‘Fuck you! You didn’t lose an arm to the Fallers, you lost your brain! Without an economy, we can’t fight the Fallers. How is that difficult to understand? And don’t you ever call me a fucking traitor again, you crudding worthless bastard! You lost your arm because you were a shit trooper, too dumb even to recognize a Faller when you met her.’

‘Get the fuck out of my sight. You do not represent Nalani; you represent nothing. Nothing!’

Slvasta’s whole body was quivering in reaction to the argument. Yannrith’s hand fell on his shoulder. ‘Captain,’ he said in a warning tone. ‘This should not be happening. Not here.’

Javier spat on the floor, and stormed away. ‘This is not your revolution,’ he shouted at Slvasta, shaking his big fist. ‘It belongs to the people. The only person who’d deny that is a megalomaniac. The Captain would be proud of you.’

Slvasta could just detect a flurry of private ’paths spinning out of Javier’s mind. Over a dozen delegates were clambering to their feet, joining him as he stomped towards the nearest exit. ‘Bethaneve,’ he ’pathed. ‘Close the whole cell network to Javier; he’s trying to sabotage us.’

‘That’s not how it works,’ she protested. ‘What in Uracus is happening in there? What are you two idiots doing?’

‘Nothing.’ He took a breath to calm his quivering body and stared out at the remaining delegates, who were watching him with incredulous faces. ‘Well,’ he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a rueful grimace. ‘Welcome to true democracy.’

*

Kysandra leaned on the ferry’s gunnel, staring down at the thick mud-brown water of the Colbal. Her ex-sight probed down into it for a couple of metres or so, but that was as far as she could reach. Solids and liquids were a strong barrier to psychic perception, for which she was grateful. Three days ago, she had stood on the south bank, with tears running freely down her cheeks when the Lanuux and Alfreed had set off. Of all the terrible things that they’d done to manufacture the revolution, this was the most awful. Nigel had told her to wait in the Willesden station hotel where they were staying, but she simply couldn’t. Not facing up to this, to the consequences of their actions, was the worst sort of cowardice.

‘Other ships will come swiftly to help,’ Nigel said. ‘There are dozens making the crossing at any given time.’

‘We just have to stop the Meor from interfering with the cell comrades,’ Fergus said.

‘Okay, so why don’t we just sabotage the ferry engines?’ she’d asked. The Meor troopers weren’t bad people; they didn’t deserve this.

‘They’ll commandeer other ferries,’ Nigel said gently. ‘The Captain and Trevene know something is happening, that there’s an organized underground movement opposing them. They need the Meor in the city. We’re lucky there are two Faller alerts right now, and most of the Marines are away. They’re loyal and tough.’

So she’d stopped objecting, because it was logical and necessary, and she mustn’t be a stupid sentimental little girl. The fate of everyone on Bienvenido depended on the outcome of this day, and that was all that mattered. And an hour later she watched the Lanuux and Alfreed sink below the water, leaving survivors floundering desperately in the river’s strong flow and lethal undercurrents.

Nigel had been right; every other ship on the Colbal did rush to help. But the troopers were wearing full uniforms and heavy boots, and the swift water was pitiless. In the end, they reckoned over three hundred troopers were plucked out of the river to safety – three hundred out of one and a half thousand. By then, the even more bloody revolution had kicked off in the city. Kysandra stayed on the riverbank, staring across the water, watching the fires flare, listening to the gunshots. She strengthened her shell against any giftings of the sadness and brutality and anguish that came slithering through the aether, along with the deluge of cries for help and mercy.

Now, three days later, they were crossing the river on a big barge. Ma Ulvon was in charge of the crew, standing in front of the wheelhouse, with her pump-action shotgun on a long shoulder strap, and bandoliers full of cartridges worn over her neat grey and blue jacket. Akstan and Julias were sitting in the two big wagons strapped to the deck that they were bringing to Varlan, keeping the terrestrial horses quiet and soothed. The carts were custom built, with tough suspension, and deep cradles inside their sturdy covered frames, ready to carry their prize back.

‘Typical,’ Nigel barked under his breath.

Kysandra looked up from the water where the wrecks of the ferries must be lying some ten or twelve metres down. She didn’t need a shell to guard against showing her emotions. The luxury of feelings was something she’d forbidden to herself since the revolution began. This must be how the ANAdroids think, she told herself. They saw, they understood, but they didn’t sympathize. They kept aloof; neither death nor beauty bothered them. Every response to life’s events a perfect forgery. It wasn’t a bad way to live. She saw now she’d been striving for something similar ever since Nigel arrived.

‘What is it?’ she asked him.

‘Slvasta. The People’s Interim Congress is being gifted in the spirit of democratic openness. He and Javier have had a very public bust-up.’

Kysandra shifted her gaze to the approaching city, seeing the imposing buildings rising up the slopes behind the river, but not really caring. Staying aloof – a high place where you couldn’t be hurt. ‘Really? I’m not taking giftings right now.’

He went over to her. ‘I should have made you stay at home.’

‘Made me?’

‘Insisted.’

‘But everything would still have happened, wouldn’t it? Everybody would still be dead.’

‘I’m sorry.’

For once she believed the melancholy voice, the sympathy expressed in those mesmerizing green eyes. ‘It’s not you. I just . . . didn’t think it through. I didn’t realize how big this was. I really am just a smalltown girl after all.’

His arm went round her shoulder. ‘You are so not. You are the smartest, most knowledgeable person on Bienvenido – after me.’

‘Pretty rough comment on Bienvenido.’

‘That’s my girl. Besides, bodyloss is terrible, but not fatal. In the Commonwealth, people just download their thoughts and memories into re-life clones. Here, souls fly to the Heart.’

‘Nigel.’ She gave him the look that said: Don’t patronize me. ‘If everything works the way you planned, you’re going to rip the Void apart. All those souls the Heart has stolen will die with it, so don’t use that to try and comfort me, okay?’

‘Quite right. So let’s use the truth: Laura Brandt has been created and died over a million times. The soul of everyone who ever made it to the Heart has been imprisoned and adapted into crud knows what to serve the Void somehow. There has never been an atrocity committed against the human race on this scale before, not ever. And that is what all the millions of people born here on Bienvenido will continue to face forever if we don’t stop them. You were prepared to sacrifice everything, including your life and your immortal soul, to liberate the unborn generations to come. You were ready for that because you knew it was worthwhile, that it was the right thing to do. I’m sorry about the deaths, truly I am. The Commonwealth exists so that everyone can have a chance at a decent life, and then migrate into a technological afterlife, and then maybe one day that too will transcend. I want the best for people; that’s all I’ve ever wanted, despite some pretty dubious methods I’ve used down the centuries. And the Void is a monster, the worst we’ve ever faced. It has to be destroyed, Kysandra.’

‘I know.’ Suddenly she was crying again, and hugging him tight. ‘I won’t let you down. Really I won’t.’

‘You haven’t and you couldn’t. You’re my touchstone, Kysandra. You’re what I look at every day to remind myself that this is worthwhile. I want to see you live, Kysandra; truly live. That’s what all this is for. So that you and your children have the same chance as every other member of our glorious, stupid, crazy species.’