Troblum's worn old toga suit rippled round his vast body as he raised his arms. 'Do I look smaller?

'Hey, come on, I'm just fucking with you. What I got, it entitles me.

'What you claim you've got.

'Man, just shove that stake in a little further, I don't think it went right through my heart. How are you, man? It's been a while. Stubsy gave Troblum a hug, arms reaching almost a third of the way round. Squeezing like he was being reunited with a parent.

'Too long, Troblum suggested.

'Still got your ship. Sweet ship. You Higher guys, you live the life all right.

Troblum looked down on Stubsy's head. 'So come and join us.

'Wowa there! Not quite ready for that. Okay? Man don't even joke about. I'd need to spend a decade wiping all my bad memories before they'd let me set foot on the Central Worlds. Hey, you want a drink. Couple of sandwiches, maybe. Alcinda, she knows how to boss a culinary unit around. He lowered his voice and winked. 'Not the only thing she knows her way around, huh.

Troblum tried not to grimace in dismay. 'Some beer maybe.

'Sure sure. Florae gestured to some chairs beside a table. They sat down while one of the girls brought a large mug of light beer over. 'Hey, Somonie, bring it out for my man, will you?

A girl in a vivid-pink bikini gave a short nod and went inside.

'Where did you find it? Troblum asked.

'A contact of mine. Hey, have I been retrofitted without a brain and somebody not tell me? If I tell you about my people what's left for me in this universe?

'Quite.

'You know I've got a network pumping away down there in the civilized Commonwealth. This week it's some guy, next it's another. Who knows where shit is going to appear. You want to stab me in the back, first you got to build yourself your own network.

'I already have.

Florae blinked, his best-friends smile fading. 'You have?

'Sure. Hundreds of guys like you.

'You kill me, you know that? He laughed, too loud, and raised his glass. 'People like me. Ho man!

'I meant, what planet was it recovered from? My record search confirmed Vic Russell handed it back in to the Serious Crimes Directorate when he returned from the Boongate relocation. It was obsolete by then. The SCD would have disposed of it.

'Beats me, Florae said with a shrug. 'Guess there were people like you and me around even back in those days.

Troblum said nothing. The salvager could be right. For all his personality faults and distasteful lifestyle, he had always provided bona fide items. A large number of artefacts in Troblum's museum had come from Florae.

Somonie returned from the villa carrying a long stable-environment case. It was heavy, her arm muscles were standing proud. She put it the table in front of Troblum and Stubsy.

'Before we go any further, Troblum said. 'I have the SCD serial code. The genuine one. So. Do you still want to open the case?

'I don't give a shit what fucking number you think you got, man, this is for real. And hey guess what, you aren't the only asshole in the Commonwealth that creams himself over this shit. I come to you first because I figure we got a friendship going by now. You want to call me out, you want to crap all over my reputation, and you know what, fatboy, you can roll all the way back to your ship and fuck the hell off this world. My fucking world.

'We'd better look at it then, Troblum said. 'I'd hate to lose your friendship. He didn't care about Stubsy Florae, there were dozens of scavengers just like him. But it was an interesting claim; he'd never really thought there were other collectors outside museums. He wondered idly if they could be persuaded to sell. Perhaps Florae could enquire…

Florae's u-shadow gave the case a key, and the top unfurled to reveal an antique ion rifle. A protective shield shimmered faintly around it, but Troblum could clearly see the metre-long barrel which ended in a stubby black metal handle that had several attachment points and an open induction socket on the bottom.

'Yeah well, Stubsy said with a modest grimace, which could almost have been embarrassment. 'The other bit is missing. Obviously. But what the fuck, this is the business end, right? That's what counts.

'There is no "other bit", Troblum said. 'This is designed to be used by someone in an armour suit; it clips on to the lower arm.

'No shit?

It was an effort for Troblum to speak calmly. The weapon certainly looked genuine. 'Would you turn off the field, please.

The shimmer vanished. Troblum's field function swept across the antique rifle. Deep in the barrel's casing were long chains of specifically arranged molecules, spelling out a unique code. He licked the sweat from his upper lip. 'It's real, he whispered hoarsely.

'Yo! Stubsy slapped his hands together in victory. 'Do I ever let you down?

Troblum couldn't stop staring at the weapon. 'Only in the flesh. Would you like payment now?

'Man, this is why I love you. Yes. Yes please. I would very much like payment now, please.

Troblum told his u-shadow to transfer the funds.

'You want to stay for dinner? Stubsy asked. 'Maybe party with some of the girls?

'Put the protective field back on, please. This humidity is inimical.

'Sure thing. So, which one do you like?

'You don't have any idea how important this artefact is, do you?

'I know it's value, man, that's what counts. The fact some policeman shot an alien with it a thousand years ago doesn't exactly ding my bell.

'Vic Russell worked with Paula Myo. And I know you've heard of her.

'Sure man, this planet's living nightmare. Didn't know she was around in those days, too.

'Oh yes, she was around even before the Starflyer War. And it wasn't an alien Vic shot, it was Tarlo, a Directorate colleague who had been corrupted by the Starflyer, and betrayed Vic and his wife. Arguably, Tarlo is one of the most important Starflyer agents there was.

'Ozzie, now I get it: this was the gun that killed him. That connects you.

'Something like that.

'So are you interested in genuine alien stuff as well?

Anything that is part of the Starflyer's legacy. Why, have you located another section of its ship?

Stubsy shook his head. 'Fraid not, man. But one of my neighbours; she specializes in weird alien technology and other interesting little chunks. You know, the odd sample that crews on pathfinder missions pick up, stuff you never get to hear about in the Unisphere, stuff ANA and the Navy like to keep quiet. You want I should put you in touch, I got a Unisphere code, she's very discreet. I'll vouch for her.

'Tell her if she ever comes across any Anomine relics I'll be happy to talk, he said, knowing she wouldn't. Apart from that, I'm not interested.

'Okay, just thought I'd ask.

Troblum raised himself to his feet, quietly pleased he didn't need his biononics to generate a muscle reinforcement field; but then this world had a point-eight standard gravity. 'Could you call your capsule for me, please?

'Money's in, so sure. This is another reason I like you, man, we don't have to screw around making up small talk.

'Exactly. Troblum picked up the stable-environment case. It was heavy; he could feel a mild sweat break out on his forehead and across his shoulders as he lifted it into the crook of his arm. Hadn't Stubsy ever heard of regrav?

'Hey, man, you're the only Higher I know, so I've got to like ask you this. What's ANA's take on this whole Pilgrimage thing?

Is it a bunch of crap, or are we all going to get cluster fucked by the Void?

'ANA: Governance put out a clear statement on the Unisphere. The Pilgrimage is regrettable, but it does not believe the actions of Living Dream pose any direct physical threat to the Greater Commonwealth.

'I accessed that, sure. Usual government bullshit then, huh. But… what do you think, man? Should I be stocking up my starship and heading out?