Stanton tried to feel angry, but found he just couldn’t find the energy for it. He pushed himself to his knees, then unsteadily to his feet. Mennecken and Svent were sitting on a crate unloaded from the dropbird. Dusache was leaning against the bird itself, grounded on the shore of the lake. A curious sight, as he seemed to be standing at an impossible angle. Corlackis stepped aside and Stanton was looking at Pelter, who had Mr. Crane at his back. No chance to hit him, Stanton thought. Of course, given the opportunity he would kill Pelter, but he knew he would not be given that opportunity.

‘His knife,’ said Pelter.

Corlackis reached into the pocket of his coat and took out a plastic-wrapped package. It hit Stanton on the chest, and fell to the ground. He continued to stare at Pelter.

‘It’s your knife, John. Pick it up and return it to its sheath.’

Stanton did as he was told. What was the game now? Him with a knife up against Crane?

‘Give him his gun as well.’

Corlackis looked askance at Pelter, before reaching into his jacket and taking out Stanton’s pulse-gun.

‘Take the charge out first, Corlackis,’ Pelter said, when the gun was about to be handed over. Corlackis pulled the charge and handed the gun to Stanton. Pelter held out his hand and Corlackis handed him the charge. Pelter turned and threw it out across the bleak moorland. Stanton tracked its progress and saw it land amongst a rare mass of the green growth. A cloud of objects shot into the air where it landed. Stanton took that as a sign of his present luck. The charge had probably landed in a nest of this planet’s equivalent of hornets.

‘I don’t know what it was you intended, but that you intended something with Jarvellis I have no doubt. I trusted you, John. I even liked you,’ said Pelter.

Stanton said, ‘You like no one but yourself, Pelter, and even that has changed. Look at what you’ve become.’

Pelter reached up and touched his face, realized what he was doing, and snatched his hand back down. Behind him Crane eased forwards. Stanton noted that the briefcase was on the ground. So that was the way it was going to be. What use would he have for a pulse-gun or his knife?

‘Because I thought you were a friend, John, I’m letting you go. Just go—get out of my sight,’ said Pelter.