They set out for the runcible, where figures could be seen gathered around one of the buffers. 'That you, Jane?'

'Yes.'

'Good. Head for control. Everything's set up.' One of the figures detached from the group and headed for the building nearest to the runcible. Jane and Cormac headed there also, and were soon inside, removing their masks. The temperature was twenty below, so they kept their suits on.

'There you are,' said Chaline, and gestured to the device in the centre of the room. It had the appearance of a font made of glass and chrome pipes. A duct crossed the room from it, heading in the direction of the runcible. Next to it stood a pedestal-mounted console Cormac could not help comparing to a lectern. Here was the chapel. The god was about to be installed in his rightful home.

'I presume you have no more use for it now, and we can get on,' was Chaline's acid comment to Cormac.

'Of course,' said Cormac equably, refusing to rise to the bait. Chaline had been spoiling for a fight for the last three days.

Jane walked to the console, rested her case on it, opened the case and removed the Samarkand runcible AI. It was a squashed bronze cylinder with rounded ends, its dimensions being thirty centimetres by fifteen by ten. It was one of the most powerful minds known to the human race. Jane took it to the glass font and placed it into the receptacle made for it. Then she returned to the console and began working on the touch-controls, like a concert pianist. From the rim of the receptacle rose thousands of contacts to access the rim of the AI. It seemed for a moment as if it was surrounded by an army of platinum ants. Lights nickered in the glass column.

'On-line,' said Chaline, detaching the receiver from her comunit and holding it to her ear. 'Tuning… singularity developing… We're in - that's it, we're on the grid.' Chaline grinned happily at Cormac, her resentment forgotten. Then her grin changed to an expression of astonishment. 'Wait a minute… there's a transmission already. How the hell did they manage it that quickly?'

Cormac was through the interior door to the covered walkway before he knew what he was doing. Chaline and Jane came after him. In a moment they stepped into the containment sphere. Between the horns of the runcible the cusp was shimmering like a sheet of mother-of-pearl. A man stepped through it; an old grey-haired Japanese dressed in stained and baggy monofilament overall.

'Horace Blegg,' said Cormac. 'That's all I need.'

24

The houses, fast-build plascrete domes rather like giant igloos, were scattered wide apart amongst the conifers and native chequer trees of an old forest. No thought had been given to roads, so the town was obviously a new one, in terms of Viridian's age, built after AGC use had become well established. The houses would also have self-contained energy sources and waste disposal. The only linkage they would have would be for optic cables and water: the latter essential, the former to prevent EM pollution. Stanton, watching the edge of this forest town from the shadow of a huge basalt slab, noted the AGC quartering the area. It's paint job immediately identified it to him as local police. He had no doubt it had been Cheryl who had informed them, but any silencing he would have done would have been too late. She had an aug. She would have sent out a call immediately after Pelter's damping device got out of range. At least this is what Stanton told himself. At the back of his mind was the knowledge that not so long ago he would have killed her, just in case.

Stanton moved from the slab's shade into the green sunlight, and set out at a jog for the edge of the forest town. Every household there would no doubt possess one or more AGCs. So the first house he reached would probably provide what he needed - for the moment. He was within a hundred metres of that house when the AGC swerved in the sky and accelerated towards him on a tongue of flame. He swore and broke into a run. Twenty metres from the house, and a voice bellowed out above him:

'Stop there! You, stop there!'

Stanton cut a swerving course across the boggy ground. There were two AGCs by a house, nestling under the spread of a huge chequer tree, its leaves the shape and size of playing cards casting a dappled emerald shade.

'Stop or I shoot!'

Ten metres.

There was a crackle in the air and Stanton's left arm jerked from electric shock. He dived and rolled behind a low, self-pruning box hedge. Another crackle and leaves fell from the hedge. Big space between him and the AGCs, and the man standing holding a pot plant. Small space between him and the door. Stanton ran at the door and took it out with his shoulder. Crashed into the room beyond. As he rolled from the wreckage, the air crackled behind him. He came up into a crouch, took in the woman standing in an open kitchen area holding some kind of package.

'What the hell?' the woman said.

'Sorry about the door,' said Stanton, and moved to peer through the window.

The police AGC crashed down through the trees, slid sideways towards the house, and landed heavily only a few metres from the door. Two policemen came from it fast, and headed straight for the door. They both appeared to be boosted. The first of them rolled through and came up into a crouch, with a stun gun levelled at the woman. He had half a second to realize his mistake before Stanton was on him. The mercenary stamped the back of his leg. As the officer reeled back, he caught him in a neck-lock, his right hand closing on the man's gun hand as he turned him. The second officer came through more cautiously, only to walk straight into the blast. He was flung, jerking, back through the door, with small lightnings lacing his uniform. The first officer continued to struggle as Stanton tightened his lock. Eventually his struggles ceased as he blacked out. Stanton held the lock just a little longer to be sure, then released him. He went down on his face. A glance round showed him that a back door was open and the woman was gone. As he collected the two stun guns on his way to the police AGC, Stanton considered how much he had changed. A sleeper lock rather than just breaking the man's neck. He felt almost civilized.

A blast of frigid air came in through the door as Thorn entered the shuttle. Cormac pointed to a bench seat and returned his attention to Blegg. The ancient Japanese undipped the mask of the suit and let it hang to one side. His breath fogged the chill air. Cormac could not help but wonder if he had put on the suit - which a technician had hurriedly fetched for him - out of politeness. In the containment sphere, in his thin monofilament overalls, he had shown no sign of noticing the cold. Cormac undipped his own mask.

'You knew about the dracomen,' he said.

'I knew,' Blegg acknowledged.

'What else didn't you tell me?'

'We knew about the artefact as well. It was discovered during the initial survey, and left where it was. It was whole.' Blegg leaned forwards and spoke loudly, as if Cormac was deaf. 'No hurry… y'understand?'