It was a world of wonders, that drew people from all across the Weld. Not only for the mask, but for many other attractions as well. There were numerous archaeological sites on Qojja—most related to the planet’s history, but many that had produced strange alien artifacts. The latter were typically donated to the Moonrise Conglomerate for research purposes. It was not altruistic, for the government benefited from the corporation’s achievements. Their work drew tourists, helping commerce thrive, and making for a healthy economy. But the government also owned shares of Moonrise, thus giving it a more direct incentive to help the business.

Joqqal also was home to many museums, amusement parks, and impressive architectural structures.

But while Ed always enjoyed art and history, he had not come here as a tourist. There was much work to be done.

The hovercab that flew him to his hotel, however, was controlled by an AI who believed everyone who came to Qojja had to be a tourist. It thus went to great lengths to describe in excruciating detail all the monuments and other historical landmarks that were on the way.

Ed even wondered if the driver had not done a detour just to boastfully add a few extra entries to its presentation. That said driver was an AI did not make it any less likely. Though it did make it pointless to argue, as the AI would stick to its programming no matter what.

He did eventually make it to his hotel and was happy to see his room had been prepared with all the commodities he had requested—a desk, a TriVid terminal, blank sheets of paper, and some spare clothes that matched his size.

After taking a quick shower, he went to explore the city.

It wasn’t his first time here, but it had changed a lot since his last visit. He still liked it, always had, though it did not feel quite the same anymore.

He stopped at a café he remembered from a previous stay—here they made the best coffee he’d ever tasted. He ordered a cup and sat at the bar.

A young woman was already there.

She glanced at him.

“You’re not from around here, I take it?”

He smiled. “What gave it away?”

“You look happy.”

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He laughed. “Has it gotten that bad?”

She nodded, her expression quite serious. “The locals all are angry against the offworlders, while the offworlders who live here are concerned about what will happen to them. It’s a ticking timebomb just waiting to explode. They shouldn’t be letting tourists in at this stage. It’s unconscientious.”

His cup arrived and he took a sip. He was pleased to see it was as good as he remembered.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

He examined her. Tall, dark-haired, skinny, in her mid-twenties...

“Well... I’d guess you’re a local yourself. And yet, here you are, speaking with a tourist... And while you also seem upset, your anger is not directed at me but at the nonsense you just described.”

She snorted. “I guess I’m in the third group, then.”

“The nostalgic cynics who yearn for the old days?”

That got a light chuckle out of her.

“Something like that.”

He held out a hand. “I’m Ed.”

“Cora,” she responded as they shook hands.

***

The room was dark, dank, and smelled of mold. There was no furniture, save for a half-broken cot. The walls, made of stone, were cracked and stained. There was a small window—it had bars instead of glass but would have been too narrow for him to slide through anyway—that provided a modicum of lighting from the torches that lined the walls in the adjoining hall.

Jack coughed and scratched his chest.

He was lying on the bed, rubbing his arms to keep himself warm.

How long had he been here?

How long were they going to keep him?

What, exactly, did they want from him?

What were they going to do with him... or to him?

He kept scolding himself for his idiocy. How could he have been so rash? Rushing like that into the hands of madmen... He should have gone to the authorities with his findings.

His friends would notice he was gone, of course. They would worry—probably even report his disappearance. But then what?

He’d taken the letter with him and had done all his research on his wristpad—which was still on him. So they’d have no way of tracking him.

If only he’d taken a holovisor with him... though they’d likely have confiscated it. They had searched him after all. Right after they’d punched him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. Just before they’d hit him on the head and he’d blacked out.

There came a shuffling sound from above.

He glanced at the ceiling, but there was nothing there. He had worried to find rats or some large insect about to drop on him...

“Hello,” a shy voice called out.

He sat up and looked in the direction it had come from. The window! There was a face there, staring back at him—a young boy’s face.

Hope lit up his eyes as he sprung to his feet and rushed to the window.

“Hi there, kid! I’m Jack. What’s your name?”

The boy glanced in the hall around him before looking back at Jack.

“Victor,” he said. “I heard you cough... Are you alright?”

Jack made a face. “It’s very cold in here. Can you get me out?”

“Oh no, wassab! My dad would not like that.”

“Could you at least get a message to my friends?”

The boy frowned. “I don’t know...”

“It’d be easy. I can tell you where to find them and what to tell them. And—”

They heard footsteps, and Victor suddenly pulled away.

“I have to go,” he said.

Before Jack could add anything more, the boy was gone.