His insert functions were slowly coming back on-line, which gave him a very positive feeling as he strode onward. Ever since they’d left the gas halo, his bioneural arrays and inserts had reverted to the usual erratic basic operational ability that characterized the Silfen paths. The day after they’d talked with Clouddancer he’d picked up a path right in the middle of the forest that cloaked the reef. That was four worlds ago. It wasn’t that Ozzie knew where to go; rather he could now sense where the paths would take him. Several times he’d started off down one only to turn around and discard it, searching for another, one that would take him closer to the Commonwealth. There was no mental map, more a simple awareness of direction.

The graphics in his virtual vision were strengthening with every step forward. Processing power increased in tandem. Signal strength between his inserts and his handheld array rose dramatically. Then the array detected another signal.

“This is it,” Ozzie yelled out. He started to run forward.

“What is?” Orion asked. “We left the end of the path a while back.”

The forest began to thin out, revealing a rolling landscape of gray-green meadows. Alien bovine animals with six fat legs and an amber hide were grazing indolently. Sheep mingled among them, unperturbed by their strange stablemates. He saw hexagonal metal troughs filled with hay. Long lines of wire fencing divided the land up into huge pasture fields. Beyond them were some crop fields, their green wheat shoots just on the cusp of ripening. Hills rose up in the distance, mottled with the gold-brown shading of extensive forests.

Ozzie’s inserts interfaced with the planetary cybersphere. Achingly familiar unisphere icons popped up into his virtual vision. The shock of seeing them again after so long was like an ice shower. I’m home. He turned to his companions who were just emerging from the small wood without any sense of urgency. “We did it,” he yelled. His legs gave way and he sank to his knees. A wicked vision of early papal visits to the worlds he and Nigel first opened filled his mind. He bent down and kissed the ground. “We fucking did it,” he yelled up at the blazing sun.

“Did what?” Orion asked curiously.

“We made it, man.” Ozzie struggled to his feet and hugged the startled boy. “Look around you, man. Don’t you see it? Sheep, fences, farmland, I think that’s a load of barns over there. We’re home, we’re back in the good old Intersolar Commonwealth.”

Orion gazed around curiously, a tentative smile on his freckled face. “Where?”

“Er, ah, good question. Hang on.” His virtual hands danced over icons, pulling information out of local systems. “Bilma. That’s in phase two space. Haven’t visited before, and it’s out of range of my wormhole. Never mind. We’re on the Dolon continent, other side of the planet from the capital. Nearest town Eansor, population twenty-two thousand. Seventy-two kilometers”—he spun on his heel, a huge smile on his face, and shot an arm out, pointing over the hilly land—“that way. And there’s a road three point four kilometers”—he turned again—“there.”

“Friend Ozzie, friend Orion, I am delighted you have completed your journey.”

“Hey, man”—Ozzie laid an arm over Tochee’s back—“my house is yours. And I’ll apologize in advance for people making a fuss over you and generally behaving badly. You’re going to be quite a celebrity. The ambassador for your whole race.”

“I believe the translation routine has made an error there, but I thank you for the caution. What do you propose doing now you are home?”

“Good question. One: a bath! Two: decent food. Maybe switch that around.” He took another long look around the bland farming landscape they’d emerged into. One thing really bothered him with the unisphere icons: the date. According to the display, he’d been away from the Commonwealth for over three years, whereas in his personal timescale he’d been walking the Silfen paths for eighteen months. “Okay. I need some time to check up on what’s happening. According to Clouddancer we’re in the middle of a war. We also need to organize some transport, especially for Tochee. So let’s see.” He began to pull information out of the unisphere, as slowly as any beginner who was just getting to grips with inserts and virtual vision for the first time. A list of local vehicle hire companies materialized. He ran down their inventories, and settled on a Land Rover Aventine, which had enough room to take Tochee if ten of the fourteen seats were folded down. He paid for it, and loaded instructions into the big four-by-four’s drive array. “Let’s head for the road, guys. Our car’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Ozzie,” Orion asked cautiously.

“Yep?”

“This town, Eansor, has it got, like bars and such in it?”

“Of course, man.” He’d just pulled the town’s commercial register out of the unisphere to find the best hotel.

“So, tonight”—Orion squinted up at the sun, which was in the last quarter of the sky—“are we going to visit a few places, you know, social places, ones that have girls in them?”

“Oh, right, not a bad idea. We’ll definitely hit the town over the next few days, I promise.”

“That’s good. I’ve remembered all the pick-up lines you gave me.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I still think I can pull off the heaven one.”

“The what one?”

“When you look at a girl’s collar and read the label back to her, and tell her—”

“She’s made in heaven. Ah. Right, I remember now. Sure. Look, man, those kinds of lines are strictly last resort, okay. Your big advantage is going to be telling them what we’ve been doing and what you’ve seen; no other kid can compete with that, you dig? You’re going to be the hottest brightest dude on the block. The chicks’ll need sunscreen just to stand near you.”

“Okay.”

“But first, you need a decent scrub and some flash clothes. We can sort that once we’re relaxing at the hotel.”

“I don’t understand why you need verbal trickery to ensnare a temporary mate,” Tochee said. “Are you not attracted to each other by what you are?”

Ozzie and Orion shared a glance.

“Our species tend to amplify things a little,” Ozzie said. “No harm in that.”

“You speak an untruth to potential mates?”

“No, no. It’s not that simple. This is like a ritual.”

“I believe the translation routine is insufficient once again.”

“Is Tochee going to come with us to the bars?” Orion asked.

Ozzie glared at him. “Probably best not.”

“I would like to see all aspects of human civilization. From what you have told me, it is richly textured and steeped in artistic culture.”

“Oh, brother,” Ozzie muttered.

They sat on the side of the road for ten minutes before the Land Rover Aventine pulled up in front of them. It was a dark metallic red four-by-four, with curving windows of mirrorglass along both sides. The broad malmetal door at the rear flowed apart, and Tochee wriggled itself into the back.

Ozzie sat up at the front, and loaded some new orders into the drive array. It was strange being in a technological artifact again. Even the smell surprised him, the pine-bleach cleaning fluid and polished leather scent of a vigorous valet service.

“This is fast,” Orion said as they set off.

“Uh huh.” They were doing under a hundred kilometers an hour. The road was just a simple strip of enzyme-bonded concrete, a minor route linking isolated rural communities. Same the Commonwealth over. “How old were you when your parents moved to Silvergalde?”

“Dunno. Two or three, I think.”

“So you don’t like remember much about the Commonwealth, then.”

“No. Just the stuff people brought to Lyddington. Not that much of it worked there.”

Since they left the Ice Citadel, Ozzie had conveniently forgotten the kind of parental responsibility he’d assumed when he allowed Orion to tag along. He was going to have to look out for the boy as much as he was Tochee. Both of them were excited by the car journey, asking questions about the farms and other vehicles they passed. It was like having a couple of five-year-olds to contend with.