This time, of course, there was no splash.

When Phage had entirely disappeared, she switched out of the view her neural lace had imported into her head and turned to the drone, thinking a thought that would have occurred to her a lot earlier, she hoped, if she'd been sober and unimpassioned over the last day.

"When was this ship sent to Phage, Churt, and from where?"

"Why don't you ask it yourself?" it said, turning to indicate a small drone approaching over the jumble of equipment.

— Churt? she asked via the neural lace.

— Yes?

— Damn; I was hoping the ship's rep might be a dazzling handsome young man. Instead it's something that looks like a-

Churt Lyne interrupted:

— Ulver; you are aware that the ship itself acts as exchange hub for these communications?

— Oh dear, she thought, and felt herself colour as the little drone approached. She smiled broadly at it.

"No offence," she said.

"None taken," said the little machine as it came to a halt in front of her. It had a reedy but reasonably melodious voice.

"For the record," she said, still smiling, and still blushing, "I thought you looked a bit like a jewellery box."

"Could have been worse," chipped in Churt Lyne. "You should hear what she calls me sometimes."

The little drone's snout dipped once in a sort of bow. "That's quite all right, Ms Seich," it said. "Delighted to meet you. Allow me to welcome you aboard the Very Fast Picket Frank Exchange of Views.

"Thank you," she said, also nodding slowly. "I was just asking my friend where you'd come from, and when you'd been dispatched."

"I didn't come from anywhere except Phage," the ship told her.

She felt her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Really," it said laconically. "And the answer to your next three questions, I'd guess, are: because I was very well hidden and that's actually quite easy in a conglomeration of matter the size of Phage; getting on for five hundred years; and there are another fifteen like me back home. I trust you are reassured rather than shocked and that we may rely on your discretion in the future."

"Oh, golly, absolutely," she said, nodding, and felt half inclined to click her heels and salute.

V

Dajeil had been spending a lot more time with the beasts. She swam with the great fish and the sea-evolved mammals and reptiles, she donned a flyer suit and cruised high above the sea with her wide wings extended alongside the dirigible creatures in the calm currents of air and the cloud layers, and she donned a full gelfield suit with a secondary AG unit and carved her way amongst the poison gases, the acid clouds and the storm bands of the upper atmosphere, surrounded by noxiousness and the ferocious beauty of the ecosystem there.

She even spent some time walking in the ship's top-side parks, the nature reserves which the Sleeper Service had possessed even when it had been a regular, well-behaved GSV and diligent member of the Contact section; the parks — complete landscapes with hills, forests, plains, river and lake systems and the remains of small resort villages and hotels — covered all the great ship's flat top surfaces and together measured over eight hundred square kilometres. With the humans gone from the ship there were fairly large populations of land animals in the park lands, including grazers, predators and scavengers.

She'd never really paid any of them much attention — her interests had always been with the larger, buoyant animals of the fluid environments — but now that they were all likely to suffer the same exile or unconsciousness as the rest, she had started to take a belated, almost guilty interest in them (as though, she thought ruefully, her attention bestowed some special significance on the behaviour she witnessed, or meant anything at all to the creatures concerned).

Amorphia did not come for its regular visit; another couple of days passed.

When the avatar came to her again, she had been swimming with the purple-winged triangular rays in the shallow part of the sea extending beyond the sheer, three-kilometre cliff which was the rear of the craft. Returning, she had taken the flyer which the ship habitually put at her disposal, but asked it to drop her at the top of the scree slope beneath the cliff facing the tower.

It was a bright, cold day and the air tasted sharp; this part of the ship's environment was cycling towards winter; all the trees save for a few everblues had lost their leaves, and soon the snows would come.

The air was very clear and from the top of the scree slope she could see the Edge islands, thirty kilometres away, out close to where the inner containment field of the ship came down like a wall across the sea.

She had scrambled down the scree in small rattles of stones like dry, fanning rivers of pebbles and dust. She had long ago learned how to use her altered centre of gravity to her advantage in this sort of adventure, and had never yet fallen badly. She got to the bottom, her heart beating hard, her leg muscles warm with the effort expended and her skin bright with sweat. She walked quickly back through the salt marsh, along the paths the ship had fashioned for her.

The sun-line was near setting when she returned to the tower, breathless and still perspiring. She took a shower and was sitting by the log fire the tower had lit for her, letting her hair dry naturally, when Gravious the black bird rapped once on the window and then disappeared again.

She pulled her robe tighter about her as the tall, dark-dressed figure of Amorphia climbed the stairs and entered the room.

"Amorphia," she said, tucking her wet hair into the hood of the robe. "Hello. Can I get you anything?"

"No. No, thank you," the avatar said, looking nervously around the circular living room.

Dajeil indicated a chair while she sat on a couch by the fire.

"Please." She pulled her legs up underneath her. "So, what brings you here today?"

"I — " the avatar began, then stopped, and pulled at its lower lip with its fingers. "Well, it seems," it started again, then hesitated once more. It took a breath. "The time," it said, then stopped, looking confused.

"The time?" Dajeil Gelian said.

"It's… it's come," Amorphia said, and looked ashamed.

"For the changes you talked about?"

"Yes," the avatar said, sounding relieved. "Yes. For the changes. They have to start now. In fact, they have already begun. The rounding-up of the creatures comes first, and the…" It looked unsure again, and frowned deeply. "The… the de-landscaping," it gulped. It tripped up on the next words in its rush to say them. "The un-geometri-… The un-geomorphologising. The… the pristinisation!" it said, almost shouting.

Dajeil smiled, trying not to show the alarm she felt. "I see," she said slowly. "So it is all definitely going to happen?"

"Yes," Amorphia said, breathing heavily. "Yes, it is."

"And I will have to leave the ship?"

"Yes. You'll have to leave the ship. I… I'm sorry." The avatar looked suddenly crestfallen.

"Where am I to go?"

"Where?" Confused.

"Where are you going to stop, or where will I be taken? Is it another ship, or a habitat, or an O or a planet, a rock? What?"

"I…" The avatar frowned again. "The ship does not know yet," it said. "Things are being worked out."

Dajeil looked at Amorphia for a while, her hands absently stroking the bulge of her belly under her robe. "What is happening, Amorphia?" she asked, keeping her voice soft. "Why is all this taking place?"

"I can't… there is no need… no need for you to know," the avatar said hesitantly. It looked exasperated, and shook its head as though angry, gaze flicking up and around the room, as though seeking something.

Finally it looked back at her. "I might be able to tell you more, later, if you will agree to stay on board until… until a time comes when I can only evacuate you by another vessel."