Acknowledgments
As always, I am deeply indebted to my beta readers, whose insights and criticisms helped shape this book: Carl Cipra, Jennifer Eastman, David Walddon, David Williams, Zsusy Sanford, and Linda Gilbert. Some of them went above and beyond the call of duty on this one, and I am very grateful.
Thanks to Larry Friedman, Kim Dobson, Carmen C. Clark, and my editor Betsy Wollheim, for their support throughout the writing period. And to Betsy and my agent, Russ Galen, for maintaining faith in me during my unproductive stretch, when I was struggling to have faith in myself.
Thanks to Marylou Capes-Platt for her meticulous editorial work, Adam Auerbach for his beautiful new cover designs for both This Virtual Night and This Alien Shore, and Joshua Starr for his assistance in . . . well, a little bit of everything.
Special thanks to Steve Anderson for his help with high-tech weapons research. Sometimes there is one thing you really really REALLY have to get right, and it helps to have someone who knows the subject and can communicate it so well.
Lastly, thanks to Linda Coleman and Roderick Smith, who met me at one of the lowest, darkest moments of my life, and helped me get back on track. Words do not exist that can ever thank them enough.
WHEREAS the Hausman Drive offered humanity the stars, allowing Earth to colonize planets throughout the galaxy
WHEREAS it exacted a terrible price for that freedom, altering the DNA of all who used it, so that their children no longer appeared human, causing the drive to be abandoned
WHEREAS Earth, fearful of contagion, severed all contact with its mutated descendants, and through that act of cowardice plunged its colonies into the darkness of Isolation
WHEREAS Guera’s discovery of the ainniq offered a new means of crossing vast distances, so that the survivors of Isolation could be rescued, and a Second Age of interstellar civilization begun
AND WHEREAS only Gueran outpilots, by virtue of their particular Hausman mutation, can navigate the ainniq safely, thus granting them a natural monopoly over transport and commerce between the human worlds
WE ACKNOWLEDGE Guera’s unique and daunting responsibility in the arena of human affairs, and therefore establish a central governing organization called the AINNIQ GUILD to facilitate and guide the reunification of humankind. It is tasked with establishing a code of Common Law that will protect all humans equally, regardless of their outward shape, variation, or capacity. It will seek out the lost colonies of Earth and invite them to be part of humanity’s new deep space community. And it will invite the inhabitants of Earth to join their cousins in deep space, while recognizing that ancient angers are slow to fade, and the assimilation of Terrans into our new civilization will be a challenge for all concerned.
Preamble to the Founding Charter of the Ainniq Guild
To control perception is to control reality.
MICAH BELLO
“Deconstructing Reality: A Post-Immersive Perspective” (Journal of Virtual Technology, Vol. 427, No. 5)
HARMONY NODE
HARMONY STATION
THE DRAGONS were out in force tonight.
Ramiro tried to keep to shadows as he moved, but the narrow stone corridor didn’t offer a lot of cover, and the flickering light from torches set high on the walls kept shadows constantly moving. Which meant that the evasive maneuvers they’d used to avoid the Citadel’s reptilian guards aboveground wouldn’t work here. If any dragons crossed their path while they were down in the labyrinth, the two of them were done for.
“Should be coming up soon,” Van whispered nervously. He glanced down at the crumpled parchment map in his hand. “Any minute now.”
You’ve been saying that for an hour, Ramiro thought.
The labyrinth was ancient, a maze of tunnels whose masonry had been degraded by centuries of rainwater seeping from above; the floor was littered with fragments of fallen brick, making walking treacherous. As they picked their way carefully over the rubble, Ramiro was acutely aware of the tons of earth poised overhead, held at bay by nothing more than rotting mortar and a prayer. How does the gaming program do that? he wondered. The virt software that was controlling his sensory input could add anything to the environment that a person could touch, taste, hear, or see, but what physical experience conjured such a sense of claustrophobia? What tangible sensations translated into dread?
God, he thought, I love Dobson games.
“You okay?” Van put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Ramiro could feel his friend’s fingers trembling, though whether from excitement or fear it was hard to say. Intellectually a person might understand that a virt couldn’t hurt anyone—it only provided the illusion of being hurt—but it was possible for a player to get so wrapped up in the story that he forgot such fine details. The resulting adrenaline rush was very real—as was the pain that the virt would feed into their brainware if they were injured in this fantasy realm. And fear of that was totally rational.
“Yeah,” he lied. “Keep going.”
They hadn’t expected so many dragon guards to be on duty. True, any they ran into down here would likely be in human form—a necessary adaptation within the labyrinth—but that didn’t make the creatures any less dangerous. Dragons could breathe fire even when they were transformed, and a fireball in these narrow tunnels was on the list of things Ramiro would like not to run into. But the fact that so many dragons were present confirmed that this place was important, right? That was a good thing.
Suddenly Van grabbed Ramiro’s arm, jerking him to a halt. “Incoming,” he whispered. Ramiro knew enough to trust his friend’s instincts—Van had an almost supernatural ability to anticipate in-game threats—so he looked around for cover. But there was nothing. The tunnel was too narrow, its walls too smooth. If a dragon guard showed up now they were dead.
Then: “There!” Van cried, pointing ahead. Squinting, Ramiro saw nothing at first, but then the flickering shadows seemed to resolve into a deeper black shape on one wall. An opening of some kind? Whatever it was, it was the only option besides standing there and looking stupid. They ran toward it, leather armor creaking and weapons jangling with every step. Ramiro’s heart lurched with every sound, but that couldn’t be helped. When you were loaded down with this much gear you couldn’t run quietly.
Dobson games were great on detail.
The dark space was indeed a crumbling archway. Thank God! Maybe it would lead to a chamber where they could hide, or even better, a side tunnel that would allow them to get the hell out of here. Ramiro skidded on rubble as he tried to make the turn, and he had to grab onto the side of the arch to steady himself. A quick look behind him confirmed that no enemies had shown up yet. Jesus Christ, they might really make it! He turned back to the dark space, wondering what kind of chamber or tunnel they were about to take shelter in—