rays of early morning sunshine,) she 'pathed, (unfurling petal by petal as it feels the warmth of a new day dawning. You are that rose, Farooq. You must unfurl your mind and come back to us.)

Then the other, older and more authoritative than the first, took up the chant. (At this moment in time your life is a fist clenched in anger against the painful truth of your existence. Do not throw it all away, Farooq. Acknowledge your talents as you receive our counsel. Open the fist in a gesture of acceptance and friendship.)

(Who are you?) The question floated effortlessly across Farooq's thoughts.

(We are the Tomorrow People, and you are one of us!)

*****

Aisha looked up from the rug as soon as she heard the strange musical tones. Two figures solidified only a metre in front of her, their arms open in a recognisable gesture of friendship. Although they were dressed in Arab garb, she knew instinctively that they were not from the local region. Adjusting her hijab and abaya to provide the acceptable level of modesty, she smiled at the newcomers. A sigh blew through the room on the evening breeze, bringing with it the scent of flowers from the courtyard below.

Glancing down again, Aisha noticed Farooq quieten from his earlier seizure and enter a calm and peaceful sleep, and she also relaxed, comforted by the knowledge that she had made the right decision.

Without a word, Aisha motioned for Qasim to stand and step away from his brother. The eldest of her sons looked across anxiously at the newly arrived strangers, and then complied with his mother's wishes.

With slow and gentle movements, the man, who could have not been older than thirty years of age, stooped down and lifted Farooq into his arms. Aware of the maternal love flowing from mother to son, he smiled warmly and nodded towards Aisha. (Thank you.)

In the next instant both Farooq and the strangers disappeared, leaving the stunned family to stare at empty space on the brightly coloured rug before them. Qasim came forward then, placing a comforting arm around his mother's shoulders, lifting the burden from her heavy heart as he had done so many times before.

Slowly the family returned to their evening prayers.

Two hours later, Aisha found herself alone in the small, whitewashed room. Staring down from the moucharabiah into the street below, she could not help but speculate on the identity of the two strangers that had come into her home to spirit away her youngest child, but at least she knew he was safe in their hands. Safe from the unthinkable possibilities that could have transpired if he'd remained. Safe to step over the threshold and begin again...

Exploding like a galaxy to the wealth of possibilities that now lay before him... open like a hand accepting the friendship of loved ones unknown... reborn like a flower into a new life...

*****

BBC Breakfast News, 31st December 2021

"5...4...3...2...1..." The stage manager fell silent as the red light illuminated on top of the closest camera.

With a deep breath the pretty blonde presenter smiled up into the camera and began her working day.

"Good morning, and welcome to the BBC Breakfast News. Coming up on today's show we have the latest headlines from our news desk, we also look ahead at the fashions and gadgets predicted to be the 'must have' items of 2022, but first, we go over to the sofa for an interview with our UN media correspondent, who will fill us in on the schedule for the upcoming General Assembly." She nodded across the studio towards the comfortable seating area, and the camera followed her gaze. With a beaming smile and a gentle wave of her hand, she passed the baton to her colleague. "So it's over to you, Sarah."

"Thank you, Wendy." The well-polished presenter smiled. "Today we are joined by Dr. Robert Read, who is leaving for New York later this morning. Welcome, Dr. Read."

The well-dressed gentleman beside her fidgeted in his seat, as if he found it uncomfortable, then smiled. "It's nice to be here, Sarah."

"Tell me, Dr. Read - what items can we expect the General Assembly to discuss this year?"

The middle-aged man adjusted his tie before replying. "Well, Sarah, before I answer your question I should point out that under usual circumstances the UN only meets for three months of the year, from mid-September onwards. That there is an emergency session planned for early 2022 indicates that there are some unresolved issues from the last session that are still to be discussed by member states."

"I believe that annual sessions usually open with a general debate. Will this be the case in the upcoming meeting?"

"Indeed it will, Sarah. And it is this which makes the forthcoming summit so different from previous meetings of the General Assembly."

Shuffling the papers on her lap in the skilled way of a veteran journalist, Sarah feigned concern. "In what way different?" she enquired.

"Well, Sarah, it's the nature of the topics under discussion. In all my years working for the UN, firstly as a representative on the Economic and Social Council, and later as a correspondent for the BBC, I have never known the agenda to be kept so hush-hush."

"I see," she frowned. "But despite the apparent secrecy on the subject of the forthcoming meeting, are you aware of any speculation regarding the topics to be addressed this year?"

Dr. Read grinned broadly. "Indeed I am, Sarah. Rumours have been flying about the New York headquarters for the past few weeks. As you are aware, the UN charter upholds human rights and proposes that states should work together to overcome social, economic, humanitarian and other cultural challenges." He looked at the presenter sideways. "Tell me, Sarah. What is the most dramatic challenge to human society that has happened in the past ten years?"

She paused in response to the autocue's instructions, allowing the audience a few moments to make the expected mental leap of understanding. "As far I can see, it's the speculation over the emergence of the new species of human that's caused the most problems in recent years."

"Precisely!"

"So the next General Assembly is expected to discuss these people?"

"Well, Sarah, we cannot say for certain what will be on the agenda, but I can assure you that whatever comes to light it will, no doubt, be fuelled by the growing reports of worldwide unrest regarding this hypothetical new species of man."

Sarah nodded her understanding. "And will you keep us informed of events as they unfold in New York?"

"Certainly, Sarah. The BBC is planning a series of reports from the General Assembly to give an insight into this unusual meeting. As I'm sure your viewers are aware, since the turn of the century there has been much media speculation about a 'Mass Breakout Event'. Now, it seems, for the first time in a decade the governments of the world are prepared to discuss the tide of violence and civil unrest sweeping across the planet. Whatever this upcoming meeting discusses, it is bound to stir up some highly controversial debate from all member states."

Turning back towards the camera, Sarah smiled once again. "Thank you for joining us this morning, Dr. Read. I am aware that you have to leave for Heathrow immediately. We all look forward to your reports over the coming year, the first of which can be seen later this week."

The camera panned back then, showing a wide angle of the studio, including the newsreader poised to begin the next segment of the show. "And now it's over to Ben at the news desk..."

The office door slid silently open to reveal Kershia, her usually calm persona replaced by hunched shoulders and pensive expression. Peering into their leader's gloomy office, her psi-awareness told her of Abby's troubled thoughts even before her eyes picked out the figure sitting slumped in the chair on the far side of the small room.

As Abby looked up, Kershia waved the security report and gave a listless smile. "Can I come in?" she asked, crossing the threshold before Abby could reply. "I think we need to talk about this..."

Settling into the seat behind the desk, Kershia swung around to face her friend. Exchanging troubled glances, neither spoke. What was there to say? They had both read the disturbing news, condensed so adeptly by Jimmy into bite-sized snapshots of the troubled world below. They both knew that he had spared them a more emotive description of events on their homeworld. And they both appreciated his candour as he relayed the stark reality of war with the Saps.

The low-level telepathic link that existed between the two women was all they needed to understand each other's concerns. The mere presence of the other brought comfort to them that no words could ever bring. But they also knew that the material held within the pages of the security report could be neither dismissed nor ignored. Something had to be done and it was up to them, as the Tomorrow People's trusted leaders, to do it - whatever the consequences.

Fiddling absent-mindedly with the corners of the report's crisp white pages, Kershia found her mind wandering back to the day they first met, and the irony of the situation they now faced made her frown. She had stepped onto the grey slopes of Mauna Loa that spring morning to get away from the interminable demands of her family and friends, believing that the solitude could wash away her anger at their constant intrusion into her life. Then later, after escaping the volcano's unexpected eruption, she'd assumed that the lessons learned had taught her both independence and self-reliance, giving her courage to strike out alone and forge a new path for herself. Kershia saw now that, in so many ways, the life she had previously dismissed was the life she had inadvertently chosen. The self-assured and challenging individual she had become had simply turned around and stepped back into a place where demands upon her were more exacting than any she had previously sought to avoid.

Abby had also marched purposefully up the steep volcanic slopes in an attempt to get away from the life she was forced to live - in her case, the endless debates of a species waiting in the wings to seize power on the Earth. And, like Kershia, Abigail's life had now turned full circle to place her back exactly where she'd been all those years ago, disheartened and disillusioned by the endless talking-shop and mental verbiage of lab politics. In their heart of hearts each young woman was strong and understood the necessity for them to step into the Seniors' shoes. They also knew that, as the TPs' leaders, they must be prepared to face whatever situations presented themselves, to make difficult decisions - just as John and the others had been doing for decades - and then to live with the consequences of those decisions. But despite their appreciation for the situation, neither actively sought the burdens and responsibility that leadership brought.

That they would absorb the difficult truths held within the pages of Jimmy's report was never in question. That they would make decisions leading to dangerous missions for the various security teams worldwide was not an issue either. What both women understood, but hardly needed to articulate, was that there was no personal satisfaction from this role, no joy left in their lives and, despite the support of the many friends who frequented the Luna command centre with them, they were utterly alone.

It was many minutes before either of them spoke, and when Kershia did at last break the silence it was to the biotronic computer who constantly monitored every aspect of their lives that she made her request. "TIM, can you raise the light levels in here, please?"

Abby stirred uncomfortably in her seat as the room brightened. "Do you have to, Kersh? I've got a terrible headache."

"Oh, sorry." Kershia flashed Abigail a concerned glance. "I didn't realise. Would you like me to leave you alone? We can always discuss Jimmy's report tomorrow." She prepared to stand.

Abby shrugged. "No, it's okay. I can hardly sit here in the dark all afternoon doing nothing, and Luna won't run itself."

"But..." began Kershia, then fell silent as Abby shook her head despondently.

"Whether I've got a headache today or tomorrow makes no difference, Kersh. You've read it, you must realise what it means. Luna is full, the Sap camps are full, the Trig has denied any further requests for relocation of refugees, and the mass breakout is still continuing at an alarming rate. I know that this last, at least, should make me happy, but the time has come to face the harsh reality of being a TP. There is absolutely nowhere left for our people to go any more. They must remain where they are, however hostile the locals, and carve out a place for themselves within society. It's time for TPs everywhere to stand up and be counted. And I mean it quite literally, Kersh!"

Kershia shook her head. "I understand what you're saying, but how can we ask people to just put up with this treatment?" She flicked through the security report until she found a particular section, and then began to read. "Riots across Africa, civil unrest in Japan..." Kershia looked up anxiously. "Japan, Abby... They've had three thousand years of civilisation. It's the last place you'd expect people to go mad and attack their neighbours." Looking down she resumed her scanning of the report. "Authorities in Russia have segregated an entire district of Moscow and herded undesirables into it, barricading the surrounding streets. In Mexico families have been turned out of their jobs and homes and forced to live rough." She looked up into her friend's eyes once again. "And the president had the cheek to go on TV and advise outsiders to leave the country. He knows as well as we do that the TPs aren't outsiders. They could jaunt away, but where to? That's not going to help them in the long run. Huge numbers of the world's population can't become migratory overnight without it having devastating social and economic implications."

Sighing heavily, Abigail sat back in her seat. "I understand all that, Kersh. You're preaching to the converted here. But I can also appreciate how difficult it must be for individual families faced with violence, prejudice and discrimination to just stay where they are and accept it."

Kershia stood and began to pace the small office like a caged animal. "So that's it," she said at last, coming to an abrupt stop. "We can't advise them to jaunt away, but neither can we accept the treatment they'll get if they stay put. It's stalemate. Sap versus TP. This war is no longer one waged between us and the world's leadership, it's now been taken onto the streets of every town, village and city across the world." She paused. "So what do you propose we do about it?"

"I can't see what we can do, Kersh. We knew that one day it would come to this. I suspect that even the Seniors knew that the transition would be a traumatic one. This fight is no longer down to us, it is down to every man, woman and child on the planet."

Kershia sounded desperate as she made her reply. "But they're expecting us to make it better. There hasn't been a refugee who arrived on Luna within the past six months who didn't speak of rumours spreading through the Lab network, speculating that we had some secret plan up our sleeves. If we just sit up here, safe in our ivory tower, and do nothing we'll be letting them all down."

"I never said that we wouldn't do anything. We can send out Jimmy's security teams to give people advice. We can use our trained operatives to jaunt into hot spots and defuse unrest before it gets out of hand, stunning everyone present if we have to! And we can use the Lab network to spread information on how to survive out there on the streets without getting hurt."

"And you really think that's going to make a difference?"

Abby shook her head. "I don't know. How can anyone know? But it's the only thing we can do just now. As I see it, there's no longer a need for us to keep our presence a secret. The Saps know we're here. What we have to do is help our people stand firm until the Saps realise that we're not going away."

"Oh, Abby," sighed Kershia. "Isn't that just a pipe dream? Do you really believe the Saps will ever accept us?"

Now it was Abby's turn to stand and pace the room while Kershia watched her apprehensively from the corner of her eye. Stopping suddenly, Abby snatched up her own copy of Jimmy's report from the desktop, where she had thrown it some minutes earlier. Turning to the last section, she scanned through the detailed summary of proceedings reported by Sophie's media team. Finding the section she wanted, Abby looked up with renewed hope in her eyes. "'An unscheduled emergency meeting of the United Nations General Assembly is to be held in New York in March of this year,'" she read aloud. "'There is speculation amongst the media, which has also filtered out into the general population, that the TPs presence may become a topic for debate. It is advisable for all media teams to keep a look out for information about this unprecedented move by the UN.'"

As the information sank in Abigail and Kershia exchanged a wry smile with one another. On the face of it this news held little significance in the TPs greater struggle for survival, but to Abby and Kershia it sounded like a godsend. Here at last was a chink in the Saps' armour, an opening, however small, through which they could pour their hope.

"Kershia," asked Abby mischievously, "do you think it's time you paid Sophie a visit in California?"

"Yes, I certainly do. Sophie has been running that section admirably for the past year, I think it's high time we gave her some recognition for her hard work." Turning towards the exit, Kershia looked back over her shoulder. "Shall I tell Jimmy where I'm going?" she enquired.

"No... no. I think it's best if we keep this between ourselves just for the present. You know what he's like. He's dismiss it as a crazy whim, and far too much of a risk for either one of us to get involved with."

Kershia nodded her agreement. "To Jimmy intuition is something women use to cover their backs when they can't make up their mind."

Abby was still laughing as she watched Kershia cross the busy command centre and disappear from view. Sitting at her desk once again, she thumbed through the pages of the security report, considering how to feed back her ideas to Jimmy.

With her headache receding into the background of her mind, Abby returned to the business of running Luna.

*****************************************************************

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 001 of Topic
Date: 21st January 2022
User: Natalya_S
Message Content:
Look, why don't we just come out and say it? It's not as if anyone's trying to hide the truth anymore - even the papers have given up on that. TPs are real - there I've said it! They're real and I'm glad. Different strokes for different folks, I say!
Natalya (who has had enough of the evasion!)

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 002 of Topic
Date: 21st January 2022
User: MagusT
Message Content:
Gee, Nat! Nothing like pulling your punches, is there? Can't you just keep your opinions to yourself? Do you want a punch-up online?
MagusT

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 003 of Topic
Date: 21st January 2022
User: Natalya_S
Message Content:
Not got the nerve for it? And what makes you think we're going to fight? Isn't that meant to be the whole point: they can't be violent. We just keep fighting, so they've come along to make the world a better place. You just can't deal with the fact they're better than you.
Natalya

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 004 of Topic
Date: 22nd January 2022
User: MagusT
Message Content:
Get lost, Nat! I'm as good as a TP freak any day! Or perhaps you're one yourself? Is that why you're standing up for those losers?
- MagusT

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 005 of Topic
Date: 22nd January 2022
User: Sophie_422
Message Content (ADMIN):
Oh dear! Keep it civil, please, guys? Speaking as board moderator, I'm quite happy to assume TPs are real, but who's to say they're better than anyone else? Can't you just accept that they're out there? We're sharing this world now - sooner or later we're all going to have to deal with that. For now, let's at least try to discuss it sensibly!
Sophie_422

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 006 of Topic
Date: 22nd January 2022
User: Tarvelion
Message Content:
Are you serious, Sophie? You're actually going to leave this topic open? It was one thing when Nat and Mage just went off on a tangent, but .... Well, I guess you might be right. So where do you want to start?
- Tarv

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 007 of Topic
Date: 22nd January 2022
User: Sandra4066
Message Content:
Hey, I'm up for this one too. I'm with Nat, it's about time we had a serious discussion here. Go for it, Sophie!
Sandra

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 008 of Topic
Date: 22nd January 2022
User: Sophie_422
Message Content:
Okay, I'm going to throw this topic open with a question: what do you think it will take to sort this situation out - one way or another - and how do you think it should be sorted? I'm eager for suggestions ....
Sophie

*****************************************************************

There was a momentary flicker of light as the screen died and the room was thrown into darkness once more. Curled in her favourite armchair, Gretchen pulled her attention away from the computer and looked towards the fireplace. The remnants of the fire were still glowing gently in the hearth, the embers radiating comforting familiarity that spoke to her of safety, family and home. Outside this warm, sheltered environment bitter winds blew across the fjord, bringing the icy chill of winter to the small fishing village. Beyond the harbour the countryside had lost the veil of vibrant green that covered the hillsides in the summer months, replaced now by the seemingly endless grey of the long, long night.

To Gretchen none of this mattered; she had much more important things on her mind than the severity of winter. However biting the cold, she realised that she would be long gone before even the first snows fell. Gone from this room where she had shared the fun and games of childhood, gone from the familiar scent of pine that filled the room as her father piled more logs onto the blazing fire, gone from everything and everyone she knew.

Glancing down at her hastily packed bag, she sighed. The decision to leave had, in the end, been a fairly quick one. In fact, once the choice had been made, she wondered why she'd not thought of it days before. Family and friends were always telling Gretchen how mature she was, how decisive and certain of what she wanted in life. But so much had changed recently she hardly recognised her old self any more. Curled up in the huge armchair, cuddling Teddy tightly, she looked younger than her fourteen years. The old, baggy cloth bear had been with her as companion and friend for as long as she could remember and despite the reality of approaching adulthood, she still felt safe when she cradled him in her arms. She may have made the inevitable decision to leave her childhood home, but Gretchen was determined to take a little piece of that childhood with her.

Like everyone of her generation, Gretchen had been warned of the transformation that puberty would bring to both her body and mind. But no one had prepared her for the other changes, those not visible on the outside, which set her apart from everyone else in the village. When it started she knew what was happening immediately. She'd seen the reports on various news programmes and documentaries detailing how young people the world over were undergoing some kind of evolutionary shift. She also knew the arguments put forward by politicians, respected scientists and religious leaders alike, warning of the dangers they faced from these teenagers with 'Special Powers'. Gretchen had watched such TV programmes in fascination for months, never realising that she would soon be facing the issues from a far more personal perspective.

The TV debates usually boiled down to just three key questions: were these people a threat to normal human beings? Should they be kept away from the rest of the world? And should anyone who knew they were a TP come forward to give themselves up? This last question was the one that brought the greatest consternation to Gretchen's mind. Before now she probably would have agreed with the majority and condemned those with strange abilities to a torturous life behind bars. That was until the fateful day when she recovered from a fainting fit and came round to see the world in a different light. Her new awareness brought colour to the once drab background of her familiar life, and she soon understood what it meant to have real power, but be too afraid to use it!

In the weeks since she'd recovered from the fit, Gretchen had tried to approach the people she trusted with her dilemma over what to do next. Turning first to her father, the mere mention of changes to her body had sent him scurrying from the room, mumbling that such a conversation required a woman's touch. Next she tried speaking with her stepmother, but all she'd received was a one-sided diatribe about how difficult it was to cope with a career and a home, let alone giving advice to someone else's wayward teenage daughter.

So in the end Gretchen had turned to the only adult left who she believed would listen to her problems with an open mind. Father Hansen knew what it was like to be part of the minority, a Catholic in this Protestant nation. He had been a constant in her life since she was a little girl, gently guiding Gretchen and all his flock to tell right from wrong. She was sure he would understand the quandary she found herself in and be able to tell her what to do.

Approaching him after mass one day, Gretchen found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied as she struggled to put into words how she felt. Where she would normally have been open and forthright in her opinions, she now found herself guarded and shy. In the end Father Hansen had misinterpreted what she was trying to say and launched into one of his well-rehearsed speeches on the evils of drink, drugs and pre-marital relationships. All she could salvage from his long-winded narrative was that whatever path God had chosen for her was the right one for her to follow. "God knows all and sees all, Gretchen," he'd said with a beaming smile. "He hears any message sent to him with an open heart. And he always replies."

Gretchen had thought about those words for many days afterwards. Eventually she reasoned that if God knew everything, he also knew what happened on the Internet. So Gretchen had posed her dilemma to every chat room, message board and discussion forum she could find. She proclaimed what she knew to be true: that she was a 'Tomorrow Person' and that she would wait for someone, anyone, to come and get her. Whether her fate was to be interned in one of the camps as a danger to the state, or spirited away to foreign climes by friends yet unknown, she was fully prepared for whatever messenger God sent to do his bidding.

*****

Waking from a light sleep, she glanced at her watch and sighed. For three hours she'd sat in front of the fire's fading embers clutching Teddy in her arms and waiting for something to happen. Three long hours had passed and she was still waiting...

Shifting her position in order to return the blood supply to her cramping leg muscles, Gretchen's mind was suddenly alert to a noise coming from the upper level of the house. Instinctively she stiffened as all her senses strained to pick up more details of the noise. Realising that her father had awakened and was climbing from his bed, she sighed heavily. The last thing she wanted was to be found out. She'd hoped to be long gone before morning, leaving her family to read her hastily scribbled note and unable to dissuade her from this necessary course of action.

Straining her ears, Gretchen could make out her father's heavy footsteps as he fumbled about for his slippers and then headed from his bedroom into the hallway. With eyes raised towards the beamed ceiling, she followed his progress along the short corridor before he turned and approached the top step of the staircase. Thinking rapidly, she tried to find a plausible excuse for why she was sitting alone and fully dressed in the early hours of the morning. But despite her best efforts she kept coming back to the fact that there simply was no explanation, other than the truth.

Gretchen felt every thud of her father's large feet as they slowly descended step by step towards the darkened ground floor of the house. And with each step he took, she came one step closer in her mind to confessing her secret.

Finally, painfully, he reached the bottom of the staircase and looked around the darkened room. At first all he could make out were the long shadows cast by the eerie glow created by the fire's embers. Then as his eyes came into sharper focus he saw Gretchen rise from the armchair, fully clothed and with a bag at her feet. Silently the two stared at one another, as if breaking the silence would bring the weight of the world crashing down upon them. Slowly they came to an unspoken understanding of the situation and finally Gretchen's mood lightened as her father responded with a gentle nod and a kindly smile.

"You're not thinking of running away, are you?" he asked at last, his tone conveying sympathy and understanding instead of the anger she had anticipated.

Gretchen shrugged. "Would you care if I was?"

Flicking on the light, her father came further into the room. "Of course we would, Gretchen. Don't you go thinking for a minute that your mother and I don't care a great deal about you." He sighed and she felt the wave of frustration pass across his thoughts, the sudden empathy catching her unawares. So this is what it feels like to be telepathic, she thought; how interesting. Putting her excitement at the discovery of this new faculty aside, she focussed her attention on her father's words once more. "I know you've been troubled by something lately," he continued. "I meant to find time before now to have a proper talk with you, but you know I've been busy with work." He took another step towards her. "Look, Gretchen, I'm sorry if I've not been there for you, but I'm here now. We all are. Running away from a problem isn't going to solve it. Why not come back to bed and we'll talk all about it in the morning. I'll take the day off and we can go out for a long walk, just the two of us, if that's what you want?"

Gretchen gave a wan smile. She knew she was weakening and found it difficult to formulate her reply. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I can't stay. You see, I'm waiting for someone to come and get me. They're probably on their way right now." She glanced down at her watch once again. It was three forty-five am. Someone, anyone, must have got her message by now. "I'm sorry, Dad," she repeated. "As soon as they arrive I'll have to go with them. I really have no choice."

Striding purposefully forwards, her father wrapped an arm around her shoulder and started to lead her back towards the stairs. "No one is coming into my house in the middle of the night to take away my little girl," he remarked, urging her to take the first step back towards her bedroom. "I won't let anyone, whoever they are, in here at this hour. It's a freezing night, and we're seventy miles from the nearest town. I very much doubt that anyone could find his or her way up here in the dark. If they do come, we'll just have to get up again, but for now, young lady, you and Teddy need to get some sleep."

Indicating that the topic of conversation was closed until morning, Gretchen's father pushed her before him as they ascended the stairs. At first she resisted him, but then accepted the rationality of his words. With a sense of resignation she turned the corner on the upstairs landing and trudged wearily towards the bedrooms.

Turning to watch as her father disappeared into his room, Gretchen stepped into her own bedroom and closed the door. Without switching on the light she looked about her at the familiar surroundings. Earlier this evening she'd said her goodbyes to all this; to the brightly painted walls and dizzy swirl of colour splashed across the ceiling, to the many books on the shelf and neatly stacked toys in the corner, and to the brightly flowered quilt thrown across her soft bed.

The bed! Her thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. There was something lying on her bed. Reaching out with her new senses, she instinctively turned on the light with a burst of TK. There, in the middle of the floral eiderdown, was a folded black belt, its chequered buckle uppermost, reflecting the brightness of the room. Rushing forward she snatched up the jaunting belt, revealing a small note lying beneath it. Slowly she read the message. 'Stay where you are. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself. You will be contacted shortly.'

For a moment Gretchen's mind was a whirl of intrigue and excitement, then, after the initial shock had died down she realised what this object actually meant. The Tomorrow People had indeed received her call, but instead of teleporting in to rescue her, they had sent this object like an emissary to convey a very important message. A message she understood as clearly as any telepathic signal. They knew about her and where she lived, but they were not coming to take her away from family and friends; instead they intended her to remain at home and to use her powers in safety.

Gretchen clutched Teddy tightly to her chest and gave a little squeal of delight before undressing and climbing into bed. Placing the belt safely into her bedside cabinet, she was asleep before her head had even touched the pillow.

******************************************************************

The chimes of an interstellar jaunting beam filled the control room in a shimmering cascade of sound. Technicians and administrators hesitated and looked up from their tasks, the ripple of noise sending a shiver down their spines. Kershia felt the weight of their gaze pressing against her and stood a fraction straighter. Years of experience as an undercover agent and months of practice of leadership took over, hiding her anxiety and exhaustion behind a confident façade that even extended to her body language. Tomorrow People around the room read the calm in the lines of their leader's back and relaxed, returning to their tedious but essential work. The rare arrivals from the Trig were never good news these days, but if Kershia wasn't worried then why should they be?

Kershia heard the thoughts as if they had been spoken aloud and knew that only iron self-control and the practice of many years spent undercover stopped her regret from reaching her face. She hated the fact that she could lie so well without ever saying a word. She hated the fact that she could do so without even thinking about it. And she hated the fact that she was standing in front of the jaunting pad, waiting for yet another crowd of Federation technicians to arrive. She would stand here and greet them politely as they looked around them with disdain on their faces. She would have to accept their condescension, and nod and smile, playing the gracious host. She swallowed her pride with an effort. She hadn't needed Abby's warning to know that they couldn't afford to antagonise these people.

With the air reprocessors working at 150% of their theoretical capacity and the environmental systems pushing their limits, Luna could at any moment easily slide over the fine line between smooth operations and total disaster at any moment. Much as it galled them to admit it, the Tomorrow People hadn't a hope of maintaining the intricate life-support systems that kept this warren of humanity alive. The teams of technicians that the Federation sent, sporadically and grudgingly, were the bare minimum Luna needed. And if sending them was the least the Federation could do, tolerating their visits patiently was the least Kershia and the others could manage.

(Kershia?) Lost in thought, she had barely noticed as the shimmer on the jaunting pad solidified into four tall and slender forms. The familiar voice in her mind jerked her eyes back to the visitors, surprise and delight washing away her fatigue. Tall, pale-skinned figures, long robes swirling to their ankles, stepped down from the jaunting pad, leaving the packs and equipment they had brought with them on the raised platform. The four Adonisians peered around them, all the arrogance and disdain Kershia had anticipated obvious in each of their expressions. There was no indication that for one of them at least, the first sight of Luna's control room should come as no surprise. Kershia schooled her own face to a polite lack of recognition, trying not to focus on the one familiar face amongst the group, trying to remember that Nova was a stranger here.

He nodded politely as the two of them were formally introduced; she smiled the same false smile as she greeted each of the visitors in turn. Kershia swallowed her curiosity, knowing that even a hint that Nova was known on Luna could be enough to bring punishment down on them all. She focussed on the matter at hand with an effort. The guests would be quartered up here in the control level, she explained, her mind only half on the task, until their inspection and repair tour was complete. Nova nodded with the rest, looking interested when his superior expressed an interest in visiting Luna's lower levels, as if they were as unfamiliar to him as everything else in this place. At last, Kershia waved for the four technicians to precede her from the room. She would take them to their quarters, she told them, giving them time to adjust to the atmosphere and gravity before showing them the rest of the complex. Nova moved towards the door with the others, no indication in his expression or surface thoughts that he had any concern beyond those of his compatriots. Nonetheless, Kershia was hardly surprised when Nova hung back, brushing against her as she came up behind the group. She had felt the anxiety in his mental voice when he called her name, now she felt it again as he used their close proximity to focus a tightly shielded thought between them.

(We need to talk, Kershia. Somewhere private. Soon.)

********

The uppermost level of Luna was quiet, hushed, as if joining its young residents and their aged guardian in peaceful sleep. That peace embraced Kershia as she jaunted into the dimly lit upper level. The ringing sound of her arrival faded and she stood for long moments, listening to a quiet that couldn't be found anywhere else in Luna. Only the reassuring purr of the air compressors broke the silence, the sound so familiar after Kershia's five years on Luna that it didn't even register on her consciousness until she paused, listening for it.

Nova found her still standing there when TIM jaunted him into her presence. Violet eyes sparkled darkly, reflecting what little light there was as he looked quickly from side to side. Tension drained visibly from his body as he saw her and, for the first time since his arrival, Kershia felt Nova's mental defences relax. The half-Adonisian, half-Tomorrow Person sighed as he sank into a chair, a smile of greeting on his face.

"Quiet, at last," he sighed in his high, fluting voice. "Such a contrast even to the control level these days." He hesitated, looking around the empty common room. "The children are well? They still have all this to themselves?"

Kershia nodded, "The top level, yes. Emina and her grandchildren still have rooms here too, of course. And so do I now. Occasionally one or other of the school groups uses one of the two main rooms if they need more space, and Abby and the others and I meet up here most nights to unwind for a bit before trying to sleep, but we've held off forcing the children to share their level with other refugees. Up here they're spared that - for the moment." She waved a hand vaguely around her before looking down at the visitor sitting in front of her. She paused and studied Nova's face. "I know you got on well with the children, but you didn't come all this way just to ask after them. You've done well to convince your colleagues that you're a stranger here, but it's a big risk, Nova. If the Federation found out about your last visit..." Kershia shook her head, her voice trailing off as Nova fixed her with a sombre look.

"You have spies in Luna, Kershia," he said abruptly, not trying to soften the impact of the news.

"Spies?" Kershia repeated the word as if she wasn't sure she had heard what he said, as if she didn't want to believe it. Nova watched as her face paled and her expression became focussed, determined. "Who are they?" she asked sharply. "And who are they spying for?"

"The Federation, and I'm one of them." Nova's voice was very quiet. He sat very still, his long-fingered hands resting in his lap. His sombre expression did not change as Kershia's passed through confusion, disbelief and then anger.

"But..." her protest trailed away. She shook her head and felt herself filling with restless energy, pacing from side to side now like a caged lion, only glancing back at Nova from time to time. "We've always trusted that the Federation have our best interests at heart - until this inquiry started, anyway. We've always assumed they'd trust us to keep them informed about what's happening here and down on Earth. We should have known better." She sighed, aware that Nova's anger and dismay was as strong as her own. Shouting at him now would do nothing to help.

"The Federation have assigned my team to report back on the details of Luna's daily running, on the interaction between Luna and the Labs back on Earth, on the political situation, on unrest among Saps and TPs both. We're to recover a media monitor and recorder module left here by the last technician team, and to leave a new one. It's nothing new, Kershia - the Federation know almost everything there is to know about Luna. They're watching you. They know you have the cure for the Malthus virus - that was reported back at once. It was a miracle no one recognised me when I delivered it." He shook his head angrily, standing now so he could meet her eyes without craning his neck to look up at her. "We're to pretend we're just here to help. We're to carry out the bare minimum maintenance required to keep Luna alive and no more, but we're simple spies nonetheless."

Kershia fumed quietly, struggling not to blame the messenger for his news. "This has been going on a long time?"

Nova shrugged. "Mother and the others only found out recently." He smiled and this time his amusement was genuine. "You could say I'm here as a double agent, Kershia. We'll be here for a few weeks at least. And while I'm here officially, I promise to be suitably awed by whatever achievements you feel like sharing with me. And more than that, I'll be able to carry any news you want passed on back to the TPs on the Trig. Your 'Seniors' thought that if the Federation were sending spies then we might as well do the same!"

Kershia took a step forward eagerly, strands of her dark brown hair falling around her face from the momentum of the sudden movement. She brushed it back behind her ear with an unconscious gesture, concentrating on the wide violet eyes in front of her.

"You've spent time on the Trig? You have news from the Inquiry? Can you tell us more than we get in those formal reports? Did the Seniors send you with any news in particular?"

Nova shrugged non-committally. "I can tell you a little more, perhaps." He hesitated, concern replacing the amusement. "But why are you so desperate for news, Kershia? From all we've heard you're doing as well as you could expect to here, even with all the older generation away."

Kershia nodded, her expression becoming neutral as she tried to hide her anxiety. She turned away from him, giving voice to doubts that she wouldn't share with anyone else in the Luna complex.

"We're doing fine here on our own, Nova. But if the Federation turns against us, will that count for anything? Tell me honestly, Nova, if the Inquiry makes the recommendations we're expecting it to, do you really think we stand a chance?"

He sighed, honouring the honesty of her question with an honest answer of his own.

"I don't know," he admitted, running a long-fingered hand through his dark hair and shaking his head in frustration, "but the Inquiry isn't lost just yet. If I can report back on a complex that's running smoothly ... if the monitor has somehow 'missed' the worst of what's happening on Earth ... we might still change a few minds. We might still give someone second thoughts. It might be enough. It's certainly worth a try."

Kershia swallowed back her worries and forced a grin. "A monitor with selective hearing. I think that can probably be arranged."

Nova nodded, checking the chronometer woven into the fabric of his sleeve for the time.

"I ought to get back," he said reluctantly. "We can talk more tomorrow, perhaps, but if my roommate wakes up..."

"Go, Nova," Kershia agreed immediately, "and thank you. I'll go to have a word with Jimmy and see what we can do." She smiled. "If we have such an attentive audience, it would be a shame not to leave them with a good impression."

Leaping out from behind the sofa, Paul thrust the huge bunch of grotesquely coloured flowers under Elena's nose. "Tah-dah!" he announced triumphantly.

"Paul," she said irritably, "do you have to?" Sensing his hurt feelings, Elena quickly looked up from where she sat and smiled. "Sorry, you caught me off guard. Are they for me?"

Paul nodded enthusiastically before settling himself down beside her. "Not roses, I'm afraid, but the best I can do stuck out here." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day, Elle."

Elena could barely hide her sadness as she attempted to appear pleased with his gift. "Thanks, Paul. They are..." she looked down at the bizarre blooms in her hand "...different," she concluded with a half-smile.

"They're okay, aren't they? I picked them myself - they look a bit wilted, but I didn't expect us to be in the session so long."

Resting a comforting hand on his arm, Elena nodded slowly. "They're just fine, Paul. It was a lovely gesture of you to go to the effort of finding me flowers. I had my mind on other things, that's all. I hadn't realised how long we've actually been confined here on the Trig. We missed Christmas and New Year, and now it's February already and we're still no closer to going home."

While they were speaking, Mike had stood with hands in pockets, his back to the room, deep in his own thoughts. At the mention of home he swung around, his face tight with anger. "The way things looked in there just now -" he pointed at the door that led back towards the inner sanctum of the Trig's council chambers and gave a snort of derision - "I doubt any of us will ever see home again."

"You can't believe that!" The unexpected statement came from Carol as she stepped from hyperspace to join them in the waiting room. Her shrill tone was seasoned by age, but still carried the intense, almost fervent, assertion of one who cared deeply for all her kind. "I heard what Stephen said, what you all said. It would be a barbaric act to quarantine the Earth as suggested."

"Yeah," interrupted Paul impatiently. "Just look at all the evidence in our favour. How could they possibly ignore it?"

"As far as I can see, the One Mind's free to ignore anything they like." Andrew had remained hunched over and pensive ever since the meeting was adjourned. He now looked up at each of them in turn. "You heard what the creature from Vantaria said. That it was: 'The duty of this inquiry to protect other member worlds from the imminent threat and nothing more'. All they're interested in is protecting their private little empire from the Big Bad Saps. They don't give a damn what happens to any of us, or those back home, just as long as they don't have to deal with the reality of the killing personally." He glanced momentarily from Elena to the flowers she still held, then back again. "Paul's got the right idea. He knows that we're not going anywhere soon, if ever again. We'd all be best off if we resign ourselves to that fact and get on with life here on the Trig."

Tricia nodded gravely in response to Andrew's comments then, with a sigh, stepped forward to speak. "I may have left the Earth a long time ago, but I still regard it as my homeworld," she said, dragging a hand through her thick hair in an unconscious gesture, indicative of her deep thought processes. Although her once-red tresses were now completely grey and her face lined with age, she still carried herself with an air of confidence created by many years service for the Galactic Police. Respectful of her authority, the others waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts. "It's unthinkable for us to be banished here indefinitely," she continued, at last. "We're not even the ones at fault." Tricia glanced across the room towards the veteran ambassador whose opinion, above all others, they held in the greatest esteem. "Elizabeth, you've been quiet since the meeting was adjourned. What did you make of Timus' closing remarks? Can you tell which way the Council is leaning?"

Elizabeth also had weariness in her eyes, caused not just by her advancing years, but also by the severe strain of fighting against the Inquiry's interminable obstinacy over the Tomorrow People's situation. Preparing to give a reasoned reply to Tricia's questions, she opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately silenced when the door slid open and Timus entered with Stephen at his side. The atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife as each of their minds absorbed the end of the two men's telepathic conversation.

(Do you really think it humane to shut us up with our mortal enemy, to fight it out like a load of caged animals? However you try to justify it to yourself, Timus, you're condemning us forever to life in a tiny area of space from which we can never escape. What's the use of being able to jaunt if we can't go anywhere?)

(My own feelings are neither here nor there in this matter, Stephen. I will ignore your hurtful accusations on this occasion, as I understand how upsetting the situation is. Perhaps it would have been better if the virus...) he glanced up as he realised that the entire group was listening in on the telepathic exchange. (I think that this is not the time or place for such a discussion. That scenario was compromised many weeks ago, as I am sure you are aware.) Carol's gasp was loud in the sudden stillness that greeted that announcement. She schooled her expression to neutrality with an effort, hiding her concern for her son's safety. Timus gave a cryptic smile as he glanced at the assembled group, sensing her anxiety but not acknowledging it, before continuing.

(Stephen, everyone.) Timus opened his arms wide in the familiar gesture of a skilled diplomat. (I cannot tell you the One Mind's verdict or lay any influence of my own upon them. What I can assure you is that you personally are not on trial here. Your conduct over the last few years has been exemplary and the aid you have given to the Federation will not be forgotten. Therefore I beg you all to consider my offer of sanctuary. Whichever way the vote goes, you will always have a place here on the Trig. You are very welcome to stay indefinitely and make it your home.) Timus paused, allowing them to feel the sincerity in his thoughts before continuing. (The chamber will be in recess for some considerable time. I suggest that you also use this interval to consider your own options. I'm sorry, but I don't have any better suggestions to make at present.) With this he gave a polite nod to the group, turned away and jaunted.

A collective sigh spread around the room as the residual music of Timus' teleportation faded into the background. No one knew quite how to respond to the Chair-being's words, and for a long time no one even tried.

Eventually it was Paul who broke the silence. "I wonder what Timus was hinting at when he mentioned the virus?" he asked, of no one in particular.

Stephen, who had been standing just inside the door all this time, now came over to the large semi-circular couch and took a seat beside Paul. "I'd have thought it was obvious. He knows we managed to get hold of the antidote. He knows the Malthus kids are cured."

Mike let out a huge whistle of disbelief. "Yeah, and the rest," he commented sarcastically. "The Federation deliberately withheld the cure from us. You know why? Because they hoped the virus would spread into the population and then the Mass breakout would be over. If there were no more breakouts it would clear their consciences when they shut up our people with the Saps inside this distortion thing."

"But we destroyed the ST4 and without that the virus is harmless," added Elena, although as soon as the words left her lips, she realised the stupidity of the comment and glanced towards Paul nervously. "But I guess it wouldn't take much for the Federation to rediscover it themselves and release it into the Earth's atmosphere. They probably see it as a humane way out of this mess."

"I was as appalled as everyone else here when I learned that the Federation was withholding a cure," remarked Elizabeth, finding her voice at last. She looked around from face to face. She'd lived on the Trig for almost fifty years now, longer in fact than she had lived on the Earth. And in that time she'd learned to be patient with the slow and pedantic notions of the One Mind. However barbaric the idea might seem, the Federation would only have considered using the virus as a last resort and with the best future for all the people of Earth in mind. "I was equally upset when I learned that they were sending spies to Earth to monitor the situation," she continued. "But I cannot help feeling that perhaps they're right. If the virus was allowed to spread and all future breakouts were stopped it would remove the TP threat from the Saps and the war would technically be over. I may not agree with the Federation's methods, but I can't help myself wondering whether we did the right thing in smuggling the cure back to Earth."

Stephen's jaw dropped open with astonishment as he took in her words. "You can't be serious, Elizabeth? You of all people worked hardest on finding a cure. It was wrong of the Federation to withhold it from us when they knew that the children of Earth would suffer if it ever spread. It was just as wrong for the Saps to develop it in the first place, but they did it out of self-preservation and I can forgive them for their ignorance. What I will never forgive is the Federation's dishonesty in saying they were on our side when all the while they were seeking a way of stopping our emergence."

Elizabeth turned to look directly at Stephen. (How many of us are there now?) she 'pathed, keeping her shields low to enable the entire group to hear her thoughts.

(About fifteen million, I guess. Why?)

(Isn't it conceivable that the Saps could round up every known TP and wipe us all out with one medium-sized nuclear device? What would the new breakouts do then, with no TP infrastructure to support them?)

Stephen sounded bitter as he made his reply. (They'd do what we all did in the early days; they'd fight to survive.) Wringing his hands together, he fixed Elizabeth with an angry stare.

(We were lucky, Stephen. We had John with his inventions to support us financially, we had TIM and the Lab to offer us a safe base. We also had the Sophostrians as our guides and the Federation as our allies. There may be more TPs now, but with their existence out in the open they are in a far worse position than we ever were. The Federation knows that and they probably believe they're doing what is best not only for the Tomorrow People, but for the rest of the Galaxy as well.)

(Elizabeth!) The telepathic shout came from Tyso who had remained apart from the others all this time, staring at the swirling colours that decorated the far wall of the chamber. Although all eyes were fixed upon him, he resisted the temptation to turn around, choosing instead to allow his emotions to be read from his thoughts rather than in his face. (How could you of all people be on their side? This time-space distortion idea is wrong and everyone knows it. Whatever fancy language they choose to call it, to me it will be nothing but a prison for the Tomorrow People. I'm a gypsy, I'm used to roaming freely. The idea that I'd be restricted within the solar system...) he shuddered. (It makes me feel claustrophobic just to think about it.) Suddenly he spun round and a wave of despair flashed across his thoughts. (That's why I'm taking Timus up on his offer. I couldn't bear to be trapped inside one small region, not when I've had the galaxy to roam for the past twenty years. I'm staying on the Trig until the distortion is in place and after that I'll take off and lose myself out there in space. Free to jaunt where I like, until I'm too old to jaunt any more.)

Once again the room was thrust into silence, Tyso's sudden declaration driving them beyond the moral arguments and towards the more practical side of Timus' suggestion.

Pushing himself off from the wall, Tyso walked over slowly and joined Elena, Paul and Stephen on the couch. "What about the rest of you?" he asked softly. "When the vote is taken, the implementation of this thing will be quick. If you're gonna go or stay, you'd better make your mind up now so we can request the long-distance transporter beam. It's no longer a matter of 'if'; it's more a matter of 'when'."

While the others looked about them, lost for words, Elena fingered the thick, waxy petals of the exotic blooms in her hand. They were lovely in a bizarre sort of way, but they were also alien; too alien for her liking. Without needing to link directly, Paul instinctively understood Elena's feelings and took her hand in his. "We're going back," he announced decisively, and she sprang forward to hug him. "Elle and me don't belong here. It's not our home and never will be," he spluttered, despite the fervour of her embrace.

"And for that same reason I'm staying." Carol's declaration was understandable, but nonetheless shocking when articulated so clearly.

Sitting down beside Stephen, tears started to well up in her eyes and he put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "We understand, Carol. The Earth hasn't been your home for many years. You've got other priorities now. It was fantastic that you came from Adonisia to support us during the inquiry. We wouldn't expect you to leave Narcissa or your family indefinitely."

Too choked to respond, Carol rested her head on Stephen's shoulder and sobbed gently. "Thank you, Stephen," she whispered after a while. "It's strange, but I've never realised how much I relied on both you and John until the thought occurred to me that I may never speak with you again."

Stephen sighed noisily. "That's not strictly true. I can't speak for John, as none of us knows where he is right now, but I'd very much like it if I could return to Adonisia with you."

"Stephen!" exclaimed Elizabeth, Mike and Andrew in unison.

Stephen held up his hand, commanding both their silence and their understanding. "It might seem an odd decision for me to make, but it's the most logical and practical one. When the distortion is in place the Tomorrow People on Earth will have a battle on their hands. Keeping their heads above water will be difficult enough. They don't want an old man like me hanging around, making them second-guess every decision they make. This fight is for the young. I think John finally realised that in the days before he disappeared. He knew as well as any of us here that Abby, Kershia, Jimmy and Marc are very capable of leading the TPs into the next decade. They've been running things well enough without us for the past few months, and will continue to do so for the immediate future. If I go back they'll feel obliged to relinquish power to me and that's something I just don't want any more."

He smiled to himself as a distant memory came to mind. It was immediately after Kershia had delivered the news of the Malthus virus. Abby and Marc had accompanied them back to the Lab and while Abby consulted with John, Stephen had discussed his retirement with the very talented and personable young man who shared leadership of the Canadian Labs with her. Stephen had been flattered when Marc denied his obvious advancing years, and at the time retirement had felt a long way off, but too much had happened to him since then, too many disappointments and too many tragedies. Pushing the memories aside, Stephen continued, "It's time for me to hang up my jaunting belt and settle down. Better late than never, my mother used to say." He shuffled round on the seat to face Carol directly. "I don't care much for Trig politics any more, and Adonisia has quite a few human settlers these days, so I won't look out of place. D'you think you can find me accommodation where I can live out my final years in peace and quiet?"

Carol nodded sombrely. "Of course I can, Stephen. You're very welcome. You all are."

Now Tricia also crossed the room and sat on the circular sofa. "I'm staying too," she said matter-of-factly. "Not for quite the same reasons as Stephen, but because I have already found a good place for myself here. Even if this war had never happened, I would have been happy to retire on the Trig. You are all dear friends to me, dearer than any family I had in my youth, but there are people of importance here too. People I've lived closely with for many years. I cannot go back now. I just can't."

"You might not have family, but I do!" snapped Mike, walking over to the couch and staring down at the assembled group. "Mum's Alzheimer's isn't getting any better, and sis can't cope all alone. They both need me. I feel guilty enough about being here all this time, as it is." Releasing Carol, Stephen patted the seat beside him and Mike squeezed into the gap before continuing. "War or no war, I've got commitments back on Earth." Crossing his arms to indicate that his mind was made up, Mike looked up at Elizabeth and Andrew, the only two Tomorrow People still standing.

Glancing sheepishly from side to side, Andrew sprang forward and perched himself on the very edge of the seat. "I'm with you, mate," he commented, reaching round and patting Mike on the back. "I've got commitments too, you know."

There was a long, pensive silence while they each waited for Elizabeth to pronounce her decision. Slowly, deliberately, she walked over and took the remaining space on the couch. Silently she laid her hands upon the huge link table and it illuminated at her touch. Spreading her fingers wide she waited for the others to follow suit. One by one they joined the link, each as apprehensive as the next while they waited for Elizabeth to speak.

When she finally opened her mind, her thoughts were both composed and reassuring. (You may look at me and see a Federation Ambassador, but beneath this elaborate garb and fancy title I'm still the same young schoolteacher who was rescued from hyperspace and brought back to a secret base by these two mad youths claiming to be advertising 'Man in the Moon' milk bars. The day I broke out my life turned upside down,) she chuckled, and their spirits lifted slightly. (And I wouldn't want to change a single moment of it. If John were here...) they shared a moment of poignant empathy with one another before moving on. (But he's not. This decision is ours and ours alone. The Federation has given me access to more wonders that I could have even conceived in my youth, but it has also kept me away from the people and places I love for too long. I've been gone from the Labs for long enough not to fall into the trap that Stephen fears, and although I have no family left alive who need me, I feel my homeworld calling far too frequently these days. So what I suppose I'm saying is that I'm going back. I'll face the uncertain future as a Tomorrow Person trapped amongst their enemies just the same as I've faced every other crisis that presented itself since I broke out, and I'll enjoy every minute of it.)

(You do realise that the Inquiry's decision could be made any time now?) 'pathed Stephen, his thoughts conveying the realistic assumption that this link might be their last. (Today may be the last time we're all together like this.)

Tricia nodded and the others followed suit. (But technically we're not all together. John isn't here.) They all hesitated, feeling John's absence like a vacuum in their world. It had been so long now since they had heard from him. Was he ever coming back? Was he even alive to return to them?

Elena extended her empathy towards the others with her in the link. (I'm worried about him,) she 'pathed, able to articulate the feelings the others could not. (Whatever private quest he's on, it must be an important and dangerous one - so dangerous that he felt it necessary to go alone.) She sighed. (You've all known John for longer than Paul and me. Have you any idea where he is?)

They shook their heads.

(Wherever John is,) began Elizabeth calmly, (I'm glad he was spared seeing us split up like this. He was always so sure that we'd win, always so certain that as Tomorrow People we'd rise up to take our rightful place in the Galaxy. I'm pleased he's been spared the knowledge that all we fought for these years has come to nothing.) Her telepathic voice dropped to a mere whisper. (I'm very glad he's not here, and now that I've decided to go back to Earth, I realise I may never see him again. The thing I do know with certainty is that I'll never forget him.)

Images spread through the link then, their minds abandoning mere words to convey the sentiments they all shared. Flashes of tall spires on the distant planet of Adonisia mingled in the link with faces of family and friends back on Earth. Moments shared in the Lab became entwined with the anger and frustration they felt when giving evidence at the Inquiry. And with this also came thoughts of their dearest friends. Both John's absence and TIM's were painfully felt, like gaping wounds in their collective mind.

Removing all barriers and shielding, they shared their memories and personalities utterly until no aspects of themselves or their lives were left untouched.

Finally there was just one thought that permeated every facet of the oneness.

(Remember!)

*********************************************************************

Only the hum of fans and the clatter of keys broke the silence of the room. Dim lights overhead did little to illuminate; instead the faces of the people seated here glowed strange colours in the light of the computer monitors in front of them. Each was intent upon their task, focussing with all the concentration their special abilities allowed.

From time to time the silence was broken with a burst of laughter or a sigh as one or another of the room's occupants stretched, rubbing their eyes and cracking their knuckles to relieve some of the tension. The others ignored them, typing in short bursts or sitting perfectly still with their fingers poised over the keyboard as they read the text appearing on the monitors.

It was a shock when the room suddenly went dark. Transformers within the monitors clicked frantically as the power faded, but their protests were drowned in a chorus of gasps - almost screams - from their shocked and outraged operators.

There was a moment of total stillness before the power returned, the computer fans purring back into life, CPUs beeping as they rebooted.

Sophie laughed, kneading her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"A power fluctuation, people," she said aloud. "That's all!" She looked around the room, studying the shadowed eyes and the pale faces of her staff. "Look at us! You'd think we couldn't live without these things. All right, this is an executive decision: take a break, all of you. Get out into the light. We have other teams working on this, other people all over the world. Cyberspace will survive without us for a few minutes."

She felt the dissent, the eagerness of her people to continue their work. She also felt the nagging ache in her own fingers and didn't need the posters that lined this room to remind her of the dangers of RSI. "I mean it," she told her people firmly, and one by one they started to leave the room, grumbling good-naturedly, but familiar enough with their boss to recognise the steel under her quietly spoken words.

Sophie blinked as she stepped out of the monitor room and into the main common room of the Californian Lab. Somewhere up above them, a new day was dawning warm and bright with the promise of an afternoon perfect for lazing on the beach. Briefly Sophie considered doing just that, but then she shook her head. There was too much work to do - always too much. If it was dawn here then the sun was setting over Europe. Teenagers would be connecting to the chatrooms, some of them just looking for a bit of excitement, others searching desperately for answers that their parents and teachers couldn't provide. Sophie and her people might not have all the answers, but they could guide. They could suggest new thoughts to children and adults indoctrinated by a decade of negative reporting. And they could influence that reporting too. They could hear the first rumours of news stories, glean the kernels of truth from the chaff that the Internet threw out everyday. They could plant rumours of their own, or release press statements from non-attributable sources, or make sure that the positive as well as the negative reached the world's press. And, perhaps just as importantly, Sophie could keep Abby and Jimmy and the others on Luna in touch. She could keep their feet on solid Earth, intellectually if not in truth.

Sophie glanced at the room's large wall-clock, frowning at the thought. Half an hour before her European department heads reported in, an hour after that before she was due on Luna. Telekinetically, Sophie summoned a copy of the latest report she was preparing for Abby into her hands. She flicked through it, reading headlines, noting the important points.

(And what happened to 'take a break'?) The telepathic voice was amused, slightly teasing, and it startled Sophie out of her half-daze of concentration. Smiling wryly, Sophie looked up, her eyes scanning the clusters of coffee-drinking Tomorrow People for her assistant. Zoë's dark red hair made her stand out of the crowd long before anyone noticed her pretty face. She flicked it back over her shoulders with an unconscious gesture, even as she eased between two small groups of the computer operators to Sophie's side. Sophie smiled, answering Zoë's question with one of her own.

(Have you read the latest report I put together?) she asked, keeping her telepathy quiet and tightly focussed.

Zoë nodded. (You've been edgy all day, Sophie. I've seen you working the grapevine online - you're chasing something, aren't you?) She hesitated. (Is it something to do with that visit we had from Kershia? What's got you so worried?)

(The breakouts, the gossip mongers, the confused kids, the bigots - I can deal with all of those.) Sophie shook her head. (I understand them, in one way or another. But the news rumours we're picking up ... they're getting stronger and more serious with every report we make. And I'm not talking about the riots or the people driven out of their homes. It's not as overt as that. There's something about the way people are talking.)

Zoë frowned, but Sophie sensed her agreement. (It's nothing very obvious - I mean, I don't think anyone would even notice if they didn't spend as long immersed in this stuff as we do. It's a news story here, a chat room there and a documentary in another place - all over the world.)

(It's political and we're not used to that.) Sophie's sharp mind mulled over the problem. (Up till now the politicians have ignored us - they've tried to pretend we don't exist or that locking us out of sight and out of mind in the camps has been a solution. We're used to tackling the military or the media. If the politicians wanted to ignore us, we could ignore them back. Suddenly they're talking about us. They're posturing, trying to establish some kind of platform from which to discuss us. That's trickling down through the media and into the public arena - and I agree; it's not just in one country.)

Sophie strode across the room and rifled though one of the filing cabinets inset into the Lab's smooth white walls. She pulled out one computer printout after another, scattering them across the nearest of the room's white-topped link tables. Curious, Zoë moved to sit at the table, shuffling through the reports Sophie pushed towards her and skimming their major points. The older woman waited until Zoë looked up again before continuing.

(Something's moving, something big and something international. When Kershia came to see me last month, I thought ... well, let's just say I thought she and Abby were reading too much into the UN situation. A special session could be about almost anything - the world doesn't revolve around us, even now. I'm not quite so sure any more.)

(That could do it. If they know they're going to have to debate us in a month or two it would explain the sudden surge of interest,) Zoë concurred thoughtfully. (Is there actually anything else big happening this year? Any international summits, or political conventions?)

Sophie explored the pile of paper on the table, eventually pulling a particular printout out with an air of triumph, scanning the list of international meetings it contained. She shrugged. (There's nothing else it could be. A Pan-Pacific summit in July, a couple of European ministers' meetings to discuss one thing or another. Nothing out of the ordinary - except that.)

Her voice trailed off. The two women exchanged uneasy looks, their vague anxieties crystallising. Sophie frowned. (This isn't really our area. We've spent years nudging public opinion. I have a staff of hundreds. We have media relations, web operatives and information departments on every continent and none of them are political specialists.) She sighed, coming to a conclusion she had hoped to avoid. (I didn't want to add to the burdens on Luna, but I don't see that we have any choice. We have to tell Abby about this.)

*******************************************************************

"Late night?" Kershia asked with a grin, as Jimmy settled into the last seat at the link table. He gave her a wry smile.

"And an early morning," he told her, stifling a yawn. "I had to pop down first thing to check on some Lab security reports I had from Russia."

"Nothing too serious?" Stephanie asked, already confident of the answer. Jimmy was better at partitioning work and leisure than anyone else she knew, but he would not be nearly so relaxed if the Russian Labs were in trouble.

Jimmy shook his head. He shared the details telepathically with his second in command even as he answered her question aloud for the benefit of the others present. "The new Lab leader in St Petersburg reported concerns about possible infiltration, but what he really wanted was advice on how to identify and prevent it."

"Well, we're all here now." Abigail cut across the murmured responses and called the meeting to order with a sense of regret. She looked around the circle of faces turned attentively towards her. The Luna residents were familiar sights at these morning meetings. Cole and Ben sat on one side of the table, listening carefully to the exchange between their security team leaders. Roger too had taken in the news of the Russian Lab with a frown. As leader of Luna's own security forces he faced different problems to his counterparts down below, but his hand was white-knuckled with sympathetic anxiety where it rested under Stephanie's. She stroked the back of his hand with an unconscious soothing gesture and Abby couldn't help smiling at the deep empathy the two shared. Jimmy and Kershia sat side by side almost opposite Abby at the table, the two of them appearing like a study in contrasts until she looked more closely and noted the near identical slight frowns on their faces. The reason for those frowns sat on the other side of the table. The Earth residents among the leading Tomorrow People were less frequent attendees at the breakfast meetings on Luna, each of them welcome but their collective presence something of an enigma. Abby nodded a welcome to each of them before turning back to the others. "I expect you're all wondering why Sophie, Zoë and Travin, Josh and Don are all here."

Ben laughed. "Were we that obvious?" He smiled at his young friend Josh in particular before widening the greeting to include the others. "We generally see one or two of you at a time, but for you all to make it on the same morning - it did seem a little more than a coincidence."

"Abby asked us to come," Josh shrugged. He yawned covering his mouth with a hand, before continuing a little sheepishly, "It is the middle of the night for us, you know."

"I know," Abby's tone was apologetic, but her eyes were serious. "And I'm sorry. It's an even worse time for the Californians, Josh, but we have things to discuss this morning and I thought we should all be here."

"Has something happened?" Jimmy asked quickly, his relaxed personality vanishing into the efficient and focussed persona of the security chief.

"No!" Abby assured him quickly. "Not on Earth, or on the Trig, as far as we know. But I'm worried about something that's about to happen." She leaned forward, resting her arms against the link table. "The United Nations are holding a special meeting of their General Assembly in March." She held a hand up to stop the murmur of surprised and confused questions. "Wait, let me finish. A while back Sophie picked up a rumour that the reason for it was to talk about us. It was just one reporter speculating on one TV interview, but even so.... Kershia and I asked Sophie to keep an eye on things and to see if there was anything we could do to influence matters."

"And last night I reported back." Sophie's expression was sombre. "Abby thinks that you all need to know what the answers were."

"I asked Sophie to let me know if there was any sign that report had been true - she said yes. I asked if there was any sign of which way the debate would go - she wasn't sure. I asked if there was anything we could do to influence it -"

"And I asked for help," Sophie admitted with a grimace. "If the General Assembly is going to debate us then we need to know how the vote is going to go. We can't afford for the first serious discussion of our existence to go against us. The media I can handle and, if need be, I can recruit political journalists or administrators or something of that kind. But should I?"

"What do you mean?" Jimmy asked, frowning. "How is this any different from what you've been doing up to now?"

"Oh, Jimmy," Abby gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "I can tell you've never really been involved in Lab politics. You've sat through our meetings but you've never seen the worst of it! People, any kind of people, are stubborn, awkward animals, fond of being contrary for the sake of it. You put four people in a room and by the time they've finished discussing an issue you'll have five viewpoints - one of them will be in two minds about it. If anything Sap politicians are worse - TPs can't avoid having a little empathy for one another's viewpoints. 'People' as a group can be influenced, informed, manipulated, if we're honest about it. Individuals are more difficult to handle. You need to find the influential politicians, the trendsetters and focal points. If you win one person over, you could have influenced thousands or just won that one person. I had studied political theory for two years before I even broke out, Jimmy. Believe me when I say that Sophie is right here. Her people aren't equipped to handle this. Either we give her the resources to recruit more of the Lab admins from around the world, or we handle this from here."

Kershia leaned forward, reaching out telepathically to test Abigail's rock-tight mental defences. She shook her head; Abby was too closed in, too worried. "There's more, isn't there? What aren't you telling us?"

"Well, there are deeper issues," Abby admitted.

"And one of them is whether we should even try." Travin's deep voice cut across the discussion, drawing all eyes to him. He pulled a hand through his long grey hair and shook his head. "It's one thing to try and get our viewpoint out there. I don't have a problem with countering some of the ridiculous and dangerous propaganda we have to face out there. But this ... these people are elected to represent their constituents. Do we have a right to even try and influence them? Doesn't that make us just what they paint us as: manipulative schemers undermining democracy, wielding power from behind the scenes?"

Stephanie frowned. "No one is suggesting we do anything illegal, Travin. Certainly, no one is suggesting for a moment that we actually use our special powers here. Name me any one of a thousand interest groups and I'll show you their lobbyists - people who talk to politicians on their behalf. All we're talking about is talking."

"What we're talking about is going into the halls of power and speaking openly about our abilities." Zoe added, anxiety on her freckled face. She often remained quiet at these meetings, aware that even after a year she was still relatively junior here. Now the young American leaned forward, speaking in her clear, precise way. "We've never done that - not since the very beginning, when the Seniors had no choice but to try. Even then the Saps they let onto turned on them as often as they helped."

"We have never willingly given the Saps information." TIM's rich tones startled them all. The biotronic computer had grown quiet in recent months and they listened all the more carefully when he spoke up at one of the meetings. "Not since the SIS first raided our Lab, when John and the others were young."

"And that was a long, long time ago," Zoe pointed out, quickly. "Are we seriously suggesting that we're going to go out and start trusting the same politicians who set up the Camps?"

"Not the same ones." Abby's response was immediate and definite. "But how many are there who just went with the flow? The ones who believed the propaganda five years ago when all this was new and frightening? How many just followed the party line because they didn't know what they were agreeing to, or because they didn't care at the time? If we can find a few key politicians in key countries and just test their points of view - we can make a difference here, even on a worldwide scale."

"It will be dangerous." Jimmy's brows creased with thought and he looked around at the other security agents sitting at the table. "It's not the kind of danger we can protect against either. Anyone sent out like this is going to have to be senior enough to be convincing to whoever they're speaking to. But can you imagine the risk to their Labs if any of them are captured?"

"Or the implications if one of them is forced to act in public - under duress or otherwise," Zoe added grimly. "And there's the chance that if we try talking to someone we'll turn them against us, out of fear or some instinct to preserve their own species. How many negative reactions can we afford?"

"They're risks we can handle." Kershia had remained silent until now, letting the debate ebb and flow around her. Now she stood and walked restlessly around the link table, drawing all eyes with her. "We risk media exposure every day, Zoe. And TPs have appeared on television before - some of them even by their own choice. The Saps always manage to convince themselves that it's a trick, or that it was some fluke of one kind or another." She looked around the circle, speaking more generally. "Unless and until a large group of us go public, all at once, I think Sophie and company can handle the press."

"There's still the risk to the Labs," Stephanie noted, her tone neutral. "I have to agree with Jimmy on that."

"Then we'll have to chose both our lobbyists and our subject politicians carefully, and watch the meetings when they happen," Kershia told her. "We can manage the dangers, Stephanie. Just think of the raids your team and Jimmy's have organised, and the times you've snatched Tomorrow People back from the Saps before they could be taken to the camps. We've been restless, willing to do whatever we could to improve the situation in any way possible. Ever since the Seniors left we've been taking decisions that put some of our people in danger to save others. This is hardly any different."

"I have to ask," Josh spoke up hesitantly, glancing between Travin's still unhappy expression and Abby's determined one. "Is there really any point discussing this? I thought the Inquiry, ZD-whatever-it-was, was going to report any time now. If it decides against us then is anything we do actually going to make a difference?"

Abby leaned across the table and laid a hand on his. "Josh, could you honestly tell the people you see around you in the Canadian Labs that we weren't trying? The UN are willing to acknowledge our existence - to debate us for the first time as if we were human beings rather than some nebulous threat. Could you face Marc and the others in Camps worldwide and say that we had been warned of this debate and had done nothing about it? I couldn't." She looked around her. "I think we need to try this. International Law is whatever nations allow it to be. If the UN rules that we don't have human rights and no one objects then we don't - it's that simple. If this debate goes by and the existence of the Camps isn't challenged then they're legal - overnight. Don't imagine for a minute that this is any less important than what's happening out there in the Federation. Certainly, we could wait until we heard back from the Trig, but it could be tomorrow or it could be next year. Who knows, when the Federation is involved! And what difference will Inquiry ZD28 make anyway? Whether the Federation imprison us here or not, we're still the ones who are going to have to live with the Saps on this world ... for as long as we can. Are we going to slip away quietly? No! A Sap poet once wrote a poem called 'Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night' and you know how it ended? 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light!' The poet was a Sap, but that is our heritage - ours! We aren't supplanters, invaders-by-stealth of some alien planet. We're the offspring of the human race. We're not some cuckoo in its nest, we're its future and its culmination. It's time we stood up and made that plain. We shall rage against the dying of the light indeed."

********************************************************************

The ship shuddered as it left geo-stationary orbit and the hyperlight generators kicked into action, preparing for the journey ahead. Steadying himself against the bulkhead, John watched for some minutes as Sophostria receded from the window and was lost amongst the luminescence of the millions of other stars. Turning away, he wandered absent-mindedly across the small room to the water receptacle, and poured himself a drink. As he did so, his mind flew back to the conversation with Zenon. "Are you telling me that the Mass Breakout is not, in fact, the Great Emergence?" he'd shouted, angered by Zenon's evasiveness. "That we are struggling against the Saps for nothing? Maybe I should have allowed Operation Malthus to succeed after all!"

At the time Zenon's reply had seemed bizarre, but those words now rang out in John's mind like a scythe, cutting through the chaff and making the path ahead more visible than it had ever been "Perhaps, John, perhaps. And perhaps the Federation's idea of folding the Earth within a multiplex time-space distortion is also a good one, but then again, perhaps it is not. I am not at liberty to tell you. What you must do, John, is decide for yourself how you are to act."

********

The planet Sophostria was deep blue in colour, deeper than anything John had ever seen before. Swirling cloud formations criss-crossed its flat terrain, forming themselves into huge storms that churned up the surface with a ferocity so beautiful, so magnificent, it had made him gasp with awe. He'd visited this place many times before, but always within the confines of a teleportation beam. Rematerialising in the deep underground caverns, he'd never conceived of, let alone witnessed first-hand, the spectacular display that the planet's surface presented to the surrounding cosmos. And now that he'd seen it from space he hardly believed that such an impenetrable and unwelcoming world could house such gracious and serene people.

His time on the planet had been short, shorter than he would have liked, but he hardly needed to remind himself that this trip was not a sightseeing tour. He'd come to seek the counsel of this race of ancient philosophers. He'd spent many months travelling in the cramped and uncomfortable hold of a cargo vessel so that he could put one burning question to those who had set him on his life's path.

Could they have been wrong?

The seeds of the question had been sown back in the hall of the Time Guardians. Zenon, by his cryptic answers, had started the chain of events that had led John back to the planet where he had first learned who, and more importantly what, he was.

The natural conclusion of the Sophostrians' evolution had been the lifting of their minds out of their physical bodies and into a more ethereal existence where energy, thought and matter combined to form a harmony so perfect that the devastation of their planet's biosphere went almost unnoticed in this safe, spiritual world. And the most important aspect of that evolutionary process had been their transition through a psionic stage. In an era when they still inhabited the surface they had undergone a shift away from a violent and destructive nature towards a pacifist and telepathic one. When the people of Earth started to break out, John had been conveyed with great ceremony into their presence and told with authority that his planet was on the verge of the same evolutionary shift. And now, after a lifetime of acceptance, he had returned to confront this authority.

In the end, the Sophostrians had listened to John's question and given him a very direct answer. Yes, they told him; they could very easily have been wrong...

**********

Sipping at his drink, John tried to identify the star systems that flashed past the Kalinar's window. He'd been away from Earth for so long that he'd almost forgotten which constellations were visible from his homeworld. His deliberations were suddenly interrupted by a soft, rhythmical voice. (Would you please come to the bridge. We will be arriving at our destination shortly.)

Draining the beaker of the last few drops of cool water, John replaced the delicate glass vessel onto the tray and sighed. (Very well. I'll be right with you.)

As he approached the doorway he turned to survey the starscape once again. The enormity of the universe was something that still astonished him, despite his many sojourns across the galaxy. He had envisaged a future for all the people of Earth in which they would have the capacity to travel through such vastness, merely by act of will. Now that the die was cast he knew his kind could never take such freedom for granted again. There's no going back now, he thought, as he left the room and headed up the corridor.

"Have a good time at school today. And be careful."

Sammie rolled her eyes dramatically, but smiled at her dormitory's supervisor nonetheless. Andy smiled back as he checked her jaunting belt was tucked out of sight. Every morning they went through the same ritual, and every morning Sammie and the others would pretend to be irritated, as if such checks and advice were for the little kids that lived here in the Lab, not thirteen-year-olds like themselves.

Finally, Andy nodded his consent. Sammie closed her eyes, letting her mind reach out, sweeping the corridors of her school, locating the minds of Saps like dead weights against the neutral background. She jaunted, and felt the others in her dorm doing the same, heading for their own schools, scattered across the city.

The sparkling surfaces of the Lab faded from around her, replaced by corridors painted in the pastel colours of institutions worldwide. Sammie sighed and felt the usual tension leave her. She leant back against the wall of the corridor, pressing the palms of her hands against its cold roughness. She was back in the real world.

Sure, the people in the Lab fed her and clothed her. They had taken her in, when even her parents had ... well, they had made it plain that they didn't care what became of her. But, even now, the Lab wasn't home. It was an illusion of safety, a dangerous and shameful secret to be kept, even from her best friends. How could that be right?

"Samantha! What are you doing inside before the bell?"

Sammie jumped as the teacher's voice cut through her reverie. She felt her cheeks flush with guilty embarrassment. "Nothing, Miss. I just ... just had to hand some work in before class."

The teacher nodded, accepting the explanation. "Well, outside with you, then."

Sammie fled, joining her friends outside, ready to start another day.

*************

Abby shuffled nervously in her seat. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. Then again, she thought, I haven't been in a situation like this for longer than I care to remember.

Looking about, she was aware of distant and well-shielded telepathic signals all around her. Were there telepathic spies working here, she wondered, or were some of the other people milling around in the waiting area undercover agents sent by Jimmy to protect her? She'd fought hard against Jimmy's insistence that she be accompanied to this meeting, eventually winning the point by dogged repetition of the purpose of her visit to Earth. This was not a secret mission carried out in the capacity of a TP agent; rather it was an opportunity for her as a political scientist to put a case to one of the low-level UN politicians. She was being herself, be it in the guise of a local journalist, and for that she had to appear totally alone and relaxed, not conspicuously accompanied by a stungun-wielding body guard, however discreet he or she tried to be.

The smartly dressed young man sitting at the desk opposite her looked up from his paperwork and waved towards Abigail. "Ms Roland, you can go in," he said with a smile. "Mr LeVesque will see you now."

With slow and deliberate movements, Abby stood, removed a pen and paper from her handbag and walked towards the office. The brass nameplate on the outside of the door read: 'Policy, Advocacy and Information Division Department.' Well, here goes nothing, she thought, as she knocked politely and entered the room.

*******

She listened to the middle-aged statesman for half an hour, taking shorthand notes of his comments, as was expected from a journalist. After the usual introductions and pleasantries, Abby had allowed the Canadian delegate assigned this important UN role to state his personal aims and objectives for the upcoming special assembly session. She noted how adeptly he avoided all mention of the Tomorrow People, instead acknowledging that there were some serious security implications implicit in the growing civil unrest in many member states, and that this was causing humanitarian problems to come to the fore.

Eventually his continued evasion of the issues began to irritate Abby and she decided to jump in with a more direct question. "It states in Article Two of the Declaration of Human Rights," she began, "that 'everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status'. As you have already pointed out, a considerable amount of civil unrest has been occurring in many countries worldwide. Is it the opinion of the United Nations that this rioting is caused by the continued prejudice and discrimination perpetrated towards the group known as 'The Tomorrow People?"

Mr LeVesque peered over his gold-rimmed spectacles and frowned. "You are very well-informed," he commented nervously. "But you hardly need to quote the Declaration to me. The UN has taken the situation regarding these people under advisement. As yet the Tomorrow People are not recognised as an independent group, and as such I cannot comment further upon any treatment they may be receiving. Whether they are the target, or the cause, of the violence is a matter for the Assembly to decide."

Abby could sense an opening for further dialogue, and jumped straight in with another question. "But you are not denying the existence of this group? That they are by the nature of their birthright different to other human beings and thus fall under the protection of that very declaration?"

The politician cleared his throat, fingering the documents lying on the desk in front of him, while he considered his response. "Which paper did you say you worked for?" he asked abruptly, much to Abby's surprise.

"I didn't. I'm freelance," she retorted confidently.

There was a moment's panic in the politician's eyes, almost as if he had found her out. Sensing danger, Abby considered reading his mind, then recalling Travin's earlier concerns regarding any political involvement on their part, thought better of it. If he thinks he's speaking to a TP, then all the better for me, she mused. Perhaps he'll be prepared to consider our plight once he acknowledges our existence. And if he does guess who I am, I can always jaunt out of here.

Deciding that she had nothing to lose, she flicked a strand of her blonde hair from her eyes and smiled sweetly. "I'm grateful for your candour in this matter, Mr LeVesque. It is in the nature of a journalist to dig a little deeper when investigating any potential newsworthy situation. The forthcoming meeting of the Assembly does, in my opinion, come at a pivotal point in our planet's history. And as the representative for Canada you must be aware of the human rights issues surrounding your Government's recent actions."

LeVesque looked confused. "What recent actions?" he asked, allowing his polished political facade to drop momentarily.

"The instigation of enforcement camps where thousands of these Tomorrow People are being held against their will, brutalised and tortured on a daily basis by your military," announced Abby angrily. "Article Three of the Declaration states categorically that everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person. I am surprised how easily the Canadian Government managed to cover up the real nature of these internment camps once news of their existence reached the media, particularly given the strong underlying morality of the Canadian peoples." Even without reading his mind, Abby could sense that he was thrown by her words. "Of course, as a UN delegate you have probably been briefed on these camps. The Department of Policy and Information must be required to field questions about them all the time."

Unsure of how to respond to her comments, LeVesque shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know where you got this information, but I would advise you not to publish any accusations of such an inflammatory nature without checking on the credibility of your sources." Abby nodded but remained silent, hoping to draw out the Canadian delegate further. After a few moments hesitation, her actions paid off. "If, as you claim, such people as the Tomorrow People do exist, and I'm not saying that they do, you understand - " she nodded once again - "and if the Canadian Government is indeed involved in such abuses of human rights as you have suggested, then it is within my remit as a member of the UN council to look into this further."

Standing, Abby smiled down at the man who was visibly sweating under the power of her intense stare. "Thank you for your time, Mr LeVesque. Let me assure you that I will corroborate my evidence before I commit anything to print."

Satisfied that she had done enough here today, Abby turned on her heel, trotted across the lavish office and disappeared through the doorway.

********************************************************************

Tarun shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench of the lecture theatre. With an effort, he resisted the urge to glance at his watch. His pen wandered over the surface of his notepad in a mindless doodle. It would be time for coffee soon. It had to be. The last speaker of the session drew his presentation to a close, and already people all over the room were rustling papers, making it plain that they were ready for the break. Tarun stifled his sigh. He had given up any hope of hearing anything controversial or groundbreaking at this conference or any other in his field. Nonetheless, basic courtesy meant that he could at least join in the round of applause that recognised the speaker's contribution. And he could listen to the questions with some semblance of attention.

The chairman stood up, looking around for questions, calling by name on one of the senior researchers near the front. Tarun leaned forward, resting his arms on the writing surface in front of him as he peered down towards the lower tier of seats. The question was fair, a logical extension of the speaker's conclusions, and Tarun relaxed, slumping back into his chair. He had hoped for something more interesting, but then anthropologists as a group were hardly known for their lively discussions. Tarun barely looked up from his doodles as the answer sparked another question and then another. He could feel the restlessness developing in the room. Come on, come on, he thought. As soon as this question session was over it would be coffee time and Tarun could almost smell the thick, black caffeine that was waiting for them.

He had very nearly decided to join the ever-growing trickle of people heading out towards the coffee area when he heard the chairman call on Derek Noffin for comments. There was a general sense of amused anticipation as the Professor considered his response, and Tarun settled back with a smile into the seat he had been ready to leave. Among all the old men in the old man's game of academia, Prof. Noff was one of the few real characters. He could usually be relied upon to brighten up a long day of seminars and lectures with a question so basic that only a respected professor could get away with asking it - or so complex only a senior professor like himself could understand it.

Professor Noffin stood slowly, pushing himself out of his seat with the ponderous dignity of age. The Professor's white hair framed a face with a fine tracery of wrinkles at the corner of each eye. Tarun had seen images of the Professor taken when his skin had been unmarked by age and his hair a rich brown, but those had been old photographs, on the endpapers of books now yellowing with age. Prof. Noff's works were standard texts now, with the authority of many years behind them. They were respected, just as the Professor himself was. Noffin half turned, angling his wiry frame so as to see as much of the lecture theatre as possible from his front row seat. Eyes made bright by a lifetime of discussion and debate scanned the room, picking out old protagonists and assessing potential opposition with the skill that came with practice, before he spoke.

"Well, I'm sure we were all very interested by your paper," he noted, his eyes on the nervous young researcher standing mere metres away from him. "But I have a question to pose to you and - " he turned back towards the crowd - "if I may, to everyone here." He paused, gathering his thoughts as the chairman waved for him to continue. Tarun and his colleagues waited with interest and curiosity, wondering what the old man was going to say. "I've heard a lot at this conference about Homo sapiens, Homo erectus and Homo neanderthalensis. I've heard discussion of geographic and reproductive isolation. Fair enough. As titles for conferences go, 'Evidence for Speciation and Ethnic Divergence' is pretty all-embracing and covers all those issues." He smiled vaguely at those of his old friends and colleagues who had arranged the meeting. "As I'm sure the organising committee intended. Nonetheless, I have to ask the question: How can our community wilfully continue to ignore the single most important example of this kind of divergence since Homo sapiens first came into existence?"

There was a collective gasp that echoed again and again as the microphones on the speaker's podium picked it up, sending it like a chorus of whispers around the chamber. Professor Noffin waited for it to subside, once again looking from face to face around the room. Where before the expressions of his colleagues had been interested and encouraging, now some were closed and angry, and others flashed a warning. Only a few were enthusiastic, leaning forward as Tarun was, their caffeine cravings forgotten in the thrill of finally hearing the taboo subject breached in public.

"The Tomorrow People are among us," Prof. Noff spoke with conviction. Tarun felt a shiver ripple down his spine and resisted the urge to glance around for the eyes he felt sure were watching him. Instead he kept his own eyes locked on the weathered face of the man knocking down the walls around the field he had helped nurture over the past thirty years. "Our species is undergoing, if not a speciation event, then at the very least a social and ethnic fracture the like of which has never occurred before. Can we truly claim to be anthropologists if we fail to study man in all his forms? We are no longer scientists if we ignore the empirical evidence with which we are faced, merely because it does not fit the neat theories and fashions that have been taught for decades. For the first time in the history of our field we have the perfect opportunity to study sociological and genetic evolution in action and I, for one, want to know why we're ignoring it!"

There was silence for a long moment. Tarun and a hundred other young researchers held their collective breaths. Could the Professor's stature in this field carry him unscathed through the fires of controversy he had just lit? Tarun barely dared turn his head to look around for fear of attracting the chairman's questioning gaze. Around him his colleagues were scribbling random notes, looking down at their hands, anything to avoid catching the chairman's eye. Anyone who moved now would be called upon to speak and they daren't, not on this issue of all issues. Noffin had the armour of his reputation to buffer him from the reaction; the younger researchers of Tarun's generation had no such protection.

"Any comments?" The chairman scanned the room anxiously, trying to keep the discussion going, trying to do his job. Eventually the man turned back to the young speaker who still stood on the podium in front of them. The younger man seemed trapped, as wide-eyed as a rabbit caught in the headlights of an unstoppable juggernaut. Alone of all the people in the room he couldn't avoid some response to the old professor's words.

"Well," the man stammered, looking down at the screen of his laptop as if in search of inspiration. His expression cleared, evidently finding it in the conclusions of his talk still displayed there. "I'm afraid that the question is well outside my area of expertise. I'm sure there are others here more qualified than I to discuss the current situation. I'd rather not comment on an area I haven't looked into myself."

The chairman nodded, clearly disappointed by the abrupt end to the discussion he had tried to maintain, but understanding the speaker's decision to seek refuge in his own lack of seniority. The speaker hesitated, sensing the disappointment. His gaze flicked over the front rows, trying to read and interpret the expressions on the faces there. The scientific editors of half a dozen of the big journals were in the room, each of them listening carefully to the young man's answer. He could kiss goodbye to any chance of publishing in a reputable journal again, if he spoke out of turn now. But maybe, just maybe, Professor Noffin's influence and reputation could give him the shield he needed. The speaker cleared his voice with a sharp cough that cut through the rising murmurs.

"Having said that, I do agree that this new field is certainly a fascinating one. And one ripe for further study."

Tarun slowly released the breath he had been holding. It wasn't much, but it was far as the speaker dared go; as far as anyone at their stage in their career would. The chairman nodded.

"Then if there are no further comments, can I suggest we continue this discussion over coffee?"

*****

Tarun joined the stream of people heading towards the more distant of the two coffee tables in the hope of finding a shorter queue there. All around him in the crowd people were talking, some in whispers, others with raised voices as they argued their point. Tarun remained silent, not daring to speak, barely able to contain his delight. Perhaps the Professor's question had remained unanswered, but, vitally, it had been asked. The issue might remain undiscussed at this conference, but next time the person who dared raise it might be a little more junior, willing to take a chance on speaking, with the Professor's authority behind them. Word would leak out, rumours would spread, and the taboo would be broken.

Claiming his cup of coffee, Tarun lifted it to his nose, inhaling the rich vapours. The stimulant coursed through his system, quickening his thoughts and opening his mind. Tarun smiled as he was caught up in the heady mix of confusion and eager discussion that permeated the conference centre. Unconsciously, he fingered his jaunting belt through the thick pullover he wore to conceal it. To an outsider it might seem as if not much of consequence had happened here in this one lecture theatre, on the last day of one small conference, but Tarun knew it was a start. It was a start!

********************************************************************

Kershia slipped through the long white corridors of the South African Parliament building, moving with caution despite the fury that drove her onwards. The hallways of this office wing were quiet. Only a few hardworking souls were still in the building, working on as twilight darkened the world outside.

Identical doors lined the corridor at regular intervals, sick-looking potted plants scattered here and there to break up the monotonous regimentation. They were little help. The place was almost a temple to bureaucracy and uniformity, a regulated way of life that would drive Kershia to screaming madness within days. A compact and official-looking script labelled the doors in precise golden lettering. Kershia's eyes scanned the names on each door as she passed, her head moving in small, abrupt movements. Her deep brown eyes darkened as the name she had been searching for caught her gaze, and her pace quickened. She didn't slow as she approached Ramla Baingana's door, but pushed it open with a mixture of telekinesis and pure physical force. Why bother to hide what she was? The woman she was here to see had no illusions about the existence of Tomorrow People and no hesitation in condemning then. The way she had treated Abby proved that.

They had been so optimistic after Abby's first few meetings with varied diplomats had gone so well. There had been a buzz on the control level of Luna, Abigail's satisfaction at a job well done spreading among all the people she worked with. But, of course, Abby had started with the easy aspects of her self-appointed task. Her first few subjects had been open to the TP viewpoint, or at least willing to listen, because Abby had selected them to be so. The Tomorrow People had known the job would grow harder with time rather than easier. Kershia and the others shouldn't have been surprised when the fifth politician on the list Abby and TIM had drawn up had forced the Canadian woman to jaunt back to Luna in tears and in fear for her life. They had been shocked nonetheless.

Kershia had walked out of the control room as the others clustered around Abby, trying to calm their friend. Silently, her mental defences tightly closed, she had headed for the nearest of Luna's jaunting pads. Now wasn't the time to sit down and talk about this. Now wasn't the time to let Jimmy tell them again that this task was too dangerous for any of Luna's leaders to perform. He was too cautious, too determined to be good at his job. He tried to suppress it, but he cared so much for each of them that he would never see past the immediate risks to the more insidious dangers of not making the attempt. Kershia hadn't stayed, but she had heard enough to know that it wasn't the physical threat Jimmy complained of that had upset Abby so. It was the shock of encountering a mind so closed and hostile that nothing she had said would penetrate it.

And now the woman who possessed such a mind was in front of Kershia, her pen falling from her hand as she stared at the Tomorrow Person in stunned amazement. Kershia didn't wait for the shock to subside. She slammed the door behind her with a dramatic gesture that felt good even through her anger, and strode to the wide desk that dominated the small room. With both hands palm down on the cool desktop, Kershia leaned forward to study the narrow face in front of her.

"How can you live with it?" Kershia's demand rang in the silence of the soundproofed office. "With knowing what you know, accepting all that's happening, representing millions of honest and caring people, and not showing a shred of humanity or decency?"

Ramla Baingana's wide brown eyes were narrowing now. There was no warmth there. Quite deliberately, the South African picked up her fallen pen from the desk and replaced its cap, ignoring the presence of the furious Tomorrow Person barely a metre away.

"Well, the last one they sent was at least diplomatic, but a diplomat you are most definitely not," she noted eventually. Her voice was calm, only the slightest tremble in the thickly accented voice betraying her frayed nerves. "I suppose I should have expected them to send the bully next."

Kershia felt her temper quickening still further, frustration at the woman's lack of reaction adding to, rather than quelling, her ire. "No one sent me! I came on my own, because someone had to. Someone had to try and make you see how wrong the treatment you are condoning is; how inhuman."

The woman stood, her hands resting now on her own side of the deep desk. She met Kershia eye to eye and the Tomorrow Person could see no empathy there, nothing but a determination that matched her own. The South African delegate's voice dropped until it was little more than a whisper. "I don't think I'm the inhuman one in this room. I'm defending my people here, just as you are. I'm speaking up for those millions of honest, caring, foolish people you wave in front of me like a banner. They do not know what a threat you are to them. I've seen the files, 'Homo superior'. I've seen the records of what you and your kind can do - what you have done in the past. How can you stand in front of me and abuse me when I am fighting for the survival of my species, just as you are?" Baingana shook her head. "You think that because you won't kill you're somehow on the moral high ground? Well, I've seen the studies. I've read the accounts of what your kind can achieve, if the ... motivation ... is sufficient. I will not yield on this point. I told your pet journalist that and I'm telling it to you. You can go back and tell your superiors to stop bothering me!"

Kershia took a step backwards in pure reflex, shaking her head. When she spoke her tone was full of scorn.

"You don't want to learn, do you? You don't want to know the truth because this crusade of yours is all that's letting you live with the torture you've read about, and with the abuse that goes on every minute while you sit comfortably here in your snug office." On impulse, Kershia reached out telekinetically, exerting every ounce of her strength to snatch a newspaper cutting from the dossier on distant Luna that Abby had compiled before this meeting. She slammed the coarse paper down on the desk. The crying children, torn from their parents' arms, stared accusingly out of the paper and into Baingana's stony face. "Children sent to special 'isolation schools', families torn apart, medical care denied to anyone suspected of having special abilities. How can any of that be right? How can any kind of apartheid be justified, in this country of all countries? How can you, personally, condone it? This isn't a problem that's going to go away just because you hide from it. We're here to stay."

Baingana shook her head, slowly, definitely. For a moment Kershia had a brief hope that her words had got through to the black South African, reminding her of her own people's struggle for equality. But Baingana's expression was almost sad as she answered Kershia's questions with her own. "How many offshoots have there been on the tree of life since evolution began? How many have withered and died? Only one branch has remained healthy and strong, and that was the branch that led to Homo sapiens. Humanity evolved on the plains here in Africa, Tomorrow Person, but this country has seen humanity's cousins struggle for survival, only to fade away into the oblivion of deep time. You and your kind are an aberration, no more. You'll fade away as so many others have done in the past. Until then all that we can do is keep you under control. It's up to us to make sure that you don't take our world with you when you go."

Kershia struggled for words, strived for some argument that could articulate the knowledge that had been ingrained in the Tomorrow People psyche since the Seniors had first realised their place in the world. The future belonged to Homo superior, whatever the Saps tried to do to them, whatever the Federation threatened. But there would never be words that would convince a Sap like this one. Abby had been right; some minds were too closed to ever be reopened. She looked up with something close to pity, something that was almost despair, in her expression, and froze.

Baingana was pointing a weapon at her with steady hands and at point-blank range. Her brown eyes carried no hint of uncertainty; the woman could pull the trigger and be utterly at peace with herself. She would be pruning dead wood from the tree of life; no more, no less.

"I've been patient, more patient than I have any cause to be." Baingana's tone was neutral, almost indifferent. "Now, will you leave peacefully? Or will I have to report a dangerous and aggressive intruder who burst into my office without permission. No one could criticise me for defending myself."

Kershia stared at the gun, suddenly aware of her own mortality for the first time since the tide of her anger had swept her down to Earth. Baingana could have shot her before she was even aware of the danger, and all Abby and Jimmy and the others would have known was that she was gone. She had wilfully and deliberately ignored Jimmy's orders for her own safety and followed a whim - just as she had once before. In Kershia's eyes, Baingana's image merged with the man who still haunted her nightmares. The icy contempt that had been in Trent's eyes as his gun hovered over her heart found an echo in the coldness of Baingana's, but where Trent had hovered on the edge of madness, Baingana was completely and terrifyingly sane. With an effort Kershia swallowed the lump in her throat and the memories along with it. There would be other times to remember her encounter with Trent, and all that had followed it. For now Kershia just nodded once, sharply.

"I won't ask you to think about what I've said," Kershia said softly. She shook her head, feeling, as Abby had, an enormous sense of failure. They had never expected the path to the UN's General Assembly to be smooth, but this first obstacle they had encountered was painful nonetheless. She placed her hands on her jaunting belt, not bothering to conceal the gesture. "Your mind is obviously made up. I think I can safely say that you won't be bothered by us again."

********************************************************************

The rain pelted the forest floor, the drops merging into a solid wall of water as they made their way in a myriad of complex paths through the canopy far ahead. Augusto peered out from under the broad porch of the Lab's main entrance and pulled a face.

The rest of his classmates clustered behind him and he felt their disappointment. It wasn't fair. The end of school for the day left them with almost two hours before it would be time for dinner and bed. It seemed unnecessarily cruel of nature to trap them inside and underground with such a downpour.

"Looks like we're going to have to play inside," Graça noted with a scowl.

Augusto nodded miserably, sweat running down his face in the humid air. "Everybody back!" he called, raising his voice and giving the nearest of his classmates a shove to get them moving.

The group of ten-year-olds clustered a little self-consciously in the main hall of the underground Lab, discussing what to do. The rules of the Lab were clear. When it rained they were to occupy themselves quietly and keep out of the way. Too much important work went on in the main Brazilian Lab for them to run around disrupting it. Augusto knew that somewhere deep in the Lab complex biochemists, his Mamãe e Papai among them, were analysing the active compounds to be found in the diverse jungle that sheltered and concealed the Tomorrow People. The patents on those compounds helped pay for the Lab - to support all those who had fled here from Rio or elsewhere - but they would never be sufficient. The needs of this Lab and others were never-ending. Elsewhere in the underground complex other TPs were toiling on the myriad of small tasks that brought some kind of income into the Lab system, or collating the vast piles of information that Labs elsewhere channelled through this out-of-the-way haven, or simply striving to maintain the jungle Lab itself. But to Augusto and his peers that was all part of life and life was good here, with the jungle to play in and the Lab to shelter them. Life was good, even when it rained.

"We could see if either of the gyms are free and play a game of something?" Emmanuela suggested with a frown. Esteban screwed up his face in distaste, shaking his head.

"Too much like hard work," he told them. "Why not just something simple? Hide and Seek? I call seeking first!"

Hide and Seek. Augusto felt the colour rise in his cheeks as all eyes turned to him. If he said no they would accept his decision with no more than mild disappointment, but he was stronger now. The counsellors said that he was older and braver, beyond the panic attacks that had made the game impossible for him and his friends. And surely the counsellors should know?

"Not that." Graça shook her head, taking a half step that placed her between Augusto and the others. Swallowing hard, Augusto put a hand on his friend's shoulder, drawing her back. He could do this, and if he couldn't, well, he could always make himself easy to find.

"Why not?" he asked, raising his head proudly.

******

"This way!" Graça giggled as she pulled Augusto through the corridors. "They'll never find us."

Augusto followed passively, letting Graça choose their hiding place, too lost in thought to take any pleasure from the game. Esteban and the other TPs among them had promised not to use telepathy and the second-generation kids like Augusto himself had promised to try. They might just as well be Saps hunting one another amid the corridors of the Lab. Saps like the ones who had hunted Augusto and his parents. Saps like the ones who had driven them here.

Augusto had been just four years old when they had come to the Lab, but he remembered Sao Paulo. He had vague memories of buildings reaching for the sky, as tall as the forest trees. He remembered the apartment they had lived in, the bright blue sheets on his parents' bed. And he remembered the day their neighbours had come for them.

"In here!" Graça gave him a worried look as she pulled open the door to one of the Lab's storage lockers, pushing him in ahead of her.

[In here, Mamãe called, pushing him into the large closet that opened off his parents' room. Papai piled in after them, locking them all inside with a wave of his hand and a burst of TK. The door of the apartment wouldn't hold for long under the barrage of blows that echoed through the block. They had to hide. Mamãe squatted in front of small Augusto in the compact space, her face a pattern of shadows in the light that fought its way through the woven fibres of the door. You have to keep quiet, she told him. The others would come to save them, send a matter transporter, something, but Augusto had to keep quiet until they came. Mamãe forced a smile and wrapped her arms around him. It would be just like Hide and Seek, she told him. Little Augusto stood in the circle of his mother's arms, his father beside them, and felt their fear. For the first time in his life, four-year-old Augusto realised that his parents' embrace wouldn't be enough to keep him safe.]

"I have to get out," he whispered.

"Hush, Augusto, they'll find us!" Graça told him urgently. ["They'll find us," Mamãe whispered, looking desperately at Papai.]

"Let me out of here!" Augusto shouted, pulling frantically at the door. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't remember whether the door opened inwards or outwards, but he felt the metal of the lock twist and distort as his emergent telekinesis tried to force it.

"Augusto!" Graça grabbed his arms, trying to force him to focus on her. Dimly he knew that the lock was broken now, twisted beyond repair and trapping them inside. He felt her calling in his thoughts as well as aloud, her sporadic and uncontrolled telepathy sparking his own emergent powers.

Suddenly he was aware of Graça's panic, of the mind of Esteban searching for them, of Emmanuela looking up in her hiding place as she felt him. The pressure of minds in the Lab sounded in his ears like the thunder that rolled over the forests above. Crying out in pain, Augusto clapped his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of Graça's frightened face.

(Graça, ondé está?) Esteban's mental voice was anxious, open to all their classmates. (Someone find his parents - or anyone!)

(There isn't time! Augusto, listen to us.) Emmanuela spoke urgently in his thoughts. Her telepathy had once been as shaky as Graça's and Augusto's own. It was firm now, trained since her breakout a few months before. (Don't resist, don't panic.)

Augusto gasped, his breathing rapid and shallow as waves of pain washed through him, cleansing and opening his mind.

(You don't have to be frightened, Augusto,) Esteban whispered. (Link your mind with ours. You're a flower, blooming in the night. You're a sapling, striving to grow upwards towards the light. You're a child being born.)

Through the confusion and the pain, Augusto struggled to remember the exercises they were all taught, the images they had been shown over the years. He wouldn't resist. Why should he when this was the future he had wanted and dreamed of for as long as he could remember? But what was he supposed to do? Memory slipped between his fingers ... fingers? He gazed down at his hands, studying them curiously. Of course!

(I'm a fist opening wide,) he muttered telepathically, his thoughts a narrow shaft that shut out the chaotic mental noise of the Lab, focussing on his friends. Augusto felt their joy; he felt them reaching out to embrace his mind, the images they projected fading into a muddle of happy thoughts.

(You're one of us now, Augusto. You're among friends, properly one of us!) Emmie laughed, the sound a ripple of pure joy in his mind, a feeling words would never be able to describe.

Esteban's thoughts were delighted too. (You're free now, Augusto.)

Tiredly Augusto smiled into Graça's wide-eyed gaze. With a thought he jaunted himself out of the locker and into his mother's startled and overjoyed arms. (I'm free,) he shouted to anyone who cared to hear, (and I'll never be trapped again!).

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 080 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Natalya_S
Message Content:
I heard in the news that they were going to set up a state where the Tomorrow People could all live together and govern themselves. Wouldn't that be neat? I mean, they're still in the minority, so it wouldn't do any harm to take them all and re-house them on an island somewhere, would it? They'd have the freedom to do whatever they like. It sounds like the perfect solution to me!
Natalya

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 079 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Anonymous
Message Content:
Are you people thick or something? If you used even an ounce of the brain in your skull you'd see that they wouldn't want to stay on an island. These people can teleport! How do you think we'd keep them there? It'd have to be a pretty big island too. How will they feed themselves? I'm not giving away my hard-earned cash just to keep a bunch of misfits. Natalya, you're from Spain or Gibraltar, or something, right? Maybe you'd like to give away your country. Maybe we could use England or Ireland? What about Hawaii? What do the Americans here think of that? How would you like it if someone came along and shoved you out of your home just to make way for a load of freakin' weirdos? They want to take over and wipe us all out. I've read an article on them. It said they were an evolutionary jump and destined to seize control. It's up to us to see that they don't! If you ask me they deserve the treatment they're getting - it's the only way we can control them. We had the planet first. They're not even human. It's like suggesting giving over land and laws to a bunch of freakin' chimpanzees.
Anonymous

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 080 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Natalya_S
Message Content:
You're the one with the brain the size of a peanut. Your head's stuck so far up your a**** you can't see what's going on around you. No one said you'd have to pay to keep these people, only that they have the right to live as free as everyone else. The Tomorrow People are totally peaceful. They don't want to take over and aren't capable of killing those opposed to them. They're evolving and they can't help it. They have as much right to live on Earth as the rest of us have. There are so many prejudiced and narrow-minded people like you in the world, the TPs only chance for fair treatment is to live alone on an island somewhere. If I had my way, I'd round up people like you and shut you up in the camps where you can kill each other. At least the TPs can't do that!
Natalya

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 078 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Sophie_422
Message Content (ADMIN):
Come on, guys, keep it civil. I don't want to ban anyone. List rules say no abusive language or personal comments. If you want to trade insults then do it elsewhere. I'm curious where Natalya heard this news about a separate state for the TPs? I also appreciate what our Anonymous member said; I don't think there's any country in the world willing to give over land to the Tomorrow People. Practically, it just wouldn't work. So how do we cope with the fact that there are rapidly increasing numbers of these people? Has anyone heard speculation on their own local news programs?
Sophie_422

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 081 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022 User: Mahogany
I heard that it's already too late - there are far more TPs than the governments of the world realise. It's only a matter of time before they seize power. And when that happens, I don't want to be in the firing line!
Mahogany

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 082 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Natalya S
Soph, it was on a Spanish news channel. Sorry about the earlier post. I didn't mean to break the rules, but that guy just got me so worked up! I'm gonna come clean - my sister is a Tomorrow Person. None of us in the family knew about it until recently. I can speak from first-hand knowledge of these people: they are very intelligent and have no intention of taking over the world. They just want to be left alone to get on with life. Yeah, they can do fantastic things and it makes me feel very small and insignificant when I think about it, but if God, Nature or whatever else runs this planet has sent them to us then the least we can do is accept them for the gift they are.
Natalya

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 084 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: MagusT
Message Content:
Good for you Nat! It's about time someone on this list stood up and admitted to knowing a TP. It worries me, though, that Mahogany thinks it's all gonna come down to a fire fight. If what you say is true then it's gonna be more of a massacre. You make sure you stay clear of any trouble, Nat.
MagusT

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 083 of Topic
Date: 27th February 2022
User: Anonymous
Message Content:
YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK!!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING SUCKING UP TO ONE OF THESE WEIRDOS? IF THERE'S ONE IN HER FAMILY THEN IT'S MORE THAN LIKELY SHE'LL BE NEXT! I'M NOT STICKING AROUND HERE TO HAVE MY BRAIN SCRAMBLED BY SOME CONCEITED HALF-WIT WHO THINKS SHE CAN RUN THE PLANET!!!!!!!!!
**** *** THE LOT OF YOU!
Anonymous

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 085 of Topic
Date: 28th February 2022
User: Sophie_422
Message Content (ADMIN):
Anonymous! That's quite enough. As admin I'm giving you one last warning to curb your bad language and personal insults. This is a serious discussion board for people to openly air their views on the changes taking place in society. It may be called Fantasia but this is not fantasy; it's reality and if you can't accept that then it might be better if you take your opinions elsewhere.
Sophie_422

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 086 of Topic
Date: 28th February 2022
User: Anonymous
Message Content:
Don't worry about it, sister! I'm not sticking around here. When the time comes and we Homo sapiens start to fight back it's the likes of you who'll be first in line for a good kicking. I'm out of here!
Anonymous

Fantasia Message Board - Topic 476 :: Message 088 of Topic
Date: 1st March 2022
User: Sophie_422
Message Content (TOPIC CLOSED)
I suggest that we close this topic before we lose any more members. It's a pity that you guys can't keep it civil. There are difficult times ahead for all of us, and I fear that we'll be coming back to these issues sooner than we realise, but for now we'll call it a day on this one!
Sophie

*****

Sophie leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily.

"What's up," asked the operative beside her, pausing mid-sentence to rub his tired fingers, "Bad news on the net?"

Sophie shook her head despondently. "No, nothing as obvious as that." She sighed once again, then looked across the dimly lit space towards the source of the voice. "It's just a feeling..." She struggled to suppress her emotions, but knew that he had already caught the concern in her thoughts. "I've been working this discussion board for over a year now, and in all that time I've never noticed such direct antagonism in the posts."

The young man smiled half-heartedly. "Never mind, Sophie, I'm sure it's just part of the process. People are beginning to recognise our existence at last, and that's bound to cause some anxiety in the general population."

Sophie shook her head, aware that others in the room were listening to the exchange. The inevitable side effect of working in such close proximity with other telepaths was that no one's shielding could remain rock solid indefinitely. Knowing that the majority of those present had already guessed what she was about to say, she responded frankly to his comments. "This is more than anxiety, I'm afraid. There's real hatred out there in the world and it's growing daily. If we don't do something about it soon..." she paused while she switched over to a different forum showing in another window on her monitor. "What scares me most is that it may already be too late!"

*******************************************************************

Abby rushed into the Luna command centre, shaking the rain from her coat and throwing her floppy hat onto the nearest seat. "TIM, you should have called me earlier," she chastised. "Have I missed them?"

The shimmering chimes of an interstellar teleportation beam answered her question before the biotronic computer could formulate a response. Swinging around to face the jaunting pad, she could just discern three figures as they dematerialised into nothingness. Abby let out a deep sigh. "It seems that I have."

"Was your meeting successful?" asked a high, fluting voice from behind her.

Abby looked around to see Nova, and the disappointment on her face was immediately replaced with a broad grin that soon turned into a wry smile. "Yes, thank you. At least the official from Belgium who I just met with was open to our point of view and agreed to look into the TP situation before the meeting." She paused while she removed her sodden coat and sent it flying telekinetically into the hands of a waiting technician. She surveyed the tall, willowy figure, his long incandescent robes and pale complexion making him look very alien once again. "So, you're leaving."

Sensing the many questions hidden within that statement, Nova gave a slow and deliberate nod. "Indeed. We have been recalled by the Federation," he replied noncommittally. "I remained behind to say goodbye."

Abby snatched at the words. "Recalled? But your tour of duty isn't even halfway through. What's changed that you need to go back in such a hurry?"

Nova hardly needed to respond as Abigail's brain made the leap of understanding. "The Inquiry..." she whispered, and he nodded once again. A weighty hush fell across the room as technicians and security agents looked up from their work, each one feeling the anxiety in her words. Pulling her shields down tight, she fixed him with a steely glare. (My office, now!)

******

The door shut with a thud, cutting out the rising murmur of nervous chatter from the people outside as they returned half-heartedly to their duties. There was a long silence while Nova and Abigail just stared at one another, neither wanting to face the inevitability of this moment. Nova, half human, half Adonisian, a man caught between worlds and between loyalties; the bringer of news and hope to the leaders of Luna, but also an operative for the organisation they had once called friend and now feared more than the Saps on the world below. Abby, young, determined, bound by her promise to see her people through the times ahead, but feeling the weight of that burden more heavily than she had ever done before.

Nova stood very still, his long-fingered hands resting at his sides as he studied her face. "As you have surmised, Inquiry ZD28-FV6 has indeed neared its conclusion. We were informed via a communiqué this morning that the committee is in recess considering its verdict." He paused to allow a dozen emotions to flash across Abby's features. "The rest of the technical team has returned to the Trig. I have been granted some leave to visit my family on Adonisia."

Stunned by the formality in his tone, Abby felt her anger with the Federation rise tenfold. "What's gotten into you, Nova?" she hissed, struggling to keep an even tone. "I thought you of all people would be on our side in this."

Stepping forward, Nova took her hand in his. Turning it upward he placed his own palm flat against her skin. Instantly their minds merged and she felt comforted by the wave of sympathetic understanding that passed through the physical bond. (I cannot risk saying too much. There may be people listening.) He glanced meaningfully at the remote sensor in the corner of the room.

(Not TIM,) Abby protested. (He'd never betray us.)

(He was fashioned to a Federation design. He may not wilfully be party to the Federation's despicable behaviour, but we cannot ignore the fact that he has a direct telepathic link to the Trig and may be passing on information.) He sighed, squeezing her hand gently. (Mother used the Federation communiqué as a carrier wave to send a coded message. She said that whatever happens in the next few days, you must be ready to do whatever is necessary. You have to look to the future of all your people now.)

Abby's eyes widened with horror, as she fought to hide the despondency in her thoughts. (So, that's it... we've lost. All our efforts to persuade the Federation came to nothing. They're abandoning us to a fate worse than death.) Taking a step backwards, she steadied herself on the desk. She'd been dreading this moment for a long time. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she'd still hoped that the Inquiry would come down in their favour. Now it was obvious that the Federation did indeed intend to trap them all within the multiplex time-space distortion and there was nothing she or anybody else on Earth could do about it. Drawing on her well-disciplined mental reserves, she forced herself to relinquish her own fears and make a rational reply. (How long after the verdict will we have before the distortion is in place?)

Nova sighed. (Not long. Definitely not long enough for any kind of evacuation. The Federation has seen to that.) Abby felt her temper flaring once again and Nova watched as the capable political leader schooled her thoughts back from hopelessness. (Your Seniors have discovered that the Federation has already sent a fleet of vessels to prepare for the implementation of the inquiry's decision. They know that the future will be difficult, but they trust you to make the right choices.)

(They're not coming back?) Even as she posed the question, she flooded the telepathic link with her utter despair, forcing Nova to bear the worst of it. Suddenly the dam burst and the floods of tears she had been holding back for so long ran uncontrolled down her face. Soothingly Nova allowed her anguish to wash over him and waited for her to continue. (I can't do this, Nova. Not alone, not after all this time,) she sobbed. (John is our leader. He, Stephen and Elizabeth... they are the ones who should be here now. Thousands of people out there,) she waved towards the doorway, (millions more on the planet below... We need them to come home and show us the way...)

Fighting back his own emotions, Nova placed one hand on each of her shoulders. (But they're not here and you are.) His telepathic voice was gentle but resolute. (You can do this, Abby. The Seniors have confidence in you, more obviously than you have in yourself. John also has the utmost faith in you. He knows you won't let him down when the time comes.)

Stunned by his mention of John, Abby hesitated and for the first time she peeked through the smallest fissure in Nova's whimsical and very alien mental defences. Snatching at what she saw there, she looked up into his eyes. (You know where John is? You've seen him?)

(Yes, I met him on Adonisia many months ago, even before the Inquiry began.) Closing the gap in his shields, Nova sighed. (I have given away more than I intended,) he 'pathed, calmly. (Please do not ask me any more, for I do not wish to lie to you. Although circumstances dictate that I must.)

Understanding that the conversation was at an end, Abby pulled away from his grasp and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "So this is goodbye, then." She sniffed noisily in a vain attempt to control her emotions. Before now she wouldn't have doubted TIM's loyalty, but remembering Nova's warning, she decided that it was best to keep her comments formal. "I appreciate all you've done for us during your short stay here. I wish you well for the long teleport back to your homeworld. Please convey my warmest wishes to your mother and father."

They walked from the office back into the bustle of the command centre, their presence causing a prolonged pause in the many operatives' routine. Surveying the array of troubled faces, Abby forced herself to smile. These people deserved to be spared from the worst of the news, for the time being, at least.

Stepping up onto the jaunting pad, Nova took one last look around the room. (Remember my advice, Abby. We trust you to do what's right for the future of the Tomorrow People, whatever happens.)

As soon as the musical chorus subsided, Jimmy, who had been watching from one of the link tables, approached Abby, curiosity written all over his face. "What did he mean by that? What's about to happen?"

In response Abby simply sucked in her breath and turned away. The jumble of images she'd seen in Nova's mind were puzzling her, and she needed time to make sense of what she'd seen before she could speak with anyone. Abby also realised that while under the ever-watchful gaze of the biotronic computer, they'd have to be very careful of what they said aloud from now on. Angered by the Federation's continued deviousness, she stared at her head of security. "Don't you have some work to do?" she asked sharply, before slipping back into the calm stillness of her office.

********************************************************************

The Sun, March 1st 2022
New 'Man' to Quit Over Genetic Testing Row!
By Martin Roberts

Robert Newman, Minister for Transport, today resigned over the growing parliamentary row regarding genetic screening for all political figures in public life. The Sun caught up with Mr. Newman at his Solihull constituency and dared to put to him the one question on everyone's lips. Was he Homo superior, one of the 'Tomorrow People'?

Mr Newman refused to answer the question, only making a formal statement. 'My personal genetic background is my own affair. I have always been, and always will be, against compulsory screening of this type for people in any walk of life. It is a breach of human rights to force people to reveal their genetic inheritance and undermines the entire fabric of British society. Such information would, by its very nature, be used against those individuals revealed to be different.'

The Sun's investigative team has tracked down Mr. Newman's personal physician, who was more than willing to reveal the outcome of his client's tests. He said, 'I see it as my civic duty to lay open the potential for any underhanded activities by members of our political system. Who knows what influence Mr. Newman has had on those around him over the past few years? He may have used his 'powers' to influence elections and other politicians alike.'

When the Sun's reporter Martin Roberts approached Mr. Newman's office with this revelation, the Minister was not available for comment.

Mr. Newman later visited the Prime Minister to formally hand in his resignation. A spokesperson for No. 10 made the following statement. 'It is with much regret that we are forced to accept Robert Newman's resignation today. He has carried out an admirable job improving our country's rail and road system. This Government is aware of the increasing allegations by the opposition parties that telepathic influence has been brought to bear by those people with psionic abilities, and cannot condone their use by anyone in public life. We expect the electorate to trust us to run the country in a transparent and honest way. Therefore we cannot allow anyone possessing such talents to remain in office. Robert Newman will leave his job at the end of the week and by-elections in Solihull will be held after screening of all candidates has taken place.'

*******************************************************************

Amalia struggled through the crowd, trying not to feel frightened by the crush. If she had known so many people would gather here she would have stayed with her children back at the bunks. Instead she had left them in the care of any of a hundred neighbours on their corridor. She hadn't known it would be this bad. The crowd had formed in Luna's core without any attempt at organisation, hundreds of people drawn into the tightly packed hallway by the power of rumour alone. Amalia Eskilsen had joined the crowd gathering around the main lift shafts out of desperation rather than any desire to cause agitation. The news spreading through the residential levels had to be untrue, it just had to be!

There were other mothers here, and children too. The younger children clung to their mothers' hands, the elder slipped through the crowd with the ease of youths grown accustomed to conditions here in the Luna complex. There were others as well: teenagers and young men and women with no one to care for but themselves. Everyone shared a single question: what do we do now?

If, as fork-tongued rumour suggested, the Federation had finally decided against them, what was to become of them? What was to become of Luna and all its people? This place would never survive without support. Unconsciously Amalia's fists clenched until her fingers ached. With an effort, Amalia forced herself to relax her grip. Would they be trapped here on Luna to watch their enclosed world deteriorate around them until the last few survivors gasped in corrupted air? Or sent down below to face an uncertain future? There was nothing for her family down on Earth. She had fled here with her children crying and her house in flames around them, snatched to safety by one of the many teams of agents Luna had established for that purpose. They had been amongst the last, arriving a bare few months before Christmas had lifted all their spirits. Those few days had been a temporary respite from the anxiety that permeated the complex. Luna had shut its doors to new arrivals with the New Year, and its residents couldn't help but be aware of how strained Luna's systems were. Without Federation assistance there was no chance that TIM and the TP technicians who helped him could keep the complex running. The Tomorrow People seeking haven here would be thrown back to the wolves on the world below. Even the costly safety that Luna had once promised was being torn away from them - or so it seemed.

A sigh went through the crowd as Roger Finn jaunted onto the raised area that surrounded the core lifts. A hush spread through the room. At last! Someone in authority, Amalia thought, feeling the tension drain from her, even as she was buffeted from all sides by Tomorrow People pressing forwards to hear Roger's words. The head of Luna Security was a frequent and welcome sight throughout Luna, he or his people always there to arbitrate in the hundreds of small disputes that were part of life here. The tall Englishman treated every resident of Luna with courtesy, no matter how insignificant they seemed in the great edifice of TP affairs. Now the people of Luna were hanging on his words, their concentration on him intense. Roger stood on the platform with his posture relaxed and his hands conspicuously in front of him, well away from the stungun at his belt. His gaze flicked around the room, picking out faces here and there, and Amalia frowned. The quick, almost guilty motion was so reminiscent of her children when they tried to sneak something past their mother that she instinctively followed Roger's look to the nearest of the people he was checking on. She wrapped her arms around her chest, suddenly cold, as she saw the Lab security guard, his stungun unholstered by his side. Roger wasn't as alone as he was pretending to be.

"Did someone call a meeting?" The London accent rang clearly across the crowd, the mild words contrasting with the sharp tone in which they were spoken. "It really isn't safe to have so many people in one place. People are getting squeezed down here at the front." He paused, shifting nervously. "May I suggest you disperse?"

There was silence for a moment and then the roar of questions shook the room, setting children crying. There were words in the roar, barely discernable amid the cascade of sound. 'Inquiry.' 'Federation.' 'Failure.' 'Doom.' Amalia felt the words resonate within her and she shuddered. Roger took a step backwards as if he could back away from the sound itself. He raised his hands, reaching out telepathically to ensure that everyone in the crowd heard his words.

"The Inquiry has NOT made its decision!" he shouted. "We do NOT know what the Federation's verdict is. Please, we can't tell you any more than that!"

The crowd stirred restlessly, moving en masse, the momentum of their anxiety too great to stop so easily. Amalia felt the beginnings of panic. Roger was lying, the crowd was certain of it. And if the head of Luna Security was lying about this, could they believe anything Luna's leaders told them? She shook her head hopelessly, knowing that the root of this anxiety ran deeper still. How could they ever trust their leaders again, after John had abandoned them and the Seniors left them to their fate?

"If it's not true how did this rumour get started?" Amalia Eskilsen didn't realise at first that it was her voice that asked the question. It rang above the noise of the crowd, her fear for her children's future giving its tone a penetrating edge.

"It got started because I was trying not to worry people." A woman stepped out of the lift behind Roger and there was a stir in the crowd as they recognised her and the man who followed behind her, stungun in hand. Roger sighed as he nodded a greeting to them. He stared fixedly at the stungun until the male newcomer lowered it with a frown.

"Abby, Jimmy, you shouldn't have come," he said tiredly and without rancour. Abigail Rollinde shook her head sadly, looking around her at the assembled Tomorrow People.

"These people are scared, Roger. They want explanations and they deserve them too." Abby spoke into a stillness that had spread through the crowd. They were hanging on her words as they had hung on Roger's, and Abby knew it. Amalia waited with the rest, hopeful now, eager for any news their seldom seen leaders could give them. Abigail was the guiding light that remained after John and the Seniors had abandoned them. She had led them to triumphs they had never dreamed possible. Nonetheless, Abby took a deep, worried breath before continuing. "The rumours started because our Federation technicians were recalled yesterday." Despair rippled through the crowd as they leapt to an instinctive conclusion. Abby felt that despair and the entire crowd felt her anger and denial. "No, that doesn't mean the decision is made. The Inquiry is in recess - that's all." She looked around at the sea of upturned, uncertain faces. "I can't promise you that their decision will be in our favour - in fact you know as well as I do that it's unlikely, to say the least." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I can't promise you that everything is going to work out or that we'll all live happily ever after. But I refuse to believe that a decision against us will lead inevitably to tragedy either."

"How can it not if we're trapped here in Luna?" A nameless voice shouted the words, speaking for the crowd. "Or trapped down there with the Saps? What will we do?

Abruptly Abby looked up and now there was fire in her eyes and in her tone. "We will fight," she told them firmly. "Whatever happens now, we're going to have to struggle to survive." She paused. "But we don't have to curl up and die because others are trying to decide our fates! We didn't when the Saps tried with the Malthus virus and we're not going to now." Abby sighed again, her adrenaline draining away to leave a backwash of exhaustion. Amalia felt sympathy for the other woman, wondering how many times she had been forced to give this speech, or one like it, to herself as well as to others. Abigail's blue eyes met Amalia's for a second before moving onwards, as if the sincerity in them could convince each individual in the crowd to listen to her words, one by one. "I'm asking you to trust us, to trust me. We're acting, doing what we can to see that life goes on - whatever happens. We're not going to leave you now. We're going to share your future, whatever it is. " She hesitated. "As soon as I am informed of the Inquiry's decision I will inform Luna immediately, I promise you that. But it might be weeks away, or months, despite the Inquiry's recess. For now we have to live with the uncertainty, all of us. And so I'm asking you, please, to disperse."

*****

They drifted away slowly, the rearmost Tomorrow People slipping back into the corridors as if they could deny they had ever contributed to what had very nearly been a mob. Here and there security guards touched the arms of Tomorrow People, suggesting they jaunt clear, and with that official sanction they did so, releasing tension at critical points in the crowd. Amalia kept out of the way, waiting for a clear path to one of the room's exits.

She watched as Roger touched Abigail's arm, conveying his gratitude. Abby leaned on Roger's broad shoulder for a moment as the lift doors opened behind them, weariness plain in her expression. Amalia watched until the lift doors closed between Abby and herself, not needing her empathic abilities to feel for the other woman's situation. Amalia had three children waiting eagerly for her return, utterly dependent, utterly trusting of her decisions. Abby had millions, many of them questioning her every action.

Perhaps Abigail hadn't been able to tell them anything of substance, but she had made them a promise and no one doubted it. They had lived in terror of being blind, carried away on a wave they would never see coming. Of course, that was a possibility still, but they had Abby's word now. If their leader could shout a warning she would. And if, in the end, the wave came after all, they wouldn't be left to face it alone.

With a gentle nod of his head, John dismissed the images from Earth relayed onto the monitor in his quarters. The news had not been good, but nonetheless he had forced himself to watch every news broadcast, read every magazine article and analyse every detail of the media monitor's transmissions. After several days of assimilating the information he knew he'd seen enough. The decision he'd made many years ago, back on Adonisia, had been the right one. Now, more than ever before, he was certain of that.

Of course, to those back on Earth or the Trig, only a fraction of the time frame he'd experienced had in fact passed. To them the Inquiry had taken only a few months, and the build-up of unrest on Earth just a few short years. But John had watched it unfold with much slower eyes. His deliberate and plodding journey to the furthest corners of the galaxy had needed a great deal of precision and discretion. And thankfully that was something Zenon and the other Time Guardians had been happy to equip him for.

Glancing at the now dormant screen, he recalled the images of violence and civil unrest occurring in cities worldwide, and a shiver ran down his spine. Those scenes alone told him how unready the world was to accept the Tomorrow People. Such small-scale skirmishes could so easily escalate into a worldwide battle for extermination - and that was something he was determined to avoid at all costs.

This kind of threat had hung over their heads ever since the days when he and Carol first broke out. And when the current crisis arose it was Carol who'd influenced him most. Her experience on Adonisia was so very different from how it would have been if she'd stayed on Earth. To live amongst a truly psionic people brought both serenity and beauty to her life, and the lives of her children. John knew that this was something his people could not even hope to achieve in the near future. The time wasn't right, the people weren't ready, and both he and the Federation knew it.

As far as John knew, he was the first TP, the oldest TP, and the one who understood his people better than any other human alive. Lacking the ability to kill, other instincts had taken over the TP psyche. The instinct for flight had become much greater than that for fight, and for that very reason his decision had become a crucial one. Whether Gaia, Mother Earth, or whatever you cared to call it, had created them to bring peace to the world was no longer an issue. All he knew for certain was that peace was the furthest thing from the Saps' minds.

With a wry smile he thought of Emina Reganovic. She was the last person he had spoken with before embarking on this epic journey. And as a non-TP, she had given him the most direct and impartial advice he had heard to date. "You must see past the immediate and plan for their future...Let go of the past, John. Let go of the power. Get out of the way. For it is your narrow and predictable methods that are handing over victory to your enemies." The events he'd now set in motion were far from predictable and he found himself wondering whether Abby, Kershia, Stephen or even Elizabeth would ever forgive him. But those concerns didn't matter any more. He'd dealt with the immediate threat to the lives of millions worldwide; the future would have to take care of itself...

Leaning forward, John punched the communicator control. "Bridge," he demanded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell the Captain to increase speed. We have an important appointment to keep and can't afford to be late."

"Yes, Sir. Right away."

*******************************************************************

BBC Breakfast News, Live Broadcast, New York - 27th March 2022

"Yes, Sarah." The BBC's UN correspondent hunched over his microphone, his thick and full-length coat wrapped tightly around him. Behind him, his location was lost in thick darkness, making him seem isolated, as if standing in the featureless emptiness of deep space. "I'm here in front of the United Nations building in New York. As you may be able to see it is still several hours before dawn here, and already crowds are gathering, preparing to protest outside this morning's opening session of the General Assembly. Several large groups of protestors camped outside the General Assembly building overnight, while others appear to have risen early to avoid the busy New York rush hour that begins with first light and continues into mid-morning. The scenes here are without precedent in recent times, most reminiscent perhaps of the anti-globalisation protests of the late nineteen-nineties. The degree of international popular interest in the upcoming meeting is most surprising, perhaps, since the agenda of the General Assembly is still officially classified as 'Open'. Nonetheless, the people I have spoken to here this morning have no doubt about the subject to be discussed.

"Many times now I have heard the same emotions voiced, often vehemently. These people believe that they are here to defend their heritage and their children's heritage from an insidious threat that permeates society."

The female newsreader nodded at the camera as the screen split to show her face side by side with the distant correspondent. She read from her autocue calmly, trying not to let her nerves show, as for the first time BBC News officially recognised a situation that it had spoken of obliquely for so long.

"And are there any Tomorrow People among the protestors, Neil?"

The correspondent blinked, recognising the shift in editorial policy that would escape notice by the majority of their viewers. Professionalism forced his reaction under control and he answered smoothly.

"No one I have spoken to has claimed to be a Tomorrow Person themselves, Sarah, but there is a sizeable minority of protestors here arguing that human rights should be extended equally to the TP population. Indeed, I know that the local security forces are privately expressing concern about what might happen if the two groups should clash."

Sarah nodded, smiling gravely at the camera and dismissing the correspondent with a few words.

"Thank you, Neil. I'm sure we will be returning to you for further details when the Assembly meeting begins. And now, in home news, ..."

********************************************************************

Somewhere on the distant edge of the solar system:

The Captain leaned back in his chair, staring up at the bridge's viewscreen. He barely saw the wonders of this solar system any longer. The beauty of the perpetual ice storm that surrounded and concealed his vessel was lost on him now, familiarity with it breeding if not contempt then at least indifference. They'd been here three long months, watching the nine planets of this solar system trace out their never changing orbits. This hadn't been what the Captain signed up to the Federation spacefleet for. He had still been a hatchling when the dream of flying between the stars had snared him. He had thought there would be glamour and excitement, the thrill of exploration and discovery. He hadn't dreamed that he would end up stuck in a little system in the middle of nowhere, watching the gleam fade from his crimson scales, feeling his bulk grow steadily greater and harder to drag around, even in the low gravity of Federation ships' standard.

"All shipssss," his voice hissed loudly on the hushed bridge, "report!"

There was a flurry of activity, his bored crew jumping at any chance for activity.

"All shipsss report statuss optimal, Sssir," the commander called from the science station. His scales rustled quietly as he bent over his console, reading from the screen as the reports of the rest of the crew were channelled to him. "Marker bouysss are on sstation and functional. No teleportation activity sssince the withdrawal of the technical team sssome weeks ago."

There was a note of frustration in the commander's voice that mirrored the Captain's own. The younger being's enthusiasm for their task had waned noticeably since their arrival and efficient deployment.

"Patiencce," the Captain counselled, forcing himself to ignore his own boredom for the sake of his crew. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, preening his crimson head scales. "We have not much longer to wait."

"And then we can leave." The commander closed his eyes momentarily, his breath escaping in a hissing sigh. His dark red eyes turned consideringly towards the distant point of light that was the planet Earth, and he hesitated. "Do you think they'll try to essscape?"

The Captain gave a sibilant laugh. It was a little late for the commander to be having a crisis of conscience now. The Captain had come to terms with his duty long before, even as he recognised the inherent hypocrisy in his own desire to leave this solar system far behind him.

"Wouldn't you?" he asked. "Don't worry, Commander. We're ready for anything these 'Tomorrow People' are capable of attempting. Our dutiesss here will sssoon be over."

*****************************************************************

United Nations Headquarters, 760 United Nations Plaza, New York.
28th March 2022
9.30 a.m. Local Time: 2.30 p.m. Luna Time (GMT)

The Emergency Debate of the United Nations General Assembly was declared open, the Secretary General stepped out before the cameras and assembled politicians, and people all over the world held their breath in anticipation as he began to speak...

*****

"This emergency debate of the seventy-sixth session of the General Assembly takes place at a time of enormous upheaval for all member states. The participation of a significant number of heads of government in the debate ahead sends a strong message of support for the United Nations, and reaffirms to the people of the world that their leaders are at the forefront of international efforts to address the broad range of issues of importance to them. As President of this seventy-sixth session, the presence of world leaders here is encouraging to me.

"Recent unfolding, and often tragic, events worldwide pose a serious challenge for the people of the Earth. As a body actively involved in the promotion of economic and social advancement, and the preservation of tolerance, peace and international security, the disturbing outbreaks of violence in many countries pose a particular challenge for the United Nations, and the General Assembly itself.

"Lately, all nations of the world have engaged in a process of self-searching and re-examination on the nature of what it means to be human, looking, for example, at the latest scientific research into evidence for speciation and recent genetic divergence. It has not gone unnoticed by the UN that issues surrounding the emergence of a new species of man have been the flashpoint upon which much of the world's unrest has hinged in recent months. With the safety and security of all United Nations member states having our highest priority, it is with renewed urgency that we have reconvened the General Assembly to debate this very issue.

"We, the Member States of this General Assembly, are partners, and must work together to ensure that the issues are examined thoroughly and impartially, allowing us to implement such initiatives as the General Assembly feels necessary, to bring back order to the world. In doing so, I believe it to be in our best interests to be consistent in how we implement the Charter, ensuring that international law is adhered to at all times. If we maintain this throughout the debate, we demonstrate by our actions that this Assembly has not only the capacity, but also the political will, to constructively address and resolve the complex problems of our world. As a policy-making body, we must give the direction necessary to ensure coherence in the system, so that the Organization may respond in a holistic manner to the many challenges it, and the world as a whole, faces.

"I will be looking to heads of government and other high-level participants in this general debate for their advice on how best we may arrive at suitable and peaceful solutions to these challenges. As President of this body I therefore call upon all member states to prepare for the debate of a controversial draft resolution: that the group known as 'The Tomorrow People', and acknowledged as being of the genus Homo novus, be recognised officially and that they be allowed to represent themselves here at this Assembly, afforded all the rights and protections of any other member state present."

***********

It was more than Abby and Kershia could have hoped for... it was more than any Tomorrow Person could have dreamed of a year before... and it was happening here, now, right in front of them on TIM's monitor.

There was no time for comment, no need for an exchange of opinion; this was the moment they had waited for their entire lives. With one quick glance to coordinate their jaunt, and the instigation of heavy shielding to prevent anyone else in the room guessing their intention, they vanished into thin air.

With a gasp of surprise, Jimmy was left staring at empty space in the seat beside him, where Abby had sat only a fraction of a second before.

In the next instant, his attention was gripped by Stephanie's outburst.

"Oh, my God! Look at the screen!"

All those in the room turned back to the image of the General Assembly to see Abby and Kershia standing beside the President on the platform.

End of Kinetic Energy

Part 0 and Prologue

Kinetic Energy

Metastable Equilibrium

Paradigm Shift

Epilogue

Return to Index