Excerpt: Utopia

Prologue
1200 B.C.
The sea swelled with unbridled fury, remorselessly battering and tossing the small wooden boat. Dubaku looked to the sky where ‘Nanaunir, the storm god was stirring his cauldron. Hevioss, the thunder god roared in response to his call, and Khebieso, the god of lightening hurled down his bolts of fire from the heavens. The four men at the oars strained against the waves with all their might, trying to keep the small craft from capsizing and being swallowed by the waves. Dubaku, sat between them, clutching a heavy chest in his arms as if his life depended on it.
Black as darkest night, the chest was carved of obsidian, its surface carefully chiseled with magical spells of containment, and warnings of great danger. The sight of it was both beautiful and horrifying to the men in the boat, but what frightened them most was the ruddy glow that came from within it, illuminating the junction where the lid met the body of the chest as if something from within was trying to burn its way free.
“Dubaku,” a rower called Thabo pleaded, his dark eyes wide with terror. “We must turn back.”
Dubaku merely shook his head. He was the eleventh son of an eleventh son, and thus a shaman of considerable power – his word was to be obeyed. “We can not turn back.”
The wind howled across the face of the water, causing it to foam like the muzzle of an angry jackal and Thabo’s dark eyes grew wide with fear.
“But we will be swallowed down!” Thabo said.
“We will not,” Dubaku answered with conviction, reaching up to clasp his pendant. “We have the protection of the great god Olorun.”
“Dubaku speaks the truth,” Sefu, another of the rowers agreed. “We do the bidding of our god. He will protect us.” His two companions nodded in agreement.
The boat yawed as it was buffeted by an enormous wave, and Dubaku clung tighter to the box. He had never known the sea to possess such anger – perhaps Beher the sea god did not wish to become the keeper of the chest. Or maybe the great god Olorun was testing him, but he would not fail. Olorun the creator had bade them rid the world of the evil spirit contained within the box, and that was what they would do.
The glowing edges of the chest had become painful to behold, and Dubaku knew they must hurry. The chest had been sealed with powerful magic, but only submersion beneath the cool waves of the ocean deep would assure that the evil within could not escape.
Abonsam had brought terror to their village with its hateful ways. It was a spirit that contained much anger and cunning, and the judgement of the great god Olorun was that it was to be cast into the sea for its evil deeds, eternally trapped beneath the waves in Olorun’s magic box.
“Just a little further, Thabo, and then we can return,” he promised.
Thabo and the others rowed with renewed determination through the roiling waters, and Dubaku’s gaze went to his pendant. A soft glow was becoming visible around the edges of the ornament. Just a little bit further – just a few strokes more, and they could carry out the bidding of their god.
As Dubaku clutched tightly to the box to his chest with both arms, he could feel something within it banging against the sides as if it were trying to get out – as if the evil within knew that time for it to escape was growing short.
A wave washed over the side of the boat, nearly capsizing them, and Dubaku wondered if the storm was not a test for him by his god, but instead an effort of the evil within the box to escape its fate. Abonsam had brought sickness to their village – a sickness of the mind that had caused people to act as animals without thought or reason. He clutched tighter to the box. It could not be allowed to escape.
The glow of the pendant about his neck had brightened until it blazed like a sun.
“Stop!” he commanded, and the men stilled their oars.
Still clutching the box tightly Dubaku stood, and at his nod, the men with him started rhythmically tapping the handles of the oars upon the side of the boat.
From his robes, Dubaku pulled a strangely shaped key on a leather cord. The key was drawn to the chest in his arms as a bee is drawn to a flower, or drowning man to air. It pulled at strap in his hand, trying to reach the lock upon the chest for which it had been made. With difficulty, Dubaku pulled the two apart, and dangled the key over the side of the boat by its cord.
“Beher, great god of the sea to you, Olorun commits this key for safe keeping – guard it well.” No sooner than the words were spoken, a large silver fish leapt from the waves and pulled the key from his grip, then both vanished beneath the water.
The tapping of the oars grew louder and changed in cadence, and the men with him began to chant a wordless song in low voices.
Dubaku raised his face to the sky, and the rain beat down upon his cheeks with stinging force. “By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condemn this evil to the sea!”
A wave washed over him, nearly knocking him from the boat, but the hands of the oarsmen quickly steadied him. They must finish the ritual! He raised his face again to the stinging rain, and once again the cadence and chanting resumed.
“By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condemn this evil to the sea!” he shouted again, and this time, a howling wind swooped down from above, grabbing at him, trying to pluck him from the boat and carry both he and the chest back to land.
Loyal Sefu acted quickly. He released his oar grabbed a hold of Dubaku’s robes, clutching them tightly with one hand, and the seat upon which he sat with the other.
Though Dubaku felt his feet leave the deck of the boat, Sefu held fast to him, and he was not carried away.
“By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condem this evil to the sea!” he shouted for the third and final time, then with all of his strength, Dubaku pitched the accursed chest into the roiling waters as far away from the boat as he could manage. A great watery hand reared up from the waves and crashed down upon the chest, dragging it into the depths.
Dubaku collapsed onto the seat beside Sefu as the wind released him, and the fury of the storm immediately started to ebb, and die.
Sefu sighed with relief. “Is it finished?”
Dubaku sadly shook his head. “Because of what we have done today, this stretch of sea will always be cursed. Accidents will plague those who sail here, and fishermen must never put out their nets in these waters again – for if Abonsam can find a way, it will rise again to plague the earth.”
The men with him lowered their oars into the water and rowed as quickly as they could for the safety of the shore.

Chapter 1
An endless sea of blue-green glided past beneath the skids of the helicopter as they left the coast of Somalia quickly behind them. Cassandra leaned back and forced herself to take a deep breath. Ever since the accident she had been terrified of the water. Leave it to the brilliant minds at the museum to send someone with hydrophobia out into the middle of the ocean, though she had a dark suspicion that her father might have had something to do with it – in his opinion it was far past time she got over what had happened. To his mind, her “irrational” fear was a stumbling block in her career that needed to be kicked aside. Apparently it was sink or swim time – literally in this case. She shuddered.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded politely to the young couple seated across from her. From their demeanor, she had come to the inevitable conclusion that they were honeymooners – the dreamy look in the girls eyes, and the way she clung possessively to her husband’s hand was a dead giveaway. He extended his hand.
“I’m Scott Bramson, and this is my wife Lori.”
She shook his offered hand. “C.J.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be landing soon.”
She merely nodded, allowing him to believe her unease was due to a fear of flight. Some would call her paranoid, but she never volunteered her weakness to anyone if she could help it – you simply never knew when it would come back to bite you in the ass.
“On your honeymoon?” she asked.
Scott grinned down at his wife.
“Are we that obvious?” Lori asked.
Cassandra smiled in return. “You have the look.”
She supposed it would have been rude to point out what she was really thinking – that anyone who looked that happy hadn’t been married long enough find fault with one another yet. Once the glow of new love wore thin, disillusionment usually started peeking through.
“We’ve been waiting over a year for this trip,” he told her. “Idrus is a hard place to get into, but from everything we’ve heard, it’s worth the wait.”
Again she nodded politely. Most people probably felt that way about coming to the so called “Pearl of the Sea,” but she hadn’t come to Idrus for a frolic in the ocean, she had come to work for the colony’s creator.
From all reports, Daniel Alcott was brilliant. Idrus had started out as a science project, and he had built it into a self sufficient, thriving, eco-friendly city at sea.
“Are you meeting someone?” Lori asked.
“This is more of a working trip for me,” she said politely.
“Oh? What do you do?” Scott asked.
“I’m an archeologist,” Cassandra said. “Mr. Alcott called me in to catalogue some relics that were uncovered by the members of the colony.”
Lori’s eyes lit up. “How exciting. We were hoping we’d get a chance to meet him ourselves, but he hardly ever visits the tourist areas. He’s a wonderful man. Scott and I admire him so much for his ideals.”
Scott nodded. “He’s done a lot for the cause.”
By the cause, she presumed they meant the preservation of the environment, of which Daniel Alcott was an outspoken supporter. Idrus was the ultimate in eco-friendly living, and Alcott had plans to build a series of the sea colonies that once completed would change the face of global economies all over the world. His plans had not made him popular with certain groups, such as those in the oil business among others.
“Mr. Alcott has promised to show me around his creation personally. If I see you while we’re out, I’ll try to steer him your way,” she said with a wink.
The intercom crackled to life. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts – we are on final approach and will be landing at the colony in five minutes.”
Scott pointed out the window as the helicopter banked slightly left. “Look, there it is!”
Cassandra followed his pointing finger. They were coming up on the parameter of the colony. The breakwater was first to pass below them with its protective barrier of palm trees which then flowed into orchards, gardens parks and greenhouses as they continued their overhead pass. Next came the mariculture containments, bright with their crops of blue-green algae and seaweed. She knew from looking over schematics of the city that these pools were also used for fish farming, shell fish farming and the growing of pearl producing oysters. Beyond these mariculture containments were a series of warm water lagoons where even now she could see swimmers and surfers frolicking in the temperate waters. And just before the city proper, was a beautiful expanse of sugar white sand that was dotted with palm trees, cabanas, and a series of small hotels. She could see why they called Idrus “The Pearl of the Sea”. The colony shone from within with a soft, golden glow and the central tower rose to a graceful 55 stories above the surface of the sea. Made up of hexagonal modules that cascaded out and down like rings of bubbles, and surrounded by its man-made beaches, hydroponic orchards and farms it was truly a beautiful site.
The helicopter angled in toward one of the beaches where a landing pad was clearly visible.
Lori was bouncing in her seat like a racehorse at the starting gate, and the sight almost made Cassandra forget her unease at the fact that all of this loveliness was floating on 4000 feet of ocean.
The pilot sat the craft down without even the slightest of bumps and the helicopter doors were opened by an attractive blonde wearing a bright blue sarong and carrying a PDA.
Cassandra regarded her working clothes – khakis and worn boots with a red bandanna tied around her neck for a little color – and felt immediately pale and shabby next to all of this woman’s sun bronzed loveliness. She sighed. It was going to be a long assignment.
The woman smiled. “Welcome to Idrus, my name is Julieanne.” She gestured at her companion, a dark haired woman dressed in a similar garment of bright green. “Mr. And Mrs. Bramson, if you’ll follow my associate Alanai she’ll show you to your suite.”
Scott shook her hand again before he followed his wife out onto the landing pad. “Don’t work too hard, C.J.. Take a little time to enjoy the beauty of the colony.”
“Thank you, I will.”
He followed after his wife as she skipped away on Alanai’s heels. She was pleased note that Scott and his wife weren’t swallowed up by the sand as they walked away. Perhaps the ground was solid after all.
Julieanne looked from her PDA and back to Cassandra in apparent confusion. And then she took a step forward and leaned into the open door, looking behind her. “Are you C.J. from the museum?”
She nodded, bending down to hold out her hand as the girl was blocking her exit from the helicopter. “Yes, I’m Cassandra James – most people call me C.J.”
Julieanne hesitated the barest of seconds, regarding her with narrowed her eyes before she pasted her smile back on and shook Cassandra’s offered hand. “Welcome, Miss James. I’ll be escorting you to Mr. Alcott at the penthouse.”
“Is there a problem?” she asked, picking up on the girl’s mood.
“No,” she told her as she climbed aboard the helicopter. “You’re just not quite what I expected.”
Cassandra smiled – she was used to this. “You were expecting a man. Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time.”
When people heard the word archeologist, in their minds they always seemed to picture Harrison Ford, his leather jacket and fedora covered in cobwebs – his bullwhip in hand, ready for action. When she walked in the room instead, there was always a surge of disappointment.
“I’m sure Mr. Alcott will be quite pleased,” the girl told her. “He was expecting someone who resembled my Grandfather.”
From the look in her eye, Cassandra judged that Julieanne would have preferred she looked like someone’s Grandfather.
As soon as the doors closed and they were both fastened in, the pilot took them aloft again.
“Is this your first visit to Idrus?” Julieanne asked her, sounding hopeful. “We get a lot of honeymoon couples.”
“This is my first visit. I’m afraid I’m only married to my work, so no honeymoon trips,” she replied repressing a smile.
It was quite clear that Julieanne fancied she had designs on Daniel Alcott. She couldn’t help but wonder if he knew about them. The girl had noting to worry about where she was concerned. She was here to do a job, plain and simple – she had no time for a social life. Cassandra supposed it would have been nice of her to put the girl at ease, but at the moment she was feeling just catty enough to enjoy their little game.
“I have to give Mr. Alcott his due,” she said, pasting a suitably dreamy expression on her face. “The place truly is a marvel of design and engineering.”
“Mr. Alcott will be pleased to hear you say so,” Julieanne said, not sounding pleased at all. “He’s been quite anxious about your arrival.”
She didn’t sound too happy about that statement either, Cassandra noted, warming to the game.
Julieanne actually frowned at her. “He works much too hard, and gets too far little rest.”
“Well I’ll try not to tire him out too much,” she promised with a wink.
The girls doll-like blue eyes grew wide at the possible double entendre. “Good,” she managed to choke out. “He’s had enough problems this week just dealing with reporters.”
“Has the press been giving Mr. Alcott a hard time?” she asked, truly curious.
Julieanne nodded. “I’m afraid so. They only seem to come in two flavors – either they love him and appreciate his vision, or they hate him and think he’s trying to start some kind of cult out here.”
Cassandra laughed. “A cult?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but people will believe anything these days,” Julieanne confided with a shake of her head – forgetting their game for a moment.
“We’ll I promise to keep my eyes open for marauding members of the fifth estate,” she assured her, placing her hand over her heart.
“Good – because the one thing both groups seem to agree upon is a total lack of courtesy – the poor man is pursued relentlessly wherever he goes. He hardly ever leaves Idrus for that very reason.”
The master creator – trapped by his own creation. Somehow Cassandra found that incredibly sad.
“We’re all very fond of Mr. Alcott here – he takes very good care of us,” Julieanne told her, and then gazed pointedly at her. “And we take very good care of him.”
The man certainly inspired loyalty in his employees. There were days when she could have cheerfully strangled her own boss with little or no remorse, as could most that had a boss, but somehow she doubted that was the case on Idrus. She found herself a little more eager to meet Daniel Alcott just to find out what all the fuss was about.
The helicopter came to a gentle landing at a pad atop the highest spire of the city, and Julieanne ushered her out, and toward a door which contained a set of spiral stairs.
Cassandra smiled with wonder at the decor of something as simple as a set of stairs – it was as if they were walking down and around the core of a seashell. The hues of walls and stairs were of white, and ivory, and soft pink and shone with the luster of mother-of-pear, but it didn’t quite have the same smoothness, she stopped her descent for a moment to touch the nearest wall.
“It’s shell,” Julieanne told her, stopping as well.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Cassandra admitted, “but isn’t it a little extravagant for a stairway? It seems a little wasteful for a conservationist.”
Julieanne’s expression soured. “Nothing is wasted here – a lot of the walls of the colony are formed from natural materials such as shells left over from collecting pearls in the oyster beds. Mr. Alcott set it up so that the colony produces almost no waste material. If possible everything is processed, and reused in some way. Even the scrap animal protein produced by the mariculture operations is processed and pressed into dried, pelletized fish feed to care for our stocks. You’ll find that Mr. Alcott is not a man who abides waste.”
She wasn’t used to dealing with wealth and a conscious in the same individual – in fact over they years, she’d come to believe they were mutually exclusive. It appeared that Daniel Alcott was destined to change her mind. “So I’m starting to see,” she admitted.
With a nod, she started down again and Cassandra followed. Julieanne exited at the first door they came to which deposited them in the center of a circular room with glass walls on all sides. The view was stunning – as far as the eye could see was blue sky and ocean.
Julieanne nodded her toward a grouping of sofas and chairs that faced the glass. “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Alcott will be up shortly.”
With that, she exited via the stairs.
Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to sit, and wandered the parameter of the circular room. On the opposite side of the cozy sitting area she found a well outfitted office. The desk was constructed of driftwood and a large variety of seashells and water smoothed stones – she’d never seen anything like it. All of the furniture in the room had a similar feel – as if it had been plucked whole from nature.
She tried to imagine living in this paradise that Daniel Alcott had tried to create where the residents of the colony existed in a state of perfect harmony with nature, and with one another.
Nothing is that perfect, her more jaded self sneered . Something was bound to go wrong sooner or later. Humanity thrived on chaos, disorder and violence – it knew no other way. God had cast mankind from the Garden of Eden for very good reasons.
Daniel Alcott was trying to build another version of Eden on Earth, but unfortunately, Cassandra mused, all it took to spoil perfection was one snake in the garden. In her experience, the world was full of snakes.
“You appear to be in a brown study,” came the sound of a cultured English voice from behind her.
With a start, she turned toward the voice. A man with black hair, and stark blue eyes stood smiling down at her. He had a trim, athletic build and from what she could judge, stood over six feet in height. His clothes were casual, but not as casual as Julieanne’s sarong. Looking very professional in a pair of pressed tan pants and a cream colored, close-fitting shirt, she was surprised to note the lack of any ostentatious accouterments such as a Rolex watch, or anything made by Armani. It appeared that Daniel Alcott was a very low-key billionaire. Her gaze went back to his face, and got stuck at his bright, intelligent eyes. There were electric blue, and so clear she felt if she gazed long enough into them, she might be able to tell what he was thinking without him having to speak aloud. What she read at the moment was pleasure, and a slight bit of amusement.
“I’m Daniel Alcott,” he offered.
“Cassandra James,” she replied, stepping forward to offer him her hand. She was surprised when rather than shaking it, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back.
Upon first impression, the words suave, charming and brilliant came easily to mind. The man had an undeniable charisma – she could feel it almost like an electric current where his skin touched hers. Suddenly she felt a great deal of pity for Julieanne – no wonder she was territorial.
Still in possession of her hand, he drew it through his arm and steered them toward the afore mentioned sofas. “I’d like to thank you for signing on with us, Miss James, “ he told her – his smooth English accent quite pleasing to her ear.
“How could I resist a trip to Utopia,” she told him with a smile – lying through her teeth. If she had been given the choice, resisting would have been easy, but now that she was here, she couldn’t say she was sorry she’d come.
They sat facing the view, but it didn’t draw Cassandra’s attention as it had before – she found she had eyes only for the man who sat beside her.
“We’re getting quite a collection of trinkets, and I’ve had my people take pains to put them in some kind of order, but they need to be recorded and evaluated by a professional.”
“What sort of trinkets?” she asked, truly curious.
“All kinds, but most look to be of African origin to me, but then I’m not a qualified judge,” he admitted with a shrug. “Didn’t you receive the pictures I sent?”
She shook her head. “They sent me here directly from a dig in Egypt - I’m afraid the museum didn’t feel the need to give me very much information before they packed me off to the closest airport.”
“Ah, an adventuress – a woman after my own heart,” he added with a grin.
When he smiled at her with the full devastating effect of those blue eyes, she felt a little flutter in her chest that had little to do with the fact that they were sitting in the middle of the ocean.
“From what I understand, you’ve had a few adventures of your own,” she told him. “You’ve climbed Everest twice, faced down Japanese whaling ships in a dingy, taken on more than a few governments for their poor environmental practices – and the list goes on.”
“I’ve had a few adventures,” he admitted, “but I fear most of them haven’t made me very popular.” His eyes sparkled as if at some private joke. “There are quite a few people in the outside world who wouldn’t mind seeing me in a pine box.”
As an environmentalist, she knew he had stepped on more than a few toes, but some of the same governments who were annoyed with him had certainly not refused his help when it came to the resources Idrus provided.
“After all the good you’ve done, I would think people would be grateful,” she said.
He laughed. “Some have been – although grudgingly – but I’ve also made myself some very powerful enemies.”
“For instance,” she questioned. She couldn’t picture anyone remaining angry at this man after having spent five minutes with him. All of her own preconceived notions about him went out the window the first time he smiled at her.
“Well, there are a few oil sheiks who don’t count me among their best chums, and in line behind them, you’ll find representatives of the textile industry, the logging industry, and the commercial fishing industry for starters.” He sighed. “I’m afraid my ideals have irritated a great number of people with less than savory agendas.”
She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s little wonder you don’t get ashore much.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for me,” he told her with a gentle smile. “I enjoy my life here on Idrus.”
“But doesn’t it ever make you angry?” she asked. Here was a man who had done so much good for the world. With Idrus, he had provided the world with a source of clean, inexpensive energy, and of the protein rich algae food products Idrus produced, most went free of charge to feed the starving peoples of the world - and what was Daniel Alcott’s reward? Hatred, and envy. She found that disturbed her a great deal more than it should after only having known him for five minutes – she could see why Julieanne was ready to thrown herself on the fire for him.
“Sometimes,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “But I try not to dwell on it – being angry gives your enemies power over you, and why should I allow them even that small victory?”
Cassandra stared at him, stunned. Could this man be for real? Could there a genuinely good, un-self-centered, non-vengeful, altruistic human being left on the planet? And if he was for real, why was he alone here? She knew at least a dozen women who would have killed for an introduction.
“Why indeed,” she said, the double meaning of her words known only to her.
“But listen to me rambling on.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he shot her another stunning smile. “I fear I’m being a terrible host.”
Apparently he was modest too, she marveled.
“Let me at least show you to your room,” he continued, standing and offered her his arm. “I believe Julieanne has already seen to the delivery of your bags.”
“Ah yes, Julieanne,” she said as he escorted her once again down the spiral stairs. “She was quite adamant that I not make myself a bother to you.”
He laughed. “Yes, our dear Julieanne is always on the alert. She was quite appalled when I told her you’d be staying here with me in the penthouse.”
At that casual revelation, Cassandra nearly stumbled down the stairs, but Daniel’s quickly out-thrust arm steadied her. His blue eyes were full of amusement when she looked up into his face.
“Is that arrangement unsuitable?” he asked, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t feel right about putting one of the tourists out of their reservation, and I’m afraid there are no open berths in the colonists housing.”
“You’re certain I won’t be intruding?” she asked, feeling her breath quicken slightly at the thought of sharing his space.
He laughed. “Certainly not – Heaven knows I have more than enough room here. Some days I feel like the ghost of Henry the Eighth rambling around in his tower.”
“If you’re certain,” she told him. “I wouldn’t want to get on Julieanne’s bad side – she seems rather formidable where you’re concerned.”
He laughed, his hand coming up to cover her fingers where they rested on his arm. “I promise you’ll be perfectly safe. It would be my pleasure.”
“Then I accept,” she assured him, her heart pounding a bit harder at his intense regard. “Thank you for opening your home to me.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he assured her and they started walking again.
“You have quite a watchdog in Julieanne,” she told him, wondering if she was more to him than just that.
They passed a door, and continued down.
“I do believe she was a rottweiler in another life,” he joked. “She feels it her job to protect me from my adversaries as well as from over eager fans and marauding reporters. I fear all of the above have arrived at the colony purporting to be guests. The reporters are particularly pesky – on occasion they spring at me from out of the dark with their cameras and microphones.”
If reporters were springing out at him, how safe was he from those who truly wished him harm? she wondered.
“With so many people after your hide, are you certain that you’re safe here?”
“I might be an idealist, Miss James, but I did see to it that the colony has an adequate security force made up of both mechanical and human elements. The perimeter is patrolled constantly by water craft as well as by electronic surveillance, and the interior parts of the colony are patrolled on foot by my men and by wheel for our cybernetic minions – not to mention that D.A.I.S.I. constantly monitors all public areas of the city.”
“Daisy?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, D.A.I.S.I. is the name of Idrus’s A.I., or central computer if you prefer. It stands for Dynamic Artificial Integrated Synthetic Intelligence, or D. A. I. S. I.”
“So the entire colony is run by a computer?” she asked as they passed yet another door without stopping.
“D.A.I.S.I. is something quite special. If we all vanished tomorrow, she could run Idrus by herself with the just aid of her cybernetic minions. Remind me later, and I’ll introduce the two of you – though I imagine she’s already familiar with you,” he said, gesturing at a small smooth black circle upon the wall as they passed. “She has eyes everywhere.”
For a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, Cassandra found that to be kind of creepy, but she understood his need for security even in his own private quarters.
They finally exited the stairs into a large sitting room. The room had the same soft, organic coloring that she had observed previously, except this one was only dotted with windows instead of having walls of pure glass. The walls were also inner spaced with a series of fantastic, built in aquariums containing exotic fish and aquatic plant life. The soft lighting bouncing off the water of the aquariums made the room seem to ripple like you were looking up at the surface from beneath the waves. For a moment, Cassandra found the sensation disconcerting, but she was far too fascinated by the fish in the aquariums to let it bother her for long. There were reef fish, such as clown fish, and seahorses, and coral and anemones, but most of the specimens she found she couldn’t even identify. They were a riot of grace color gliding or swaying contentedly along. A clown fish vanished into what seemed the left wall of his tank only to emerge a tank several feet further along in the wall, and she realized that the tanks were all interconnected. Since she was a child, she had hated the water, but she had always loved aquariums, they were a way to experience the beautiful diversity of life that lived in the water without having to enter their domain which she feared.
“This is lovely,” she told him, and watched his eyes light with pleasure at her smile.
“I’m pleased you think so. Your bedroom is there to the left,” he told her, indicating the proper door with a point of his finger. “I’ll let you get settled in, and be back to pick you up for an early lunch in about an hour. Perhaps then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you then.”
With a smile, he turned back to the stairs and vanished from sight.
Cassandra went through the door he’d indicated, and found a tastefully decorated bedroom in shades of blue and a light sandy-tan – she even had her very own aquarium. Her bags had been laid out at the foot of the bed, but she ignored them, going instead to look out the window.
Despite her fear of the water, Cassandra found herself looking forward to her time at Idrus, and most particularly to her time with Daniel Alcott. If she hurried, she might just have time to shower and change before he picked her up for lunch.

Chapter 2
Daniel found himself whistling as he wound his way back up the spiral staircase. He was also certain that he was wearing a completely idiotic grin, and was grateful that no one was around to see it. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about Cassandra James that he found to be completely captivating, and it wasn’t just her physical beauty – although it certainly wasn’t lacking. She had eyes the color of polished jade, and skin like polished alabaster. How she had managed to protect that complexion on a dig in Egypt he couldn’t fathom, but it must have involved copious amounts of sun block and a good deal of shade – in his world of leathery sun worshipers the sight of her smooth creamy skin was a refreshing change. Her thick chestnut hair had been twisted into a business like knot at the back of her neck, and he couldn’t help wondering how it would look loose and flowing around her slim shoulders.
When he had requested an archeologist from the museum, in his mind he had pictured a portly balding man with thick glasses and little to no sense of humor. He was counting on having to share his space with someone who would force him to endure endless evenings of port, and cigars, and tedious discussions on politics. My how things had changed. He could tell immediately from Julieanne’s expression when she came to fetch him that his premonition hadn’t been entirely accurate – she had seemed less than pleased and slightly flustered about their new arrival so he had no longer been certain what to expect, though he couldn’t imagine anything worse than his original vision.
When he had come up the stairs and saw Cassandra James standing there, it had been like receiving a gift that he hadn’t asked for but was nonetheless quite pleasantly surprised to receive.
He was still whistling when he reached his office again. The first thing on his mind was lunch. He had to make certain it was the finest Idrus had to offer, and he knew just the person to set it up.
Picking up the digital pad from his desk, he quickly typed out the menu, then he reached up and touched the hidden com link behind his ear. “Julieanne?”
Her reply was immediate as always.
“Yes, Mr. Alcott.”
“Could you come up to the office?”
“On my way,” she reported, an oddly hopeful note in her tone.
While he was waiting for her to arrive, he amused himself by walking around the office. The atmospheric controls in the tower were so tight that if he closed his eyes, he could still pick out the scent of Cassandra’s perfume – light and floral, it reminded him of honeysuckle or clover.
Catching sight of his stuporous expression in the window glass, Daniel shook his head. He had spent fifteen minutes with this woman and he was acting like a besotted fool. He wondered vaguely what was wrong with him, but after he thought about if for a moment he found that he really didn’t care. The thought of working with her over the next few weeks made him happier than he’d been in far too long, and he was bloody well going to enjoy it every last moment of it.
Julieanne was suddenly beside him in her quiet unassuming way. At the moment her lovely face was wearing a surprisingly smug expression.
“What did she do? Would you like me to find other quarters for her?”
He managed to bite back his laugh with an effort. Julieanne had been less than pleased to learn he’d be sharing his quarters with their visitor when she thought they were expecting a man. She seemed even less pleased by the thought of him bunking down with Miss James. He fancied she had something of a crush on him.
“I didn’t call you to evict her,” he told her. “I called to ask you arrangements for lunch.”
“Oh,” she said, deflating noticeably. “What would you like?”
“I’ve copied it down for you.” He smiled as he handed her the menu. “I know you’ll do your usual wonderful job.”
Her expression lightened a bit at his compliemt. “I’ll see that it’s take care of.”
With only the slightest bit of a glower, she headed back down the stairs.
Still smiling, Daniel returned to his desk, and sat on the corner.
“D.A.I.S.I.?”
With a faint glow, the A.I. popped into being a few feet in front of him to regard him with her golden eyes. Tall and slender, she was wearing the common uniform of the colony, a peacock blue sarong. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders in a cascading wave.
“How may I be of assistance, Daniel?” she asked in her melodic voice.
“I need a crash course in archeology,” he told her.
“Which branch?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking as amused as a hologram could manage to appear.
“All of them,” he said, “but particularly African. Maybe we could start with some of the artifacts our teams have recovered.”
“May I ask the purpose of your sudden interest?”
“I need to be able to make intelligent lunch conversation,” he admitted. He knew next to nothing about archeology, and he found he had a sudden burning interest to learn.
“Perhaps I could show her one of the artifacts we’ve recovered. Have you any suggestions?”
Multiple holographic representations popped into view to hover in the air between them. One was an odd looking key on a leather cord, another was a small, intricately carved statue. There were also items of jewelry including diadems and rings and necklaces. But even with all of the choices with which she presented him, he found he was oddly attracted to the strange little key.
“What do we know about the key?” he asked, pointing.
“I have been unable to match the key with any of the items we have recovered thus far,” D.A.I.S.I. answered.
“So whatever it opens might still be on the sea floor?” he asked, intrigued.
“That is one possibility,” she agreed with a nod. “It is also possible that the object it opens could have been lost or destroyed long before the key found its way here.”
It was small and portable and intriguing. “That’s perfect,” he told her. “Would you have it sent up?”
Cassandra – Miss James, he corrected himself – he hadn’t been asked to call her Cassandra yet. Miss James was certain to find the key interesting, and it would give them a point of conversation.
D.A.I.S.I. nodded. “Certainly.”
With an eager smile, he sat down behind the desk. “Now for Archeology 101.”
He checked his watch. He should have time to cram a few facts into his head before he had to change for lunch.