“Mars has a Communist government. The computer said so. Daddy hates them.”

“I think you’ll find the Martians are a bit different from the people Daddy’s always moaning about. In any case, he’ll be glad we came here.”

“Why?”

“Because he’ll be glad we got away. The route we travel isn’t really important, just that we get safely to our destination.”

“Oh. I suppose you’re right.” Her face became solemn for a moment. “What do you think he’s doing right now? Will that nasty knight man be making him do things he doesn’t want to?”

“Daddy isn’t doing anything for anyone. He’s just stuck inside his own head, that’s all. It’s the same as being in prison. He’ll be thinking a lot, he’s perfectly free to do that.”

“Really?” Genevieve looked at Fletcher for confirmation.

“Indeed, little one.”

“I suppose that’s not so bad then.”

“I know Daddy,” Louise said. “He’ll be spending the whole time worrying about us. I wish there were some way we could tell him we’re all right.”

“We can when it’s all over. And Mummy, too. It is going to be all over, isn’t it, Louise?”

“Yes. It’s going to end; someday, somehow. And when we get to Tranquillity, we can stop running and do whatever we can to help.”

“Good.” She smiled primly at Fletcher. “I don’t want you to go, though.”

“Thank you, little one.” He sounded ill at ease.

Endron came gliding through the ceiling hatch, head first. He twisted neatly around the ladder and touched his feet to a stikpad beside the holoscreen.

Fletcher kept very still. Now that she knew what to look for, Louise could see how hard he was concentrating. It had taken several days of intense practice for him to learn how to minimise the disruption his energistic effect exerted on nearby electronics. In the end it had paid off; it had been fifty hours since the last time any of the Far Realm ’s crew had come flashing through the life-support capsule searching for an elusive glitch in the starship’s systems.

“We made it home,” Endron started off blithely. “But there is a small problem with your legal status. Mainly the fact you don’t have a passport between you.”

Louise deliberately avoided glancing at Fletcher. “Is there a Norfolk Embassy here? They may be able to issue us with some documentation.”

“There will be a legal office to handle Norfolk’s diplomatic affairs, but no actual embassy.”

“I see.”

“But you have a solution,” Fletcher said. “That is why you are here, is it not?”

“We have a proposal,” Endron said edgily. “There is an unorthodox method of acquiring a passport for the three of you; it’s expensive but has the advantage of not involving the authorities.”

“Is it illegal?” Louise asked.

“What we have here is this: Myself and the rest of the crew have rather a lot of Norfolk Tears on board which we can sell to our friends, so we really don’t want to draw too much official attention to ourselves right now.”

“Your government wouldn’t send us back, would they?” Genevieve asked in alarm.

“No. Nothing like that. It’s just that this way would be easier all around.”

“We’ll get our passports the way you suggested,” Louise said hurriedly. She felt like hugging the genial payload officer; it was exactly what she had been nerving herself up to ask him.

•   •   •

Moyo didn’t exactly sleep, there were too many pressures being applied against his mind for that, but he did rest for several hours each night. Eben Pavitt’s body wasn’t in the best condition, nor was he in the first flush of youth. Of course, Moyo could use his energistic power to enhance any physical attribute such as strength or agility, but as he stopped concentrating he could feel the enervation biting into his stolen organs. Tiredness became an all-over ache.

After a couple of days he had learned the limits pretty well, and took care to respect them. He was lucky to have obtained this body; it would be the direst of follies to lose it by negligence. Another might not be so easy to come by. The Confederation was larger now than when he had been alive, but the number of souls back in the beyond was also prodigious. There would never be enough bodies to go around.

The slim blades of light which dawn drove through the loose bamboo blind were an unusually intense crimson. They shifted the bedroom from a familiar collection of grisaille outlines to a strong two-tone portrait of red and impenetrable black. Despite the macabre perspective, Moyo was imbued by a feeling of simple contentment.

Stephanie stirred on the mattress next to him, then sat up frowning. “Your thoughts look indecently happy to me all of a sudden. What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” He got up and padded over to the window. His fingers pressed the slim tubes of bamboo down. “Ah. Come and look.”

The sky above Exnall was clotting with wisps of cloud, slowly condensing into a broad disk. And they glowed a muted red. Dawn’s corona was rising up to blend with them. Only in the west was there a dark crescent of night, and that was slowly being squeezed to extinction.

“The stars will never rise here again,” Moyo said happily.

There was a power thrumming through the land now, one which he could feel himself responding to, contributing a little of himself towards maintaining the whole. A vast conjunction of will, something he suspected was akin to an Edenist Consensus. Annette Ekelund had won, converting the peninsula to a land where the dead walked free once more. Now two million of them were marrying their energistic power at a subconscious level, bringing about the overriding desire which also dwelt within the latent mind.

Several shadows flittered across the bottom of the garden where the overhanging boughs granted immunity against the spreading red light. The horticultural mechanoids had long since cranked to a halt, though not before wrecking most of the flower beds and small shrubs. When he opened his mind to the dark area he found several nervous bundles of thought. It was the kids left over from the possession again. He hadn’t been alone in letting one go. Unfortunately the Royal Marines had executed a fast, efficient retreat.

“Damn. They’re back for the food again.”

Stephanie sighed. “They’ve had all of the sachets in the kitchen. What else can we give them?”

“There are some chickens in one of the houses opposite; we could always cook them and leave the meat out.”

“Poor little mites. They must be frozen sleeping out there. Could you go and fetch some chickens, please? I’ll get the range cooker hot, we’ll cook them in the oven.”

“Why bother? We can just turn them straight into roasts.”

“I’m not convinced about that; and I don’t want them to catch anything from food that hasn’t been cooked properly.”

“If you just zap the chickens they’ll be cooked properly.”

“Don’t argue. Just go and get them.” She turned him around and gave him a push. “They’ll need plucking, as well.”

“All right, I’m going.” He laughed as his clothes formed around him. Argument would be pointless. It was one of the things he enjoyed about her. She didn’t have many opinions, but those she did have . . . “By the way, what are we going to do for food? There’s none left in the bungalow, and people have been helping themselves to the stocks in the stores on Maingreen.” After some experimenting he’d found his energistic power wasn’t quite as omnipotent as he’d first thought. He could cloak anything in an illusion, and if the wish was maintained for long enough the matter underneath would eventually flow into the shape and texture which he was visualizing. But the human body needed to ingest specific proteins and vitamins. A lump of wood that looked, tasted, and smelt like salmon was still just a lump of wood when it was in his stomach. Even with real food he had to be sensible. Once he’d actually thrown up after transforming sachets of bread into chocolate gateau—he hadn’t removed the foil wrapping first.