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Jake loved a vaulted ceiling. He’d first seen one about ten years ago, after the Sectoral Parade on Lianna, in the temple where the closing service had been held. Huge self-supporting arches of masonry, painstakingly cut and carved by men and women across the ages. There were no such things...

“Out of the way bugeye” The Rodian feigned offence as Jake shouldered past, but didn’t protest at the insult, slinking warily into an alcove. The squeaky runt knew his place. Jake shot him a warning look as he sidled past. A part of him wanted to put an end to the Rodian just for looking so...