DO NOT DELETE

v1.0 by the N.E.R.D's. Scanned, page numbers removed, paragraphs joined, formatted and a full spell check has been completed.

If you convert this html to another format leave the version number unchanged because you have not improved the text. Leave this section intact.

This scan has been taken from an advance reader copy limited edition uncorrected proof and will be close to, but not necessarily exactly the same as the final retail version.

The starship CNE Caragana slipped down out of a night sky, its grey and scarlet hull illuminated by the pale iridescence of the massive ion storms which beset space for lightyears in every direction. Beneath the deep space vessel, Centurion Station formed a twinkling crescent of light on the dusty rock surface of its never-named planet. Crew and passengers viewed the enclave of habitation with a shared sensation of relief. Even with the hyperdrive powering them along at fifteen light-years an hour, it had taken eighty-three days to reach Centurion Station from the Greater Commonwealth. This was about as far as any human travelled in the mid-thirty-fourth century, certainly on a regular basis.

From his couch in the main lounge, Inigo studied the approaching alien landscape with a detached interest. What he was seeing was exactly as the briefing files projected months ago, a monotonous plain of ancient lava rippled with shallow gullies that led nowhere. The thin argon atmosphere stirred the sand in short lived flurries, chasing wispy swirls from one dune to another. It was the station which claimed his real attention.