Aaron and Corrie-Lyn floated gently down out of the airlock to touch down between the five bulbous landing legs. Ten people had turned out to greet them, quite a crowd by the base's standards; and all curious to see the unscheduled arrivals. Ansan Purillar stood at the head of the delegation, a slightly rotund man with fair hair cut short, dressed in a simple dark-blue tunic with a Restoration logo on the arm.

'Greetings to both of you, he said. 'I'd like to know why you're here. We're pleased to see you, of course, don't get me wrong. But we never have visitors. Ever. His attitude was pleasant, but there was an underlying determination.

Aaron's biononics performed a fast low-level field scan. Director Purillar was an ordinary Advancer human; as were his coworkers, none were Higher. 'It's rather awkward, he said with a twisted smile. 'Er, Corrie…

'I'm looking for someone, she said.

It was a low voice, hauntingly mournful. Aaron was quite impressed; she'd backed it up with a soft ache in the base's tiny gaiafield. The team were suddenly all attention and sympathy.

'A man. Yigo. We were in love. Then it went bad. My fault. I was so stupid. I shouldn't have… I don't want to say…

Aaron put his arm comfortingly round her shoulder as she sniffed convincingly, head bowed. 'There there, he assured her. 'They don't want details.

Corrie-Lyn nodded bravely and continued. 'He left. It took me a long time before I realized what a mistake I'd made. But I'd hurt him, really badly. I've been looking for him for three years. He changed his name and his profile, but his sister let slip he'd come here.

'Who is it? Director Purillar asked.

'I don't know. All I know is what his sister said, that he'd joined the Restoration project. I just had to come. If there is any chance…

'Um, yes, sure. Purillar glanced round at his colleagues, who were busy checking each other out to see if any of them was going to own up to being The One. He waved an arm about. 'Anyone look familiar?

Corrie-Lyn shook her head despondently. 'No. I probably won't recognize him. She faced her little audience. 'Yigo, please, if it's you, please just tell me. I just want to talk, that's all. Please.

Now nobody was meeting her gaze.

'You don't have to do it in front of your friends, she said. 'Come to me later. I really really miss you. That last was accompanied by a burst of sincere desperation into the gaiafield.

'All right then, a now thoroughly embarrassed Purillar said to his team, 'I'll get this organized. We can meet up again at dinner.

People broke off, heading back towards the main expanse of grass, keeping their smiles under tight control. As soon as they were a few paces away, couples went into deep intense conversations, heads pressed close together.

Aaron watched them go, keeping his own face impassive. The base would be talking about this for the next twenty years.

Ansan Purillar was left standing in front of his two uninvited guests, one hand scratching at his fuzz of hair in some perplexity. His gaiamotes were leaking an equal amount of disquiet. 'You're welcome to use the accommodation here. There are plenty of rooms spare, a legacy of when the project was conducted on a grander scale. But, quite frankly, I suspect your own ship would be more comfortable. He eyed the Artful Dodger jealously. 'Our living quarters haven't been updated in a century.

'That's very kind of you, and of course we'll use the ship, Aaron said. 'We have no intention of imposing.

'Quite the contrary, Purillar said sheepishly. 'You are going to be excellent for morale. The only entertainment we get here is sensory dramas, and they tend to pale after a while. Whereas a quest like this… One of us dull old souls with a romantic past. Well!

'How long have you been here? Aaron asked.

'Myself? I will have notched up twenty-five years in the last hundred and thirty.

Aaron whistled. 'That's devotion. Do you mind telling me why?

Purillar beckoned to them, and set off across the grass. 'I'm nearly three hundred years old, so in fact it's a small portion of my life. I don't mind donating the time because I can extend my life as long as I want to make up for it.

'That sounds almost like Higher philosophy.

'I suppose it does. I'll probably migrate inwards once the Restoration project ends. Higher culture appeals to me.

'But why that first donation?

'Simple enough, I met one of the Restored. She died just after the Prime attack, caught outside a force field when the storm struck. Seven hundred years later one of our teams found her corpse and extracted her memorycell. She was re-lifed in a clone, and lived happily on Anagaska. It was her contentment which affected me; she had such a busy fulfilling life, there was a huge family, her involvement with the local community. I was struck by how much poorer the world, my world, would have been without her. So I signed up for a tour. Then when you're here you get to see first hand the people who you find, follow them from excavation through assessment and DNA extraction, memorycell rehabilitation, right up to re-life. You understand? I meet the living individual after I dig up their corpse. Innocent people who were struck down, people who didn't deserve to die; victims of a hideous war. Maybe it's self serving, but do you have any idea how good that makes me feel?

'I can't even imagine. I can see I'm going to have to make a financial contribution when I get back to Anagaska.

They crossed the big grass field to the low buildings on the other side. Housing for the team members consisted of small individual cottages arranged in five neat circles, each with a central clump of community buildings. As they approached, Aaron saw an open-air swimming pool and several barbeque areas, even a sports pitch was marked out. Only two of the circles were in use now. It was impossible to see what the cottages were built out of; they were all covered by thick creepers with long brown leaves that dangled golden flowers from their tips. It was a pleasant arboreal contrast to the icy desolation outside the force field. A deliberate one he suspected; the vines were nicely shaggy, but pruned so as not to obstruct windows.

Behind the cottages were two modern functional blocks. One containing the project laboratories, Purillar explained, while the other housed their maintenance shops and garaged their equipment.

'We're heavily cybernated, he told them, 'But even we need a few technicians to repair the bots now and again.

'Could he be working as a technician? Aaron asked Corrie-Lyn.

'Who knows? she said lightly. 'I just know he's here. Probably. It is a long-shot, after all.

Aaron didn't look at her. That hell-damned mouth of hers! He'd managed to get into the starship's culinary unit program, altering her patches on his original blocks so the drinks she ordered only had half the alcohol content she'd designated. Her attitude hadn't made any miraculous changes. 'Can we meet everyone? Aaron asked.

'Sure. I suppose. This is a civil outpost after all. I'm not exactly a police commissioner, you know. I can't compel anyone who doesn't want to be introduced. He gave Corrie-Lyn an apologetic shrug.

'Anyone who refuses is pretty likely to be him, don't you think? said Aaron.

'Sounds about right, the director said. 'You do realize that everyone on the planet will now know you're here, and especially why. This is a small operation.

'How many people is that, exactly?

'Four hundred and twenty-seven of us; of which a hundred and eighty are here in the base. Five hundred years ago, there were six thousand people involved.

'How many people have you restored?

'Two point one million in total, Purillar said proudly.

Aaron whistled appreciatively. 'I had no idea.

'The bulk of them were in the early years, of course. But our techniques have improved dramatically since then. Thankfully, because, even with the cold helping preservation, entropy is our real enemy. Come on in, I'll show you. He stepped through the door of the laboratory block.