Jed was sitting to one side, wearing old-fashioned mag-bracelets and anklets that could be commanded to snap together, immobilising him. It was a matter of form and out-moded legislation, Roger had been told. Jed had given his usual muscular grin on seeing Roger – they had not been allowed to meet beforehand – then put all his attention on the panel.

‘First I would like to show on board recordings of the event in question. Mr Khan?’

‘As a witness myself’ – Vilok Khan had raised a finger to speak – ‘I will be interested in confirming my subjective memory. If Nectarblossom and Acid Tang agree?’

There was the faintest of perfumes in the air – the Haxigoji conferring with translators turned off – before Nectarblossom said: ‘We too are interested.’

When the holo played through, the Haxigoji pair watched via smartmiasma-distorted air, acting as a dynamically configurable lens, as they sniffed the poorly reproduced scents from the surveillance fragrance-recorders at the original scene. Roger turned away, wincing, but too late: he had already seen Rick’s head being blown apart, and it was as awful now as it had been during the briefing.

He was a witness giving evidence, but there was more than that. The Haxigoji had known that something was wrong about Rick Mbuli – and they had prevented Pilot Holland from coming on board Vachss Station.

Suddenly, Roger understood the unspoken elements of his briefing, the reason for their choosing him specifically, what Ro McNamara had hinted at – and why this really was an intelligence operation. As far as the Admiralty was concerned, Jed’s freedom was secondary; what they wanted to know was simple: could the Haxigoji sense the darkness?

‘We have a question,’ came from Nectarblossom’s torc, ‘regarding the defendant’s targeting the abomination. How did he determine its nature?’

Everyone looked at Jed. He took control of the holo, and replayed an audio portion at high volume: ‘My name. Is. Rick. Mbuli from. Ful gor.’

‘I remembered my friend Roger’ – Jed gestured – ‘telling me about his time on Fulgor, and that name, Mbuli, rang a bell. And I knew Roger had searched the refugee lists: he wasn’t a known survivor.’

Acid Tang’s nostrils widened then closed almost fully. It was a reaction that Roger did not know how to read. Then his attention was drawn by Khan, who asked him to confirm Jed’s statement, which he did. Everything proceeded step by step, until Khan finally declared: ‘I believe Pilot Goran’s actions to be neither homicide nor manslaughter, given that the deceased was not a coherent entity, but a tiny component of the Anomaly engaged in a terrorist action against the station. Dr Mbaka, do you agree?’

It sounded like a memorised speech.

‘I do.’ She looked at Jed. ‘And I would like to thank Pilot Goran for his heroism. His fast thinking and swift action saved not just this orbital, but the entire planet of Vijaya from total catastrophe.’ Then, dropping her formal tone, she added: ‘You were fantastic. Thank you so much.’

Jed grinned, muscles playing in his face.

Roger felt himself relax.

Good. It’s over.

The Haxigoji leaned close to each other, Nectarblossom angling her head to avoid Acid Tang’s dipping antler, then straightened up.

‘We would like to call one more witness,’ said Nectarblossom, ‘before concluding this examination.’

Al-Khalid looked surprised but said: ‘Of course. Please do.’

Everything changed in an instant.

A bulkhead pulled open. Four huge Haxigoji dragged a bound human into the chamber—

No!

—and Roger was on his feet because the darkness was swirling around the man, in fact a Pilot. But it was the darkness itself that Roger had reacted to.

The Pilot hung, semi-conscious, from the grip of massive double-thumbed hands.

‘This,’ announced Nectarblossom via her torc, ‘is Pilot Holland.’

So they had not prevented him leaving his ship: they had caught him in the corridor. Which meant his ship must be waiting nearby in congruent mu-space, waiting for the chance to free Holland without risking his life.

Kill him . . .

Roger’s tu-ring was blazing with scarlet fire, though he could not remember arming it.

Control.

He looked into Nectarblossom’s amber, horizontally slitted eyes.

‘The darkness,’ he said. ‘It’s strong. This man is fully corrupted.’

‘Yes.’

Acid Tang said: ‘So there are humans who are not blind. This is powerful news.’

‘An heroic day.’ Nectarblossom rose to her feet, taller than any human, her presence magnificent. ‘We will share the message.’

The implications and the mutual recognition rebounded in Roger’s mind, distracting him and the Haxigoji alike, but he was supposed to be a professional and you had to remain alert when—

Yellow fire exploded.

Amid deadly danger, an element of slapstick intruded: Jed leapt at Holland – like Roger, he was unaffected by the blaze of energy – but his electromag bracelets and anklets snapped together, immobilising him and dropping him in Roger’s path, which gave Holland the second he needed.

The Haxigoji guards had staggered back, blinded, as Holland took the opportunity to stumble back through the hatch he had entered by, and cause it to slam shut.

From the floor, Jed said: ‘They’ll be OK. The bastard’s weak.’ But his voice was slurred, and blood was pouring from his forehead. ‘Go get him.’

‘Wait.’ Roger went to Vilok Khan, who appeared to be panicking the least, and used a gentle thumb to draw up an eyelid. ‘Jed’s right,’ he told everyone. ‘The flash wasn’t full strength. You’ll recover.’

Nectarblossom appeared to have closed her eyes in time, because she looked at Roger now, and said: ‘You do not need to stay and bear witness. We will spread the word.’

So she understood: their new mutual understanding was the most important outcome.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. Good luck, Pilot.’

Jed was out of it, and Draper was Shipless, but Ibrahim al-Khalid was a Pilot too. Roger turned to him, expecting an offer of help, but saw only an expression of devastated emptiness, tears running down al-Khalid’s face.

Find out later.

It was time to give chase.

No place in Vachss Station was far from an outer hull, and emergency evacuation points abounded. By the time Roger obliterated the hatch that Holland had escaped through, turning it into powder, an exterior-view holo was showing a teardrop shape, originating here, in the act of making rendezvous with a dark-green and purple ship that had, just seconds ago, blazed into realspace.

Well, good.

A strong enemy meant a decent challenge, and while Holland might still be weak, his ship was anything but. Quickglass was already spreading across Roger’s skin as he commanded an exit to become permeable; then he took a moment to judge the trajectory – there, a spar was rotating past, and he would have to be careful to miss it – before launching himself through the liquefied wall and popping out into vacuum.

Come to me.

His own beauty, black and powerful, webbed with scarlet and gold, crashed into realspace existence, so very close to Vachss Station. Proximity alarms would be sounding aboard the orbital, but there was no risk because she was a genius, taking him into her control cabin—

We hunt?

Oh, yes, my love.

Good.

—and diving sideways, away from everything, getting a clear angle on Holland’s ship except it was too late because white light accompanied a skilful transition into mu-space—

On home ground, then.

Exactly.

—which would not be enough to save them because Roger-and-ship were equally adept, probably more, and within a subjective second, golden splendour was shining all around them.