The lights had come on in the semicircular room as the last door had rolled back into place. The place was bright, but dusty. The drone whooshed off to one side and hovered over one of the desks.

Ulver stood looking round the space, wondering. She sneezed.

‘Bless you.’

‘Thank you. What is this place, Churt?’ she asked.

‘Emergency Centre Command Space,’ the drone told her, as the desk beneath it lit up in places and various panes and panels of light leapt up to waver in the air above its surface.

Ulver Seich wandered over to look at the pretty displays.

‘Didn’t even know this place existed,’ she said, drawing one black-gloved finger along the desk’s surface. The displays altered and the desk made a chirping noise; Churt Lyne slapped her hand away, going ‘tssk’ while its aura field flashed white. She glowered at the machine, inspected the grey rim of dust on her finger tip, and smeared it on the casing of the drone.

Normally Churt Lyne would have slicked that part of its body with a field and the dust would just have fallen off, having literally nothing to cling to, but this time it ignored her and just kept on hovering over the desk and its rapidly changing displays, obviously controlling both it and them. Ulver crossed her black-gloved arms in annoyance.

The sliding panels of lights hanging in the air changed and rotated; figures and letters slid across their surfaces. Then they all disappeared.

‘Right,’ the drone said. A maniple field coloured formal blue extended from the machine’s casing and dragged a small sculpted metal seat over, placing it behind her and then shoving it quickly forward; she had no choice but to plonk down into it.

‘Ow,’ she said, pointedly. She adjusted her bustle and glared at the drone but it still wasn’t paying attention.

‘Here we go,’ it said.

What looked like a pane of brown smoked glass suddenly leapt into existence above the desk. She studied it, attempting to see her reflection.

‘Ready?’ the drone asked her.

‘Mm-hmm,’ she said.

‘Ulver, child,’ the drone said, in a voice she knew it had spent centuries investing with gravitas. It swivelled through the air until it was directly in front of her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes? What?’

‘Ulver, I know you’re a little--’

‘I’m drunk, drone, I know,’ she told it. ‘But I haven’t lost my wits.’

‘Well, good, but I need to know you’re fit to make this decision. What you’re about to see might change your life.’

She sighed and put her gloved elbow on the surface of the desk, resting her chin on her hand. ‘I’ve had a few young fellows tell me that before,’ she drawled. ‘It always turns out to be a disappointment, or a joke of the grossest nature.’