She’s having lunch when a priority broadcast from Lagos powers through all IFCs.

Governor Beko with Secretary Awe behind her.

“I’ll keep this brief. We have recently had reason to shut down the Lagos Bridge. This was to keep us protected from aggressors – freebooters who meant us harm, who threatened your children and mine. The decision to shut the bridge was mine, as is the responsibility.

“It is possible that in doing so, a hostile ship was destroyed, along with all the souls on board. This may provoke retaliatory action. The bridge won’t remain shut forever. Others will find their way here, though it might take decades. By that time, the aggressive weaponised ship-building programme that we have started will have borne fruit. We will be ready for any attack. Our lives are different now. War is a possibility. Be vigilant.”

The signal dies.

Huh.

Shell wonders how Earth will respond to that.

In the car park, just as she opens the door to her truck, someone walks up behind.

“Fin,” she says.

“How do you know it’s me?”

“You walk funny. I know the sound of your footfalls.”

“I don’t walk funny.”

“It’s not hilarious. It’s strange. Maybe you have mild talipes.”

“What?”

“Club foot.” Shell drops her bag in the back. “What do you want, Fin?”

“Heard you brought someone back, wanted to congratulate you.”

“Barry Huang. Forty. Stage two polyp found in rectum. All psychometric tests are fine so far. He’ll live.”

“That’s good.”

“How’s Frances?”

“He’s good. I take him when I’m interrogating suspects or if I’m inspecting a particularly dark corner.”

“I’d like to see him some time.”

“You’re too busy.”

“They’re still out there, Fin.”

“I know. I know. Must be tough for you.”

“As long as I’m busy doing something about it, I’m fine. Have you found her?”

He shakes his head. Joké is in the wind, and none of them can figure out why. Maybe her father’s death? Nobody has seen a Lamber either. The prevailing theory is that they’re offended in some way by Carmilla profaning their temple.

Fin looks slightly older, some grey frosting on the beard he now sports. He has emerged from the whole affair with the best outcome: he is an investigator again. You can tell by his bearing, by his confidence, the squaring of his shoulders.

“She’ll turn up,” says Shell. “She’s like that.”

Fin nods. “You helping the enquiry?”

“I’m still giving evidence, yes. Once a week.”

“Bastards.” A gust of wind bends some trees close by. “What happened to her?”

“Who?” asks Shell.

“Your mom. When you thought we were all going to die you told me you also had a software mom.”