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sleepbox, was unhealthy. He ran his hand over his bare chest, noting that the skin there was faded and his ribs were beginning to show.
    The air smelled stale. Adaiz rechecked the air filters and found them functioning properly. The ship air was reading in a normal, healthy range. He mused that a computer, however, could not appreciate the subtleties of taste inherent in a living organism. Simply because the air was breathable, one could not assume that the air was pleasant. Ah well, few missions were intended for this long a period.
    He moved to the sleepboxes and looked in through the thick plastic at his older brother and crewmate Enon. The two of them woke by turns, twice a year. Six months ago it had been Enon who was awake, checking on the ship and on the sleeping form of Adaiz.
    Adaiz was concerned with Enon’s pallor as he watched his sleeping body within the box. His skin had become a dull gray, no longer reflective at all. He wondered about the long-term health effects of this journey on both of them. Certainly so many years spent in deepsleep were not beneficial. But it did not matter. The mission was their duty, and they were honored to carry it out, whatever the personal cost. Their own lives amounted to little. Their physical bodies and the decades of this mission were merely the passing of dust in space. There would be other lifetimes.
    Ahead of them, in the cold blackness of space, the Plaguer ship was barreling on toward its destination, and they were following. It would be only a few more years until they both arrived.
    In a few hours Adaiz would return to his own sleepbox. Now, however, it was time to clear his mind and reaffirm his place in the scheme of the universe. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs.
    From a pocket in his trousers, he pulled out a small book with a braided leather cover and filament-thin pages written upon in calligraphy. This was his copy of the Katalla-Oman, the Lucien book of self-knowledge. The Katalla-Oman had been handed down to their race in the distant past, it was said, by Omani himself, the god of wisdom and unity.
    Adaiz gently flipped it open and read aloud his favorite chant. He had known it by heart since childhood, but the feel of the book in his hands and the timbre of his voice when he was reading aloud were pleasing.
I, Adaiz-Ari, of Warrior Clan and Clan Providence
     
Am awareness
     
Am light
     
Am a point of knowing
     
With closed eyes, I can yet see
Apart from body
Apart from the asteroids which are my home
Apart from sun and stars
     
The universe exists
It surrounds me
It passes through me
But still I am
     
Awareness
     
Light
     
A point of knowing
     
    As he spoke the final words, he could feel their meaning. His body faded. The ship faded. He could feel himself as a point of awareness. Time did not matter; space did not matter. The whole of the universe was his. He existed. He knew. He was.

CHAPTER 4
     
    One Year Ago
     
    Harris Edward DeLacy III, or “Eddie,” as he was known to everyone except lawyers, was doing sun salutations on a yoga mat in his bedroom. He relished the feeling of his muscles as he exercised. He worked hard to keep himself lean and strong with yoga, jogging, and occasional classes in martial arts. It was the only thing he worked hard at. It was the middle of the afternoon in Los Angeles, and there was bright sunlight streaming in from outside.
    He could hear Callen in the bathroom, just getting out of the shower.
    “Where are the extra towels?” she called, her voice carrying through the closed bathroom door.
    Eddie was holding downward dog, the final position of the exercise. “In the cupboard under the sink!” he called back.
    He held the position for five breaths, then came out of the stretch and sat down on the mat. Callen appeared with a towel wrapped around her. They had spent an hour together in bed, and she always took a shower after making love. Eddie would soon shower too, but for the moment, he was savoring