'I know something about them,' observed Corso. 'I studied some of their machine-languages. They travel everywhere at sublight speeds.'

'And they usually stick to the very remotest part of a system. If Dakota's findings are anything to go by, the depths of interstellar space are even more densely infested with them than we thought.'

An image of an Atn now appeared next to the hollowed-out asteroid. A large, rectangular metal body, covered in a curious alien calligraphy, sat on top of four stumpy legs. At the end of each leg, thick, splayed metal claws gripped the ground, while a mass of mechanical manipulators extended from a slot just below the brick-shaped head.

'Since they can visit parts of the galaxy we ourselves couldn't until recently, there was always the chance we might learn something from them,' Lamoureaux continued. 'Which is why we've been studying them carefully ever since we came into contact with them.'

Corso nodded. 'And?'

'Imagine our surprise when we stumbled across references to a "Mos Hadroch" in some research papers written just a couple of decades ago by a specialist who's still around. The term crops up in relation to one specific Atn clade called "Eclipse-over-Moon".'

'So what do we know about them?'

'Practically nothing, and the term shows up only once, and in an oblique reference at that. But the man who actually wrote the papers knows more about this particular clade-family than anyone else alive.'

Corso nodded. 'Then we need to track him down.'

There was a look on Lamoureaux's face as if he was trying to make up his mind whether or not to tell Corso something. 'Already on it, and… I'd like your permission to get him to Ocean's Deep as soon as possible.'

'Granted. Who is he?'

'His name is Ty Whitecloud, Senator.'

Corso sat stock-still for a moment, then stood up carefully. 'No,' he said, very simply, and turned towards the door.

'Senator, there isn't anyone else who knows as much about the Atn as he does.'

'Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time, Ted. I said no. There are other people who could-'

'With the greatest respect, Senator, but there aren't,' said Stankovic. 'It's a pretty rarefied field.'

'I know a little about Atn machine-languages, Yugo. I've even read one or two of Whitecloud's papers. But there are others we could try.' He thought for a moment. Anton Laroque and Sophie Sprau, for a start. They're leaders in the field.'

Lamoureaux shook his head. 'We checked them out already. Laroque was in Night's End when it was destroyed, and Sprau's extremely elderly and on life-support back on Earth. She isn't expected to survive more than another couple of weeks. That leaves only Whitecloud.'

'He's a war criminal,' Corso barked.

'Sir?' asked Stankovic, looking puzzled.

Stankovic was from Derinkuyu, Corso remembered then, a long way from Redstone. 'Whitecloud is a Uchidan,' Corso explained. 'Or at least he worked for them. One of the bright lights of their scientific community at one time. Do you remember the Port Gabriel incident?'

Stankovic's eyes slid to one side as he strove to recall buried memories of media reports from years before. 'In the general details only.'

'The Uchidans found a way to control the minds of machine-heads sent to Redstone as part of a Consortium peacekeeping force. Uchidan skull implants aren't, after all, that fundamentally different from those of machine-heads. They identified a flaw in the machine-head architecture and exploited it. The result was a massacre that killed a huge number of non-combatants.'

'And Whitecloud was implicated?'

'He was,' said Lamoureaux, cutting in, 'but he was a minor figure in the research project, not at all involved in the actual implementation. It's important to make that distinction.'

'That doesn't make him any less respon-' Corso snapped his fingers. 'I remember now. Whitecloud escaped from custody, years ago. And now you know where he is?'

Lamoureaux nodded. 'Legislate agents tracked him down in Ascension a couple of weeks back and he's being held in a barracks prison there. Turns out he'd been hiding under an assumed identity for years. It's possible we could spring him, but we'd have to move fast.'

Corso regarded him with a pained expression. 'Ted… if it came out that we were employing war criminals, we'd be kissing any chance of concord with the Legislate goodbye for ever.'

'Well, that gives us a serious problem, Senator,' Lamoureaux replied, 'because if Dakota's on to something, we're going to need Whitecloud very, very badly.'

Corso glanced at the door and fantasized for a moment about just walking out of there and having nothing to do with what Lamoureaux was suggesting. And yet, at the same time, he sensed – not for the first time – the inevitability of having to compromise what he had once considered the immutable beliefs and values he had long held dear. After the last couple of years, he was almost getting used to it.

He sighed and sat back down. 'You're a machine-head yourself, Ted. How can you even contemplate this?'

'Because sometimes you just have to live with the cards life deals you, Senator. I have good friends who would never talk to me again if they had any idea what I'm suggesting here. If there was another way, believe me, I'd take it. But Whitecloud was far from the worst of them.'

'And that's in your best professional judgement?'

'It is, but we need to move fast on this. Most of the Emissary forces are still kiloparsecs away, but advance scouts have been observed engaging with Shoal fleets a lot closer to home. I'd like to go to Ascension and take charge of this myself, with your permission.'

'Alright, fine, if that's what it takes,' Corso replied, a void seeming to form deep inside his chest. 'Tell Willis he's to rendezvous with you there as well. Olivarri can take care of things at Ocean's Deep for now. You understand,' he added, 'that if any word of this gets out…'

'It won't.'

Lamoureaux left a few moments later, and Corso noticed the fusion globes outside were beginning to dim in preparation for evening, the ghostly band of the Milky Way gradually becoming visible.

Somewhere out there, entire star systems were being destroyed all along the frontiers of the Long War, a vast region encompassing the outer rim of the Orion Arm. There were reports of fleets so vast they were almost beyond comprehension, and these made the idea that Dakota or anyone could possibly affect them seem hopelessly deluded. But they had to try.

'If this doesn't work,' Corso said, so quietly that Stankovic had to strain to hear him, 'then the only thing left to do is save what we can.'

'Senator?'

Corso stared out beyond the fading fusion globes, picturing the light spreading out from distant novae like a fiery cancer. 'If we don't find a way out of this mess, we're going to have to dispatch ships, as far away as we can, and found new colonies in some other part of the galaxy where the war can't reach them. At least that way we might save some.'

He stood and moved towards the door. 'Arrange for a priority message back to Dakota. Let Ted know about it, too. Tell her what we've found out and make sure she's kept up to date whenever something new comes up.'

Lamoureaux hesitated. 'What about Whitecloud? Do we mention him?'

'Dakota was at Port Gabriel during the massacres. I think we'd better not mention him at all, don't you?'