'Out where, exactly? If the anti-Pilgrimage faction is right, the whole galaxy is doomed.

'You are just one giant lump of fun, aren't you? Come on, man, give it to me straight. Are we in the shit?

'The contacts I have inside ANA aren't worried, so neither am I.

Stubsy considered that seriously for a moment before reverting to his usual annoyingly breezy self. 'Thanks, man, I owe you one.

'Not really. But if I find a way to collect, I'll let you know.

Troblum puzzled over Stubsy's question in the capsule back to his ship. Perhaps he'd been unwise to admit to contacts inside ANA, but it was a very general reference. Besides, he didn't really consider Stubsy to be some kind of agent working for Marius's opponents — of which there were admittedly many. Of course the Starflyer had procured agents a lot more unlikely than Stubsy. But if Stubsy was an agent for some ANA Faction they were playing a long game, and from what Troblum understood, the Pilgrimage situation would be resolved sooner rather than later. Troblum shook his head and shifted the case slightly. It was an interesting theory, but he suspected he was overanalysing events. Paranoia was healthy, but he wouldn't like to report that particular suspicion to Marius. More likely it was a genuine concern on Stubsy's part, one born of ignorance and popular prejudice. That was a lot easier to believe.

The capsule arrived back at Mellanie's Redemption and Troblum carefully carried the stable-environment case into the starship. He resisted the impulse to open it for one last check, but did stow it in his own sleeping cabin for the flight back to Arevalo.

The first thing Araminta knew about the failure was when a shower of sparks sizzled out of the bot's power arm, just above the wrist multi-socket where tools plugged in. At the time she was on her knees beside the Juliet balcony door, trying to dismantle its seized-up actuator. The unit hadn't been serviced for a decade at least. When she got the casing open every part of it was covered in grime. She wrinkled her nose up in dismay, and reached for the small all-function electrical toolkit she'd bought from Askahar's Infinite Systems, a company that specialized in recycled equipment for the construction trade. Her u-shadow grabbed the user instructions from the kit's memory and filtered them up through her macrocellular clusters into her brain; supposedly they gave her an instinctive ability to apply the little gizmos. She couldn't even work out which one would stand a chance of cleaning away so much gunk. The cleanser utensils were intended for delicate systems with a light coating of dust. Not this compost heap.

Then as she peered closer at the actuator components bright light flashed across them. She turned just in time to see the last cascade of sparks drizzle down on the pile of sealant sheets stacked up in the corner of the flat's lounge. Wisps of smoke began to wind upwards. The bot juddered to a halt, as the whole lower segment of its power arm darkened. As she watched, its pocked silvery casing tarnished rapidly from the heat inside.

'Ozzie's mother! she yelped, and quickly started stamping on the sheets, trying to extinguish the glowing points which the sparks had kindled. Her u-shadow couldn't get any access to the bot at all, it was completely dead, and now there was a definite hot-oil smell in the air. Another bot slid away and retrieved an extinguisher bulb from the kitchen. It returned and sprayed blue foam on the defunct bot's arm. Araminta groaned in dismay as the bubbling fluid scabbed over and dripped on to the floorboards, soaking in. The whole wood-look was coming back in vogue, which was why she'd ordered the bot to abrade the original old floorboards down to the grain. As soon as they were done she was going to spread the sealant sheets down while the rest of the room was decorated and fitted, then she'd finish the boards with a veneer polish to bring out the wavy gold and rouge pattern of the native antwood.

Araminta scratched at the damp stain with her fingernail, but it didn't seem too bad. She'd just have to get another bot to abrade the wood down still further. There were five of the versatile machines performing various tasks in the flat, all second or third hand; again bought from Askahar's Infinite Systems.

Now the immediate danger of fire was over her u-shadow called Burt Renik, proprietor of Askahar's Infinite Systems.

'Well there's nothing I can do, he explained after she'd told him what had happened.

'I only bought it from you two days ago!

'Yes but why did you buy it?

'Excuse me! You recommended it.

'Yes, the Candel 8038; it's got the kind of power level you wanted for heavy duty attachments. But you came to me rather than a licensed dealer.

'What are you talking about? I couldn't afford a new model. The Unisphere evaluation library said it was dependable.

'Exactly. And I sell a lot of refurbished units because of that. But the one you bought had a manufacturer's decade-warranty that expired over a decade ago. Now with all the goodwill in Ozzie's universe, I have to tell you: you get what you pay for. I have some newer models in stock if you need a replacement.

Araminta wished she had the ability to trojan a sensorium package past his u-shadow filters, one that would produce the painburst he'd get from a good smack on the nose. 'Will you take part exchange?

'I could make you an offer on any components I can salvage, but I'd have to bring the bot in to the workshop to analyse what's left. I can come out, oh… middle of next week, and there would have to be a collection charge.

'For Ozzie's sake, you sold me a dud.

'I sold you what you wanted. Look, I'm only offering to salvage parts as a goodwill gesture. I'm running a business, I want return customers.

'Well you've lost this one. She ended the call and told her u-shadow never to accept a call from Burt Renik again. 'Bloody hell! Her u-shadow quickly revised her refurbishment schedule, adding on an extra three days to her expected completion date. That assumed she wouldn't buy a replacement for the 8038. It was a correct assumption. The budget wasn't working out like she'd originally planned. Not that she was overspending, but the time involved in stripping out all the old fittings and demode decorations was taking a lot longer than her first estimate.

Araminta sat back on the floor and glared at the ruined bot. I'm not going to cry. I'm not that pathetic.

The loss of the 8038 was a blow, though. She'd just have to trust the remaining bots would hold out. Her u-shadow began to run diagnostic checks on them while she tried to detach the abrader mat from the 8038's foam-clogged multi-socket. The attachment was expensive and, unlike the bot, brand new. Her mood wasn't helped by the current state of the flat. She had been working on it for five days solid now, stripping it down to bare walls, and gutting the ancient domestic equipment, the whole place looked just terrible. Every surface was covered in fine particles, with sawdust enhancing the whole dilapidated appearance; also not helped by the way any sound echoed round the blank rooms. After tidying things up today, she could start the refurbishment stage. She was sure that would re-fire her enthusiasm. There had been times over the last week when she'd had moments of pure panic, wondering how she could have been so stupid to have gambled everything on this ancient cruddy flat.

The abrader attachment came free and she pulled it out. With her u-shadow controlling them directly, two of the remaining bots hauled their broken sibling out of the flat and dumped it in the commercial refuse casket parked outside. She winced every time it bumped on the stairs, but the other occupants were out, they'd never know how the dints got there.