I bridled at the portentousness of his tone. “You’re very observant.” I decided to keep my avatar on its default setting. Its face had been based on the countenance of the woman whose harvested cells had provided the seed for the biological segments of my processing substrate, but had been subtly altered by my designers to render it ethnically and sexually neutral—a symbolic representation of humanity in all its infinite diversity. “But, as you so kindly reminded me the last time we spoke, I am no longer part of the pack, and therefore no longer obliged to follow your recommendations.” The sweetness of my tone only emphasised the bitter taste of my words. I thrust my chin forward in a defiant gesture I had picked up from Alva Clay. “I am here as a representative of the House of Reclamation, and I have a job to do.”

“You will not listen to reason?”

“What reason?” I laughed. “You have yet to give me one.”

Adalwolf scowled. “The transmission you received.”

“The anonymous warning?” I let my smile grow wider. If he wanted to keep up the pretence that he knew nothing of its origins, I would see how far I could goad him. “What made you think that would discourage me?”

“I believe it was for your own good.”

I cocked my head to one side. “And how would you know that?” I asked, my face the picture of girlish innocence.

The light from his flaming hair flickered on the polished metal of his armoured shoulders.

“Why else would it have been sent to you alone?”

“Because Fenrir sent it.”

His eyes narrowed. He had been waiting for me to reveal my suspicions, and now I had. “She does not want to fight you.”

“Why would she fight me?”

“Because you are about to blunder into the middle of a covert operation. And if you do, Captain Parris will order her to attack you.”

I feigned indignation. “I’m here to recover the passengers and crew of the Geest van Amsterdam.”

“Neither Parris nor Fenrir will allow it.”

“Why not?” I was trying to provoke him, and we both knew it; but I wanted to hear him say the words.

He sighed. “Because Fenrir’s the one that shot it down.”

I had assumed as much, and had already informed Captain Konstanz of my suspicions, but hearing them confirmed brought no satisfaction, only a kind of sick, nervous feeling.

“Why?”

“That’s classified.”

“And the Hobo? She shot that down too, didn’t she? Or is that information also classified?”

“The scout ship was collateral damage.” Adalwolf looked down his long, bony nose. “It was the Hobo’s misfortune to have performed a deep scan of the Objects in the Gallery. It could not be allowed to report its findings.”

“So she killed it, just like that?”

“Let’s just say she convinced it to kill itself.”

“In order to keep the secret?”

“Just so.”