The stone bridge over the chasm was little more than an elevated road. It had no walls to separate those who walked it from the formidable drop. It was also the first of the ancient constructions we would see, or so we were told. No one was allowed to dither, or inspect the ancient frescoes carved into the stones making up its length. I made a show of hanging on, refusing to let go until the security officer had moved well away from the brink. I wouldn’t have blamed him for accidentally dropping me in. Hipolito was much more than a royal pain.

  “Right,” he’d said, depositing me next to the guide. “You can go first. Stay beside Gerhard and do what he says.”

  “Thank you so much,” I replied and dug in the pockets of my over-styled explorer’s outfit for my wallet.

  He very firmly closed his hand over my own.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said, and walked away before I could protest.

  The rest of the group had watched in quiet fascination, some suppressing smiles, and others not bothering to hide their feelings of superiority. They hadn’t needed to be carried across the chasm. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue.

  Hippy wouldn’t have noticed. He was too wrapped up in himself. Actually, he was currently too wrapped up in an exclusive rehab clinic run by Odyssey, bemoaning his lost opportunity, but no-one cared. He wouldn’t have made it to the hotel alive, if Odyssey hadn’t picked him up. The angry hounds of one too many outstanding gambling debts were about to catch up.

  Beyond the chasm, jovan pines spread their branches in a low interlocking barricade that forced us onto the path. I wondered if they made the ground beneath them as inhospitable to other species as the pine trees of Earth, and then I wondered what else the silvery-blue foliage might conceal.

  I caught glimpses of bronze-colored lichens on jovan bark, and clumps of what might be lichen-coated rocks protruding through the striated foliage of a creeper, but nothing more.

  “Come along, Mr. Clay. We have a lot to see at the dig site. Let’s not dawdle.”

  I realized I had let Gerhard the Guide get several meters ahead of me, and that other members of the expedition were making noises signaling their impatience at the hold-up I was causing. The path might be stone underfoot, but it was narrow enough that only a single person could pass. I was slowing everybody down, and they weren’t happy.

  By the time we got to the dig site, I think my fellow-tourists were almost as ready to strangle Hipolito Clay as I was, and I had achieved the aim of being ostracized from the group. That was essential to being able to sneak off to investigate. I had also managed to identify Emilia; she was the security team member who seemed to find something vaguely amusing, even if the rest of us couldn’t.

  Our bags had arrived before us, as promised, and I set about fussing around my shared cabin and setting everything out on every spare surface I could find. My cabin mate looked vaguely annoyed at me, and hastily unpacked to claim what space he could, before hurrying to leave. He hesitated at the door.

  “If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss lunch,” he said, his voice grudging, and inwardly I cursed myself for finding someone who still had a shred of decency. Outwardly, I nodded and waved at him, holding up another explorer’s jacket as though inspecting the cut of its blood-red material.

  “Just working out what to wear,” I drawled, turning it around. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  I tossed the jacket so that it landed at his feet, and reached into my suitcase to pull out a deep blue one. The man at the door gave the kind of sigh that said he’d tried, and stepped out of the cabin.

  “Suit yourself,” and he was gone, pulling the door closed after him.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I gave him five minutes, and then waited. The knock that came two minutes later gave me just enough time to dump the remaining contents of my suitcase onto the cabin floor.

  “I’m sorry,” I exclaimed, dropping onto the edge of the bed, when Gerhard pushed open the door. I gestured helplessly at the mess. “I’m just so tired. I keep dropping things.”

  His expression of impatience turned to one of forced understanding.

  “We were going to meet the archaeologists this afternoon,” he said, “but if you want to rest, you can always meet them at dinner.”

  “I won’t miss The Ballroom, will I?” I asked, and it wasn’t hard to inject the right amount of anxiety into my voice. The Ballroom was the place I most needed to see, especially as it was lauded as the highlight of the tour, and there was very little detail of what else people saw after that.

  I knew it had to be the key because every single one of the tourist blogs I had been able to find had mentioned how much they had been looking forward to seeing it, every single one had promised to post pictures, and every single one had failed to keep the promise. Not only that, but of all the blogs I’d read, in less than six months none of them could be found as more than excerpts on the Jehornak Ruins site.

  The site also recorded testimonials citing life changes: The Ruins wet my appetite for adventure; I couldn’t wait to book passage to Cathach and explore; ‘They changed my life. I was content with armchair travel no longer;’ and so forth. My sister’s blog had ended with a blurred picture of bronze-colored fur, and a long, black-tipped tail.

  A cat! she’d written. And it’s not in the brochure. The guide says they come out when the moon reflects light from Onalura. He promised we might see them at The Ballroom when the rocks fluoresce. And photos are welcome. There are prizes for the best ones taken. I’ll let you know how I go.

  She never did. Nor did she post any pictures on her blog, afterward. While that alone would have worried me, what made me fear the worst was the way she didn’t update her blog with news of her plans to travel, followed by the way the blog quietly vanished from the net with no explanation—and then Odyssey had lost an operative.

  He had infiltrated Jehornak Incorporated’s staff at the request of the Wildkat security firm. It had just had its contract extended, but the terms were concerning, and they suspected something was up.

  The operative’s body was found in a sleeper pod loaded onto a luxury liner destined for one of the colonies. The only reason anyone thought to look aboard it, was because I’d been scanning the flight paths of any ship that went anywhere near Jehornak, and it had stopped to resupply during the window in which Koolen’s folk had reported a missing man. Don’t ask me what he was doing with my sister’s photograph in his underwear. I haven’t worked it out yet.

  “You won’t miss The Ballroom,” Gerhard said, his voice breaking into memory. “Onalura doesn’t come into alignment until tomorrow.”

  I remembered Hipolito’s phobias.

  “And there won’t be…uh… We won’t need to…”

  Gerhard proved to be as attentive of his customers as Miss Delight.

  “No, Mr. Clay, there won’t be any bridges or heights. We can reach the ballroom by following a series of tunnels and corridors like valleys. You’ll be fine.”

  I pretended relief, and sagged with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Thank you, Gerhard. In that case, I think I will rest, if you don’t mind. What time should I set my alarm for?”

  “We’ll send someone to wake you,” he replied, and I thought I detected an expression of relief beneath the layer of professional interest he’d plastered across his features. “Would you like lunch sent over?”

  I waved a hand, and then stopped as though changing my mind.

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” I said, belatedly admitting, “I am a little peckish.”

  “Someone will be here shortly. If you’re all right, I need to get back to the others.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you for coming to check on me.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he said, and quietly left.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the clothes scattered all about the floor. I was still staring at them despondently when lunch arrived.

  “Room service,” called a woman’s voice, and then Emilia stepped into the cabin.

  The first thing she did was lock the door, and activate a scrambler.

  “We are out of time.”

  “We are?”

  “Yeah. Gerhard didn’t buy your act, or his boss didn’t. Either way, he was saying you weren’t feeling well and how you might not make it to dinner.”

  “But, I said…”

  “I know what you said.” It was her way of reminding me of the equipment in our skulls. “I always know what you say.”

  “Onalura is the key.”

  “You’ve said that before, several times in fact, but none of us can see how that’s possible.”

  “I don’t see it, either, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Nothing happens until Onalura aligns with the moon.”

  “Onalura is just a satellite.”

  “It’s crystalline,” I reiterated. “It’s unique in all the worlds we know.”

  “So?”

  “Well, so are the ruins and the fluorescing reported in The Ballroom. We are dealing with an unknown civilization and, I believe, unknown technology. Who knows what happens when moonlight refracts through a crystalline orbital. I think it’s the key.”