Amorphia took a deep breath and then let it go.

The view clicked off and the screen disappeared.

The avatar turned to look at the woman Dajeil Gelian and the black bird Gravious. They were in a recreation area on the Ridge class GCU Jaundiced Outlook, housed in a bay in one of the Sleeper Service’s mid-top strakes. The lounge was pretty well standard Contact issue; deceptively spacious, stylishly comfortable, punctuated by plants and subdued lighting.

This ship was to be the woman’s home for the rest of the journey; a life boat ready to quit the larger craft at a moment’s notice and take her to safety if anything went wrong. She sat on a white recliner chair, dressed in a long red dress, calm but wide-eyed, one hand cupped upon her swollen belly, the black bird perched on one arm of the seat near her hand.

The avatar smiled down at the woman. ‘There,’ it said. It made a show of looking around. ‘Alone at last.’ It laughed lightly, then looked down at the black bird, its smile disappearing. ‘Whereas you,’ it said, ‘will not be again.’

Gravious jerked upright, neck stretching. ‘What?’ it asked. Gelian looked surprised, then concerned.

Amorphia glanced to one side. A small device like a stubby pen floated out of the shadows cast by a small tree. It coasted up to the bird, which shrank back and back from the small, silent missile until it almost fell off the arm of the chair, its blue-black beak centimetres from the nose cone of the tiny, intricate machine.

‘This is a scout missile, bird,’ Amorphia told it. ‘Do not be deceived by its innocent title. If you so much as think of committing another act of treachery, it will happily reduce you to hot gas. It is going to follow you everywhere. Don’t do as I have done; do as I say and don’t try to shake it off; there is a tracer nanotech on you - in you - which will make it a simple matter to follow you. It should be correctly embedded by now, replacing the original tissue.’

‘What?’ the bird screeched again, head jerking up and back.

‘If you want to remove it,’ Amorphia continued smoothly, ‘you may, of course. You’ll find it in your heart; primary aortic valve.’

The bird made a screaming noise and thrashed vertically into the air. Dajeil flinched, covering her face with her hands. Gravious wheeled in the air and beat hard for the nearest corridor. Amorphia watched it go from beneath cold, lid-hooded eyes. Dajeil put both her hands on her abdomen. She swallowed. Something black drifted down past her face and she picked it out of the air. A feather.

‘Sorry about that,’ Amorphia said.

‘What . . . what was all that about?’ Gelian asked.