The blank hemisphere cleared. Once again Jeffrey saw the blue-white shape of a planet from space, but this time it was not Visager. A shimmering appeared, and spots blinked into existence in the darkness above the planet, tiny until the perspective snapped closer. That showed huge metal shapes-spaceships, he supposed-with the sunburst of the Land on their flanks. Doors opened in their sides, and smaller shapes fell towards the cloud-streaked blue world, shapes with wings and a sleek shark-shape to them. The viewpoint followed them down in a dizzying plunge, through atmosphere and cherry heat, down to the ground. They landed amid flames and rubble, burning vegetation, and shattered buildings. Ramps slid down, and gun-tubs in the assault transports fired bolts that cut paths of thunderous vacuum through the air to clear the perimeter of the landing zone. War machines slid down the ramps on cushions of air, their massive armor bristling with weapons and sensors.

A head appeared in the turret of one of the war machines as it slid to earth and nosed up, dirt howling from around its skirts. The man's helmet visor was flipped up, and his grin was like something out of the deep oceans.

"Let's do it, people," he said. "Let's go." probability of successful redesign of chosen culture is 12%, ±6, Center said.

"We could put them on top; we could even get them out to the stars," Raj said. "But they'd still attack any-tiling that moved-it's their basic imperative."

"Yeah, I can see that," Jeffrey said, linking and cracking bis fingers-then looking down suddenly, conscious that his real hands weren't moving at all, somewhere he couldn't see. Raj nodded wryly. And for him, it's like this att the time. It felt real, but…