‘Hey!’ Javier yelled. He lifted up the carbine. ‘Pack that in. We’re here on official business.’

‘You’re not my government, crudhead.’

‘Who voted for you?’

Somewhere in the distance, a train whistle sounded.

Several teekay blows slapped at Javier. He rocked about, then flicked the safety catch off. ‘Draw your pistol,’ he private ’pathed Bethaneve. ‘This might get nasty.’

Reluctantly, she did as he advised.

‘Going to shoot us for objecting?’

‘So we’re not allowed opinions any more?’

Javier pointed his carbine into the air and fired off two shots. Children screamed. Everybody cowered. They backed away further.

‘I’m going to politely ask you one last time,’ Javier said. ‘Has anyone seen this man?’ He ’pathed out the image of Coulan as hard as he could.

Bethaneve stared round at the faces, disturbed by the naked outpouring of loathing. Vile images were starting to flicker through the general psychic torrent, images of her being abused, graphic fantasies of Javier being kicked, punched, beaten, a noose round his neck. She gripped the pistol tighter, wondering how everything had turned so wrong so quickly.

The train whistle sounded again, louder this time.

Then amid all the hostility, a few glimmers of smugness appeared. She saw nearby faces beginning to smile haughtily. People directed their gaze behind her. Silence spread out so fast she thought she’d lost her hearing.

‘Please don’t move, my loves.’ The ’path was so kind, so sincere, it resonated right into the centre of her mind as if she had no shell at all. She was so thrilled to perceive it; she did exactly what it asked.

Coulan walked between her and Javier. Her heart began to beat faster at the sight of him; the relief that he was all right was profound. She smiled in welcome.

He smiled back, which made her want to fling her arms round him in happiness. But he had asked her not to move, so she didn’t.

‘I don’t want you to worry about me,’ he said as the train started to ease into the station. ‘Everything is going to be just fine, I promise. Now I have to go away for a week or so, then I’ll be back, and it will be a whole new life for everyone on Bienvenido. You’ll see.’

Bethaneve sighed in delight. He was okay, and the world was going to be all right now.

The engine rolled past, pistons hammering away, gusts of steam shooting out horizontally from valves to swirl across the platform, thick smoke puffing from the stack. It pulled five carriages along behind it.

‘Everybody,’ Coulan said, and raised both arms in universal appeal, ‘the train is here. Let’s get on board, shall we? No need for any unpleasantness. These well-meaning people aren’t going to hurt anybody.’

Bethaneve could see Javier standing beside her, his face sculpted into a mask of despondent longing.

Then the crowd was pouring into the carriages. Bethaneve didn’t mind. Coulan was all right; nothing else mattered. And she was helping him enormously by just staying still.

Coulan gave Javier a small lopsided grin. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he promised, and kissed Javier gently. Turned and began walking towards the train.

The carbine’s roar was as loud as it was shockingly unexpected. It broke Bethaneve’s trance, and she flung herself down, screaming as she jammed her hands over her ears. Right in front of her, not four metres away, Coulan’s buttocks and lower torso disintegrated into a mass of tattered flesh and an expanding blood spume. His abdomen exploded outwards, tendrils of gore thrashing through the ripped shirt. The body collapsed onto the platform, pitching over so his head was facing up. Dying eyes stared peacefully at the twilight sky, then closed.

Bethaneve seemed to be deaf. Her eyesight contracted into a long grey tunnel with Coulan’s corpse blocking the far end. That was all there was.

Sound forced its way back into her consciousness. Screams, so many screams, and so loud that her shock couldn’t deny them any more. Her own voice was one of them. He was dead, her old love, her saviour. Dead. Cut down by—

Bethaneve jerked round. Slvasta was standing just outside the ticket office door, Tovakar and Yannrith and Andricea clustered behind him, more armed comrades in the background. Slvasta ejected the magazine clip from his still-smoking carbine, and his teekay jammed in a replacement.

‘What have you done?’ Bethaneve wailed.

Javier charged past her, his face contorted with rage, arms outstretched as he reached for Slvasta, roaring in demented fury. Andricea stepped forward, caught Javier’s wrist. There was some kind of lithe twisting motion as she shifted her weight round, thrust with her teekay, bent sideways – and Javier’s entire bulky form was somehow flying through the air. He crashed to the ground with a hefty thud, winding him. Tovakar was immediately beside him, pistol pressed against his temple. ‘Don’t!’ he warned.

Slvasta came over to stand beside Bethaneve, looking down at her, his features completely blank. ‘Why didn’t you move? Why didn’t you stop him? You followed him here, you wanted to talk to him just as badly as I did. Why didn’t you ask him something? Anything?’

She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. He . . . he told me not to and I couldn’t.’ She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. ‘I knew I should, I just didn’t want to. What did he do to me?’ she whimpered in panic. ‘Who is he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Slvasta held his hand out to her.

After a second’s hesitation, she reached up and took it. He helped her to her feet. She stood, wobbling about slightly, then risked a glance at the corpse. There was so much blood, all of it a rich crimson, spreading out obscenely across the platform.

Slvasta turned to Javier. ‘It wasn’t human,’ he said. ‘Do you understand? This is a new kind of Faller, him and Nigel.’

A frightened Javier stared up mutely.

There was something very wrong about Coulan’s corpse. Bethaneve couldn’t quite work out what, but instinct was shrieking a warning directly out of her subconscious. Was it his soul, was she perceiving that? She extended her ex-sight to the air above the body. ‘Slvasta!’ She stumbled back a pace, pressing herself into Slvasta’s side.

‘What?’

‘He’s still got a shell round his thoughts.’

‘Huh?’

Everyone swung round to look at Coulan. Yannrith and Tovakar lined their carbines up, as did most of Slvasta’s bodyguard troop.

‘His crudding shell,’ Bethaneve yelped. ‘It’s still there!’

Slvasta edged closer.

Coulan’s eyes snapped open.

Bethaneve’s mouth parted wide; an involuntary reflex drew air down her throat in a groan.

‘That was an excellent fuzz,’ Coulan ’pathed. ‘As good as my concealment effect. I never perceived you coming. Well done.’

‘Faller!’ snarled Slvasta. He took a step forward and jammed his carbine muzzle onto the bridge of Coulan’s nose.

‘Not at all,’ Coulan continued calmly.

‘Then what the crud . . . ?’

‘This life is over. For all of you. We’re going to take you back into the real universe. Put down your guns. Forget your conflict. Everything is about to change.’

‘What are you?’ Slvasta bellowed.

‘I am a machine, a living machine.’

‘You can’t be!’

A man walked over to them. Bethaneve thought she was too numb from everything that had happened to feel anything, but the sight of him made her moan in dismay.

‘What do you want with my family’s quantumbusters?’ Captain Philious demanded.

‘They will be used to liberate you.’ Coulan closed his eyes. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must shut down now. My reserve energy levels can’t sustain me for much longer, and I have an autonomic destruct sequence – just in case. Please stand back, I don’t want anyone to get hurt.’

‘Did you ever love me?’ Javier sobbed.

‘My dearest Javier, don’t be sad. I am bringing you all back to reality. That is the greatest love of all. I give it to you freely.’