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"Hi, this is the Seldon Family Travel Services.  We are not available at this moment so leave a message or send us an email.  Our email address is star_ship562@utopia.com.  If you want to schedule a personal appointment, our street address is 6054 West Locust Street.  Thank yo…"  Hunter deactivated his headphones before the message finished.  He found the address he needed.

Hunter Dejj took notice of his position – on top of a moving monorail.  He sat cross-legged on the fourth car moving at a speed of five hundred kilometers an hour.  He felt relaxed, though, for he was used to being exposed to monotonous pressures and aerodynamics.  On top of a moving vehicle was the perfect place to settle down after being chased down.

As far as he knew, they have resumed their little project and they needed the assistance of Hunter, a.k.a. subject NF-62894, to use as a control subject.  Nobody hinted this to him.  He figured it out on his own.  After assuming many identities in the city of Gelcictrum (he managed to identify himself by recollecting his name given to him at birth in the Ballista Central Bureau), he had access to any updates about any notable misgivings coming into play.  They needed his genetic composition and previous exposures to take their research to the next step.  Hunter would not allow that to happen if it meant leaving the planet, no, leaving the galaxy.

And that's exactly what he's trying to do.

Suddenly, he released from his fetal position and laid straight on his back.  Then, just as he expected, the exit shaft passed two feet above him as the monorail entered outside.  If he hit that shaft, he would have been paralyzed for life.  He knew it was coming because he felt the train incline in altitude.  Trains always rise before leaving the tunnel.

Hunter's irritating curse was noticing the small details in everything.  Constant exposures to it released his cerebral pores that limited his senses.  Nothing hid from NF-62894.  He knew what went on before others could even think about it.

Hunter sat up to gaze at the city.  Black monoliths and skyscrapers tore at the sky in broad daylight.  Smog covered the scene in an otherwise clean environment. Numerous holographic projectors lined the city displaying ads for biomechanical servants.  Hunter couldn't help but notice that the projectors only broadcasted ten stories high or less.  He concluded that the media only targeted the bulkier, less intelligent portion of the population.

In the center of the city of Gelcictrum was the most magnificent but terrifying building in the solar system: the Spire.  Despite the incredible velocity he had to endure, he managed to look at the top of the three hundred story "mechanism".  Not "building", but "mechanism".  The planet of Ballista is virtually covered in water with the exception of a five hundred square kilometer island in the center of the equilateral line, where the city of Gelcictrum resides.  Tidal waves six hundred meters high occasionally form, threatening the city with promises of devastation.  As an alternative to rebuilding the city and spending money every time a wave hits, the Aldrich System House invested the construction of the Spire, which connected to the conduit gears at the base of the city.  Whenever a tidal wave approaches the city, the automated defense system alerts the populace to take evasive actions.  The conduit gears then activate and shimmy up the Spire, taking the city with it.  By the time the wave hits, the population would be three hundred stories above ground.  The system proved efficient for eight hundred standard years and it also proved to be cost effective.

The monorail system had no tracks to regulate travel routes.  The trains supported themselves using propulsion-based technology and an expensive navigational web.  As the population expanded, people complained about the space taken up by the support beams holding the tracks up and eventually they were taken down.  The alternative solution cost money, but that's public interest.

Personalized vehicles swarmed the environment as the monorail entered the town proper.  Some of them had undistinguishable features, while others had the look of plain hover capsules used in postage.  The complex in the middle of the proper was bland and unscrupulous, merely a memorial site for Sigmund Gelcictrum, the leader of the reconnaissance crew that discovered the planet Ballista.  A wide river covered most of the base of the proper, where submarine homes were floating on buoyant alloy fields that prevented the houses from sinking.  More of those holographic projectors dotted the proper.

As the monorail left the proper and entered an empty industrial channel used by monorails, Hunter sensed a fast line of plasmic heat zip past his left face.  It was most likely from a lasgun.

A warning shot?

He opened his eyes immediately.  Straight in front of him, a copter loomed into view.  In the interior, a man dressed as a Ballistan Guard pointed a lasgun in his direction.  In the cockpit, he could make out a pilot communicating on his headphones.  The pilot's breastplate showed an insignia of a pathogen on a field of red.

A pilot for them.

Hunter lifted himself up and ran straight for the nose of the monorail.  As he was running, multiple lasgun shots were shooting in his direction.  He reached the glass windshield and searched for the leverage panel at the edge of the windshield.  He found it, and then slid his feet on the glass to allow his hand to grab on to the handle.  He then stood still at his own risk.

The Guard was firing aimlessly at the front of the monorail.  He was dressed in blue plastic armor and a rubber aerosuit underneath.  His face was covered in an exotic helmet that came with numerous visors, including infrared vision.  The weapon he carried was a 385 Ballistan Module Laserbeam Amplified Handler, or lasgun for short.  Laser technology before was not very energy efficient, but eventually, the Science Bureau recognized the study of ballistics as highly evident and unnecessary and replaced it with the study of municipal ballistics.

Hunter stood still for three minutes before he spotted what he was looking for: a miniature terminal.  He didn't have much time before he mislanded the platform and fell down to the ground fifty meters below him.  When he felt that the timing was right, he leaped off the panel – and landed on the terminal, impulsively somersaulting as he did.  He battered through the nearby door to leave a flabbergasted Guard and copter behind.

He passed countless hallways and doors in his run.  Soon the Guard would be calling for reinforcements to track him down.  By then, he'd be on the other side of town.

It wasn't soon after he passed through three buildings and ran short of breath that his worst fear presented itself.

"Halt, in the name of the Ballistan Guard!"  Several blue clad men similar to the one on the copter appeared behind him chasing him down.  They were armed with typical lasguns and personal shields that block high velocity projectiles.  They preferred to use their lasguns, however, and started firing at their victim.

Hunter dodged every projectile that came towards him.  Not one hit him.  Lasers project a slight temperature rise in the environment when fired, but it is not a substantial increase.  However, because of Hunter's curse, he could notice it while others are oblivious to it.  It was an advantage the Guards could not overcome.

As Hunter continued evading shots while dashing – the Guards cursing under their breaths as it was happening – he spotted the next turn and saw flickers of shadows forming from the light.  More Guards.  He prepared for combat procedures.

When the expected Guards revealed themselves, Hunter crouched low as he came into contact with them.  There were three of them, all trained for combat situations.  Hunter grabbed the first one by the waist and flung him over his shoulder.  His throwing capabilities were so superb that the thrown Guard rammed into the pursuing ones head on, knocking them down.  However, more of them appeared behind the fallen ones.  He'd have to finish this quick.

The second attacker poised his fist – only to be met with a parry that massively impacted his helmet which crushed his nose.  The Guard fell dead with bleeding eyes, mouth, and nose.  The third Guard stepped over his fallen comrade attempting to detain the threat with a paralyzer.  Hunter, with almost instantaneous speed, stole the paralyzer from the Guard's hand and shot it towards his adversary.  The Guard stood motionless with shock, allowing Hunter to pass unharmed.  Hunter dropped the paralyzer next to the frozen Guard, assuming he wouldn't need it for any other occasion.

He noticed the light growing brighter as he resumed running.  A balcony must be close.  After another turn, a balcony did indeed appear at the end of the hallway.  It was a dead end.

He turned his head to see if the pursuers turned the bend.  They didn't, but he still didn't have much time.  He ran faster than before, virtually closing his eyes at the speed he was going.  He reached the edge of the balcony….

By the time the Guards took the turn and headed for the balcony, he was gone.

They approached the edge to look in every direction.  The leader activated his communicator.  "This is Brett Herbert, Lieutenant of Patrol 883 in Quadrant Alpha 01.  We've lost visual of the suspect.  I repeat, lost visual of suspect."

Even though out of sight, Hunter listened to every word.  Suspect?

*********

6054 West Locust Street.

Hunter Dejj sighed with relief.  He made it to his destination at last.  Now he can get off this ugly planet.

He was surprised by the sight of the house.  It was a two-story bright beige building with a well-furnished driveway and a beautiful landscape in a peaceful suburban neighborhood.  Most of the downtown homes were black obelisk apartments covered in thick smoke.  The air here was virtually flawless with a scent of ocean breeze.  Even on an island, it is almost impossible to sense the presence of sea bound luxuries in the city.

Even so, he was expecting the Seldon family to be a one hundred member estate that owned trillions of legal tender and lived in a fortress full of luxuries and servants that made the nice house look like an imperial palace.  The house he was gazing at now claimed that it was merely an average family that happened to direct the travel arrangements of the local spaceport.  Still, rich family or not, Hunter needed to find someway to arrange a scheduled flight.

He walked easily towards the front door and hesitated to ring the bell.  The button had an unnoticeable slope that made it crooked.  It must've been broken and useless for quite a while.  It most likely would not respond if he initiated it.  Instead, he knocked.

Footsteps going down a flight of stairs were heard shortly after.  That was a clue that they were currently preoccupied with something.  Judging by the weight of the footsteps, the person answering the door must've been a female teenager or a small boy.

The door opened.  A young girl about the age of seventeen appeared before him.  She had a sullen face and smooth body that now young man could resist.  Her hair was black and straight and went down to her waist.  Her clothes were obscene and depressing that hinted that she was part of a clique at school.  If she was at all appreciative of the visitor, she did not show any expression that said so.

"Good afternoon," Hunter greeted.  He hadn't spoken in days and was surprised at his tone.  It was low and foreboding.  "Is Bertha and Alphonse Seldon around?"

At first the girl said nothing.  Then she called out, "Mom!  Dad!  There is an olive-skinned man who wants to see you."  Her voice was also expressionless and sullen.

Like always, he noticed something.  "Your voice is somewhat monotone.  Do you appreciate your life like it's a blessing, or did you give up that gaudy gibberish?"

"What?"  She missed Hunter's intension.

"I'm saying that you may have been depressed for so long that maybe you don't feel to make everyone else's feelings worthwhile."  He obtained no response.  "I'm sorry.  It's just so hard for me to ignore small details all the time."

"Why would you not ignore small details?"

"I think it might be genetic," he lied.  "My father was a hard-working planetologist who taught me everything about small details."

Mr. and Mrs. Seldon came down the stairs to meet the stranger.  Their expressions did show.  "Oh my, you do have an odd skin color," Mrs. Seldon said.  Hunter noticed that it was a temporary feeling of prejudice rather than discrimination.

"May we help you?" Mr. Seldon asked.

"Yes, I'm here to make a travel arrangement for the Alpha Quadrant."

"Well don't just stand out there then, come in and talk.  We were just about to have our lunch."

Hunter shrugged at the hospitality.  Mr. Seldon was a decimeter shorter than him with a firm stance and a pair of lenses.  Mrs. Seldon was slightly overweight but with a personality that seemed to make friends easily.  Overall, they didn't mean harm to him.

He followed the two parents and the girl to the kitchen.  While the outside part of the house looked simply exquisite, the inside was purely state-of-the-art.  The living room had couches that surrounded what seemed to be a holographic projector like the ones he'd seen in the city.  In the kitchen there were various luxury-based items.  Toast knives; voice-activated drawers; communication terminals; heat regulators on the floor; a compact dishwasher the size of a drawer; a Crave-Sensor 5006; and an instant oven.  He was not at all surprised.

The Seldons were making various sandwiches for lunch.  The girl sliced some bread using a toast knife, which toasts bread as it is sliced.  Mr. Seldon put the toasted bread, lettuce, and lunchmeat together.  Mrs. Seldon approached one of the communication terminals.  She looked for button that said "Jeff's Room" and pressed it.  "Jeffery!  Lunchtime!"

Hunter – as usual – noticed something.  If they were making lunch downstairs, why did they answer the door from upstairs?  Must've been an urgent message.

He sat down with the rest of the family to have lunch.  He ate without complaint.

A hyperactive boy appeared in the kitchen.  "Who do you have with you Amy?"  He was obviously teasing.  "A fiancé?"

"Shut the hell up and sit down," the girl named Amy commanded.

Mrs. Seldon made an intro.  "You have to excuse our manners, sir.  We aren't what you would call a 'civilized group'."

"I've seen worse.  I grew up in the city."

"Well, anyways, let me introduce ourselves.  I'm Bertha Seldon.  This is my husband Alphonse."  He gestured for a handshake which Hunter accepted gratefully.

The boy made gross humor expressions at his sister.  "This is our thirteen-year old Jeff," Mrs. Seldon continued.

"I believe you already met our daughter Amy, I presume?"  She gestured towards the sullen teenager.

"Pleased to meet you," Amy greeted without a hint of a smile.

They all finished their lunch in ten minutes.  Mr. Seldon coaxed their children to return to their rooms telling them that they have important business with this fine gentleman.  Disgruntled, Jeff and Amy walked back upstairs.

Hunter gave them the heads-up.  "I'd keep a close eye on your daughter."  His tone was earnest.

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Seldon apologized.

"The way she keeps her head down at a slight angle tells me she has some unresolved issue on her mind."

"I didn't see any obscene head angle, did you Al?"

"It was unnoticeable to the naked eye," Hunter continued, "but I saw it.  She's probably contemplating suicide as far as I'm concerned."

"You've got one hell of a radar for noticing such a change in the environment if you mind me saying," Mr. Seldon complimented.

"I know, I get that a lot.  But enough talk of conspiracy.  It's time for me to make the introduction.  My name is Hunter Dejj."  It was safe to reveal his true identity to these folk.

"Dejj?" Mr. Seldon replied.  "Like David Dejj?"

Hunter looked at him curiously.  "You know my father?"

"I sure do!  While I was in high school, he was my Environmental Science teacher.  The guy knew everything about planets.  He was the best teacher who ever lived."

Hunter didn't know how to respond to Mr. Seldon's exaggerated retort.  He knew more about his father than his own son did.  So he let the man continue.

"I never knew that you could plant a tree on a barren planet, and then add water to it to turn it into a thriving ecosystem until I took his class.  So how is the old Dejj doing?"

"Well, umm," Hunter tried to find the right tone of voice to reveal it in, "he's dead."

At first it was silent.  Then Mr. Seldon asked, "What?  He's dead?"  He sounded somber.

"He was killed by –" But he couldn't put the words into play.  If he said who killed him, they might no longer be sympathetic.  "He drowned in the ocean."

"Look, I'm sorry for putting you in grief.  I didn't mean to recall your tragedy."

"That's okay.  I got sidetracked anyways.  I'm here to schedule a heighliner leading to the Alpha Quadrant."

Before any of them responded, the two kids barged downstairs.  "Don't mind us," Jeff explained.  "We're just watching some hologram."

Mr. Seldon responded to Hunter.  "Alpha Quadrant?  No problem!"  He took out a stylus and digital notepad.  "You're in luck.  The next heighliner passing through this quadrant will be here in three days.  To schedule a flier, I need to ask you your specific destination."

Hunter planned how to answer that question.  "The origin of the human race."

Mr. and Mrs. Seldon looked up to stare blankly at their deluded client.  Jeff called out from the living room.

"Mom!  Dad!  The news is on."

"We'll be there," Mrs. Seldon answered.  She turned to Hunter.  "We're sorry for cutting in the middle of this conversation.  But the whole family has to watch the local news.  It's our custom."

"No, it's all right.  I'm glad to here that there's a family who gets together in front of a hologram."  That was the truth.  "Anyways, I'm glad to take a break.  Do you mind if I use your restroom?"

"Not at all.  Down that hall, second door on your right."  She pointed towards the nearby hallway.

He thanked the woman and then walked towards the bathroom while his hosts sat in the living room.

He wanted to answer the question that way so they would get frustrated at him.  Eventually they would lead him to the nearest database and then he would reveal his reasoning and intentions.  All according to plan.

When he entered the bathroom, he saw himself in the mirror.  He hasn't seen himself for weeks and didn't blame the Seldons for acting prejudicial towards him at first.  He had – as Amy had explained – olive-skin and pitch-black hair that looked like it wasn't treated for years.  He wore an unbuttoned trench coat and a white undershirt.  The most gruesome feature of being injected with it was his eyes, which were so terrifying that he wore sunglasses most of the time.  He was also taller than the average Ballistan.

He turned away from the mirror and sat on the toilet.  He didn't really have to use it.  He just wanted some privacy – and a place to listen.

The headline started.  "Breaking News!  Last night a epidemiologist who was a member of the epidemiologist galactic convention named PsychoGenesis…."

Them!

"….was found dead at the Sigmund Gelcictrum Memorial with his face completely torn off.  Studies say that the man was on his way to send a message to the PsychoGenesis Headquarters on Rotoun IV when he was brutally attacked by an unarmed psychopath who was trained in hand-to-hand combat.  The victim's name was Damien Osborne who joined PG ten years ago.  He was experienced with pathogenic protection units and was one of the founders of the opetino vaccine.  The members of PG claimed he was an asset to their ongoing project, and was shocked of his death."

Hunter didn't need to guess who that psychopath was.  He lifted himself off the toilet and left the bathroom.  He walked down the hall to enter the living room, which displayed a hologram of a glossy female news anchor not without a smile on her face.  The entire Seldon family was seated on a nearby sofa.

The anchor continued, "Authorities have confirmed a possible suspect of the murder: a local male, six foot two, black hair, wears polarized lenses often, olive skin, and wears a loose turncoat.  Suspect has lived as a renegade for twenty years since the age of eight.  He has assumed many identities during that time, although authorities also recollected the suspect's actual name, Hunter Dejj."

The heads of the four residents turned towards him.

"Guards are sweeping the city to locate Dejj as we speak.  Remember, although not armed in any way, Hunter Dejj is still extremely dangerous.  If you have any information regarding Dejj's whereabouts, call the Witness Hotline at 485-3390.  Once again that number is 485-3390.  In other news, the Ballistan stock market rose four hundred points as…."

But nobody in the house was paying any attention at that point.

Mr. Seldon rose from the sofa and directed his attention toward the rest of the family.  "Honey, get the phone.  Call that hotline.  Kids, stay behind me."

Hunter just stood in place in front of Mr. Seldon.  He noticed that the man was looking off to his left quite often, probably sorting out mixed emotions in his head; determining if Hunter was in shock to the point of immobility or if Hunter had a plan and saw every reason to remain calm.  Or maybe he was determining whether he truly was a murder suspect or there were some confidential conspiracies at play.  Whatever it was, Mr. Seldon was in profound stress.

"Hunter Dejj – at least we can assume that is your true name – we cannot let you leave this house before the Guards arrive.  I set up a heavily armed defense system around the front lawn myself.  Same with the back yard."  He held up a voice-activated switch hidden in his left hand and spoke to it.  "Activate power grids 80-P290 and 80-P291.  Only licensed Ballistan Guards are allowed to pass."

"Power grids 80-P290 and 80-P291 activated," an artificial female com speaker confirmed.  Hunter knew the man wasn't bluffing, but it didn't matter either way.  He still needed these people.

Mr. Seldon turned towards Hunter.  "Also, our headphones have instantaneous tracking devices.  We don't even need to detail our precise whereabouts anymore.  The Guards would instantly locate us.  It saves time."

"Yes, but those tracking devices can also cause short-circuits occasionally," Hunter remarked.

"We had no prob…."

Before Mr. Seldon could finish his response, a boisterous popping sound developed in the kitchen, followed by an incandescent flash that formed a lamination even on the walls of the living room.  The Seldon family rushed to the kitchen, with Hunter trailing at a steady pace.

Mrs. Seldon was propped on the floor covering her ears in agony.  Jeff and Amy helped her get back up on her feet.  "Bertha!  What happened?!"  Mr. Seldon was concerned as far as Hunter could see.

"The headphones blew up," she answered, bewildered.  It was a ludicrous response, but at least Hunter knew he was right.  The rest of the family turned their heads towards him and thought the same way.

*********

A half-hour later, after they sent Mrs. Seldon to bed and deactivated the defense systems, Hunter and the rest of the family sat in the living room to discuss all that has happened.  Mr. Seldon felt it unnecessary to try to contain Hunter after today's complications.  He did not run.  Instead, Hunter felt it necessary to explain everything in his own words.

"I did not kill that man.  PsychoGenesis did."

"But they said that man was a member of PG."

Hunter sighed, and then leaned forward.  "PG does not put social endeavors in front of business.  They're using any means necessary to confirm my capture."

Mr. Seldon stood frozen.  His kids jumped at that sudden interference.  "Your capture?" he asked, dazed.

"Correct!  At first, I thought it was some desperate act to make up for my escaping their experiment room twenty years ago, but after using my trademark hyper-awareness, I realized that they sent Guards after me for some bigger project than what they used me for in the past.  The fact that they need me tells me that it is somewhat related to what I went through.

"If that's the case, we'll all pay the price."

Having been forced the truth, Hunter saw Mr. Seldon flabbergasted.  It only confirmed that feeling when he said, "Kids, this is important business.  Go to your rooms, please."  They obeyed.

"What do you mean 'pay the price?'?"

"What I'm saying is that if it's the same project they used on me, they are going to use Gentron."

An epidemiologist's future; a planetologist's nightmare.  Mr. Seldon studied well enough to know what Gentron does to entire ecosystems, Hunter saw.  Gentron, although still and not very well active, could cause serious symptoms to any and all life forms.  It originated on the planet Ima, a barren dust-world with no form of life – besides Gentron, which is a large mass of purple bacteria.  Epidemiologists hope to tame it to create life forms with enhanced abilities.  They succeeded once, and it was on Hunter Dejj.

"Wait!  Gentron….on you?"

"I was eight years old.  I had a normal and peaceful life with my parents like you did.  Then an advocate from PG arrived.  He wanted my dad, David, to participate in a – festival with PG.  When the advocate left, Dad instinctly refused the offer.  When he sent the message through to PG the next day, they were already prepared.  Armed men stormed into our house and attempted to capture Dad.  They shot my mom, and when they cornered my dad at the edge of the pool, he poised to grab something and one of the men shot him on impulse."  Hunter felt no emotion.  "When they realized their mission had failed, they grab me and used me as a test subject to replace my dad.  They injected me with Gentron for hours on end for a week.  I began to have an enhanced perception.

"It didn't take me long to figure out how to escape, but when I did, I went into hiding.  I assumed many identities and used my newly acquired fighting skills, complements of Gentron, to get by the day."

Mr. Seldon saw Hunter's intention then.  "And you want to leave Ballista now?"

"I've been planning to leave for twenty years.  But now I have a destination."

The older man tried to recollect his thoughts.  "To Terra?  But Hunter, nobody alive knows which planet that is."

"If you show me to your office and open up your database, I will show you."

At first, Mr. Seldon looked pretentious towards the suggestion, then said, "Very well, Mr. Dejj.  I will gladly show you to my office."

If Hunter held any regrets about asking a man to show him his personal things, he did not show it.

Mr. Seldon led him upstairs into a hallway with doors painted in maroon brown.  Across the atrium, he could see a massive window garbed with a set of vintage curtains.  Before realizing it, he was positioned in an air-conditioned room decorated (if that's what they called it) with records and discs that were not labeled as he can see.  The only remarkable features about the room were the motion-sensing file cabinets that apparently stopped working for a significantly long period of time, and the network screen on the far side of the wall.

As Mr. Seldon went towards the screen to activate his home database for his guest to see, Hunter grabbed a nearby record for the sake of passing the time.  He turned towards Mr. Seldon and saw him touch a hidden keypad inside the small maintenance compartment below the screen.  He was activating numerous connections.  Hunter suggested that it was going to be awhile.

When he looked back at the record he was holding, the one labeled "Preserver," he noticed that it was virtually clean (with a few miniature scratches towards the edge).  When he picked up another record, he saw that it was covered in dust and lint, along with a barrage of scratches that looked like it was clawed at by some vicious canine or feline typed animal.  Most of the other records and discs had those same features.  The Seldons had been using this particular record constantly while leaving all the rest of the information untouched for years.  Society had just installed every database with a new internal information-finding network, leaving records and discs, which used to be extensions for every database, to rot.  Information that the Seldons still need to use a record for must be essentially useful.

He placed the record in the inside pocket of his turncoat.

He thought to use the thoughts that were just on his mind to start a conversation.  "How long have we had personal home databases?"

Mr. Seldon never seized setting up the screen.  "What?  Oh, I don't know.  A thousand years.  Since the beginning of the Confederation.  Why?"

"After a thousand years, we now just made a technological breakthrough with our databases?"  Hunter sounded concerned.

"Of course," Mr. Seldon responded nonchalantly.  "What does it matter?"

"The answer to life's greatest mysteries is what matters."  He did his best not to strike out.

"I have no idea what you mean."  As he made that comment, he closed the compartment and pressed the nearby power button.  The screen lit up.  "Aw, here we are!  The system is on.  What next?"

Hunter thought for a moment, then said, "Go to the most recent update of the general overview of the universe controlled by the Confederation."  He then clarified, "Make sure it is the most recent update."  Sometimes the network makes the mistake of revealing an old site even if it has been updated recently.

Two minutes later, an image of space appeared on the screen.  "Too small!  Activate your holographic imager if you have one," Hunter commanded.

"Oh, I have one all right," Mr. Seldon remarked.  Hunter didn't see what he did, but in an instant the walls all around them retracted to reveal a system of support railings and heavy machinery.  The machinery collaborated with each other to form a massive and sophisticated projector with a smooth elliptic deck two meters above ground.  They used the nearby stepping complex to reach the deck.

In the center of the machine was a small glass shaft that showed the display on the screen as a hologram.  When the two men reached the deck, a hologram of space appeared inside the shaft.  Now it was big enough for convenience.

"Alphonse!"  Mr. Seldon looked up in reaction towards his name.  "You know what I expect you to understand when I say I'm looking for Terra."

"Yeah, I know.  'Find it in my database.'"  Mr. Seldon raised his right hand and swayed it to the left.  The hologram turned its image in the same direction until the print and title of the site came into view.  The glass of the shaft was unique as it reacted to motion.

"Now," Hunter began, "the first rule to finding Terra is to find planets…."

"….that displays our standard times," Mr. Seldon finished.  "I've been doing this for a long time, boy."  He met his gaze with Hunter's, who looked callous.  It was the last time he called him "boy."  "Well, anyways, I've already narrowed my options to three planets.  None of them are in the Alpha Quadrant, however."

He pointed to the lower-left corner of the glass which displayed the phrase "Planetary Zoom."  Afterwards, a list of all Confederate planets appeared before them.  He highlighted three names, and then pointed to the lower-left corner again to "Commence Zoom."  Three planets formed that contained similar features such as open climates, green land, and large bodies of ocean.

"Wekufo; Nabijenta; and Terch IX," Mr. Seldon listed.  "I bet with your enhanced deduction skills you could make an educated guess."

"I have.  The answer is none."

Mr. Seldon was puzzled.  "But all the rest of the planets did not fit the criteria."

Hunter was prepared to answer.  "And these three are included.  Wekufo lacks large amounts of steel, which is a stepping-stone for human development.  We wouldn't have developed upright postures if we grew up on the mountains of Nabijenta.  And it looks like Terch IX has been terraformed."

Before there were planetologists, there were terraformers.  Terraformers went from planet to planet to redistribute the ecology and changed the various flora and fauna of the planets to make them more suitable for human colonization.

"These are all obvious factors, even without my deduction skills," Hunter pointed out.

"Apparently you have a guess as to where Terra is."  Mr. Seldon was being sentimental.

"I was getting to that.  I have one suggestion – no, answer – as to what planet that is."  He pointed at the upper-left hand corner of the shaft which highlighted the return tab.  He tapped it twice to return to the overview.  He then picked a spot seemingly at random (which is not true).  The hologram magnified to show a planet completely covered in ice.

"Earth?!" Mr. Seldon exclaimed.  "Are you insane?!  That planet has been uninhabitable since the founding of the Confederation.  Even a thousand years ago it was still…."

"That's just it, Al," Hunter stated, risking his formality by referring him by his nickname.  "It hasn't been a thousand years."

He knew he intruded on Mr. Seldon's ideals on many occasions in the last few minutes to induce alienation.  Mr. Seldon surprised Hunter by showing only bewilderment rather than a reaction to estrangement.  "What!  Is it two thousand years rather than one?  'Cause I'm not getting…."

"What I'm saying," Hunter cut off, "is that the lack of common ground when it comes to planetary observation and a somewhat stagnant human civilization was probably caused by a change in psychological behavior in the past, and part of that change also resulted in a vast underestimation with the amount of time between some long-term event and today.

"As for Earth, look closer.  It might look like a cold and uninhabitable planet, but as you can see," he pointed to the display, "the wind distribution and solar rays touching the planet suggest that it was a lush and green world but was naturally destined to become this state."

Hunter gasped.  It was much more information than he could normally contain in one breath, but Mr. Seldon showed an understanding that he got everything down.  "You say that we, as a human race, were changed, Hunter?  Then tell me.  Why were we changed?"

Hunter merely shrugged.  It was impossible to know who and why made it possible, but he still held onto an instinct that the answers to those questions might be revealed on Terra.  He felt that the Seldons might need some more explanations before he could tell them that.

But is it worth it to bring them into trouble for helping me escape this shit hole? he thought.  He was a twenty-standard-year fugitive under risk of penalty for a crime he supposedly committed.  The Guards would surely hold the family under contempt if they found out about their illicit travel arrangements for Hunter Dejj.  These are nice people who only want to help people, not hurt them.

"Okay, then."  Mr. Seldon brought Hunter out of his thoughts.  "If you know that it hasn't been a thousand years, how long has it been?"

"I have an accurate estimation.  Probably close to three or four million years at least."

"F-f-f-fffour million years?!"  He couldn't comprehend such a vast number, especially regarding time.  "Besides space travel and all, how was it possible that nothing changed within that time?  It's madness!"

"I told you!  I don't know.  Although I can say that before this psychological mindset happened, life was not so different when it came to family ordeals.  Something did change that day, and that was our perception on reality."  He walked towards the railing.  "Whoever did this, they also cleared our minds to make us believe our lives involved elements from the story Dune."

It was clear that Mr. Seldon was unfamiliar with that title.  Still, he stuck with the topic.  "Why would they do that?"

"To make space travel more efficient, I would guess."  Hunter did not falter.  "Dune exploits various fields that benefits space travel.  It also mentions that one of those factors does not relate to science, but to faith.

"But what I'm saying is that a lot of aspects in our lives are mere last-resort expenses to benefit the aspirations of a higher order that went extinct."  He displayed his hands to emphasize the last word.  "If this high-class civilization changed our perceptions on reality to benefit it, it must have been in desperation because it didn't work and it fell to the ground."

"You know, Hunter, I think is beyond your league even with your enhanced senses."  Mr. Seldon looked stern.  "How is it that you came up with this all on your own if it was completely impossible for anyone else to even contemplate it?"

Hunter frowned.  "Deduction skills and strength weren't the only things acquired by Gentron."  He shivered.  The mere mention of the name could cause stress.  "If I had to elaborate, I would say that I was also cured, as in cured from this psychological barrier.  I came to understand that Gentron can be beneficial if you can master it.  But anyways, the minute I stepped foot out of the PG Ballistan Branch Building, I began to see the big picture.

"But many have been tested for Gentron, all above my current age, and died.  Maybe going to Terra might also give me the answers as to why I'm the only successful subject."

Although Mr. Seldon kept a seemingly perfect straight-face, Hunter could tell that he was astounded.  Shit, if I listened to a story that involved seeing the nature of everything, I could be astounded.  But he also knew that it was not wise to elaborate on petty emotions until matters sorted themselves out first, and they haven't.

Mr. Seldon must've been thinking hard at the same time he was.  "So you want to land on Earth because you think the answers to all these questions might be located on that planet?"

Damn!  Got caught.  "Of course.  Although it might not be there.  Instead, a solution to the Gentron project might be there.  Who knows?"  They both started to descend the ramp, having no more use for the projector.  "I'm only asking you to get me there.  I'm not asking you to come with me.  Quite the opposite, really.  Is there any openings for Earth?"

Mr. Seldon had to exit the ramp, command the projector to retreat back into the wall, and shut down the database (with the display of Earth still on it) before he could check his digital notepad.  "I'm sorry, Hunter.  There is no flier heading specifically for Earth, even though we did say a heighliner was headed for the Alpha Quadrant."

Hunter pondered.  "Could I schedule a stop/return flight instead?"

Mr. Seldon went back to his notepad for an answer.  "You're in luck once again.  A flier in Spaceport K-263 ten kilometers from here is headed for Orgi III, which in return, has another flier headed directly for Earth."

Orgi III?

Mr. Seldon's face went sour after investigating some more.  "Oh, but the time of takeoff is somewhat inconvenient."

"How long do I have?"

"Twenty minutes."

A short amount of time was not the problem: he had his own ways to get around the city.  He felt the "Preserver" record press against his skin.  He knew when to use it.

Orgi III is the Archive Planet.

**************

The minute that Hunter Dejj left the Seldon residence after discussing travel arrangements with Mr. Seldon, he activated his headpiece to contact Farson's Automotive Dealership.

"Hello!  Farson's Automotive Dealership.  This is Ren Farson speaking."

"Ren!  It's me, Jerry Worth."  He did not stop moving.

"Oh, hi Jerry.  Good to hear from you again.  What do you need?"

"I need to use a rental."  It was not surprising to ask for a vehicle from a long-time friend (who doesn't know Hunter's real name) who owns a dealership.  "I want to set a course from the corner of East Locust Street and 410 Avenue to the valet of Spaceport K-263.  I want a vehicle that can span that distance within fifteen standard minutes."

"You're leaving?"

"I just have to, okay.  Can you do all of that?"

"You don't need to worry, old pal.  It just so happens that I have a railer parked in that very location.  Somebody else just used that vehicle only several minutes ago.  By the time you get there, I've already set the coordinates.  Now that will all come out to…."

"You know how I pay," Hunter yelled, impatient.  "I'm closer to that spot than you think.  Just set those coordinates!"

"All right, for crying out loud," Ren responded.  "I guess its goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, Ren."  He shut off his headpiece.

He broke out into a run afterwards.  He noticed that it was turning dawn at three thirty in the afternoon, yet, yesterday, at the same time, it was completely dark.  Ballista was not in tune with the standard times like Terra was.  Mr. Seldon was right when he said that the first step to finding Terra is to find which planets fit the standard times of the Confederation.  On Ballista, the days are too long and the years are too short.

He reached the corner of East Locust Street and 410 Avenue in less than a minute.  The buildings were all made of dark Plexiglas to make the assumption that it was a botanical site for the city.  Hunter went into the only parking complex in the area to search for the railer.

And there it was.  A three-meter-long, two-meter-high, green, speed vehicle with hover support and hybridization (octane is extremely toxic in an aquatic environment).  The railer was certainly suitable to cover ten kilometers in fifteen minutes.

"Jerry Worth: twenty-eight, 557329410," Hunter listed as he approached the railer.  The vehicle opened its driver door in response to his voice.  Everyone renting a vehicle must submit their name, age, and identification number to use a rental.

As he got inside the vehicle, he noticed that there was neither a manual shift nor a steering wheel.  The GPS signified the path between his current position and the spaceport.  Ren does quick work!

Hunter commanded the railer to start.  Before he knew it, the railer was already on the street and headed for the airway.

He was halfway to the airway when he spotted something unusual up ahead.  The buildings (which were now brick) had all their windows concealed except for two windows farther down.  Considering the theory of city-bound randomness, no one apartment, especially many in a certain area, can be completely vacant.  No vehicles were in sight either.  The area must be closed down – except that Hunter was driving through it.

Than the truth came to him fast enough for him to exit the car and avoid a bullet aimed straight for his head.  Those two windows were occupied by Sniper Guards.  Ren Farson might have realized that "Jerry Worth" was actually Hunter by his looks and contacted the authorities.

And they tried to kill me.  Sniper rifles are the only weapons that still use metallic bullets even after the extinction of ballistics.  The fact that PG allowed the Guards to use Snipers to capture told him that they don't need him alive for their project.

He ran from the still-moving-railer and went into the building on his left.  As he expected, an ambush of Guards came out of the many hallway doors.  Hunter looked to his right and found, to his relief, a dislodged metal pipe.  By the time the Guards opened fire, Hunter was dashing full-speed towards them with the pipe in hand.  He began thrusting it at any and all Guards who got close enough to get a clear shot.  He ducked when he sensed a laser beam about to make impact with, and then threw the pipe at the Guard blocking his way.  He ran in that direction, leaving the ambush and his pipe behind.

A flight of stairs came into view after several turns.  He went up four levels where he found a balcony similar to the one he jumped underneath of this morning.  No sign of any Guards.

Across from the balcony, he could see countless rooftops aligned straight ahead.  At the other end, he could see fliers lift off.  It was the spaceport.  How much time did he have left?

He ran to the other end of the balcony and leaped towards the rooftop – and landed.  Normal people couldn't make that, but Hunter was far from normal.  He ran another ten meters before reaching the edge of the rooftop.  He performed another leap – and made that one.

He leaped three more times before spotting a copter rise from an alleyway in front of him.  Before he could think, an ethereal substance flashed directly under the copter.  He halted in his tracks before he could touch the substance.  It was a Linghurd Shield, which immobilizes anyone who makes contact with it.

More like a Holtzman Shield.  Hunter was not fooling when he said reality was based on the story Dune.  If he was correct, no Guards could fire at him without point-blank accuracy.  If a single string of laser comes into contact with a Linghurd Shield, the resulting mass of energy could cause devastating results.  Five Guards approached him from behind but they, as he expected, did not fire.

The Guard in front presented himself.  "Hunter Dejj.  I am Lieutenant Brett Herbert from Patrol 883 in Quadrant Alpha 01."  He was the man whom Hunter heard from earlier.  "We have you surrounded."  A good look from both sides told Hunter he was right.  "Put your hands on your head."

Hunter knew that this was an empty threat, since they couldn't risk shooting him, but he obeyed nevertheless.  When Herbert and the other Guards approached him, he asked a question.  "Do you have the time?"

"What?  I-I don't know.  Does anyone have a watch?"

"I do, sir," a Guard on Hunter's right responded.  "It's three forty-five sharp."

Hunter missed his flight.  Dammit!  He was afraid that wouldn't be able to have the nerve to go back to the Seldons again.

"You happy now, soldier?" Herbert retorted.  "Now listen up.  You have gone against Gelcictrum decree by assaulting…."

Hunter was not paying attention to his protocol.  He was too busy staring at the darkening sky trying to spot his flier.  He found it, trying to exit Ballista's atmosphere quickly, even though he knew that it takes hours to obtain the correct altitude.  He then shifted his gaze to the top of the Spire, where he saw….

"Attention all Gelcictrum citizens," an artificial voice boomed from every speaker in the city.  "This is not a drill.  I repeat: this is not a drill.  A tidal wave with magnitude seven has been detected by our sonars.  All citizens within ten kilometers of the Spire, strap yourselves to the nearest support modules to prepare for elevation.  All other citizens will retreat into the nearest hydro-resistant dome.  Projected time of arrival is t-minus five minutes."

The red light on top of the Spire stopped flashing.  A blue, dome-shaped object covered the building Hunter jumped off of.  Herbert cursed and directed towards Hunter.  "All right, you son of a bitch.  We are going to enter that dome over there with you under our custody.  If you try to pull anything with us, it will be your head."

The moment Herbert turned and stood a meter away from Hunter was his demise.  Hunter dashed headfirst into the Guard, where he went soaring into the air and into an alley.  Everyone was too shocked of their lieutenant's death to notice Hunter running towards downtown.

He knew that the Guards wouldn't have time to chase after him with the allotted time given.  His original plan was to run as far away as possible until the wave comes in, and then use a support module without any interference – until he found that his flier was still in the atmosphere.

An idea struck at him suddenly.  Even in Hunter's perspective it was pretty insane, but it might work.

He leaped from building to building searching for a crease in the pavement below.  He went two kilometers before he found it and, just as he expected, leather-strap complexes were everywhere.

He did not go into one.

Instead, he followed the rim of the crease until he was at a specific point in the city: the northeast end of downtown on top of a building.  Still, he did not go into a support module.

A nearby civilian that was strapped to one gestured towards him.  "Hey, sir!  Why aren't you strapping yourself down?"

"Relax!  I'm a professional," Hunter responded with a smile on his face.  The civilian did not know what he meant by that.

The alarms all around the city went off, signifying that elevation would commence in ten seconds.  The man was hysterical.  "The Spire, dude!  The Spire!  Get in a fucking strap!"

Hunter did not pay attention.

Five….

He poised for elevation

Four….

"You're fucking mental!"

Three….two….

One….

A gust of wind Hunter never experienced, but still used to, pounded on him ferociously.  The man next to him was staring at him like he was a superhero.  Hunter was waiting for the right time to move.

The time came when it seemed like anytime now.  He rushed towards the edge of the building as fast as he could despite the velocity.  The minute he grabbed the edge with his hands, the city reached the top of the Spire.

Hunter went flying – towards his flier.

He was barreling so fast that he couldn't detect the flier until went through a wall of glass that must've been a window.  He hit the floor dazed.

The pain he experienced landing hard made him feel like he was going to die.  He slowly opened his eyes to find that he was in a dimly lit room with a single chair and a self-serving cocktail machine.  A deafening draft reverberated from the broken window.  He sat up painfully to find that the window was repairing itself using spare fiber-technology.

"Welcome, Mr. Hunter Dejj," greeted the flier's autopilot.

Hunter dislodged a shard of glass from his waist before replying.  "What do you mean 'welcome?'  You're in the middle of taking off."  He was being facetious.

"I was informed by Alphonse Seldon that you may arrive on the flier between lift off and exiting the atmosphere."  The autopilot was an A.I.

So Mr. Seldon predicted Hunter would miss his flight being a convict.  He also assumed he was capable of boarding nevertheless.  Always safe to assume things.

"Your flight will last for three hours before latching on a heighliner.  Then you will remain on the heighliner for one hour in which you will be paired with a passenger who has the same destination as you, which in this case is Spaceport Hammer on Orgi III."

The mention of that name made Hunter realize something.  He dug under his jacket to search for record.  It was still there, still intact.  He gave a sigh of relief.

The record was the most perplexing question of all his questions.  "The Preservers" was a word Hunter heard before – twenty years ago in captivity.  He did not know the significance at first, but now that it came back to him, it only tempted him more to use the record.

His gaze shifted towards the self-repairing window, then at the intercom.  "Does this flier have a module that encrypts records?"

"Of course, Mr. Dejj.  But why would you want to use an out-of-date record to forward?"

"Just show me!  Forward all the information to Orgi III."

The AI was perplexed.  "Sir, couldn't you wait until you arrive on the planet?"

"I want to give the 'scribes' there a heads-up on my – 'present.'  I only have a couple of hours, and, being me, I want to obtain every detail of that motherfucker as I can."

Description
"Hi, this is the Seldon Family Travel Services.  We are not available at this moment so leave a message or send us an email.  Our email address is star_ship562@utopia.com.  If you want to schedule a personal appointment, our street address is 6054 West Locust Street.  Thank yo…"  Hunter deactivated his headphones before the message finished.  He found the address he needed.

Hunter Dejj took notice of his position – on top of a moving monorail.  He sat cross-legged on the fourth car moving at a speed of five hundred kilometers an hour.  He felt relaxed, though, for he was used to being exposed to monotonous pressures and aerodynamics.  On top of a moving vehicle was the perfect place to settle down after being chased down.

As far as he knew, they have resumed their little project and they needed the assistance of Hunter, a.k.a. subject NF-62894, to use as a control subject.  Nobody hinted this to him.  He figured it out on his own.  After assuming many identities in the city of Gelcictrum (he managed to identify himself by recollecting his name given to him at birth in the Ballista Central Bureau), he had access to any updates about any notable misgivings coming into play.  They needed his genetic composition and previous exposures to take their research to the next step.  Hunter would not allow that to happen if it meant leaving the planet, no, leaving the galaxy.

And that's exactly what he's trying to do.

Suddenly, he released from his fetal position and laid straight on his back.  Then, just as he expected, the exit shaft passed two feet above him as the monorail entered outside.  If he hit that shaft, he would have been paralyzed for life.  He knew it was coming because he felt the train incline in altitude.  Trains always rise before leaving the tunnel.

Hunter's irritating curse was noticing the small details in everything.  Constant exposures to it released his cerebral pores that limited his senses.  Nothing hid from NF-62894.  He knew what went on before others could even think about it.

Hunter sat up to gaze at the city.  Black monoliths and skyscrapers tore at the sky in broad daylight.  Smog covered the scene in an otherwise clean environment. Numerous holographic projectors lined the city displaying ads for biomechanical servants.  Hunter couldn't help but notice that the projectors only broadcasted ten stories high or less.  He concluded that the media only targeted the bulkier, less intelligent portion of the population.

In the center of the city of Gelcictrum was the most magnificent but terrifying building in the solar system: the Spire.  Despite the incredible velocity he had to endure, he managed to look at the top of the three hundred story "mechanism".  Not "building", but "mechanism".  The planet of Ballista is virtually covered in water with the exception of a five hundred square kilometer island in the center of the equilateral line, where the city of Gelcictrum resides.  Tidal waves six hundred meters high occasionally form, threatening the city with promises of devastation.  As an alternative to rebuilding the city and spending money every time a wave hits, the Aldrich System House invested the construction of the Spire, which connected to the conduit gears at the base of the city.  Whenever a tidal wave approaches the city, the automated defense system alerts the populace to take evasive actions.  The conduit gears then activate and shimmy up the Spire, taking the city with it.  By the time the wave hits, the population would be three hundred stories above ground.  The system proved efficient for eight hundred standard years and it also proved to be cost effective.

The monorail system had no tracks to regulate travel routes.  The trains supported themselves using propulsion-based technology and an expensive navigational web.  As the population expanded, people complained about the space taken up by the support beams holding the tracks up and eventually they were taken down.  The alternative solution cost money, but that's public interest.

Personalized vehicles swarmed the environment as the monorail entered the town proper.  Some of them had undistinguishable features, while others had the look of plain hover capsules used in postage.  The complex in the middle of the proper was bland and unscrupulous, merely a memorial site for Sigmund Gelcictrum, the leader of the reconnaissance crew that discovered the planet Ballista.  A wide river covered most of the base of the proper, where submarine homes were floating on buoyant alloy fields that prevented the houses from sinking.  More of those holographic projectors dotted the proper.

As the monorail left the proper and entered an empty industrial channel used by monorails, Hunter sensed a fast line of plasmic heat zip past his left face.  It was most likely from a lasgun.

A warning shot?

He opened his eyes immediately.  Straight in front of him, a copter loomed into view.  In the interior, a man dressed as a Ballistan Guard pointed a lasgun in his direction.  In the cockpit, he could make out a pilot communicating on his headphones.  The pilot's breastplate showed an insignia of a pathogen on a field of red.

A pilot for them.

Hunter lifted himself up and ran straight for the nose of the monorail.  As he was running, multiple lasgun shots were shooting in his direction.  He reached the glass windshield and searched for the leverage panel at the edge of the windshield.  He found it, and then slid his feet on the glass to allow his hand to grab on to the handle.  He then stood still at his own risk.

The Guard was firing aimlessly at the front of the monorail.  He was dressed in blue plastic armor and a rubber aerosuit underneath.  His face was covered in an exotic helmet that came with numerous visors, including infrared vision.  The weapon he carried was a 385 Ballistan Module Laserbeam Amplified Handler, or lasgun for short.  Laser technology before was not very energy efficient, but eventually, the Science Bureau recognized the study of ballistics as highly evident and unnecessary and replaced it with the study of municipal ballistics.

Hunter stood still for three minutes before he spotted what he was looking for: a miniature terminal.  He didn't have much time before he mislanded the platform and fell down to the ground fifty meters below him.  When he felt that the timing was right, he leaped off the panel – and landed on the terminal, impulsively somersaulting as he did.  He battered through the nearby door to leave a flabbergasted Guard and copter behind.

He passed countless hallways and doors in his run.  Soon the Guard would be calling for reinforcements to track him down.  By then, he'd be on the other side of town.

It wasn't soon after he passed through three buildings and ran short of breath that his worst fear presented itself.

"Halt, in the name of the Ballistan Guard!"  Several blue clad men similar to the one on the copter appeared behind him chasing him down.  They were armed with typical lasguns and personal shields that block high velocity projectiles.  They preferred to use their lasguns, however, and started firing at their victim.

Hunter dodged every projectile that came towards him.  Not one hit him.  Lasers project a slight temperature rise in the environment when fired, but it is not a substantial increase.  However, because of Hunter's curse, he could notice it while others are oblivious to it.  It was an advantage the Guards could not overcome.

As Hunter continued evading shots while dashing – the Guards cursing under their breaths as it was happening – he spotted the next turn and saw flickers of shadows forming from the light.  More Guards.  He prepared for combat procedures.

When the expected Guards revealed themselves, Hunter crouched low as he came into contact with them.  There were three of them, all trained for combat situations.  Hunter grabbed the first one by the waist and flung him over his shoulder.  His throwing capabilities were so superb that the thrown Guard rammed into the pursuing ones head on, knocking them down.  However, more of them appeared behind the fallen ones.  He'd have to finish this quick.

The second attacker poised his fist – only to be met with a parry that massively impacted his helmet which crushed his nose.  The Guard fell dead with bleeding eyes, mouth, and nose.  The third Guard stepped over his fallen comrade attempting to detain the threat with a paralyzer.  Hunter, with almost instantaneous speed, stole the paralyzer from the Guard's hand and shot it towards his adversary.  The Guard stood motionless with shock, allowing Hunter to pass unharmed.  Hunter dropped the paralyzer next to the frozen Guard, assuming he wouldn't need it for any other occasion.

He noticed the light growing brighter as he resumed running.  A balcony must be close.  After another turn, a balcony did indeed appear at the end of the hallway.  It was a dead end.

He turned his head to see if the pursuers turned the bend.  They didn't, but he still didn't have much time.  He ran faster than before, virtually closing his eyes at the speed he was going.  He reached the edge of the balcony….

By the time the Guards took the turn and headed for the balcony, he was gone.

They approached the edge to look in every direction.  The leader activated his communicator.  "This is Brett Herbert, Lieutenant of Patrol 883 in Quadrant Alpha 01.  We've lost visual of the suspect.  I repeat, lost visual of suspect."

Even though out of sight, Hunter listened to every word.  Suspect?

*********

6054 West Locust Street.

Hunter Dejj sighed with relief.  He made it to his destination at last.  Now he can get off this ugly planet.

He was surprised by the sight of the house.  It was a two-story bright beige building with a well-furnished driveway and a beautiful landscape in a peaceful suburban neighborhood.  Most of the downtown homes were black obelisk apartments covered in thick smoke.  The air here was virtually flawless with a scent of ocean breeze.  Even on an island, it is almost impossible to sense the presence of sea bound luxuries in the city.

Even so, he was expecting the Seldon family to be a one hundred member estate that owned trillions of legal tender and lived in a fortress full of luxuries and servants that made the nice house look like an imperial palace.  The house he was gazing at now claimed that it was merely an average family that happened to direct the travel arrangements of the local spaceport.  Still, rich family or not, Hunter needed to find someway to arrange a scheduled flight.

He walked easily towards the front door and hesitated to ring the bell.  The button had an unnoticeable slope that made it crooked.  It must've been broken and useless for quite a while.  It most likely would not respond if he initiated it.  Instead, he knocked.

Footsteps going down a flight of stairs were heard shortly after.  That was a clue that they were currently preoccupied with something.  Judging by the weight of the footsteps, the person answering the door must've been a female teenager or a small boy.

The door opened.  A young girl about the age of seventeen appeared before him.  She had a sullen face and smooth body that now young man could resist.  Her hair was black and straight and went down to her waist.  Her clothes were obscene and depressing that hinted that she was part of a clique at school.  If she was at all appreciative of the visitor, she did not show any expression that said so.

"Good afternoon," Hunter greeted.  He hadn't spoken in days and was surprised at his tone.  It was low and foreboding.  "Is Bertha and Alphonse Seldon around?"

At first the girl said nothing.  Then she called out, "Mom!  Dad!  There is an olive-skinned man who wants to see you."  Her voice was also expressionless and sullen.

Like always, he noticed something.  "Your voice is somewhat monotone.  Do you appreciate your life like it's a blessing, or did you give up that gaudy gibberish?"

"What?"  She missed Hunter's intension.

"I'm saying that you may have been depressed for so long that maybe you don't feel to make everyone else's feelings worthwhile."  He obtained no response.  "I'm sorry.  It's just so hard for me to ignore small details all the time."

"Why would you not ignore small details?"

"I think it might be genetic," he lied.  "My father was a hard-working planetologist who taught me everything about small details."

Mr. and Mrs. Seldon came down the stairs to meet the stranger.  Their expressions did show.  "Oh my, you do have an odd skin color," Mrs. Seldon said.  Hunter noticed that it was a temporary feeling of prejudice rather than discrimination.

"May we help you?" Mr. Seldon asked.

"Yes, I'm here to make a travel arrangement for the Alpha Quadrant."

"Well don't just stand out there then, come in and talk.  We were just about to have our lunch."

Hunter shrugged at the hospitality.  Mr. Seldon was a decimeter shorter than him with a firm stance and a pair of lenses.  Mrs. Seldon was slightly overweight but with a personality that seemed to make friends easily.  Overall, they didn't mean harm to him.

He followed the two parents and the girl to the kitchen.  While the outside part of the house looked simply exquisite, the inside was purely state-of-the-art.  The living room had couches that surrounded what seemed to be a holographic projector like the ones he'd seen in the city.  In the kitchen there were various luxury-based items.  Toast knives; voice-activated drawers; communication terminals; heat regulators on the floor; a compact dishwasher the size of a drawer; a Crave-Sensor 5006; and an instant oven.  He was not at all surprised.

The Seldons were making various sandwiches for lunch.  The girl sliced some bread using a toast knife, which toasts bread as it is sliced.  Mr. Seldon put the toasted bread, lettuce, and lunchmeat together.  Mrs. Seldon approached one of the communication terminals.  She looked for button that said "Jeff's Room" and pressed it.  "Jeffery!  Lunchtime!"

Hunter – as usual – noticed something.  If they were making lunch downstairs, why did they answer the door from upstairs?  Must've been an urgent message.

He sat down with the rest of the family to have lunch.  He ate without complaint.

A hyperactive boy appeared in the kitchen.  "Who do you have with you Amy?"  He was obviously teasing.  "A fiancé?"

"Shut the hell up and sit down," the girl named Amy commanded.

Mrs. Seldon made an intro.  "You have to excuse our manners, sir.  We aren't what you would call a 'civilized group'."

"I've seen worse.  I grew up in the city."

"Well, anyways, let me introduce ourselves.  I'm Bertha Seldon.  This is my husband Alphonse."  He gestured for a handshake which Hunter accepted gratefully.

The boy made gross humor expressions at his sister.  "This is our thirteen-year old Jeff," Mrs. Seldon continued.

"I believe you already met our daughter Amy, I presume?"  She gestured towards the sullen teenager.

"Pleased to meet you," Amy greeted without a hint of a smile.

They all finished their lunch in ten minutes.  Mr. Seldon coaxed their children to return to their rooms telling them that they have important business with this fine gentleman.  Disgruntled, Jeff and Amy walked back upstairs.

Hunter gave them the heads-up.  "I'd keep a close eye on your daughter."  His tone was earnest.

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Seldon apologized.

"The way she keeps her head down at a slight angle tells me she has some unresolved issue on her mind."

"I didn't see any obscene head angle, did you Al?"

"It was unnoticeable to the naked eye," Hunter continued, "but I saw it.  She's probably contemplating suicide as far as I'm concerned."

"You've got one hell of a radar for noticing such a change in the environment if you mind me saying," Mr. Seldon complimented.

"I know, I get that a lot.  But enough talk of conspiracy.  It's time for me to make the introduction.  My name is Hunter Dejj."  It was safe to reveal his true identity to these folk.

"Dejj?" Mr. Seldon replied.  "Like David Dejj?"

Hunter looked at him curiously.  "You know my father?"

"I sure do!  While I was in high school, he was my Environmental Science teacher.  The guy knew everything about planets.  He was the best teacher who ever lived."

Hunter didn't know how to respond to Mr. Seldon's exaggerated retort.  He knew more about his father than his own son did.  So he let the man continue.

"I never knew that you could plant a tree on a barren planet, and then add water to it to turn it into a thriving ecosystem until I took his class.  So how is the old Dejj doing?"

"Well, umm," Hunter tried to find the right tone of voice to reveal it in, "he's dead."

At first it was silent.  Then Mr. Seldon asked, "What?  He's dead?"  He sounded somber.

"He was killed by –" But he couldn't put the words into play.  If he said who killed him, they might no longer be sympathetic.  "He drowned in the ocean."

"Look, I'm sorry for putting you in grief.  I didn't mean to recall your tragedy."

"That's okay.  I got sidetracked anyways.  I'm here to schedule a heighliner leading to the Alpha Quadrant."

Before any of them responded, the two kids barged downstairs.  "Don't mind us," Jeff explained.  "We're just watching some hologram."

Mr. Seldon responded to Hunter.  "Alpha Quadrant?  No problem!"  He took out a stylus and digital notepad.  "You're in luck.  The next heighliner passing through this quadrant will be here in three days.  To schedule a flier, I need to ask you your specific destination."

Hunter planned how to answer that question.  "The origin of the human race."

Mr. and Mrs. Seldon looked up to stare blankly at their deluded client.  Jeff called out from the living room.

"Mom!  Dad!  The news is on."

"We'll be there," Mrs. Seldon answered.  She turned to Hunter.  "We're sorry for cutting in the middle of this conversation.  But the whole family has to watch the local news.  It's our custom."

"No, it's all right.  I'm glad to here that there's a family who gets together in front of a hologram."  That was the truth.  "Anyways, I'm glad to take a break.  Do you mind if I use your restroom?"

"Not at all.  Down that hall, second door on your right."  She pointed towards the nearby hallway.

He thanked the woman and then walked towards the bathroom while his hosts sat in the living room.

He wanted to answer the question that way so they would get frustrated at him.  Eventually they would lead him to the nearest database and then he would reveal his reasoning and intentions.  All according to plan.

When he entered the bathroom, he saw himself in the mirror.  He hasn't seen himself for weeks and didn't blame the Seldons for acting prejudicial towards him at first.  He had – as Amy had explained – olive-skin and pitch-black hair that looked like it wasn't treated for years.  He wore an unbuttoned trench coat and a white undershirt.  The most gruesome feature of being injected with it was his eyes, which were so terrifying that he wore sunglasses most of the time.  He was also taller than the average Ballistan.

He turned away from the mirror and sat on the toilet.  He didn't really have to use it.  He just wanted some privacy – and a place to listen.

The headline started.  "Breaking News!  Last night a epidemiologist who was a member of the epidemiologist galactic convention named PsychoGenesis…."

Them!

"….was found dead at the Sigmund Gelcictrum Memorial with his face completely torn off.  Studies say that the man was on his way to send a message to the PsychoGenesis Headquarters on Rotoun IV when he was brutally attacked by an unarmed psychopath who was trained in hand-to-hand combat.  The victim's name was Damien Osborne who joined PG ten years ago.  He was experienced with pathogenic protection units and was one of the founders of the opetino vaccine.  The members of PG claimed he was an asset to their ongoing project, and was shocked of his death."

Hunter didn't need to guess who that psychopath was.  He lifted himself off the toilet and left the bathroom.  He walked down the hall to enter the living room, which displayed a hologram of a glossy female news anchor not without a smile on her face.  The entire Seldon family was seated on a nearby sofa.

The anchor continued, "Authorities have confirmed a possible suspect of the murder: a local male, six foot two, black hair, wears polarized lenses often, olive skin, and wears a loose turncoat.  Suspect has lived as a renegade for twenty years since the age of eight.  He has assumed many identities during that time, although authorities also recollected the suspect's actual name, Hunter Dejj."

The heads of the four residents turned towards him.

"Guards are sweeping the city to locate Dejj as we speak.  Remember, although not armed in any way, Hunter Dejj is still extremely dangerous.  If you have any information regarding Dejj's whereabouts, call the Witness Hotline at 485-3390.  Once again that number is 485-3390.  In other news, the Ballistan stock market rose four hundred points as…."

But nobody in the house was paying any attention at that point.

Mr. Seldon rose from the sofa and directed his attention toward the rest of the family.  "Honey, get the phone.  Call that hotline.  Kids, stay behind me."

Hunter just stood in place in front of Mr. Seldon.  He noticed that the man was looking off to his left quite often, probably sorting out mixed emotions in his head; determining if Hunter was in shock to the point of immobility or if Hunter had a plan and saw every reason to remain calm.  Or maybe he was determining whether he truly was a murder suspect or there were some confidential conspiracies at play.  Whatever it was, Mr. Seldon was in profound stress.

"Hunter Dejj – at least we can assume that is your true name – we cannot let you leave this house before the Guards arrive.  I set up a heavily armed defense system around the front lawn myself.  Same with the back yard."  He held up a voice-activated switch hidden in his left hand and spoke to it.  "Activate power grids 80-P290 and 80-P291.  Only licensed Ballistan Guards are allowed to pass."

"Power grids 80-P290 and 80-P291 activated," an artificial female com speaker confirmed.  Hunter knew the man wasn't bluffing, but it didn't matter either way.  He still needed these people.

Mr. Seldon turned towards Hunter.  "Also, our headphones have instantaneous tracking devices.  We don't even need to detail our precise whereabouts anymore.  The Guards would instantly locate us.  It saves time."

"Yes, but those tracking devices can also cause short-circuits occasionally," Hunter remarked.

"We had no prob…."

Before Mr. Seldon could finish his response, a boisterous popping sound developed in the kitchen, followed by an incandescent flash that formed a lamination even on the walls of the living room.  The Seldon family rushed to the kitchen, with Hunter trailing at a steady pace.

Mrs. Seldon was propped on the floor covering her ears in agony.  Jeff and Amy helped her get back up on her feet.  "Bertha!  What happened?!"  Mr. Seldon was concerned as far as Hunter could see.

"The headphones blew up," she answered, bewildered.  It was a ludicrous response, but at least Hunter knew he was right.  The rest of the family turned their heads towards him and thought the same way.

*********

A half-hour later, after they sent Mrs. Seldon to bed and deactivated the defense systems, Hunter and the rest of the family sat in the living room to discuss all that has happened.  Mr. Seldon felt it unnecessary to try to contain Hunter after today's complications.  He did not run.  Instead, Hunter felt it necessary to explain everything in his own words.

"I did not kill that man.  PsychoGenesis did."

"But they said that man was a member of PG."

Hunter sighed, and then leaned forward.  "PG does not put social endeavors in front of business.  They're using any means necessary to confirm my capture."

Mr. Seldon stood frozen.  His kids jumped at that sudden interference.  "Your capture?" he asked, dazed.

"Correct!  At first, I thought it was some desperate act to make up for my escaping their experiment room twenty years ago, but after using my trademark hyper-awareness, I realized that they sent Guards after me for some bigger project than what they used me for in the past.  The fact that they need me tells me that it is somewhat related to what I went through.

"If that's the case, we'll all pay the price."

Having been forced the truth, Hunter saw Mr. Seldon flabbergasted.  It only confirmed that feeling when he said, "Kids, this is important business.  Go to your rooms, please."  They obeyed.

"What do you mean 'pay the price?'?"

"What I'm saying is that if it's the same project they used on me, they are going to use Gentron."

An epidemiologist's future; a planetologist's nightmare.  Mr. Seldon studied well enough to know what Gentron does to entire ecosystems, Hunter saw.  Gentron, although still and not very well active, could cause serious symptoms to any and all life forms.  It originated on the planet Ima, a barren dust-world with no form of life – besides Gentron, which is a large mass of purple bacteria.  Epidemiologists hope to tame it to create life forms with enhanced abilities.  They succeeded once, and it was on Hunter Dejj.

"Wait!  Gentron….on you?"

"I was eight years old.  I had a normal and peaceful life with my parents like you did.  Then an advocate from PG arrived.  He wanted my dad, David, to participate in a – festival with PG.  When the advocate left, Dad instinctly refused the offer.  When he sent the message through to PG the next day, they were already prepared.  Armed men stormed into our house and attempted to capture Dad.  They shot my mom, and when they cornered my dad at the edge of the pool, he poised to grab something and one of the men shot him on impulse."  Hunter felt no emotion.  "When they realized their mission had failed, they grab me and used me as a test subject to replace my dad.  They injected me with Gentron for hours on end for a week.  I began to have an enhanced perception.

"It didn't take me long to figure out how to escape, but when I did, I went into hiding.  I assumed many identities and used my newly acquired fighting skills, complements of Gentron, to get by the day."

Mr. Seldon saw Hunter's intention then.  "And you want to leave Ballista now?"

"I've been planning to leave for twenty years.  But now I have a destination."

The older man tried to recollect his thoughts.  "To Terra?  But Hunter, nobody alive knows which planet that is."

"If you show me to your office and open up your database, I will show you."

At first, Mr. Seldon looked pretentious towards the suggestion, then said, "Very well, Mr. Dejj.  I will gladly show you to my office."

If Hunter held any regrets about asking a man to show him his personal things, he did not show it.

Mr. Seldon led him upstairs into a hallway with doors painted in maroon brown.  Across the atrium, he could see a massive window garbed with a set of vintage curtains.  Before realizing it, he was positioned in an air-conditioned room decorated (if that's what they called it) with records and discs that were not labeled as he can see.  The only remarkable features about the room were the motion-sensing file cabinets that apparently stopped working for a significantly long period of time, and the network screen on the far side of the wall.

As Mr. Seldon went towards the screen to activate his home database for his guest to see, Hunter grabbed a nearby record for the sake of passing the time.  He turned towards Mr. Seldon and saw him touch a hidden keypad inside the small maintenance compartment below the screen.  He was activating numerous connections.  Hunter suggested that it was going to be awhile.

When he looked back at the record he was holding, the one labeled "Preserver," he noticed that it was virtually clean (with a few miniature scratches towards the edge).  When he picked up another record, he saw that it was covered in dust and lint, along with a barrage of scratches that looked like it was clawed at by some vicious canine or feline typed animal.  Most of the other records and discs had those same features.  The Seldons had been using this particular record constantly while leaving all the rest of the information untouched for years.  Society had just installed every database with a new internal information-finding network, leaving records and discs, which used to be extensions for every database, to rot.  Information that the Seldons still need to use a record for must be essentially useful.

He placed the record in the inside pocket of his turncoat.

He thought to use the thoughts that were just on his mind to start a conversation.  "How long have we had personal home databases?"

Mr. Seldon never seized setting up the screen.  "What?  Oh, I don't know.  A thousand years.  Since the beginning of the Confederation.  Why?"

"After a thousand years, we now just made a technological breakthrough with our databases?"  Hunter sounded concerned.

"Of course," Mr. Seldon responded nonchalantly.  "What does it matter?"

"The answer to life's greatest mysteries is what matters."  He did his best not to strike out.

"I have no idea what you mean."  As he made that comment, he closed the compartment and pressed the nearby power button.  The screen lit up.  "Aw, here we are!  The system is on.  What next?"

Hunter thought for a moment, then said, "Go to the most recent update of the general overview of the universe controlled by the Confederation."  He then clarified, "Make sure it is the most recent update."  Sometimes the network makes the mistake of revealing an old site even if it has been updated recently.

Two minutes later, an image of space appeared on the screen.  "Too small!  Activate your holographic imager if you have one," Hunter commanded.

"Oh, I have one all right," Mr. Seldon remarked.  Hunter didn't see what he did, but in an instant the walls all around them retracted to reveal a system of support railings and heavy machinery.  The machinery collaborated with each other to form a massive and sophisticated projector with a smooth elliptic deck two meters above ground.  They used the nearby stepping complex to reach the deck.

In the center of the machine was a small glass shaft that showed the display on the screen as a hologram.  When the two men reached the deck, a hologram of space appeared inside the shaft.  Now it was big enough for convenience.

"Alphonse!"  Mr. Seldon looked up in reaction towards his name.  "You know what I expect you to understand when I say I'm looking for Terra."

"Yeah, I know.  'Find it in my database.'"  Mr. Seldon raised his right hand and swayed it to the left.  The hologram turned its image in the same direction until the print and title of the site came into view.  The glass of the shaft was unique as it reacted to motion.

"Now," Hunter began, "the first rule to finding Terra is to find planets…."

"….that displays our standard times," Mr. Seldon finished.  "I've been doing this for a long time, boy."  He met his gaze with Hunter's, who looked callous.  It was the last time he called him "boy."  "Well, anyways, I've already narrowed my options to three planets.  None of them are in the Alpha Quadrant, however."

He pointed to the lower-left corner of the glass which displayed the phrase "Planetary Zoom."  Afterwards, a list of all Confederate planets appeared before them.  He highlighted three names, and then pointed to the lower-left corner again to "Commence Zoom."  Three planets formed that contained similar features such as open climates, green land, and large bodies of ocean.

"Wekufo; Nabijenta; and Terch IX," Mr. Seldon listed.  "I bet with your enhanced deduction skills you could make an educated guess."

"I have.  The answer is none."

Mr. Seldon was puzzled.  "But all the rest of the planets did not fit the criteria."

Hunter was prepared to answer.  "And these three are included.  Wekufo lacks large amounts of steel, which is a stepping-stone for human development.  We wouldn't have developed upright postures if we grew up on the mountains of Nabijenta.  And it looks like Terch IX has been terraformed."

Before there were planetologists, there were terraformers.  Terraformers went from planet to planet to redistribute the ecology and changed the various flora and fauna of the planets to make them more suitable for human colonization.

"These are all obvious factors, even without my deduction skills," Hunter pointed out.

"Apparently you have a guess as to where Terra is."  Mr. Seldon was being sentimental.

"I was getting to that.  I have one suggestion – no, answer – as to what planet that is."  He pointed at the upper-left hand corner of the shaft which highlighted the return tab.  He tapped it twice to return to the overview.  He then picked a spot seemingly at random (which is not true).  The hologram magnified to show a planet completely covered in ice.

"Earth?!" Mr. Seldon exclaimed.  "Are you insane?!  That planet has been uninhabitable since the founding of the Confederation.  Even a thousand years ago it was still…."

"That's just it, Al," Hunter stated, risking his formality by referring him by his nickname.  "It hasn't been a thousand years."

He knew he intruded on Mr. Seldon's ideals on many occasions in the last few minutes to induce alienation.  Mr. Seldon surprised Hunter by showing only bewilderment rather than a reaction to estrangement.  "What!  Is it two thousand years rather than one?  'Cause I'm not getting…."

"What I'm saying," Hunter cut off, "is that the lack of common ground when it comes to planetary observation and a somewhat stagnant human civilization was probably caused by a change in psychological behavior in the past, and part of that change also resulted in a vast underestimation with the amount of time between some long-term event and today.

"As for Earth, look closer.  It might look like a cold and uninhabitable planet, but as you can see," he pointed to the display, "the wind distribution and solar rays touching the planet suggest that it was a lush and green world but was naturally destined to become this state."

Hunter gasped.  It was much more information than he could normally contain in one breath, but Mr. Seldon showed an understanding that he got everything down.  "You say that we, as a human race, were changed, Hunter?  Then tell me.  Why were we changed?"

Hunter merely shrugged.  It was impossible to know who and why made it possible, but he still held onto an instinct that the answers to those questions might be revealed on Terra.  He felt that the Seldons might need some more explanations before he could tell them that.

But is it worth it to bring them into trouble for helping me escape this shit hole? he thought.  He was a twenty-standard-year fugitive under risk of penalty for a crime he supposedly committed.  The Guards would surely hold the family under contempt if they found out about their illicit travel arrangements for Hunter Dejj.  These are nice people who only want to help people, not hurt them.

"Okay, then."  Mr. Seldon brought Hunter out of his thoughts.  "If you know that it hasn't been a thousand years, how long has it been?"

"I have an accurate estimation.  Probably close to three or four million years at least."

"F-f-f-fffour million years?!"  He couldn't comprehend such a vast number, especially regarding time.  "Besides space travel and all, how was it possible that nothing changed within that time?  It's madness!"

"I told you!  I don't know.  Although I can say that before this psychological mindset happened, life was not so different when it came to family ordeals.  Something did change that day, and that was our perception on reality."  He walked towards the railing.  "Whoever did this, they also cleared our minds to make us believe our lives involved elements from the story Dune."

It was clear that Mr. Seldon was unfamiliar with that title.  Still, he stuck with the topic.  "Why would they do that?"

"To make space travel more efficient, I would guess."  Hunter did not falter.  "Dune exploits various fields that benefits space travel.  It also mentions that one of those factors does not relate to science, but to faith.

"But what I'm saying is that a lot of aspects in our lives are mere last-resort expenses to benefit the aspirations of a higher order that went extinct."  He displayed his hands to emphasize the last word.  "If this high-class civilization changed our perceptions on reality to benefit it, it must have been in desperation because it didn't work and it fell to the ground."

"You know, Hunter, I think is beyond your league even with your enhanced senses."  Mr. Seldon looked stern.  "How is it that you came up with this all on your own if it was completely impossible for anyone else to even contemplate it?"

Hunter frowned.  "Deduction skills and strength weren't the only things acquired by Gentron."  He shivered.  The mere mention of the name could cause stress.  "If I had to elaborate, I would say that I was also cured, as in cured from this psychological barrier.  I came to understand that Gentron can be beneficial if you can master it.  But anyways, the minute I stepped foot out of the PG Ballistan Branch Building, I began to see the big picture.

"But many have been tested for Gentron, all above my current age, and died.  Maybe going to Terra might also give me the answers as to why I'm the only successful subject."

Although Mr. Seldon kept a seemingly perfect straight-face, Hunter could tell that he was astounded.  Shit, if I listened to a story that involved seeing the nature of everything, I could be astounded.  But he also knew that it was not wise to elaborate on petty emotions until matters sorted themselves out first, and they haven't.

Mr. Seldon must've been thinking hard at the same time he was.  "So you want to land on Earth because you think the answers to all these questions might be located on that planet?"

Damn!  Got caught.  "Of course.  Although it might not be there.  Instead, a solution to the Gentron project might be there.  Who knows?"  They both started to descend the ramp, having no more use for the projector.  "I'm only asking you to get me there.  I'm not asking you to come with me.  Quite the opposite, really.  Is there any openings for Earth?"

Mr. Seldon had to exit the ramp, command the projector to retreat back into the wall, and shut down the database (with the display of Earth still on it) before he could check his digital notepad.  "I'm sorry, Hunter.  There is no flier heading specifically for Earth, even though we did say a heighliner was headed for the Alpha Quadrant."

Hunter pondered.  "Could I schedule a stop/return flight instead?"

Mr. Seldon went back to his notepad for an answer.  "You're in luck once again.  A flier in Spaceport K-263 ten kilometers from here is headed for Orgi III, which in return, has another flier headed directly for Earth."

Orgi III?

Mr. Seldon's face went sour after investigating some more.  "Oh, but the time of takeoff is somewhat inconvenient."

"How long do I have?"

"Twenty minutes."

A short amount of time was not the problem: he had his own ways to get around the city.  He felt the "Preserver" record press against his skin.  He knew when to use it.

Orgi III is the Archive Planet.

**************

The minute that Hunter Dejj left the Seldon residence after discussing travel arrangements with Mr. Seldon, he activated his headpiece to contact Farson's Automotive Dealership.

"Hello!  Farson's Automotive Dealership.  This is Ren Farson speaking."

"Ren!  It's me, Jerry Worth."  He did not stop moving.

"Oh, hi Jerry.  Good to hear from you again.  What do you need?"

"I need to use a rental."  It was not surprising to ask for a vehicle from a long-time friend (who doesn't know Hunter's real name) who owns a dealership.  "I want to set a course from the corner of East Locust Street and 410 Avenue to the valet of Spaceport K-263.  I want a vehicle that can span that distance within fifteen standard minutes."

"You're leaving?"

"I just have to, okay.  Can you do all of that?"

"You don't need to worry, old pal.  It just so happens that I have a railer parked in that very location.  Somebody else just used that vehicle only several minutes ago.  By the time you get there, I've already set the coordinates.  Now that will all come out to…."

"You know how I pay," Hunter yelled, impatient.  "I'm closer to that spot than you think.  Just set those coordinates!"

"All right, for crying out loud," Ren responded.  "I guess its goodbye, then."

"Goodbye, Ren."  He shut off his headpiece.

He broke out into a run afterwards.  He noticed that it was turning dawn at three thirty in the afternoon, yet, yesterday, at the same time, it was completely dark.  Ballista was not in tune with the standard times like Terra was.  Mr. Seldon was right when he said that the first step to finding Terra is to find which planets fit the standard times of the Confederation.  On Ballista, the days are too long and the years are too short.

He reached the corner of East Locust Street and 410 Avenue in less than a minute.  The buildings were all made of dark Plexiglas to make the assumption that it was a botanical site for the city.  Hunter went into the only parking complex in the area to search for the railer.

And there it was.  A three-meter-long, two-meter-high, green, speed vehicle with hover support and hybridization (octane is extremely toxic in an aquatic environment).  The railer was certainly suitable to cover ten kilometers in fifteen minutes.

"Jerry Worth: twenty-eight, 557329410," Hunter listed as he approached the railer.  The vehicle opened its driver door in response to his voice.  Everyone renting a vehicle must submit their name, age, and identification number to use a rental.

As he got inside the vehicle, he noticed that there was neither a manual shift nor a steering wheel.  The GPS signified the path between his current position and the spaceport.  Ren does quick work!

Hunter commanded the railer to start.  Before he knew it, the railer was already on the street and headed for the airway.

He was halfway to the airway when he spotted something unusual up ahead.  The buildings (which were now brick) had all their windows concealed except for two windows farther down.  Considering the theory of city-bound randomness, no one apartment, especially many in a certain area, can be completely vacant.  No vehicles were in sight either.  The area must be closed down – except that Hunter was driving through it.

Than the truth came to him fast enough for him to exit the car and avoid a bullet aimed straight for his head.  Those two windows were occupied by Sniper Guards.  Ren Farson might have realized that "Jerry Worth" was actually Hunter by his looks and contacted the authorities.

And they tried to kill me.  Sniper rifles are the only weapons that still use metallic bullets even after the extinction of ballistics.  The fact that PG allowed the Guards to use Snipers to capture told him that they don't need him alive for their project.

He ran from the still-moving-railer and went into the building on his left.  As he expected, an ambush of Guards came out of the many hallway doors.  Hunter looked to his right and found, to his relief, a dislodged metal pipe.  By the time the Guards opened fire, Hunter was dashing full-speed towards them with the pipe in hand.  He began thrusting it at any and all Guards who got close enough to get a clear shot.  He ducked when he sensed a laser beam about to make impact with, and then threw the pipe at the Guard blocking his way.  He ran in that direction, leaving the ambush and his pipe behind.

A flight of stairs came into view after several turns.  He went up four levels where he found a balcony similar to the one he jumped underneath of this morning.  No sign of any Guards.

Across from the balcony, he could see countless rooftops aligned straight ahead.  At the other end, he could see fliers lift off.  It was the spaceport.  How much time did he have left?

He ran to the other end of the balcony and leaped towards the rooftop – and landed.  Normal people couldn't make that, but Hunter was far from normal.  He ran another ten meters before reaching the edge of the rooftop.  He performed another leap – and made that one.

He leaped three more times before spotting a copter rise from an alleyway in front of him.  Before he could think, an ethereal substance flashed directly under the copter.  He halted in his tracks before he could touch the substance.  It was a Linghurd Shield, which immobilizes anyone who makes contact with it.

More like a Holtzman Shield.  Hunter was not fooling when he said reality was based on the story Dune.  If he was correct, no Guards could fire at him without point-blank accuracy.  If a single string of laser comes into contact with a Linghurd Shield, the resulting mass of energy could cause devastating results.  Five Guards approached him from behind but they, as he expected, did not fire.

The Guard in front presented himself.  "Hunter Dejj.  I am Lieutenant Brett Herbert from Patrol 883 in Quadrant Alpha 01."  He was the man whom Hunter heard from earlier.  "We have you surrounded."  A good look from both sides told Hunter he was right.  "Put your hands on your head."

Hunter knew that this was an empty threat, since they couldn't risk shooting him, but he obeyed nevertheless.  When Herbert and the other Guards approached him, he asked a question.  "Do you have the time?"

"What?  I-I don't know.  Does anyone have a watch?"

"I do, sir," a Guard on Hunter's right responded.  "It's three forty-five sharp."

Hunter missed his flight.  Dammit!  He was afraid that wouldn't be able to have the nerve to go back to the Seldons again.

"You happy now, soldier?" Herbert retorted.  "Now listen up.  You have gone against Gelcictrum decree by assaulting…."

Hunter was not paying attention to his protocol.  He was too busy staring at the darkening sky trying to spot his flier.  He found it, trying to exit Ballista's atmosphere quickly, even though he knew that it takes hours to obtain the correct altitude.  He then shifted his gaze to the top of the Spire, where he saw….

"Attention all Gelcictrum citizens," an artificial voice boomed from every speaker in the city.  "This is not a drill.  I repeat: this is not a drill.  A tidal wave with magnitude seven has been detected by our sonars.  All citizens within ten kilometers of the Spire, strap yourselves to the nearest support modules to prepare for elevation.  All other citizens will retreat into the nearest hydro-resistant dome.  Projected time of arrival is t-minus five minutes."

The red light on top of the Spire stopped flashing.  A blue, dome-shaped object covered the building Hunter jumped off of.  Herbert cursed and directed towards Hunter.  "All right, you son of a bitch.  We are going to enter that dome over there with you under our custody.  If you try to pull anything with us, it will be your head."

The moment Herbert turned and stood a meter away from Hunter was his demise.  Hunter dashed headfirst into the Guard, where he went soaring into the air and into an alley.  Everyone was too shocked of their lieutenant's death to notice Hunter running towards downtown.

He knew that the Guards wouldn't have time to chase after him with the allotted time given.  His original plan was to run as far away as possible until the wave comes in, and then use a support module without any interference – until he found that his flier was still in the atmosphere.

An idea struck at him suddenly.  Even in Hunter's perspective it was pretty insane, but it might work.

He leaped from building to building searching for a crease in the pavement below.  He went two kilometers before he found it and, just as he expected, leather-strap complexes were everywhere.

He did not go into one.

Instead, he followed the rim of the crease until he was at a specific point in the city: the northeast end of downtown on top of a building.  Still, he did not go into a support module.

A nearby civilian that was strapped to one gestured towards him.  "Hey, sir!  Why aren't you strapping yourself down?"

"Relax!  I'm a professional," Hunter responded with a smile on his face.  The civilian did not know what he meant by that.

The alarms all around the city went off, signifying that elevation would commence in ten seconds.  The man was hysterical.  "The Spire, dude!  The Spire!  Get in a fucking strap!"

Hunter did not pay attention.

Five….

He poised for elevation

Four….

"You're fucking mental!"

Three….two….

One….

A gust of wind Hunter never experienced, but still used to, pounded on him ferociously.  The man next to him was staring at him like he was a superhero.  Hunter was waiting for the right time to move.

The time came when it seemed like anytime now.  He rushed towards the edge of the building as fast as he could despite the velocity.  The minute he grabbed the edge with his hands, the city reached the top of the Spire.

Hunter went flying – towards his flier.

He was barreling so fast that he couldn't detect the flier until went through a wall of glass that must've been a window.  He hit the floor dazed.

The pain he experienced landing hard made him feel like he was going to die.  He slowly opened his eyes to find that he was in a dimly lit room with a single chair and a self-serving cocktail machine.  A deafening draft reverberated from the broken window.  He sat up painfully to find that the window was repairing itself using spare fiber-technology.

"Welcome, Mr. Hunter Dejj," greeted the flier's autopilot.

Hunter dislodged a shard of glass from his waist before replying.  "What do you mean 'welcome?'  You're in the middle of taking off."  He was being facetious.

"I was informed by Alphonse Seldon that you may arrive on the flier between lift off and exiting the atmosphere."  The autopilot was an A.I.

So Mr. Seldon predicted Hunter would miss his flight being a convict.  He also assumed he was capable of boarding nevertheless.  Always safe to assume things.

"Your flight will last for three hours before latching on a heighliner.  Then you will remain on the heighliner for one hour in which you will be paired with a passenger who has the same destination as you, which in this case is Spaceport Hammer on Orgi III."

The mention of that name made Hunter realize something.  He dug under his jacket to search for record.  It was still there, still intact.  He gave a sigh of relief.

The record was the most perplexing question of all his questions.  "The Preservers" was a word Hunter heard before – twenty years ago in captivity.  He did not know the significance at first, but now that it came back to him, it only tempted him more to use the record.

His gaze shifted towards the self-repairing window, then at the intercom.  "Does this flier have a module that encrypts records?"

"Of course, Mr. Dejj.  But why would you want to use an out-of-date record to forward?"

"Just show me!  Forward all the information to Orgi III."

The AI was perplexed.  "Sir, couldn't you wait until you arrive on the planet?"

"I want to give the 'scribes' there a heads-up on my – 'present.'  I only have a couple of hours, and, being me, I want to obtain every detail of that motherfucker as I can."