Now Oscar remembered. 'That's right. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", yeah? He took care to reduce his gaiamotes reception level. Cheriton had produced a very strong emission. It made Oscar wonder if the gaiafield could actually be used in a harmful way.

'Yes.

The last member of the team was Beckia McKratz, whose gaiafield give-away made it very clear she'd like to bed him. An equal to Anja in the beauty stakes, and minus all the neurotic hang-ups. Oscar wasn't interested. Not even that first morning when he stumbled out of his tiny sleep cabin to find all four of them in the main lounge stripped to the waist and performing some strenuous ni-tng exercise. They moved in perfect synchronization, arms and legs rising gracefully to stick out in odd directions, limbs flexing. Eyes closed, breathing deeply. From their gaiafield emanations, their minds seemed to be hibernating.

Aliens teleported into human bodies, and carefully examining what they could do.

It was all very different to Oscar's wake-up routine, which normally involved a lot of coffee and accessing the most trashy Unisphere gossip shows he could find. And that was the whole non-attraction problem. All this devotion to perfection and strength didn't seem to leave them much time to actually be human. It was a big turn-off.

So he crept round the edge of the lounge to the culinary unit, snagged a large cup of coffee and a plate of buttered croissants, and sat quietly in a corner munching away as he watched the strange slow-motion ballet.

They came to rest position, and took one last breath in unison before opening their eyes and smiling.

'Good morning, Oscar, Tomansio said.

Oscar slurped some more coffee down. That morning routine also included no conversation until his third cup. The culinary unit was suddenly busy churning out plates with large portions of bacon and eggs, with toast.

'Something wrong? Liatris asked.

Oscar realized he was staring at the man eat. 'Sorry. I assumed you'd all be vegetarians.

They all exchanged an amused glance. 'Why?

'When we were flying the Carbon Goose across Half Way I remember the Cat kicking up a big fuss about the on board food. She refused to eat anything produced and processed on a Big 15 planet. His companions' amusement evaporated. To Oscar it was as though he'd been transformed into some kind of guru, steeped in wisdom.

'You did talk to her, then? Beckia asked.

'Not much. It was almost as if she was bored with us. And I still don't get why you idolize her the way you do.

'We're realistic about her, Cheriton said. 'But she accomplished so much.

'She killed a lot of people.

'As did you, Oscar, Tomansio chided.

'Not deliberately. Not for enjoyment.

'The whole Starflyer War happened because humanity was weak. Our strength had been sapped away by centuries of liberalism. Not any more. The External Worlds have the self-belief to strike out for themselves against the Central Worlds. That's thanks to Far Away's leadership by example. And the Knights Guardian are the political force behind Far Away. Politicians don't ignore strength any more. It is celebrated on hundreds of worlds in a myriad of forms.

That was the trouble with history, Oscar thought. Once the distance has grown long enough any event can be seen favourably. The true horror fades with time, and ignorance replaces it. 'I lived through those times. The Commonwealth was strong enough to prevail. Without the strength we showed then, you wouldn't be alive today to complain about us and debate what might have been.

'We don't want to offend, Oscar.

Oscar downed the last of his coffee, and told the culinary unit to produce another. 'So sensibilities aren't a weakness, then?

Liatris laughed. 'No. Respect and civility are highpoints of civilization. As much as personal independence and kindness. Strength comes in many guises. Including laying down your life to give the human race its chance to survive. If the Knights Guardians have one regret, it is that your name is not as famous and revered as the others from your era.

'Holy crap, Oscar muttered and collected his coffee. He knew his face was red. My era! All right, he said as he sank back on to the chair which the lounge extruded for him. 'I can see we're going to have fun times debating history and politics for the rest of the mission. In the meantime, we do have a very clear objective. My plan is quite a simple one, and I'd like some input from you as we shake it down into something workable. You guys are the experts in this field, and this era. So, for what it's worth: there are several ANA Factions extremely keen to find this poor old Second Dreamer, not to mention Living Dream, which has a very clear cut agenda for him. Between them they have colossal resources which we can't hope to equal, so what I propose is to jump on their bandwagon, and let them do the hard work. We should position ourselves to snatch him as soon as they locate him.

'I like it, Tomansio said. 'The simpler it is, the better.

'Which just leaves us with mere details, Oscar said. 'Everyone seems to think the Second Dreamer is on Viotia. We'll be there in another seven hours.

'Impressive flight time, Cheriton said dryly. 'I've never been in an ultradrive ship before.

Oscar ignored the jibe. Tomansio had never asked who was employing Oscar, but the ship was a huge give-away. 'Tomansio, how do we go about infiltrating the Living Dream operation there?

'Direct insertion. We'll hack their smartcore's personnel files and assign Cheriton into the search operation. He's savvy enough to pass as a Dream Master, right?

'No problem, Cheriton said. He sighed. 'Reprofiling for me, then. He ran a hand along one of his skull ridges.

'I'll make you look almost human, Beckia assured him.

Cheriton blew her a kiss. 'Living Dream have been altering confluence nests all across the General Commonwealth to try and get a fix on his location, he said. 'It must be costing them a fortune, which is a good indicator of how desperate they are. It's not a terribly accurate method, but once they narrow it down to a single nest, they'll know the district at least.

'How does that help? Beckia asked. 'A nest's gaiafield can cover a big area. If it's in a city it can include millions.

'If it were me, I'd surround the area with specialist nests and Dream Masters, and try and triangulate the dream's origin.

'So we can be in the general area just like them, Oscar said. 'Then it's all down to speed.

'The Factions will be running similar snatch operations, Tomansio said. 'We'll be up against their agents as well as Living Dream.

Oscar picked up on how enthused the Knights Guardians were by that prospect. 'The Faction agents will have biononics weapon enrichments, won't they?

'I hope so, Tomansio said.

'You can match that? Oscar asked nervously.

'Only one way to find out.

It was a gentle valley carpeted by long dark grass which rippled in giant waves as the breeze from the mountains gusted down. There was a house nestled in a shallow dip in the ground; a lovely old place whose walls were all crumbling stone quarried out of the nearby hills. An overhanging thatch roof gave it a delightful unity with nature. Its interior was a technology completely at odds with its outward appearance, with replicators providing him with any physical requirement. T-sphere interstices provided his family with an interesting internal topology, and any extra space they might want.

He stood facing it, holding his bamboo staff vertically in front of him. Torso bare to the air; legs clad in simple black cotton dirukku pants. Shutting down biononic field functions, attuning his perception to sight, sound, and sensation alone. Feeling his surroundings. Nesting cobra: the foundation of self. He moved into sharp eagle. Then twisted fast, assuming jumping cheetah. A breath. Opponent moving behind. Bring the bamboo down and sweep, the tiger's claw. Spin jump as a coiled dragon. One arm bent into spartan shield. Lunge: striking angel. Drop the staff and pull both curving daggers from their sheathes. Bend at the knees into woken phoenix.