Cormac got out of his seat and headed off into the wing of the shuttle, searching for something to eat or drink. He could have stayed on Hubris, as his presence here was not required, but he was fed up with waiting for something to happen or something to be found by the ship’s scanners. Chaline and her technicians were well enough employed preparing their runcible to be taken down, and he had not had much opportunity to talk to her—or any wish either, to be honest. She was just the kind of involvement he did not need right now, or was he kidding himself? Mika was becoming increasingly involved in her study of the dracomen, and had already induced the four Sparkind and a few of the crew to assist her. The rest of the crew were involved in replacing mycelium-damaged components and superstructure. Hubris, of course, was involved in just about every aspect of all these activities, while simultaneously scanning the planet. Cormac had felt like a spare wheel, so grabbed the first opportunity offered to get out of the ship. He needed action, not introspection.

Under one of the bench seats that lined the front edge of the wing Cormac found a ration box. From it he removed a foil package that the label identified as ‘egg mayonnaise sandwiches’. He glanced at the lid of the box, where a logo identified it as ECS property. Was this the Sparkind’s secret? He grinned and also removed a self-heating coffee from the box before replacing the lid. He pulled the tab on the coffee and, while it heated, he studied the globular tanks distributed along the wing, and the mesh of pipes running into the floor. Full of counteragent. He remembered the image Mika had shown him on the screen of her nanoscope. The thing had claws, damn it, and a mouth. He had asked why its skin was so . . . knobbly. He once again considered her reply, before returning to Jane: ‘Those are atoms,’ Mika had told him.

‘How long should this take us?’ Cormac asked Jane, after swallowing a mouthful of egg mayonnaise washed down with scalding coffee.

‘Four hours.’ Jane turned to inspect him. ‘You are easier now about not being gridlinked?’

‘A lot. It seems to me that I’d been living a vicarious life: all my involvement with the external world had become secondary. Blegg was right about the twenty-year limit. I should have been taken off the grid ten years ago.’

‘I am surprised that was not done. Obviously your usefulness to Earth Central outweighed their concern for your mental health.’

‘It didn’t take me long to recover.’

‘There are fifty-eight people on the Hubris.’

He looked at her in surprise. She went on.