'Leave him alone for now. The focus is shifting back to Living Dream.

'Why?

'Our sources in the movement are reporting an alarming development, Paula said. 'Living Dream is readying all the civil security forces on all the core worlds of the Free Market Zone. Leave has been cancelled and they're undergoing martial law enforcement training.

'Martial law? Where is that applied in the Free Market Zone?

'It isn't. Yet. But if they were to annex Viotia they would probably need that many police troopers to keep the populace under control.

'Jesus! Are they planning that?

'Ethan is becoming desperate to gain control over the Second Dreamer. He's the one person who could still stop this whole Pilgrimage in its tracks.

'And everyone believes he's on Viotia, Justine said, appalled. 'Dear heavens, an interstellar invasion. In this day and age, it's unthinkable, it's left over from the Starflyer War.

'Start thinking it. I made a mistake not giving this a higher priority. We really need to offer ANA: Governance's protection to the Second Dreamer. That way no one will be able to pressure him into either helping or hindering the Pilgrimage.

'But first we have to find him. How long before you can get your agent working on this?

'Very soon now. I'm on my way to see him with one slight detour.

Justine eyed the hangar's inner office suspiciously. There was an empty space which three communications conduits led into, their ends cut off clean. 'Whatever they were building here was clearly important, and the Delivery Man took quite a risk covering it up. I don't think we have a lot of time left.

'The Pilgrimage ships won't be ready to fly until September.

'And the Ocisen Empire fleet will be here in late August, that's less than three months away. I'd like to suggest a lead no one else seems to be following.

'What's that?

'Inigo started to dream when he was at Centurion Station. Did anyone else?

'If they did, we'd know about it.

'That's the point: would we? Suppose the contact was a weak one that was never fully established. Or the recipient didn't want any part of Inigo's religion. A reluctant person just like the Second Dreamer has turned out to be.

'I think I see where you're going with this, or rather intend to go-

'I want to check out the confluence nest on Centurion Station, see if it has any memory of Void dreams, or fragments of them.

Maybe the Second Dreamer started his connection with the Skylord when he was there, just like Inigo.

'You're right, no one else has covered that angle.

'If I leave now, my ship can get me there in five hundred hours.

'You're going to fly there? Why not use the Navy's relay link?

'Too much chance of it being intercepted.

'If you do find anything it'll take you another five hundred hours to get back. It'll probably all be over by then.

'If I find anything important, I'll use the relay link to send you the name in the heaviest encryption we have.

'Okay. Good luck.

Troblum woke up slumped in the chair he'd sat in all day reviewing various schematics. His exovision displays had paused at the point where he'd fallen asleep. Colourful profiles of exotic mass density modulators floated like mechanical ghosts around him, each one beleaguered by shoals of blue and green analytical displays. Supposedly these components would perform their designated function without any trouble; the designers had simply scaled up from existing ultradrives. Except, nobody had ever built them this size before, which left Troblum with a mountain of problems when it came to the kind of precise power control they needed. And they hadn't even got to the fabrication stage yet.

He stretched as best his thick limbs would allow and tried to get out of the chair. After two attempts which made him look like a overturned glagwi struggling to right itself his u-shadow ordered the station to reduce the local gravity field. Now when he pushed with his legs and back he gave his body an impetus which propelled him right out of the clingy cushions. Gravity returned slowly, giving him time to straighten his legs before his feet touched the decking. He let out a wet belch as the falling sensation ended. His stomach was still churning, and his legs felt weak and stiff. He had a headache, too. The medical display in his exovision showed him his sugar levels were all over the place.

There was a load of crap about toxins and blood oxygen levels too, which he cancelled just as the nutrition and exercise recommendations came up. Stupid anachronism in the age of biononics.

He set off to the saloon which the ultradrive team used as their social and business centre. It also had the best culinary units on the station. When he arrived several of the tables along the curving wall were occupied by groups of people discussing various aspects of the project. He saw Neskia with a couple of technicians he recognized from the team handling the drive's Iryperspace fluidity systems. They all stared at him as he sat down in the spare seat, wincing as his knees creaked. Both technicians registered mild disapproval. Neskia's long metallized neck curved sinuously so her flat face was aligned perfectly on him. 'Thank you, she said to the technicians. 'We'll go with that.

They nodded thanks and left.

'Was there something you wanted? she asked Troblum in a level voice.

'I need to change the design for the mass density modulator, he said. A maidbot slid over with a tray of food his u-shadow had ordered from the culinary units. He started unloading the plates.

Neskia's face tipped down; her large circular eyes regarded the food without any trace of emotion. 'I see. Do you have the proposed new design?

'No, he mumbled round a mouthful of spaghetti. 'I want you to okay the change before I waste a week on it.

'What's wrong with the existing modulator?

'It's a pile of crap. Doesn't work. Your idiots didn't take the power control requirements into account.

'Do you have an analysis of the problem?

Troblum could only nod as he chewed his hot floratts bread with mozzarella and herbs. His u-shadow sent the file over.

'Thank you. The review team will examine this. You will have a reply in an hour. That is the procedure.

'Sure. Good. He sighed. Great that the tech problem was sorted, but the spaghetti with its balls of jolmeat and attrato sauce could have done with more black pepper. He reached for his tankard, only to find Neskia's hand on top of his, preventing him from lifting the beer. Her skin shimmered between white and silver. He couldn't sense any temperature from her fingers, hot or cold. 'What?

Her eyes blinked slowly, turning the irises from black to deep indigo. 'In future. In public. While you are here in my station. Please ensure your social interaction program is running, and that you follow its advice.

'Oh. Okay. He dipped his head towards the tankard.

'Thank you, Troblum. She lifted her hand away. 'Was there anything else? The project seems to be absorbing most of your time.

'Yeah, it's interesting. I might get some crossover into one of my own projects. Ultradrive is a fascinating reworking of quantum dimensional theory. Who came up with it?

'I believe it was ANA: Governance. Is it important?

'No. He pushed the spaghetti plate aside, and started on the rack of lamb.

Neskia still hadn't stopped looking at him. She was about to speak again when two people came over to stand beside their table. Troblum finished chewing before he glanced up — he knew that was the kind of thing the social program counselled. Marius was looking down at him with his usual rarefied contempt. But it was his companion who turned Troblum immobile. His limbs wouldn't move. Thankfully, neither did his mouth, which stopped him from opening his jaw and grunting in shock. He couldn't breathe either as something like frost ripped down through his lungs.