"But then what would he do with that power?"

Yishna bowed her head and considered. She felt sure Harald's aims were inward-looking—power and control within the system—but could see nothing beyond that. "I really don't know."

"Control of Sudoria itself?" Duras suggested.

"That seems logical, but I just don't see it as being of any real interest to him."

Duras frowned. "In three days we should arrive there, but I wonder if Fleet will even let us pass through." He stared at her directly. "You realise that which side actually caused these events is of little matter. That one of them wants conflict means there will be conflict, and there is very little Parliament can do about it."

"Yes, I realise that."

McCrooger

The other quofarl I named Flog. This name seemed appropriate because of its similarity in sound and meaning to his tank twin's name, Slog.

"I am not so sure that having two quofarl bodyguards just for me would go down very well on Sudoria," I suggested. There had been no Brumallians on Sudoria ever since the War, and even those encountered there during the War had not been seen often, since they were prisoners.

"You misunderstand me," said Lily. She pointed to the heavy chest containing all the evidence the Brumallians had collected. "They will accompany you at all times solely to carry the evidence."

With that, Slog and Flog hoisted up the chest and headed for the door.

Turning towards Rhodane, Lily added, "You, of course, will be going with him."

"I rather suspected that," said Rhodane, adding with a hint of bitterness, "You need a Sudorian on your side to add some veracity."

I felt this to be a distraction from my own point. "Excuse me, I did not misunderstand you about the bodyguard thing. I am quite capable of reading the subtext of your communications."

Lily hissed and rattled her mandibles. "It is the will of the Consensus that you be protected. Should Brumallians arrive at Sudoria with all this evidence, without one of your standing aboard, it is unlikely we would even be allowed to land—even with a Sudorian aboard." She gave a glance of acknowledgement to Rhodane. "Also, without you, it is unlikely we could get it to the direct attention of the Sudorian Parliament."

I decided to accept gracefully—mortal thoughts again—and followed the two quofarl from the room.

I still hadn't quite located where we now were in ReconYork. To begin with I had not expected so long a journey from the holding barge to the city head, and now wondered where we must go to reach that place where the spaceships were stored. This particular room opened onto a stair leading down the side of the central cylinder, and I stood for a moment wondering whether I was meant to climb or descend.

"We go up," said Rhodane, divining my indecision. "A workable vessel has apparently been moved to the surface." She added, "Fast work—I myself never got anything done so quickly." This then must have been the substance of one of her earlier conversations with Lily while I was studying the evidence.

"Perhaps their heart wasn't really in it," I suggested.

"Most certainly."

We climbed side by side, with the quofarl traipsing along behind.

"I thought he—"

"— was dangerous—"

"— and strong," muttered Slog and Flog.

I glanced back.

"Polity Consul Assessors don't—" began Slog.

"— have to carry their own luggage," finished Flog.

I turned and signed to them, "It's not my bloody luggage—it's all of yours." I finished with a gesture to encompass all of Brumal.

Their words descended into an indistinct grumbling and mandibular scraping.

As we ascended further, other Brumallians began to join us, many of them lugging bags and cases. Their conversation ran fast and excited, and I very often found it difficult to understand those few snatches that were audible, but surmised that this lot were the crew of the spaceship we were heading for. I also felt a strange kind of locus, a sense of those around me separating as a kind of encystment from the rest of the population. I was beginning to pick up the undercurrents and the feel of this society, yet now I was leaving it. I decided then, if I survived, to return here and learn more.

I assumed the top of this cavern was also the top of ReconYork, with open air just above, but I was very much mistaken. The stairway wound up through the few hundred feet of rock of the roof, then we left it through an arch leading into the base of yet another cavern. From there we traversed a pathway of crushed shell to a canal edge, where a barge awaited. Whilst the large group of Brumallians that had joined us clambered aboard, I gazed around wondering if this part of the city was the one I had first entered. No way I could tell. Finally we boarded and moved to the foredeck where a helmsman sat behind a triangular helm and archaic-looking controls.

"How long will we be on this barge?" I asked Rhodane.

"An hour and a half."

I moved back and plumped myself down with my back resting against the deck cabin. "Wake me up when we arrive. It's been a rather busy day for me and I need my rest."

I closed my eyes, expecting to find sleep a problem—ever since being infected by the Spatterjay virus I had never needed more than a few hours a night, and sometimes neglected even those. While I waited hopefully for sleep, it crept up behind me with a heavy club. The next thing I knew Rhodane was shaking me by the shoulder, and I opened my eyes to a Brumallian morning.

The spaceship crewmen made a considerable racket as they disembarked. I blinked, feeling listless and heavy and wanting to close my eyes again. I gazed at the back of my hand and flexed it. A scab lifted to expose scar tissue, pink and new, again something not produced by my body in a very long time. Heaving myself upright, I looked around.

Our barge was now moored by one bank of a watercourse perhaps a mile across. To my left it stretched to the misty horizon—a smooth gilded snake. To my right it seemed some structure had been built across it—docks or a pier—but on closer inspection I realised I was gazing upon the front end of an immense barge nearly a mile wide. Upon the deck of this rested one of the spacecraft I had seen below. It looked less like a living thing now., its surface a bland grey with many additional protuberances and steely triangular section bands caging its surface. Huge pylons reared around it, conveying immense pipes and elevators to various openings in its hull, and probably also preventing the vessel from rolling away.

We followed the crew ashore, then along a path running between the canal bank and a wide concrete road along which presently cruised a low heavy truck consisting of three carriages—probably carrying further supplies for the vessel. Beyond the road rose mountain slopes cloaked with forest cut through by many churned mud tracks, on one of which had been parked a large treaded vehicle. Was it pure luck or providence that made me upgrade the magnification of my eyes to take a closer look at this machine? In doing so I identified wide pincer jaws, a saw tongue and logs stacked behind. Then I spotted something sprawled in the mire before it: a Brumallian, the mud all around him bloody, half his head missing. Just back from him, by the machine itself, something glinted in the hands of a crouching figure.

Turning I shouted, "Get to cover!"

Rhodane looked at me blankly, and I then realised I had used my own language. As I stepped forward to push her down, a bullet smacked me hard in the back. I staggered forward, something spraying out ahead of me…pieces of me. Rhodane jerked back and made a horrible grunting sound, then dropped and rolled neatly over the bank into the water. As I came upright another shot cracked viciously past. It is not a sound you forget and one I had heard many times before. Squatting, turning. A spray of automatic fire lifted two crew off their feet, chunks of their bodies flying away like confetti dropped before a fan. I forgot about mortality, vulnerability, and launched myself across the road. Hitting a hedge of green twigs and spade leaves, I pushed through to land between clumps of multiple trunks supporting a canopy like the scaled underside of a lizard. Shortly afterwards two figures crashed through to either side of me: Flog and Slog. They scanned around, peering down the sights of their heavy rifles—stooped low, bestial..