Seagulls screeched overhead. A gentle wave washed onto the beach then retreated. Agent Fleur turned to Peter. “Okay, we’re alone now, so what is it you want to tell me?”

The wind blew up, whipping Peter’s reddish-brown hair. He took a big breath in. “I want to deliver Dad’s message.” “A message from a dream, right?” “Not a dream,” Peter protested. “I know, because when I woke up, the spiral Dad drew in the dirt was still there.”

“Exactly,” said Agent Fleur in a voice that was gentle but firm. “When you woke up.” Peter could feel his face getting hot. “Well, I fell asleep after Dad’s ghost left.” Agent Fleur nodded kindly without speaking. He’s feeling sorry for me, thought Peter. “Anyway, the ghost told me to come here to Spiral Hall and give you this message.”

Agent Fleur nodded again. “So, do you want to hear it? Dad said it was mission critical.”

Smiling patiently, Agent Fleur pulled out a notebook. “Sure, Peter, tell me.” “Okay, here goes.” Peter took another deep breath in. “The message has two words…” “And they are?” “Never capitulate!”

“Never capitulate?” Agent Fleur scribbled it down. “Dad’s ghost said you’d know what it meant.” Agent Fleur was already closing the notebook and putting it away. Peter felt disappointment washing over him. “I’m sorry, Peter. I wish I could make this easier for you. Byron, your dad, was my best friend. But I’m not getting any particular meaning from this message that others couldn’t. I presume it means never give up against the rising Anthrog forces.”

Peter shrugged and hung his head.

“But that doesn’t take anything away from the blessing you received, Peter, from seeing your father in a dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream!” Peter persisted. “I even remember that I pinched myself while he was talking, you know, to check I was really awake. And it hurt.” Peter rubbed his forearm as if the pain from the pinch might still be there. “So, I wasn’t asleep. Dad’s ghost was standing right in front of me wearing this jacket.” Peter flapped the sleeves of the GAIA jacket that had been Dad’s before he died. “He said he wouldn’t even have been able to get through if I hadn’t finally taken it off.”

“How so?” “Well, he said it was only after I took off the jacket that he’d been able to reach me. That is, I hadn’t had a bath for a quite a long time, so my grandma took the jacket away and made me go wash, then it was after that—”

“But what did you say about Byron getting through?” Peter saw he’d regained some of Agent Fleur’s attention. “Oh … well, Dad told me the jacket coordinates were still in his brain, even in death, and that was how come he could get back through the jacket to give me the message.” Now Peter saw he had Agent Fleur’s full attention.

“Are you telling me you saw Byron wearing this GAIA jacket?”

Peter nodded, wondering what had changed. “But he didn’t look like himself exactly – he was all wispy and see-through, which was how I knew he was a ghost.” “And you’re telling me the absolute truth?”

“Yes!” Peter nodded solemnly. Agent Fleur looked at Peter then looked away, expelling air noisily.

“What?”

He grabbed Peter by the elbow, gripping so hard that Peter had to bite back tears. “I’m not sure I should say.” His face was scrunched up with emotion.

“Say what?” Peter stammered. “Do you understand the message now?”

Agent Fleur nodded gravely. “Yes.” The wind was blowing harder, and the waves crashing louder. “Remote jacket projection is a top security trick that GAIA agents learn – only in advanced esoteric training,” Artiss Fleur explained. “And I know Byron had mastered it, because we trained together. We call it SSP, or second-self projection.”

“So, you think Dad managed to do, um, SSP, even after he was dead?”

“Well, not quite. Your father was a great adventurer, but he was never very good at physiology.” Artiss Fleur chuckled. “What I’m trying to say is that if Byron really did manage to project his second self remotely into this GAIA jacket, then—”

“Then, what?”

“Then, it means, Peter, that he must still be out there somewhere on this Earth plane! Your father must be alive! He didn’t die in the fire.”

Peter felt his whole insides turning over. “But he can’t be alive!” “Yes, he can. That’s how top agents do it. If we get separated from our jackets, we project a part of ourselves from the physical into the jackets – that’s classified by the way.” Agent Fleur held Peter’s gaze in a tight grip. “Anyway, I’m telling you, Peter, he’s alive!” “He’s not alive!” Peter snapped.

“Why not?” “Because if he was, he would have told me where to come find him. He would have wanted us to be together.”

Some of the exuberance seemed to drain from Artiss Fleur’s face. Pulling out his notebook, he frowned down at the message. “They’ve got him,” he said finally. “The Anthrog Overlords must have him. Probably drugged up to the eyeballs.” Agent Fleur stared out to sea then back at Peter. “He may even have turned himself over to them that day of the fire to give you a chance to run free.”

“But the fire still killed Mum.”

Agent Fleur nodded. “Yes, she was the target.” Peter felt his eyes start to go watery. He looked away.

“The Overlords will be keeping Byron somewhere below ground in an etherised state, a kind of life in death.” Agent Fleur shook his head sadly. “So, in that sense, he didn’t lie.”

Peter didn’t reply. His throat felt tight.

“Byron’s message is a warning to GAIA never to capitulate to his captors.”

“Huh?”

“The Anthrogs will be planning to use Byron as a tool to bring down GAIA. To leverage Byron’s life in return for victory. But Byron won’t allow it. He planned all along to sacrifice himself for the greater good."

“But you won’t let him! You will capitulate, won’t you?” said Peter.

Artiss Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “Well, giving in to a force like the Anthrog Overlords is always a bad idea.”

“But if Dad’s alive, you’ll save him, right?”

Artiss Fleur took his time replying. “Yes, of course, but we’ll have to find him first. And whatever we do at GAIA requires full approval from the Council of Twelve.” Agent Fleur looked down again at the message in his notebook and frowned.

“What?” Peter said.

“Well, let’s not think about that now.”

“Think about what?” “Nothing!” He put the notebook away. “Peter, your father’s alive! My best friend’s alive!” Agent Fleur was about to pick Peter up and swing him round like a child. But he was still a mentor at the school, and Peter was nearly 12, so instead, he clapped Peter on the shoulder. “And we’ve still got the light on our side,” he said. “Or at least what’s left of the light."