'What if Living Dream is right and the Void works for them? he asked. 'What if the Cat gets inside? What if she can manipulate it the way the Waterwalker did?

The girls exchanged a look. Both pouted. 'What are you thinking? Catriona asked.

'I should warn them, Troblum said. 'Paula at least. She understands about the Cat. Paula knows she has to be stopped. Paula wouldn't give up.

'So give her a call, and let's get out of here, Catriona said.

Troblum couldn't help it, his gaze had dropped to Mellanie's array again. 'My collection is gone because of her. The damage. Just thinking about it was threatening to send his body back into shock again. Medical read outs edged back towards amber alerts. 'It was all I ever had, Troblum wailed. He began to curl up, as much as he ever could, his belly squashing out across his upper legs. 'It took me centuries to collect them all. They were safe with me, I was their guardian. He was sobbing so hard the words were virtually unintelligible. 'They were so precious, so valuable. They helped make us what we are, they were a part of our evolution. Why did nobody ever understand how important they were?

'Troblum, Tricia crooned. 'Poor Troblum.

'There are other pieces, Catriona said. 'Remember you visited the Smithsonian, they actually let you touch the Charybdis, the curator was so impressed with your own preservation work. She knew you were an equal. You see, so much still remains. And its legacy is for ever.

'Not with her still alive, he muttered darkly. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from his eyes. 'She is the destroyer. She is death. She is the Void: her.

'Call Paula, Tricia said urgently. 'Do it.

'I have to know, he whispered. 'I have to know we're safe. That she's dead for good. I can't live thinking she might appear behind me. That she'll take me, and… And…

Catriona sighed. 'You can never know that.

'Yes I can. He pushed himself up out of the chair, and walked to the back of the cabin. A small doorway expanded, and he squeezed himself through. An equally small companionway let him through into the starboard midsection hold. There wasn't quite enough room for him to stand, he had to crouch, and hunch his shoulders up. No matter how he twisted, his worn toga suit always brushed against the stolen cargo. The little space was crammed with machinery, piled up at random like a cybernetic dragon hoard. One thousand three hundred and seventy-two components, Troblum recalled. He frowned, and picked up the first one. A hyperfield power manifold, a curving sliver of some substance that seemed to alternate between being crystal and metal. He knew what each component was, but there was no structure to the piles; everything had been shoved in at random as his commandeered bots had pilfered it from the Accelerator station's replicators.

So all he had to do was assemble it, start with the central units and slowly create the new machine in the correct sequence, then integrate it with the starship's existing hyperdrive, and he'd have a fully functional ultradrive ship, quite capable of flying to Andromeda, or beyond.

'Can you do it? Catriona asked. Her head was poking through the hatchway, a dubious expression in place.

'It'll work, Troblum said. 'In theory. He couldn't even see the central units.

'Then what?

'We'll have a genuine escape route. But I'm still going to contact Paula.

'Through the Unisphere?

'No. I'm too frightened of the Accelerators' capability. They were the ones who set the Cat on me. Next time it'll be Marius, or someone else who isn't going to be distracted by an old grudge.

'Then how are you going to get in touch?

Troblum picked up a carbon-black icosahedron, trying to index it. 'There is one other person left that I trust implicitly. He's connected to Paula, or at least he was back during the War. I'll tell him what I know about the Accelerators. He can carry the message to Paula. Maybe once ANA knows about the swarm it will stop the Accelerators. The Cat will be on her own then. That's when Paula can finish her.

'Who? Catriona asked. 'Who do you trust?

'Oscar the Martyr.

Edeard awoke to the marvel of soft fingers caressing his abdomen. It was a lovely sensation matched to the warmth of the supple mattress, the touch of fresh cotton sheets, the fading blossom scent of Jessile's perfume. He smiled, his eyes still closed as he sighed a delighted welcome to the new day. A kiss fell on his cheek. Her nose nuzzled his ear. His smile widened, and the possessive hand slipped along his skin, past his belly button, and further yet. Jessile giggled.

'Now that's what I call rising to greet the dawn, she murmured lecherously.

The other girl giggled as well.

Edeard's eyes snapped open. Memories came flooding back. Just to confirm them, Kristiana was lying on his other side watching him and Jessile with covetous intent, her flimsy white negligee far too small to contain her full figure even if the lace bows down the front had been fastened. He recalled how enjoyable it had been undoing those bows last night.

A weak 'Haaaa, was all Edeard could manage.

'Me first, Jessile insisted, her sharp teeth emphasising the claim on his earlobe.

Kristiana produced a reproving pout. 'Don't forget me, Waterwalker.

Edeard couldn't answer. Jessile's kiss had now engulfed his month. He folded his arms around her as she slithered on top of him. The memories of last night gained texture, and he remembered her delight and exactly how to cause it. His hands moved in the way which made her shudder helplessly, then he applied his third hand just so.

For the last three weeks, as autumn embraced Makkathran, Edeard had learned how to harness his telekinetic ability in the bedroom to the best possible advantage. Another arena of life in which poor old Ashwell lagged far behind the sophisticated decadence of the city. But he hadn't lacked for girls eager to teach him the most intimate secrets of this darkest art. His fame and strength had proved irresistible to the beautiful mischievous daughters of the nobility. They relished demonstrating their ill-gotten skill, almost as much as he enjoyed being the beneficiary. He never was sure exactly who was corrupting who.

'I've never seen steps into a bathing pool before, Kristiana remarked as she walked down into the bubble-coated water. 'We have these awful wooden ladder things hanging on the side in all the pools in Great-grandfather's mansion. Her hand stroked Edeard's face as she sat on the seat shelf beside him. 'This is much better.

'There are quite a few pools in the constables' tenement that have steps like these, Edeard assured her, confident she wouldn't be going in any to find out.

'Not fair you've got them and we haven't, Jessile complained. She pouted. Jessile had a very pretty pout, Edeard decided. It certainly got her just about everything she wanted.

He relaxed between them, which spoke volumes about how his life had changed since that day in Birmingham Pool. On several evenings, there had been fights in the theatres over who got to bed him — such reputable girls, too. He'd never really considered what kind of life popularity would bring. And he had enough of his dour Ashwell upbringing left to convince himself it wouldn't last. But in the meantime…

At his instruction, a ge-chimp brought two sponges and a bottle of soap oil to the rim of the pool. 'Would you do my back? he asked, and leaned forward.

Both girls took a sponge. Even with shielded thoughts, they clearly didn't have cleanliness in mind as they began to apply the liquid with languid movements.

'What are you doing tonight? Jessile asked.

'Celebrating, I hope, Edeard told her. It was the last day of Arminel's trial; his verdict was a formality. At least Edeard sincerely hoped so, but then he'd thought that last time. That good old Ashwell optimism again. The trial was the biggest event in Makkathran, and had been for the last four days as the opposing lawyers presented their respective cases. Only the grandest of the city's aristocracy managed to get into the public gallery; everyone else relied on sight and sound gifting from the official court recorder. 'How about you?