“Baby”, Holak told Sarah. “You are some fuck.”

Sarah glared at him. He confused her, because he looked like Gunther, who had
just made love to her so consummately well whilst she was sharing the body of
1930s nightclub singer Lucy Bennett, but the serious demeanour had gone. Holak
seemed altogether frivolous. And frivolous seemed entirely the wrong state of
mind at present.

The fact that he was naked didn’t help either.

“What the hell is going on?”, she demanded. “Who the hell sent that note?”

The note in question had been delivered into her hands, as Lucy, by Lucy’s
landlord. It had arrived in an envelope just moments before she and Holak had
been wrenched out of the timestream. And whilst the envelope had been addressed
to Lucy, the note inside had made reference to Sarah, and to Loranna, the
individual who Sarah understood to be her alternate, and alien persona.

“Arturo sent it”, Holak replied lightly. “Who else?”

“I’m aware that it was Arturo’s handwriting”, Sarah answered impatiently. “But
Arturo wouldn’t know Loranna. He wouldn’t know me. And he certainly wouldn’t know
that I was part of Lucy.”

“But Arturo may not have acted alone, perhaps”, Holak teased. “Arturo, like Lucy,
might have been carrying a visitor. Isn’t that possible?”

“Who?”, Sarah pressed. “One of us?”

Melira interrupted. “Hardly, Loranna. Where would be the gain? But someone from
our world? One of the Restorers? Yes, quite possibly.”

The restorers.....?

Of course. The restorers. Sarah remembered. Just a little. But enough to terrify
her.

“They believed that Kotee had already damaged time”, she recalled. “And they
thought that... that by killing him in a time before he was born, they could
ensure that he never came into existence.”

“A ridiculous notion, as you know”, Melira confirmed, “because it ignores the
proven Law of Paradox. But yes. That is what they believe. They are fanatics.
Think back, Loranna. It was the Restorers who destroyed our ship.”

Sarah struggled with the concept. The concept of destruction. Because it had been
so very long ago....

She had been Loranna then. Only Loranna.

Kotee....

Yes, Kotee...

Kotee had been fascinated with earth from the moment he saw it. And so, if truth
be known, had Loranna. The planet was so like Revisia in climate, and its people,
at such an early stage of development, were a blank slate. What would they
become? Would they be explorers? Would they be wise? Or would they destroy
themselves? Clearly they had the brain capacity to do the first or second, but
they also had a reckless, violent streak which could lead them to the third.

Kotee, of course, had the tools to answer the question immediately, and by
general agreement the machine was put into operation. The Revisians explored the
life of earth and its people in detail, sometimes doing so individually,
sometimes in groups, many Revisians discovering favourite times and places and
people, lingering as invisible observers and recorders.

On this first occasion, the available timespan was deliberately limited to ten
thousand years, all of it allocated to the past. Travel into the future was still
a more complex process, and the crew wished to indulge curiosity without the risk
of a power overload. For her part, Loranna had discovered a particular interest
in twentieth century England, because at that point the people were clearly on
the verge of a major cultural leap, a leap which would either take them forward
or into the abyss.

On regrouping, notes were compared, and the decision was made to access more of
the future of the newly discovered world. Ten lucky individuals would be
selected, and there was much discussion as to who these individuals should be.

Those discussions had not been concluded when the Restorers had attacked.

The assault had been perfectly timed and vicious. The meeting deck had rocked as
the first salvo of wild ion torpedoes penetrated the hull, opening two thirds of
the ship up to the vacuum of space.

Loranna remembered a time when Kotee had thought that the Restorers, led by his
brother Rava, were harmless cranks. But well before the ship had left, it had
become obvious that Kara had influential support. He was already gathering a crew
of his own, was building a private ship, and had stated his intention to hunt
Kotee down and destroy the danger he represented.

Rava and his fellow restorers believed that the actions of Kotee would pollute
the future no matter how far away from the homeworld he travelled, that he would
bring home information which would be acted upon by scientists and explorers.
Loranna believed the truth to be that Rava was jealous of his more brilliant
elder brother, but whatever his motivation, the man was a fanatic.

Kotee had remained unconcerned, confident that Rava had no means of tracking the
group. They would have a substantial start, and Rava would be searching blind.
Eventually, he would give up.

Clearly, Loranna recalled thinking as the ship reverberated under her feet, Rava
had been favoured with extraordinary luck.

Fire, by then, was raging through the ship where the vacuum of space had not
claimed supremacy. She knew that one more volley would finish them.

“Separation five”, she had screamed. “It’s the only way.”

Kotee had shot her a startled glance. Then realisation had dawned. The
realisation that she was right.

And regretfully, he had nodded.

The Revisians had moved immediately into a circle, had joined hands. Urgently,
helping one another if they could, each had hunted within, had sought out his or
her own individual life force.

And had quickly and without hesitation severed the chain which connected that
force to their flesh.

That life force, that essence, that spirit was, of course, saved. Which was the
whole point of the enterprise. But the physical bodies of the crew burned to
ashes in the great crash which followed, the crash which had blinded the man from
earth who stood by the river and watched it happen.

There had been no joy, therefore, in the escape. The Revisians had known that the
possibility of their regaining a physical body which was entirely their own again
was remote. The likelihood was that they would never see their families again.

Separation five was essentially an educational tool, used in Revisian schools to
teach children to hone the psychic ability of transference which was a tool only
available to the planet’s young. In essence, it enabled the under thirties to see
life through another’s eyes. After the age of thirty, the gift was lost.

In schools, the purpose of separation five was to allow children to see life
through older eyes. It was widely recognised as an invaluable teaching technique,
allowing the passive entry of the user into the mind of a willing tutor, a mind
far more developed and wise than their own. Revisians believed that in this way
their children learned responsibility, understanding and increased their
knowledge a hundredfold. And there was no risk, because it was always easy for
those in charge to summon their travelling pupils back.

The belief was that the powers were an evolutionary “leg up”, and that clever
evolution dictated their disappearance at thirty, thus avoiding the possibility
that those near to death might seek to prolong their existence, even passively,
in a younger host. Loranna thought this theory possibly true, but the biological
cut off by no means succeeded in eliminating all of the abuses of transference.
She had once attended an underground club which specialised in offering
transferers vicarious experiences, ranging from illicit sex to the moment of
death. Such experimentation was of course illegal and punishable by the medical
deprivation of the offender’s abilities, but it was widespread nonetheless.

Many Revisians believed that it was impossible to estimate just how many people,
without their knowledge, were carrying more than one life force within them.
Certainly famous people were probably thus afflicted, because an enormous number
of youngsters were found dead in circumstances of starvation, and it didn’t take
a genius to guess that the physical bodies of these unfortunates had encountered
death by neglect.

The use of separation five had been agreed in advance amongst the crew, all of
whom were under thirty, as a last resort. There had been no expectation that the
last resort would ever be visited.

The plan was simple and horrifying. Separation five worked best if aimed at the
subject with whom the transferer had most recently experienced a telepathic
contact, however minimal. And the observation techniques employed by the crew in
their forays into the timestream had required a light form of such contact. It
was theoretically possible that even without the aid of the machine, the
Revisians could take up unconscious existence within the last earth being they
had observed.

The result would be that the life forces of the crew would be dissipated
throughout earth’s history. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Neither, however, was
it intended to be permanent.

Because naturally, there was a recovery plan.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very good one.

Kotee had observed that one of the few reliable constants amongst the races of
the universe which he had studied was the need for copulation. And in the act of
copulation, fluids were always exchanged. Fluid had long been recognised on
Kotee’s world as the most suitable carriers of psychic energy, and it was not a
difficult conversion to ensure that separation five transfers always involved new
coding for the new biological host, establishing that the mixing of fluids from
two occupied entities would enable communication between the occupants.

The master stroke was the creation of the Home.

The Home was an extension of the time device, powered by similar principles and
fuelled by psychic energy. It was placed as a precautionary measure on the
surface of planets prior to exploration, and keyed to operate for seven days
every two hundred years. If, when it operated, Revisian life forces were located
on the planet, all power would be allocated towards enabling the nearest such
life force in time and space to attain temporary awareness and control of its
host.

The gamble was that at such a time, more than one life force would be operative,
and that the sexes of the hosts would differ. So that one could seek out the
other if geography permitted and the mixing of fluids could occur.

If that mixing did occur, then the physical link would release one of the life
forces more fundamentally, enabling the operation of the time travelling
functions of the Home. Hopefully, the operator would then track down psychically
and release the others one by one. Whoever that operator was, he or she would
remain the only one capable of effecting such releases, the only one capable of
entering another, temporary host, but would be able to call on the mental
strength of the others.

As the numbers of the released grew, so therefore would the power of the Home.

Temporary hosts were needed because each release would require a new mixing. The
task of the operator, therefore, was to transfer into an individual likely to
copulate with the host for the subject Revisian. And as the Revisians were
collected, they would naturally gather within the hunter’s host - in this case
Sarah.

It was believed that so many Revisians inside one host might be able to fully
control the host in the host’s own time. Then, if the technology could be
assembled, the home planet could be contacted and help brought in. If they got
that far, Kotee’s idea was that he would build another time machine, and with
that time machine he would travel back to a time before the disaster. To square
the circle, the Revisians would occupy themselves, and prevent the disaster from
ever happening.

The scheme was, of course, ridiculously complex. Any number of things could go
wrong, and much of it was theory. In particular, one glaring problem resulted
from the limited abilities of the Home.

Kotee could not predict how many time transfers the Home would be able to fuel.
Power could not be allocated to survey the lifetime of any host for a verifiable
sexual contact. For that reason, once a host had been discovered, the likelihood
of a copulation had to be theorised from observation. Even travelling ahead just
a little in order to ensure that such a copulation did take place was an unsafe
use of precious energy, energy which had already been reduced because of
previous, abortive attempts to unite the Revisians.

Matters were complicated further by the factors which had to surround a
successful copulation. It had to be the first between the hosts, because the
reaction could only be fuelled by a novel exchange of fluids. And it had to
involve the transmission of semen into the vagina. Anal or oral sex was valueless
in the context of the rescue.

Judgement was therefore vital. Although when entering a new body Loranna was able
to imprint a biological imperative, was able to create an attraction in her host
for her target, all control was lost thereafter, and much depended on the
preliminary evaluation. This unpredictability was the rock upon which all
previous attempts had foundered.

And now it seemed there was an additional problem. By some means, the Restorers
had infiltrated the time stream, and were hell bent on ensuring that the
unification failed.

“How have they done this?” Both Sarah and Loranna asked the question, because
they were now a dual entity. By now, Loranna’s character and many of her memories
were as much to the fore as Sarah’s own.

“Kotee’s technology is available to those with a high enough security clearance”,
Melira said. “Perhaps they brought the equipment needed to interfere with them.
Or more likely, knowing that we escaped when they destroyed our ship, they
returned for it. Either way, be assured. They will do what they can to stop us.”

“But they’ll be limited”, Holak reminded, “just as we are limited. Like us, they
won’t be able to fully control a host. They can only influence, by the messages
they input at the time of joining.”

“Are you sure of that?”, Melira challenged. “Arturo wrote a note. That implies
full control.”

Holak thought about that. “I may be wrong”, he conceded. “If Kotee’s theory that
multiple transfer may allow control of the host is true, then I suppose we may be
facing a conscious enemy. Yes. An enemy who can observe our activity in time. An
enemy who perhaps is observing us even now.”

“And who after any transfer would take over the person must likely to frustrate
our intentions”, Melira presumed.

“Precisely”, Holak agreed.

Sarah was horrified. Because for both parts of her, the consequences of failure
were sickening. As Loranna, she would never see her lover again. As Sarah, she
would return to her boring life as a cheap prostitute.

Voicing one of Loranna’s more positive thoughts, she said, “I doubt they’re
watching us now. Penetrating the Home should be impossible. But they may be aware
of our route.”

“Ah, Loranna”, Holak said cheerily. “Glad to have you fully with us at last.”

“It’s possible”, Sarah pressed on, “that they observed the last attempt at
unification. Tracked it, but couldn’t react quickly enough to intervene. And now,
they are simply presuming that we’ll take the same route again. That we’ll first
free those we know we can free. The way of least resistance, and least power
drain.”

“In which case”, Melira interpreted, “we have to change the route.”

“Logical, but dangerous”, Holak stated. “We do have to consider the energy
difficulty.”

“It’s a tough call”, Sarah conceded. “I wasn’t trained as a strategist. None of
us were.”

Holak’s face lit up, advertising an idea. “But Viara was”, he replied. “And we
know where to find him. If we went for Viara now, we could gain a couple of
things. A change in direction to wrong foot our pursuers. And the best tactical
mind we have any kind of access to.”

It was a brilliant notion. Sarah nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Melira was more cautious. “It won’t be easy. I know we’ve identified a situation
for Viara, but the copulation isn’t a certainty. We’ve tried three times, and
failed twice.”

“Not this time”, Sarah said confidently. “I’ll make sure. I know how important
this is.”

Melira nodded, clearly accepting the commitment from the twentieth century earth
girl as honestly meant. “We have to do it, Holak”, she said. “I don’t see another
choice.”

“Neither do I”, Holak agreed. “Alright then. You go for it, Loranna. And we’ll
support you from here. There are only two of us, but we’ll give you what strength
we can. Remind you subconsciously from time to time, if we can, of your purpose.”

The plan lightened Sarah’s burden a little “If you really want to help, Holak”,
she said, “you can start by imagining yourself some clothing.”

With a shrug, Holak did just that, creating something mainly yellow and wholly
revolting.

The travellers arrived at their new destination swiftly. Sarah was even more
fascinated than she’d been on previous recoveries, because she would see, for the
first time, her planet’s future. Only a little way into it, but the future
nonetheless.

“Toronto, Canada”, Melira announced as the debris of time melted away. “The year
by earth reckoning is 2000. The month is October. And we stand in front of the
Quest Building.”

The Quest Building. Sarah studied it, and murmured surprise.

It was quite the most impressive construction she had ever seen. Fashioned from
concrete and glass, it soared above her, disappearing into the low lying clouds.
Straight sided. Uncompromising. Massive.

It was some time before she could bring herself to look towards the base of the
structure. When she did, she noticed that the entrance was busy, obscured by a
melee of people.

Flash cameras flashed. Cars pulled up at the kerb in sequence, disgorging people
she recognised. Jack Nicholson. Demi Moore. Bill Clinton. There was rather a lot
of handshaking.

“A new skyscraper”, Sarah presumed.

“The biggest in the world”, Holak confirmed. “In celebration of the millennium.
This one doesn’t so much scrape the sky as wave to it on the way past.”

“And obviously it’s the opening ceremony”, Sarah said. “Judging by the rash of
celebrities.”

“Anybody who is anybody”, Holak judged.

“So I must get to be somebody famous, then?”, Sarah suggested, suddenly intrigued
and a little excited.

“Famous in his field, yes”, Melira said. “But not a film star or pop star, I’m
afraid. You get to be the man who built this thing. Dominic Vachon. Who is....
oh, yes. Over there.”

Sarah followed Melira’s indication and noted a man in his late thirties. He was
quite good looking in a hawkish, Dustin Hoffman sort of way, but his
attractiveness was tempered for her by his stature. He was no more than five feet
seven inches tall, she estimated. And that might have been a generous assessment.

“He’s a dwarf”, she commented unkindly.

But a suave dwarf, she realised. He was immaculately groomed, and his dinner suit
was tailored by a genius.

She watched him for a while. He was employed entirely in gladhanding the guests.
Clint Eastwood arrived. Tony Blair. Melanie Griffith. Al Gore. Elton John.

The starstruck phase passed, and she returned to matters at hand. “And Viara?”,
she queried.

“He’ll be along any minute”, Holak said. “These, by the way, are the last of the
official guests.”

She watched Vachon see Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman into one of the three lifts
at the rear of the elaborately decorated central lobby. “The party’s upstairs”,
she presumed.

“The top floor”, Holak confirmed. “Where else? Now watch. Here comes our target.
Dominic’s private guest.”

A woman appeared in the lobby. She was absolutely gorgeous. A black cocktail
dress moulded around a luscious figure. A fountain of flame red hair spilled down
the back of it. Long shapely legs encased in sheer black nylon stockings were
supported by black stiletto heels. Her face was healthy and captivating, pink
cheeked, full lipped. Her wide brown eyes sparkled, supporting her lovely smile.

“She’s six inches taller than him”, Sarah commented.

“Opposites attract”, Holak responded lightly.

The woman walked across to Vachon and kissed him. She had to bend slightly. He
had to stand on tiptoe.

Sarah giggled. “So Viara was watching her before the Separation”, she supposed.
“Well, I can’t say I blame him.”

“You know Viara”, Holak replied. “He always had exquisite taste. And not a great
deal of interest in history.”

Sarah found a memory of Loranna’s which confirmed this, and nodded. “Yes”, she
said. “You’re right. So who is this vision, then?”

“Her name’s Alice Edwards”, Holak advised. “American. Journalist and news
presenter. For the cable networks. Dominic’s been trying to get into her knickers
for the last week. And she’s slightly interested, because she likes the smell of
money, but she’s not stricken. She went on a dinner date with him two nights ago.
He didn’t get any further than a kiss on the way home in the limo.”

“And we want that to change today”, Sarah stated, settling on her task.

“We do”, Holak said. “But we have a problem here. You see, Alice is rather
smitten by Peter Gabriel. The rock star. And Peter Gabriel is upstairs right now.
On the one occasion we won this one, Dominic managed to keep her away from
Gabriel all night, and later, when the guests had gone, she found it in her heart
to let him fuck her on a table in the restaurant. Mainly because she got a kick
out of taking cock while looking out over the city. And from the risk of
discovery. She gets off on things like that.”

“And when we failed?”, Sarah enquired.

“When we failed”, Holak said bleakly, “let’s just suppose that Peter Gabriel
didn’t.”

“Okay”, Sarah said, steeled for the challenge. “I’ve got the picture. Let’s go
for two out of four.”

“Do it, and good luck”, Melira encouraged.

“I know the stakes”, Sarah assured. And then she moved forward, entered Dominic
Vachon with ease.

This time, though, she approached the connection without needing to concentrate
on building the sexual attraction, because there was no need. Dominic was
obsessed enough. Instead, she concentrated on the need to avoid a certain rock
star.

The transition proceeded. For a moment, she was Loranna, and Sarah, and Dominic.

Then, for another moment, she was Loranna and Dominic. And in that moment, the
support of Holak and Melira was a flaming guide, made her believe that against
all logic she might actually maintain a conscious presence.

Then the belief was gone, and Loranna was gone.

She was Dominic. Dominic alone.

And as Dominic, she had led the lovely Alice outside for a moment.

No, he had. Dominic had. He had led her outside....

Never mind. Let it be. It wasn’t important.

Alice was important. His lust for her was important.

She was looking up, studied his handiwork. He followed her gaze, and the height
of his own tower made him feel dizzy.

The thought occured to him that it went beyond the notion of a skyscraper. It
speared the sky, penetrated it. Waved to it on the way past. The thought was an
odd one, and he wondered where it had come from.

“How many floors?”, Alice asked.

He loved that voice, so deep and sexy. “I’ve forgotten”, he lied. “Hundreds.”

“Are there only three lifts inside?”, she queried. “It doesn’t seem enough.”

He turned to study her. The wind was playing in her hair, teasing her dress to
mould more tightly against her body. She was breathtaking. Nobody could have
constructed her. His building couldn’t hope to compare. “There are four lifts in
total”, he said. “And I thought you might like to be the first to ride in the
fourth.”

“Lifts don’t do a lot for me”, she observed dubiously.

“This one might”, he suggested. “It’s over there.”

She followed his pointing finger, and he was pleased to note her surprise when
she saw the exterior lift, his piece de resistance, the lift which ran on three
rails up the front right hand corner of the building.

“You’ll get to see the whole city”, he advertised. “And make a grand entrance.
Impress the big stars. Including Peter Gabriel. What could be better?”

“What about the weather?”, Alice wondered. “Is it safe?”

Dominic understood her concern. Thunder had rumbled twice in the last five
minutes, preceded by sheet lightening. “Absolutely”, he assured her. “Safe, but
atmospheric.”

“Okay then, builder man”, Alice confirmed. “I’m game.”

Dominic led her to the corner of the building, made the lift live with his
electronic key.

The doors fizzed open and the couple entered.

The lift, including the doors, floor and ceiling, was constructed of toughened
glass. There was a row of seats along the back wall. Once the doors closed, the
wind and rain were entirely cut off, and a luxurious warmth spread into Dominic’s
bones. “Here we go”, he said, “ready or not”, and he pressed the keypad again.

The lift started to rise, very slowly. Dominic had limited its speed not for
safety reasons, but so that its passengers could enjoy the view at leisure.

Alice ignored the chairs, remaining at the front to watch the city spread out
before her. Dominic came to stand by her.

The thunderstorm seemed to be increasing in force, and Alice’s posture stiffened
at a particularly impressive flash of lightning. Dominic had been honest when he
had told her that she need have no concerns, because the tower was better
protected against lightning than any building ever constructed. But he understood
her uneasiness. Fear of heights and fear of foul weather were standard human
phobias.

Already, though, she was relaxing. He guessed that she was studying the lights of
the metropolis, the moving headlights of the cars which already seemed smaller
than ants.

“It’s amazing”, she breathed.

“Yes”, he said. “It is.” He risked letting an arm fall around her slender waist.
Thrillingly, she didn’t resist.

“How long is the ride?”, she asked him.

“Bored already?”, he teased. “It didn’t stay amazing for long.”

“I don’t want it to stop”, she said. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He tried to read her, and noted that her eyes seemed moist. Gazing into them, his
cock stirred like a disturbed snake.

The realisation that he should kiss her came fully formed.

And he was about to do exactly that when the lift shuddered to a sudden halt.

To her credit, Alice didn’t panic. She merely observed him quizzically.

“I don’t know”, he said, answering the unspoken question. “It isn’t the storm, so
it must be a mechanical fault. But I find that hard to believe. This equipment’s
been tested and retested. In all conditions.”

The notion at the back of his mind, the notion that he dared not utter, was
sabotage. It seemed impossible, and he could not conceive of any individual or
organisation with motive, but the thought nagged at him. The thought, and a
name....

Restorers....

What the hell...?

“We have a problem, don’t we?”, Alice suggested. “Because nobody knows we’re
here.”

“You don’t have a mobile”, Dominic presumed. surprised. He had expected her to be
equipped with all conceivable rich girl gadgets.

Alice shrugged. “Sorry.”

Dominic nodded glumly. “Never mind. It won’t be long, anyway. After all, they
can’t really inaugurate the building without the guy who built it. And when they
start looking, they’ll see that the lift isn’t at ground level. Ten minutes,
maybe. Half an hour tops.”

Alice returned her gaze to the magnificent view. “I don’t mind”, she said. “They
can take their time for me.”

He looked out with her.

The city, perhaps eight hundred feet beneath them, looked like a model village.
Rain lashed against the glass, but its fury was impotent.