“I see.” There didn’t seem anything to add. She glanced back at Genevieve before the funny door contracted. For one whole night there would be no possessed, no Roberto, and no Quinn Dexter.

I’ve done what I promised, Louise thought. Thank you, Jesus.

Despite how tired she was feeling, she managed a prideful smile. No longer the worthless, pampered landowner daughter Carmitha had such contempt for just scant days ago. I suppose I’ve grown up a bit.

“You should rest now, lady,” Fletcher said.

She yawned. “I think you’re right. Are you going to bed?”

For once Fletcher’s sedate features showed a certain lightness. “I believe I will linger awhile longer.” He indicated a holoscreen which was displaying the image from an external camera. Cloud-splattered landscape was rolling past, pastel greens, browns, and blues illuminated by Duke’s radiance. “It is not often a mortal man is permitted to view a world over the shoulder of angels.”

“Good night, Fletcher.”

“Good night, lady. May the Lord guard your dreams from the darkness.”

Louise didn’t have time to dream. A hand pressing her shoulder woke her soon enough.

She winced at the light coming through the open door. When she tried to move, she couldn’t, the sleeping bag held her too tight.

“What?” she groaned.

Fletcher’s face was a few inches from hers, a gloomy frown spoiling his brow. “I apologise, lady, but the crew is in some confusion. I thought you should know.”

“Are they on board?” she cried in dismay.

“Who?”

“The possessed.”

“No, Lady Louise. Be assured, we are perfectly safe.”

“What then?”

“I think they are in another ship.”

“All right, I’m coming.” Her hand fumbled around until she found the seal catch inside the bag; she twisted it ninety degrees and the spongy fabric split open along its length. After she dressed she wrapped her hair into a single artless ponytail, and swam out into the tiny lounge.

Fletcher showed her the way to the bridge, wriggling along the tubular companionways which connected the life-support capsules, and through dimly lit decks which appeared even more cramped than their lounge. Louise’s first sight of the bridge reminded her of the Kavanagh family crypt beneath the manor’s chapel: a gloomy room with candlelike crystals sitting on top of instrument consoles, spilling out waves of blue and green light which crawled across the walls. Machinery, ribbed tubes, and plastic cables formed an untidy glyptic over most bulkheads. But most of all it came from the four crew members lying prone on their bulky acceleration couches; eyes closed, limbs immobile. A thin hexagonal web was stretched over them, holding them down on the cushioning.

Furay and Endron she recognised, but this was the first time she’d seen Captain Layia and Tilia, the Far Realm ’s node specialist. Endron had been right, the other Martians had exactly the same anatomical features as himself. In fact there was very little difference between genders; Louise wasn’t entirely sure the two women even had breasts. On top of that rib cage they would have been absurd.

“Now what?” she asked Fletcher.

“I am not sure, their repose refutes any disturbance.”

“It’s not sleep, they’re datavising with the flight computer. Joshua told me that’s what happens on a starship bridge. Um, I’ll explain later.” Louise blushed faintly; Joshua had become such a fixture in her life it was hard to remember who he actually was. She used some grab hoops to move herself over to Furay’s couch, and tapped him experimentally on the shoulder. Somehow the thought of disturbing the others didn’t arise, a child-fear of how those strange figures would respond.

Furay opened his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to know what was happening.”

“Yeah, right. Hang on.” The webbing peeled back and curled up, vanishing into the edge of the couch’s cushioning. Furay pushed off, and slowly twisted his body around to the vertical, using a stikpad to anchor himself in front of Louise. “Nothing too good, I’m afraid. The navy squadron’s commanding admiral has put every ship on condition amber, which is one stage short of an actual combat alert.”

“Why?”

“The Tantu has dropped out of our communications net. They won’t respond to any signals. She’s worried that they might have been hijacked. Apparently there was some kind of garbled message a few minutes after the frigate’s spaceplane docked, then nothing.”

Louise flashed a guilty glance at Fletcher, who remained unperturbed. The action did not go unnoticed by Furay. “The Tantu ’s spaceplane left Bennett Field about ten minutes after us. Care to comment?”

“The rebels were close behind us,” Louise said quickly. “Perhaps they stowed away on the other spaceplane.”

“And took over an entire frigate?” Furay said sceptically.

“They have energy weapons,” Louise said. “I’ve seen them.”

“Try waving a laser rifle around on the bridge of a Confederation Navy starship and the marines would cut you into barbecue ribs.”

“I have no other explanation,” she said earnestly.

“Hummm.” His stare informed her he was having big second thoughts about bringing her on board.

“What remedial action does the admiral propose?” Fletcher asked.

“She hasn’t decided yet. The Serir has been sent to rendezvous. The situation will be reviewed when they report.”

“She?” Fletcher asked in surprise. “Your admiral is a lady?”

Furay pulled at his chin, trying to work out just what the hell he was dealing with.

“Yes, Fletcher,” Louise hissed. “We don’t have many female estate managers on Norfolk,” she explained brightly to Furay. “We’re not used to ladies holding important positions. Do excuse our ignorance.”

“You don’t strike me as unimportant, Louise,” Furay said.

His tone was so muddled, silky, and scathing at the same time, she couldn’t decide if he was making what Mrs Charlsworth called an overture, or just being plain sarcastic.

Furay suddenly stiffened. “It’s moving.”

“What is?”

“The Tantu . It’s under way, heading up out of orbit. Your rebels must have hijacked it, there’s no other reason.”

“The ship is flying away?” Fletcher asked.

“That’s what I just said!” Furay told him in irritation. “They must be heading up for a jump coordinate.”

“What’s the admiral doing about it?” Louise asked.

“I’m not sure. The Far Realm isn’t a combat craft, we don’t have access to the squadron’s strategic communications.”

“We must follow it,” Fletcher announced.

“Pardon me?”

Louise glared at him with silent urgency.

“This ship must follow the frigate. People must be warned of what it carries.”

“And just what does it carry?” Furay asked mildly.

“Rebels,” Louise said hurriedly. “People who’ve looted and murdered, and will do so again if they aren’t arrested. But I’m sure we can leave the administering of justice to the Confederation Navy, can’t we, Fletcher?”

“Lady—”

“Exactly what has got you so all-fired het up?” Captain Layia asked. Her couch webbing peeled back allowing her to glide over towards the three of them.

Her face did have a few feminine qualities, Louise admitted, but not many; the shaven scalp was too unsettling—all ladies had long hair. The judgemental way Layia took in the scene betrayed her authority; that she was in command had never been in doubt from the moment she spoke, it had nothing to do with the silver star on her epaulette.

“I am concerned that we should follow the frigate, ma’am,” Fletcher said. “The rebels on board cannot be allowed to spread their sedition any further.”

“Nor will they be allowed to,” Layia said patiently. “I can assure you the admiral does not regard the hijacking of a navy frigate lightly. However, it is a navy matter, and we are just a supply ship. It is not our problem.”