There was the airspeed indicator, and there was an altimeter giving a very strange reading. Slowly Jarvellis began to understand what each of the meters and small screens signified. She had got the shuttle in a stable orbit when a completely different voice spoke from the radio.

'This is Viridian. Will the lunatic flying that antique please respond. I have no objection to you killing yourself, but you are now entering occupied airspace.'

Shit, it was the runcible AI. Jarvellis searched for a switch to turn off the radio. She found none. What she did find was a screen that folded out from the old console. The screen flickered on to give her the same view as she had out through the front screen. She pressed a button and that view flicked to one that was identified - in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen - as infrared. She clicked along the buttons and called up all sorts of interesting views, but none of them would help to prevent her spreading herself across the surface of the planet if she didn't figure out how to land this thing.

They put the carrier down in a valley in the foothills of the cave-riddled Thuriot mountains. These mountains were not like any mountains he had imagined; they were the slabbed and laminated masses he had seen from the runcible facility. Perhaps it was the case that on a heavier-gravity planet like Earth such strange formations could not exist. He sited the camp a short distance from where the blue oaks and chequer trees of the Magadar forest petered out, on level ground thick with Arctic lichens and the chewed sprouts of new trees.

'If they come on foot, they'll come from the forest,' Cormac told Thorn. 'Sergeant, I want someone at the turret gun at all times. Organize a shift if necessary. I want you in there at the command console, co-ordinating all scan input. We'll keep channels open so you can relay everything you get.'

'So too.'

'Your gunner must take out anything airborne. Anything that even hints at being a surveillance drone, I want hit. Obviously if we get any AGCs coming in without ID, I want them hit as well. Go there now. I'll relay any further orders.'

As the sergeant moved on, Thorn said, 'The other lot came in on foot. They didn't risk coming in airborne. I doubt this Pelter chap will, either.'

'I don't believe in taking chances. Now, there are two autoguns in the carrier. Set them up in the trees and put the men either side. Between them and the trees I want weaknesses.'

'Is that a good idea?'

'We'll have Aiden and Cento in there as spotters. Anything comes through, and we'll hit it on this open ground.'

'Not much cover for us here,' said Thorn, looking speculatively at the single tilted slab behind the carrier.

'Wrong, we dig in.'

'Ah…'

Cormac nodded to the slab and the land beyond it. 'I want holes dug over there as well, but I don't want them occupied. I just want them to look like they are. You I want at that slab with your proton gun.' Thorn nodded to this and Cormac went on. 'When it's all set up, I want everyone to get some rest before nightfall.'

'And if there's no attack? We do have another mission.'

'The Maker can wait. We'll stay here for days if necessary. As I said, I want Pelter off my back.'

It took the rest of the morning for the defences to be set and foxholes to be dug. The ground was very stony, and a metre down was a layer of permafrost. They had an electric shear that could slice through almost anything, and EM blasts from a pulse rifle soon melted the permafrost, but in the end the men had to dig the holes with shovels. It was tiring work for men unused to it, and would perhaps not have been finished until nightfall had not Cento and Aiden lent a hand. The sergeant and his men rested in their tents afterwards, perhaps trying to remember if the ES recruiting officer had said anything about having to dig holes. Aiden and Cento moved into the trees.

Night descended and now there was nothing to do but wait. Cormac surveyed what he had wrought, then headed for the carrier.

As he reached it, Cormac spotted Thorn ferrying Stanton back inside. Even boosted men must empty their bladders sometime. He followed them inside and watched while Thorn tied the prisoner back in place. Then he sat on the bunk opposite, as Thorn nodded to him and left them, his proton gun tucked under one arm. Cormac looked round to see the sergeant was up near the front studying a screen flipped up from the control console. Mika he could hear moving about in the rear section somewhere.

'You know, John,' he said, 'you're culpable for just about every crime on the book.'

Stanton looked at him tiredly. 'I know that.'

'Why? Ever since I first met you, I kept wondering why. The way you operate, you didn't need to resort to crime. You could easily have made your fortune in the Polity. Was it the buzz? The danger?'

'Maybe,' said Stanton. 'But how many people do you know who made informed choices when they were young? For me, crime was a way of survival at first, then a way of life afterwards. You know what it's like beyond the Line.'

'I know.' Cormac turned away from him, then looked back. 'I don't think there's anything I can do. You've killed people and some of those people were innocent Polity citizens,' he said.

Stanton was about to reply, when Aiden spoke from Cormac's comunit, which he took from his pocket.

'What is it?'

'A message from Viridian,' came Aiden's voice. 'It may not be relevant, but a shuttle just launched from the old ring station.'

'Who's there normally?'

'Outlinkers, apparently, but Viridian tells me they don't often come down to the surface. About once every ten years… in exoskeletons… to buy supplies they cannot manufacture. It may be nothing.'

'All right, keep me informed.'

Cormac dropped the unit back in his pocket and looked questioningly at Stanton.

'Nothing to do with Pelter. No way of getting back up there,' Stanton told him.

Cormac stood up and moved to the door. At the door he hesitated, removed his unit from his pocket and turned it off. He then took out a little thin-gun he had been delighted to discover amongst the carrier's armament.

'You know, John, it'll be nothing less than total mind-wipe for you. Do you want that?'

'Are you making an offer?'

'lam.'

'I still have enough left in me not to want to die,' Stanton said. 'I just don't want to remember.' Cormac nodded, put the gun away, and opened the door. He turned his unit back on as he went out.

The night passed without event, and sunrise revealed heavy red blooms on the chequer trees. The air was filled with a perfume redolent of lavender, and the hum of adapted bees amongst the foliage. Underfoot, a light frost hoared the saplings and the lichens beyond the edge of the forest. Cormac sipped coffee and blew vapour into the clear air. He wished his mind was as clear. Three hours' sleep had revived him a little, but he knew he could do with a straight eight hours without interruption. With the coffee he swilled down a couple of wake-ups. He wasn't the only one doing this.

As he walked across to see how things were, soldier Tarm crawled from his tent, then paused, scratching his head and yawning. He saw Cormac and looked suddenly guilty. He reached back inside his tent for his pulse-rifle, dragged it out and hung it over his shoulder, and then stood up.

'Lovely morning, sir,' he said.

Cormac nodded and Tarm hurried off.

'They're much in awe of you.'

Cormac turned as Mika walked up behind him.

'I would rather you stayed in the carrier,' he said.

Mika looked around. 'You know, I miss the draco-men,' she said.

'I don't,' said Cormac. He turned towards the foxholes and watched Tarm dropping into one. The hole's previous occupant climbed out and trudged back towards the tents.