In the flight cabin, Thorn dropped into one of the command chairs and gazed at the main screen. Displayed there was the gas giant Calypse, with the corona of the sun glaring to the right of it — its main light muted by a black reactant disc. As Stanton had explained before they had gone into cold-sleep, Masada was surrounded by the laser arrays and cylinder worlds of the Theocracy, with the planetary population held in constant thrall by the ruling caste's technological advantage. This being the case he wondered how his colleagues intended to get Lyric II down to the surface. Admittedly, there were often holes through which a small ship could slip, since in any space-borne civilization there had to be a lot of traffic. But this ship, though it could be mistaken for an insystem hauler, was not exactly small. He thought he might as well experiment.

"Lyric, are you able to respond to me?" he asked.

"I can respond, though you might not like the response," the ship AI replied.

"I'm a little puzzled about how Stanton intends to get this ship down to the planet's surface undetected. He told me that there's just one spaceport and that's only for Theocracy military or cargo traffic, and I've every reason to suspect that the cargo on board here is not for them."

"And what was your question?" Lyric asked him.

"How does he intend to get this ship down to the surface of Masada undetected?"

"Sorry, can't tell you that."

"Do you have Theocracy security codes?"

"Didn't last time I looked."

Sitting back Thorn grimaced to himself: only the terminally naïve believed that AIs did not lie. In fact, in his own experience AIs made better liars than human beings.

"What's your cargo?" he asked bluntly.

"Do get real, Mr Polity agent."

"Okay, what can you tell me about Masada?"

"I've got about ten thousand hours on the subject. What do you want to know? Political system, ecosystem, symbiotic adaptation, religion? About half of what I have covers that last subject alone."

"How about half an hour's eclectic selection? I should think I'll be able to get use of the shower by then."

"All right, I'll begin with the planetary ecosystem prior to the arrival of human beings, findings of the first surveys, then subsequent occupation, and then the history of the Theocracy. Would that be sufficient?"

"Yes, thank you."

With Thorn asking questions, the film show lasted an hour. The two items that most fascinated him were the natural ecosystem and the odd life system introduced by the Theocracy: in the former case the tricones, heroynes, gabbleducks and terrifying hooders; and in the latter the adapted crops and protein sources that were a product of the toil of most of the surface inhabitants. Also the symbiotic life-forms created as a cheaper alternative to breathers and environment suits, as well as being more dogmatically acceptable to the Theocracy than any adaptation of the God-given human form. He was just asking about the Underground when Stanton entered the flight cabin.

"Not a very stable situation," Thorn observed to him.

"No, but stable enough to last for another fifty years, without a sufficient push to topple it meanwhile," Stanton replied.

Thorn gestured to the cargo hold. "And all that stuff's part of the 'push'?"

"It is," said Stanton. "And, do you know, when I bought the main bulk of this cargo on Huma, that planet was undergoing Polity subsumption."

"That normally takes some time, but obviously you found an opening?"

Stanton shrugged. "So I thought. Things were chaotic there, but not very much so. When I found out how tight the security was, I was tempted to go somewhere else, but then a dealer approached me."

"But you risked the deal anyway?" Thorn asked.

"I had a way out but, strangely, I didn't need it. The Polity agents I could see watching my every move did not even attempt to intervene."

"You're saying you have Polity sanction?"

"It was known who I was buying this cargo for. What I am saying is that it's in the interest of the Polity for things to become as unstable as possible on Masada. ECS intends to draw the Line across the world, and most of its population will welcome them gladly."

"Will you?"

Stanton stared at the screen, now showing a lurid but almost rustic scene on the surface of the planet — except for the proctors watching over all from their aerofans, with rail-guns trained on the people below.

"As a child here I always felt there had to be something better than Theocracy rule, but while here, and for some time after, I never saw how you could get beyond the sordid facts of human nature. I've since learnt that the way you do get beyond is by removing human nature from the equation."

"So you are a reformed Separatist?" said Thorn.

Stanton glared at him. "I have never been a Separatist. I'm a mercenary, and that's all."

"Why this, then?" Thorn gestured first at the screen, then at the hold.

"Because I have scores to settle and debts to repay."

Thorn stood and moved to the door, and Stanton walked with him to the ship's living quarters. They entered an area laid out like any planetary house, with a kitchen and eating area, and for the second time Thorn studied his surroundings with some surprise. Most ships possessed automatic food dispensers, yet Lyric II had both this and a small galley, which was an expensive option. He felt a surge of nostalgia at the smell of grilling bacon, and also had to swallow a surge of saliva.

"How do you get down to the surface of the planet without being detected?" he tried.

Stanton went over to check the grilling bacon. Jarvellis, who was going through the complicated process of grinding real beans for a filter coffee maker, glanced at her man with interest — no doubt wondering how much he was prepared to tell this ECS agent.

"Take your shower now, then we'll talk while we have breakfast. Your clothes are in there." Stanton pointed.

Thorn moved through into the bathroom of this thoroughly domestic section of the ship, and was further surprised to find luxuries more commonly associated with the huge holiday cruisers found in populous systems like Sol's. There was a shower set over a wide tub big enough to take two people comfortably, and though the shower itself had the usual ultrasound settings and air-drying heads, there were big fluffy white towels on a heated rail nearby. Obviously these two enjoyed their comforts, but comforts like these on a spaceship cost a lot of money.

He pondered the probable source of that money, and recalled the findings of the investigation on planet Viridian. They had revealed that, though the Separatist mercenary Pelter had destroyed the original Lyric, Jarvellis had escaped and managed to rejoin her lover Stanton on Viridian itself. But Pelter's money — some millions in the form of etched sapphires — had never been recovered. It would now seem there had been enough for them to buy a larger trispherical ship like this one, and have it fitted out to their requirements. Thorn found he could not resent them their windfall, for Stanton's betrayal of Pelter had enabled agent Cormac to kill the rogue Separatist and concentrate on the larger mission in hand — which was investigating the Samarkand disaster. It was then that Cormac had encountered the alien called the Maker, and finally learnt of the legendary Dragon's responsibility for the destruction of all life on Samarkand. With the Maker he had connived in inflicting a suitable punishment for this crime — one which reduced the first Dragon sphere to orbital debris.

When he stepped into the shower, Thorn was further surprised when a shimmer-shield came on around the edge of the bath. As he luxuriated in needle jets of hot water, soaping himself down with a rough bar of real soap, he was puzzled to note a couple of toys sitting on the edge of the bath: a small submarine, of the type used in the strange sea inside Europa, and a dark-otter — both obviously operated by a small remote affixed to the porcelain-effect tiling along the adjacent wall. Neither Stanton nor Jarvellis struck him as the type to play with these sorts of toys; he imagined their toys would be of either the erotic or the lethal kind.