When they removed the bag from his head and Monk could see again, he found himself staring into a gun barrel. The face behind it belonged to a man whose easy familiarity with the weapon suggested he had killed before, and would not hesitate to kill again, if Monk did or said the slightest thing wrong.

The room was long and narrow, with curved walls unadorned by any window except at the end, where the view was of a grim lunar landscape of grey rock and black sky. The Sun's unrelenting glare cast pitch-black shadows over the flat, crater-pocked plain. Above the horizon hung the disc of the Earth.

The man with the gun moved aside and Monk could now see two other people. One was a tall, lanky man with a shock of black hair that rose in a tangled mop above his head. He was sitting behind a desk, with both feet planted on it, one crossed over the other. Beside him, sitting just as casually, one arm flung over the back of her chair, was a short blonde woman dressed in military fatigues. She glared at Monk with an unmistakable mixture of hatred and disgust. But since he was a Helot he was used to that from people.

'Out,' said the man, and the guard with the gun stepped away and left by the only visible door.

'The guard will remain outside,' continued the man. 'If you leave without permission he will kill you.'

'I understand.'

So this was Stefan Rix. Of course that wasn't his real name. He was obviously from the Moon: that gaunt frame, that superior height, would be remarkable on Earth, but here it was merely unusual. As for the woman, she wasn't a lunar native. Although he could not be certain, he suspected she was Nancy Jong—again not a real name—and Monk knew why Rix felt confident enough to dispense with the armed guard. Nancy Jong's reputation had earned her arrest warrants on most planets and moons in the solar system.

Rix touched a contact on the desk and a file opened on the holovision screen in front of him. He scanned the document for a minute, but no doubt he'd already read it many times. Theatrics were apparently not lost on him. He looked up at Monk and smiled. Monk wished he hadn't.

'I will continue to call you Monk, since that nickname appears in all the records associated with you. Your training will prove most useful. The Elite regard you as an intelligent person and your academic results are most satisfactory.'

'Thank you.'

Monk was the only Helot to have a university degree of any kind, especially such a valuable one as Void ship engineering. Even though as a slave he'd never actually been to a real university—that would be too much to expect—his qualifications were just as valid.

'We can proceed with the rest of the plan.'

'With all my heart.' He made the sign of the Broken Circle over his chest.

The two Sapes behind the desk glanced at each other. Nancy Jong's scowl deepened, if that were possible. Rix remained with that cruel smile on his face but his eyebrows rose up to hide themselves under the thatch of unruly hair for a moment.

'It would be better, perhaps,' Rix said, 'if you keep any personal attachment out of consideration.'

'Personal attachment?'

As soon as he'd said the words, Monk knew what the Sape meant, and regretted having said them so as to appear foolish. The Broken Circle betrayed his training among the Shamah, the terrorist cell on Earth where he'd been trained in insurgency. These people would know little about the cell, but apparently could recognise the doctrines and liturgies that were part of its tenets.

'I assure you, I no longer have any personal attachment to the Shamah or its leader,' he added quickly. 'It was...mere habit.'

'There's more to this than you realise, Monk. I trust you. The other Sapes I work with do too.' He nodded at the woman, who didn't move or take her eyes of Monk. 'But no Sape you meet when you reach the Shepherd Moon will trust you. To them you'll be just another slave. Be watchful. Be careful. Open your eyes and your ears.'

'I understand.'

'And of course, if it becomes necessary to kill other Helots, you must not hesitate.'

Rix looked straight at Monk when he said those words, and even the blonde woman leaned forward in her chair as if to gauge his response. Monk held his face neutral through habit but his stomach tightened at the thought. Rix was right, of course. Helots had to die all the time, why not in a war of liberation, too? But casualties in a war were different to victims of murder.

'Are you anticipating some of the Helots on board will not be with us?'

'It's possible,' said Rix. 'But unlikely. No, I meant if Helots were to die as a result of the plan that must not be allowed to distract you.'

It was a Helot's lot to labour and eventually to die. And freedom always came at a price. Monk had been raised to this idea. It was a natural one, if unfortunate.

'I understand.'

The woman seemed amused, if the sigh she uttered meant anything.

'Good,' said Rix. 'Now, everything is ready. From here you go to Mars. From Mars you'll be re-assigned and take your place where you'll serve me.'

The reach of this man must be great. It was known he had contacts among the Helot insurgents, that indeed he'd been raised by Helots, if the legends were true, and worked in league with them. He must be a cautious and clever man to have avoided arrest for so long. If it were possible to admire a Sape, Monk had to concede some admiration for Stefan Rix.

'Are you concerned about working with Sapes?'

Nancy's voice was as sharp as her eyes. Rix didn't show any reaction to her sudden speech, although it caused Monk to glare at her in surprise.

'Of course not,' he said. 'It's my destiny to work for—'

'No!' she roared. 'Don't mouth the automatic responses ingrained into your DNA!' The woman almost spat the words. 'Of course it's your destiny to work for Sapes. But I didn't say for. I said with. Are you prepared to work with Sapes?'

'Yes.'

'You must set aside any prejudices you have,' said Rix in the same emotionless voice he had used so far. 'The Shepherd Moon is a more egalitarian place than you've experienced to date. Things are different in space, away from the direct control of the Elite. You belong to no one but yourself.'

Rix stood up and walked around the desk. His remarkable height emphasised Monk's short Helot stature. The man's hair brushed the ceiling of the room. He gestured to Monk, who stepped around the desk to join him at the window, where they stood looking out together. The woman remained seated, but Monk fancied her gaze still rested on him.

Outside the grey dust plain stretched to the horizon. Nothing moved. It was now mid-morning on the Moon, but it would be another ten days before night fell again. Having lived all his life on Earth, Monk found his body clock still out of alignment.

'Do you see that?' Rix asked.

'What?'

'The Earth.'

Yes, of course. It hung there above the plain, a blue-green disc.

'The Moon is my home,' said Rix. 'I've never been to Earth. And even if I did wish to go there, the gravity would destroy me. But the Earth is no longer the centre of the galaxy.'

Monk could have disputed that, but chose not to.

'There are colonies on two dozen worlds,' continued Rix. 'Not including the inhabited planets and moons here in the solar system. A precious few on Earth believe they hold the power of government, but they don't. Not really. Monk, do you know where the power actually resides?'

He'd been warned about this, told that such a question was likely. The appropriate answer came easily enough.

'In Zeus.'

The mainframe of the galaxy, the supercomputer network that hummed away, organising and arranging and suggesting and storing information. It was the tool of the Elite, but also their master.

Rix turned and walked back to the desk. 'We must change that.'

Monk's ordered mind wondered if the man would continue with much more of this. He never suspected the most ruthless Sape on the Moon could also be tedious.

'I don't need convincing of the rightness of our plan,' said Monk.

The woman's laugh made both men turn. She stood up and stormed towards Monk as if ready to hit him. He didn't flinch.

'Your  plan?'

'Calm down,' said Rix. 'Monk is right. He is a part of this plan, and without him there would be no success.'

The woman swore, but said nothing else. Monk relaxed after she retreated.

'Our confederate feels, like you, a certain...ownership...of our plans,' confessed Rix. 'We must respect her part in this venture.'

Monk nodded; he knew the wisdom of being told just as much as he needed to know.

'You leave tonight,' continued Rix. 'Everything is arranged. You know what to do.'

'The other Helots on the ship,' Monk said. 'They have been told of my arrival?'

'Yes, but they may not understand how special you are. You must be cautious in your dealings until the time is right.'

'I understand.'

The audience was over. Rix pressed a contact on his desk and the guard entered, unslung the carbine from over his shoulder, and once again pointed it at Monk, who again submitted to the bag being put back over his head. He would be led out of the building, into a car and taken to another part of the city before the cloth was removed, so as not to know the precise location of the room.

The bag smelled of sweat.

***

After Monk had gone, there was silence for some time. Rix stayed at the window, staring out. Nancy touched a contact on the desk AI and issued a command. A man's face appeared on the holovision, an old man with white hair, a lined face that showed he was a traditional type of person, since such rudimentary problems as facial lines could be easily cured. His mouth was turned down at the corners and his ears protruded from either side of his narrow head.

'The Nuncio Xu Chan,' said Nancy.

Rix didn't turn to look. 'Have you ever met him?'

'No. What the hell's a Nuncio?'

As always, Rix was fascinated by the play of sunlight over the lunar rocks. Without an atmosphere, the shadows were razor-sharp and utterly black. 'You never learned much about politics? A Nuncio is some kind of government representative.'

'I never learned much about anything.'

Rix moved to the desk and stared at the face on the holo.

'He's someone we don't need anymore,' he said.

Nancy looked again at Nuncio Xu Chan's face. It was hard to believe this pathetic old man with an unsmiling mouth and droopy eyes could be that dangerous. But he was some big official in the Syndicate, and Rix wanted him dead, and as long as he paid the right fee Nancy didn't care. But killing him would not be a light task, nor would Eridu be an easy place to kill him. She hoped Rix knew what he was doing.

In the end of course it didn't really matter. She enjoyed a challenge.

__________________________________________________________________________

Although it alludes to events in the previous Maddy Hawthorn book, "Days of Iron", this is a separate story and is designed to be read and understood independently.

I will be posting twice-weekly instalments. If you like what you read, please vote. I'm happy to answer any questions, as long as it's not giving the story away!  --  Russell Proctor