Mum and Dad were already waiting when Roger arrived.

Will they find a way to tell me?

All night he had kept popping out of sleep, wondering where they were going, not daring to accept what he hoped was true. There had been so much temptation to call an aircab and fly home, where they could talk safely, unsurveilled. But he was an ordinary human student, or supposed to be, so it was more convincing to act insouciant, unmoved - or pretending to be unmoved - by the prospect of a family holiday.

‘This is pretty exciting,’ said Dad.

‘I’m excited.’ Mum squeezed his arm.

It had been a while since Roger had seen her this relaxed. It was startling, this notion that his parents had been leading stressful lives while he had failed to notice.

‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Excited.’

‘You’re a good boy.’

‘Yes, Mum.’

He smiled, with a feeling of indulgence, flavoured with a soupçon of sadness.

‘Well.’ Dad looked down at an angle, then at him. ‘I guess someone’s grown up.’

Presumably because Roger no longer acted resentful at being addressed like a kid.

‘It had to happen,’ he said, ‘sooner or later.’

‘Better late than never,’ said Mum.

All three of them hugged.

So where are we going?

He was going to ask - that was natural behaviour - but in such a public area, Dad’s answer might not be the true one.

‘And our destination is . . . ?’

‘The place where we’re going,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t they teach you nuthin at this here multiversity?’

‘Loads of it.’

‘Someone your father knows.’ Mum was the voice of reason. ‘He’s got spare bedrooms. Well, spare rooms, but no actual beds.’

‘No beds?’

‘Also no gravity.’

‘Ah.’

In the departures lounge, a human staff member greeted each traveller or group and escorted them to a chamber were they awaited a bubble-capsule. Dad chatted with the uniformed man, pleasantries concerning tax reforms and speedball league results. Roger used to be impatient with conversations about nothing; now he envied his father’s easy touch with strangers.

An ellipsoidal capsule arrived, empty. An opening melted in place, and Dad led the way inside. As they sat, the capsule was already sealed and beginning to rise.

‘Nice to get away from it all,’ said Dad.

Roger nodded, hoping he understood correctly, wondering what had changed Dad’s mind.

‘You could sit on your father’s lap,’ said Mum. ‘Just as you used to.’

‘Technically, that’s a correct statement.’ Dad winked at him. ‘So long as you don’t want to, that’s fine.’

‘Uh-huh. I’m disadvantaged because of my upbringing,’ said Roger, ‘but what’s your excuse?’

‘A difficult childhood.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yours, in point of fact.’

According to the status display, they were five hundred metres above ground, rising ever faster in viscous orange quickglass, spiralling upward from the world.

At the apex, Barleysugar Spiral mushroomed into a large complex of observation lounges, restaurants, boutiques and souvenir shops. Consistent with their cover as a family on holiday, the Blackstones dined beside a view window showing black space and the great glow of Fulgor below, creamy-gold with clouds.

Then they returned to their waiting bubble-capsule, and awaited the moment to eject.

When the planet’s rotation had taken them to the correct relative position, their bubble popped free of Barleysugar Spiral and drifted away, its initial orbit at the same distance from Fulgor’s surface. Then impellers drove it upward, increasing their orbital radius gently.

Inside the capsule, they looked out, saying little.

‘Frequent travellers grow jaded by the view,’ said Dad at last. ‘That’s a mistake.’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Roger.

For another twenty minutes they watched the changing stars - changing relative to them - while soft music played, almost beyond awareness. Then they were approaching a spiky white-and-silver orbital habitat.

‘So what’s this guy’s name?’ asked Roger.

‘Varlan Trelayne, and his wife is Helena. You’ve met them, but you were five years old.’

‘Ah. Okay.’

‘Contact in one minute,’ announced the capsule.

They said nothing more until quickglass kissed against quickglass: they had docked.

Inside the habitat’s first chamber, a large man was floating. He looked pleased.

‘You haven’t changed a bit, Miranda.’

‘Neither have you, Varl.’

‘If only that was a compliment, eh? Hey, Carl.’

They touched fists, nodding.

‘And this is Roger.’

‘How do you do, Mr Trelayne.’

‘Good to meet you.’

Roger was prepared for You’ve grown since I last saw you, but there was none of that. He was prepared to like the man already.

‘So, everyone,’ Varlan went on. ‘Let me show you around.’

As they drifted through the chamber, Mum asked: ‘How’s Helena?’

‘A little . . . under the weather. She might stay in her cabin.’

The atmosphere changed.

So what’s that about?

Tension lines deepened on everyone’s face. Caused by something in the past? Or whatever they were up to now?

Then they were in a larger spherical chamber, and the inner doors were sealing.

‘All right,’ said Varlan. ‘We can speak freely in here.’

‘We should visit you more often.’ Mum raised a hand, rotating in midair. ‘Does Helena miss company?’

‘In general, yes. But something like this . . . She worries.’

Dad said: ‘I don’t like using you for cover.’

‘Uh-huh. Is anything happening that I should know about?’

‘Only one thing.’ Dad tapped his tu-ring, transmitting data. ‘There’s a trader called Xavier Spalding, who may know what we are. Or at least suspect.’

Roger stared at him, fully alert.

Spalding?

That was Alisha’s family name.

‘All right,’ said Varlan, checking his own tu-ring. ‘I’ll get my people to take a look, and we’ll catch up when you return.’

‘Good. Roger’s just started at multiversity, so continuing a normal life is one desirable option.’

Varlan was fetching a collection of drink-bulbs.

‘Normal life, eh? I’ll drink to that.’

He offered the bulbs. Mum and Dad chose tangwine. For a change, Roger did likewise.

‘It’s Helena’s own concoction,’ added Varlan.

‘We’re really sorry,’ said Mum. ‘About being here, I mean. The wine’s terrific.’

‘All right. So when did you want to do it?’

Dad regarded his drink-bulb.

‘Just as soon as we’ve finished this.’

Ten minutes later, they were drifting outside in vacuum, nothingness in all directions.

It’s unbelievable.

Scared and amazed, Roger tumbled slowly, conscious of the quickglass suit enclosing him, such a thin layer, wholly responsible for generating his oxygen, for protecting him from space. Mum and Dad floated nearby, their expressions invisible.

Peaceful and vast, the universe was all around.

Isn’t it always?

Everyday life was such an illusion.

But part of him was thinking of Varlan’s whispered words, back at the habitat. Mum and Dad’s suits had sealed up first. He had followed, letting a quickglass blob spread around his waist like a rope. Then it began expanding to cover his skin; but his head was still bare when Varlan leaned close.

‘Your dad and I have been friends a long time. His job is important.’

‘Yes.’

‘So was my own father’s. He was a good person, but his problems got in the way of his priorities. Or do I mean that the other way round?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Be your own man,’ Varlan had said. ‘They should have taken you long before.’

Then Varlan had withdrawn to another chamber, while an outer wall puckered then opened. All three Blackstones tumbled into space.