Yawiyuen did the little bob-shrug again. “Absolutely not.”

“But we need to!” Sorofieve almost wailed.

“Why?”

“That thing even looks fast,” Guard-General Thovin said, gazing out at the sleek, dark ship from one of the requisitioned liner’s viewing galleries. The stars swung around them. “It have a name?”

“Hull 8770,” Saluus told him. “The military will give it a proper name when it’s time to hand it over. Though it’s a prototype, probably not suitable for full military service.”

“Desperate times,” Thovin said, shrugging, picking something from between his teeth. “Probably get used for something. Even if it’s just a missile.”

That’s what you think, Sal thought. “We haven’t quite got to that stage yet,” he said. They were alone. Thovin had suggested a stroll through the mostly empty ex-civilian ship.

“Think we’re wasting our time here, Kehar?” Thovin swung round to look at Saluus, his near-neckless head raised and tilted to him.

“Talking to the Dwellers?”

“Yes. Talking to the fucking Dwellers.”

“Probably. But then our friend Fassin Taak is probably wasting his time — if he’s still alive — looking for this Transform that probably doesn’t exist.”

“He was your friend, wasn’t he?” the Guard-General said, eyes narrowing. “Old school pals. Right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, we went to school and college together. We’ve kept in touch over the years. Matter of fact, probably the last bit of R and R he got before delving into Nasq. was at my house on Murla.”

“Straight to Guard academy for me,” Thovin said, changing tack again and looking away at the dartlike ship floating in space just outside. “That your escape route, is it, Kehar?” he asked innocently.

Not quite as stupid as you look, are you? Sal thought. “Where to?” he asked, smiling.

“The fuck out of harm’s way, that’s where,” Thovin said. “Keep your head down during the Starveling occupation. Return when it’s safe.”

“You know, I hadn’t thought of that,” Sal said. “Why, are you going to make me an offer for it?”

“Wouldn’t know how to fly it. “Course, you do, that right?”

It was no secret that Saluus had flown the Hull 8770 here himself. He was a capable enough pilot. Anybody could be with a little training and a modicum of computer help.

“Frees one of our brave boys for the front line,” he told Thovin, deadpan.

“Be funny if we won against the invaders, or the Summed Fleet lost. Eh?”

“Hilarious.”

“Think we’ll get anything out of the floats?”

“I think our Dweller pals have probably given us all we’re ever going to get, but it’s still worthwhile keeping on looking.”

“Uh-huh? You think?”

“Maybe the crew of one of their hyper-weapons will suddenly decide it’d be fun to defend Sepekte just for the sheer hell of it, or one of the scouts down in Nasq. will find the Transform, or Fassin Taak will just appear with it and we can all escape down a wormhole or bring in Summed Fleet ships from wherever we want. Who knows?”

“So we’re not wasting our time here?”

“No, probably we are. But what else could we be doing? Filling sandbags?”

Thovin almost smiled. ‘Course, if they did suddenly turn up with some fancy super-weapon ship, maybe we wouldn’t need to build warships any more, eh?”

“I’m sure Kehar Heavy Industries could happily switch to building nothing but cruise ships.” Sal looked round the viewing gallery they stood in. “I can see a few areas fit for improvement just standing here.”

Thovin nodded out at the slim, dark ship cradled outside. “You would hand that over to the Hierchon for his personal yacht if he asked for it, wouldn’t you?”

Sal thought for a moment. “I’d almost sooner destroy it,” he said.

Thovin turned and looked at him, expression open, waiting.

“I’m not kidding. It really is a prototype,” Sal said, smiling. “You wouldn’t put the head of state of an entire system in something as untried as that, certainly not if you meant to take it up to anything near top speed, which would kind of have to be the only reason for choosing it in the first place, right? I’ll entrust myself to the thing, but I couldn’t let the Hierchon take it. What if it killed him? Think of the publicity. Good grief, man, think of our share price.”

Thovin nodded for a few moments, looking back at the ship. “Missile, then,” he said.

“Me too,” Liss said quietly in the darkness. “I thought he was just an idiot kicked upstairs.”

“I think he does a good idiot act,” Sal said. “Actually, I think he’s probably as genuinely stupid as our Dweller negotiators are genuinely naive. Maybe Thovin should take over the talks. Doubt he could do any worse.”

They were lying in bed on board the prototype ship. It was more secure than staying on the liner or one of the other Embassy support ships, if also far less luxurious and much more cramped. There was no absolute guarantee that somebody hadn’t sneaked a bug aboard during the ship’s construction, but Saluus had had the craft built by his most trustworthy people and supervised the work as closely as he could; it was as safe as anyplace to say things that you might not want others to hear.

“Do you think he was trying to make a deal, get himself included if you did decide to escape?”

Saluus hesitated. This was not something he’d ever discussed straight out even with Liss. He was quite sure she’d guessed that using the ship as a way out was a possibility — so, for that matter, had Thovin, apparently, which kind of made you wonder who else might regard it as obvious (there was a slightly sweat-inducing idea) — but there was nothing to gain for either of them in saying it out loud.

“No,” Sal said, deciding against bringing that particular truth blinking into the light. “You know, I actually thought that maybe Thovin’s a kind of spy himself.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he reports to the Hierchon direct, or at least to the big guy’s top intelligence people. I think all this rough-as-bricks bluff stuff is just a way of getting people to drop their guard with him. Fucker could be a traitor-sniffer.”

Liss fitted her long body against his, rubbing slowly, gently. “He didn’t sniff you, then?”

“How could he?” Sal said. “For I am straight and true.”

“Ah, yes.”

Sometimes, if she was still holding him when she was falling asleep, he would feel her fingers making strange patterns on his side or back, as though her hands were trying to spell out some secret code of love. Then she would be asleep and stop, or jerk awake, as though embarrassed, and roll away and curl up.

* * *

Groggy again. Aboard the Velpin. Still. No idea yet how long they had taken. The truetwin had just told the three of them that it would take “some days’ to get to where they were going. Then, to Fassin and Y’sul when the Sceuri couldn’t see, they had signal-whispered, “That thing about Just Trust Us applies to you two, too. But shh, right?”

Y’sul and Fassin had exchanged looks.

Some days. The travel time was near-instant, of course, portal to portal. It was the getting to and from the portals at either end that took days. That and, perhaps, some sleight-of-course manoeuvres to fool anybody watching or following and trying to spot the hidden portals that way. Who knew? Quercer Janath did, of course, but they weren’t telling, wouldn’t even contemplate any arguments about letting him or even just Y’sul stay awake during these bizarre, so casually-taken galaxy-spanning transfers.

Watching, following. How could you have all those ship movements and never be seen? Telescopes of every wavelength, gravity sensors, neutrino patternisers, something somewhere in practically every developed system that kept a devastatingly detailed close eye on every sort of signal that ever emanated from space close, near, mid or far: something had to show up. Or did they only have portals in undeveloped systems, so that they had less chance of being observed?