Some people enjoy being the centre of attention. Parrish, for example, had no problems in that area. For Jane Lockland, this sort of thing was her very worst nightmare. Everyone was looking at her. Automatically her hand reached for the safety of her notebook. North cleared her throat in a manner that could halt armies in their tracks and so, taking a deep breath, and telling herself she could do this, Jane stepped up to the console. North moved aside to make room. ‘Here. Sit down.’

Lockland seated herself and ran her eyes over the console. This pod was different to the training simulator she was most accustomed to. Nothing appeared to be in the right place. Nothing was as she remembered. And everyone was watching. Panic was making her blind.

She took a deep, controlling breath. I can do this. I can do this. I’ve done this in training. Many times. I’ve watched other teams do this. I can do it. Just stop. Slow down. Stop and think. There must be something I can recognise. There’s the chron­ometer. Those are the camera controls. Which means this must be the . . . The silence dragged on as she worked her way around the console, conscious of the seconds remorselessly ticking by.

Parrish sighed loudly and shifted his weight impatiently.

‘Take your time, Lockland,’ said Ellis, quietly. ‘There’s no rush. I think I speak for us all when I say we’d rather you were slow and correct than fast and flashy.’

For some reason his eye fell on Parrish, who scowled.

Hands shaking, she laid in the coordinates. She could imagine Parrish behind her, fidgeting impatiently as she went through the final checks, all ready to shoulder her aside and do it himself in a fraction of the time. Her heart felt as if it were about to leap from her chest. She knew her face was bright red – it always was when she became anxious – but there was nothing she could do about that. In fact, she realised with a sudden revelation, the only thing she could control was herself as she performed this small test. All right, she was slow and fumbling, but how much worse would it be to be slow, fumbling and wrong?

Eventually, when she was certain everything was correct, she sat back and said, not without a tremor, ‘Coordinates laid in, sir.’

‘All right,’ said North, quite gently for her. ‘Let’s have a look.’

She ran an experienced eye over the console.

‘Everything correct, sir.’

‘Well done, Lockland.’

Lockland, whose face was just beginning to return to something of its normal colour, flushed again but this time with pleasure.

‘All right. Positions, everyone. When you’re ready, Lockland.’

Oh my God . . . what?

A tiny, trembly voice she vaguely recognised as her own said, ‘Pod – commence jump procedures.’

The pod’s AI responded. ‘Jump procedures commenced.’

The world flickered like a broken film and they were gone.

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