I was living in pleasant anonymity under the name of Helmut Icicle, taking smartass sport-divers out on holocam trips around the reefs of Kedge-Lockaby. K-L's a freesoil planet way out in the boondocks. That's why I like it: as a throwaway, it makes life easier if no one asks nosy questions. Plus, it's fourteen thousand light years away from civilization: from Rampart Starcorp, from the HQ of the Interstellar Commerce Secretariat (where I used to work), and best of all, my father.

So one minute there I was, subbing around Brillig Reef watching the piscoids finning through the underwater forests, making enough of a living to afford a little rotgut Danaen whisky now and again; the next thing I know, some giant sea-toad has eaten my house and I am caught up in a galactic conspiracy!

From gently coaxing an ageing submersible around the shores of K-L to piloting a state-of-the-art Javelin starship in order to execute a perfect hyperspatial microleap out in the comet zone may seem a big jump: but when it looks as if the future course of human civilization is under threat, its a hell of a motivator.

I had a lot of scores to settle: not least finding out who had tried to kill me by death by sea toad. That's not a nice way to go...