He tried to get in touch with Naxi. As expected, the comm-link he’d given her didn’t pick up. He’d have put that down to pet­ulance just a day or two ago. Now, though, the absence of contact gave him a cold feeling in his stomach. He tried a few more references – an old audex-link, the contacts for some of her old friends. It was late, though – no surprise when none responded.

He drove back home, trying to get the warehouse images out of his head. Once the adrenaline began to wear off, he felt the fatigue return, thick and heavy. The rain augmented it, made it worse, made him feel like the planet was trying to wash him clean off the surface, like one of Draj’s pieces of filth. By the time he reached the hab-tower, he was blinking just to stay awake.

Milija was in bed when he got in, half-asleep, curled up amid the nest of blankets with her knees drawn up.

‘Is she home yet?’ he asked, pulling his clothes off.

Milija stirred, lifted her head, then shook it. ‘I tried anyone I could think of,’ she mumbled. ‘No messages.’

Zidarov got into bed, shuffling up next to her. ‘She’s done it before. Stayed with friends. Probably still angry. It won’t last.’

‘You didn’t find her.’ The tone was accusatory, as if he could conjure people out of the city slums with a word. If he could have done it with Naxi, he could have done it with Adeard.

‘I’ll ask around,’ he said. ‘Gyorgu owes me, and he’s short of work. I’ll get it sorted. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.’

She already had. He sighed, wormed an arm over her, placed his head next to hers. She smelled of her work – of the medicae-bay odour that was hard to shift even after a change and a pulse-shower.

His advice was sound. Naxi was an adult, and she’d often gone missing for days at a time. She had always been an independent spirit, chafing at the edges, wanting to be off and doing and seeing. That was why they’d let her enrol in the military training in the first place. Burn off some energy, they had both said. Let her learn how to use a weapon, and maybe she’ll stop finding the idea so appealing. And then, when she’d found the idea more appealing than ever, they had to think of some other way to channel it all. The planetary defence forces. A private security detail. The enforcers.

Anything but off-world. Anything but the Guard.

He closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep so much. And yet, once the world went dark, all he saw were the tubes, the clenched fists, the thud-tick-thud of the machines working.