'Why? Aaron asked.

'You've got a good ship, but even that would be hard pressed to manoeuvre close to the ground. We can't use capsules here, the winds are too strong, and the atmospheric energy content too high. The two times we tried to use our ship for an emergency rescue nearly ended in disaster. We aborted both, and wound up having to re-life the team members.

'My ship has an excellent force field.

'I'm sure it does. But expanding the force field doesn't help, you just give the wind a bigger surface area to push at. Down here it actually makes you more susceptible to the storm. The only stability you have in the air is what your drive units can provide.

Aaron didn't like it. The Artful Dodger was just about the best protection possible. Under normal circumstances. He couldn't forget the way the regrav units had approached their limits bringing them down to the base's force field dome, and that was a big target. 'How do your teams get about? he asked.

'Ground crawlers. They weigh three tons apiece, and move on tracks. They're not fast, but they are dependable.

'Can we borrow one? There must be some you're not using. You said there used to be a lot more personnel here at one time. Just an old one will do.

'Look. Really. He's not here.

'Whatever release document you want us to certify, we'll do it. Corrie-Lyn said. 'Please. Give me this last chance.

'I've got over twenty teams out there. Half of them aren't even on this continent. We use the polar caps as a bridge to get to the other landmasses. It would take you a year to get round them all.

'At least we can make a start. If Yigo hears we're going round everyone, he'll know he'll have to face me eventually. That might make him get in contact.

Purillar rubbed agitated fingers across his forehead. 'It will have to be the mother of all legal release claims. I can't have any come-back against the project.

'I understand. And thank you.

After dinner, Aaron and Corrie-Lyn made their way over to the second block to inspect the ground crawler Purillar was oh-so-reluctantly allowing them to use. Overhead, the airborne lights were dimming down to a gentle twilight. The effect was spoiled by constant flares of lightning outside the force field.

'He wasn't at the canteen then? Corrie-Lyn asked.

'No. I've scanned everyone in the base now. None of them have biononics. Though quite a few have some interesting enrichments. It can't be as tame here as the good director claims.

'You always judge people, don't you?

'Quite the opposite. I don't care what they do to each other in the privacy of their own cottage. I just need to make a threat-assessment.

The malmetal door of garage eleven rolled apart to show them the ground crawler. It was a simple wedge-shape of metal on four low caterpillar tracks. With the bodywork painted bright orange, its slit windows made empty black gashes in the sides. Force field projectors were lumpy bulbs on the upper edges, along with crablike maintenance bots which clung to the surface like marsupial babies. When Aaron queried the vehicle's net he found it had a large self-repair function. A third of the cargo compartments were filled with spares.

'We should be all right in this, he told her. 'The net will drive it. All we have to do is tell it where we want to go.

'And that is, exactly? You know, Purillar was right. If Inigo is here, then he knows I'm here looking for him. He would have contacted us. Me, at least.

'Would he?

'Oh don't, she said, her face furrowed in disgust. 'Just don't.

'He obviously doesn't miss you as much as you miss him. He left, remember.

'Screw you! she screamed.

'Don't hide from this. Not now. I need you functional.

'Functional, she sneered. 'Well I'm not. And if we find him the first thing I'll tell him is not to help you, you psychofuck misfit.

'I never expected anything else from you.

She glowered, but didn't walk away. Aaron smiled behind her back.

'If he's here, the Pilgrimage will be long gone before we find him, she said sulkily.

'Not quite. Remember we have an advantage that lets us reduce the search field. We know he's Higher.

'How does that help? There was distain in her voice still, but warring with curiosity now.

'The field scan effect would be very useful out there, helping to track down bodies buried in the ground. I can use it to detect anomalies several hundred metres away. It's a little more difficult through a solid mass, but the pervasive function is still capable of reaching a reasonable distance.

'If he's here, he'll have a better success rate than the others, she said.

'There are other factors, such as getting the location of a lost person reasonably accurate. Which is all down to how well an individual case has been researched. But yes. It's a reasonable assumption to say the team with the best success rate will be Inigo's.

'Is there one?

'Yep. My u-shadow didn't even have to hack any files. They're all open to review. The team with the current highest Recovery rate is working up at Olhava province. That's on this continent, nine hundred kilometres south-west. If we start first thing tomorrow morning, we'll be there in forty-eight hours.

Oscar Monroe had fallen in love with the house the first moment he saw it. It was a plain circle, with a high glass wall separating floor and ceiling, standing five metres off the ground on a central pillar that contained a spiral stair. Both the base and the roof were made from some smooth artificial rock similar to white granite, which shone like mountain-top snow in Orakum's blue-tinged sunlight. The sprawling grounds outside resembled some grand historical parkland that had fallen into disuse, with woolly grass overgrowing paths, lines of ornamental trees, and a couple of lakes with a little waterfall between them. There were even some brick Hellenic structures resting in deep nooks, swamped by moss and flowering creepers to add to the image of great age. That image was one which several dozen gardening bots worked hard at achieving.

He had lived there for nineteen years now. It was a wonderful home to return to every time his pilot shift was over, devoid of stress and the kind of bullshit politics that went in tandem with any corporate job. Oscar flew commercial starships for Orakum's thriving national spaceline, which had routes to over twenty External planets. Piloting was the only job he'd sought since he'd been re-lifed.

Waking up in the clinic had been one hell of a surprise. The last thing he remembered was crashing his hyperglider into an identical one piloted by Anna Kime. Saving the Commonwealth — good. Killing the wife of his best friend — not so hot. Without Anna to wreck their flight, Wilson Kime should have managed to fly unimpeded on a mission that was pivotal in the Starflyer War. Oscar could remember the instant before the collision, a moment of complete serenity. He hadn't expected anyone to recover his memorycell. Not after his confession, that in his youth he'd been involved in an act of politically-motivated terrorism that had killed four hundred and eight people, a third of them without memorycells, mostly children too young for the inserts. The fact that he'd never intended it, that the deaths were a mistake, that they'd missed their actual target — that should never have counted in his favour. But it seemed as though his service to the Commonwealth, and ultimate sacrifice, had meant something to the judge. He wanted to think Wilson had maybe paid for a decent lawyer. They'd been good friends.

'I guess this means we won, then, were his first words. It even sounded like his own voice.

Above him, a youthful doctor's face smiled. 'Welcome back Mr Yaohui, he said.