Several minutes later Ty was relieved to find himself alone in what indeed appeared to be a luxury-sized suite, whose picture windows looked out across the city. He listened to Weil’s footsteps padding away down the corridor and leaned his head against the door, taking several long, deep breaths until he felt his nerves start to settle back into equilibrium.

No doubt about it; Weil knew who he was – or certainly had strong suspicions. The Freeholder, Ty estimated, was in his mid-to late thirties – just about the right age to have taken part in the abortive, Consortium-backed assault against the Uchidan Territories more than a decade before. Also just the sort of person to wonder if he had seen Ty’s face on some long-ago news bulletin.

But even his sudden fear of being uncovered could not entirely distract from the frustration at being prevented from studying the body he had risked his life to recover. He felt sure that within its dusty shell lay the summation of all his life’s work: a suitable antidote to the rank failures of the past.

An armchair faced the window. He fell into it, suddenly exhausted, and stared out through the glass. A warning sticker detailed the fatal consequences of either opening or breaking the window without having a breather mask handy. As a native of Redstone, he knew full well how deadly the planet’s naked atmosphere was. So if things got bad enough he could . . .

No. He slammed the arm of the chair and leaned forward, chewing on a knuckle. Suicide was not an option. He had thought it was finished when the Territories decided to hand him over to the Consortium, and even then he had escaped. No matter how bad things looked, there was always a way.

Ty brooded for a while longer, then stood up and stepped over to the door. He was pleased to find it was not locked, but a man of a distinctly similar build and demeanour to Marcus Weil sat in an easy chair down the far end of the corridor, next to the elevator.

‘Sir,’ said the man, rising, ‘can I help you?’

Ty shook his head and forced a smile. ‘No, thank you.’

He ducked back inside, closing the door and listening to it click as it swung to. He might not be locked in, and it might be a comfortable suite, but it was definitely also a prison.

He returned to the armchair, and watched the sun track its way across the sky, just thinking.

Ty woke, much later, to find himself in darkness.

He shook his head, rubbed tired hands through his hair and staggered into the suite’s bathroom. When he emerged from the shower, wrapped in a bathrobe, the first trickling light of dawn was showing itself beyond the glass of the window.

He lay down on top of the bed and soon fell asleep again.