An area two-thirds of a kilometre in diameter had been cleared, and the bedrock fused to obsidian and levelled. The containment sphere rested between the two cylindrical tanks of the buffers seemingly placed to stop it rolling away, and from it an enclosed walkway led to the surrounding complex of newly erected buildings. The buildings were domed and apparently made of native materials. Prefabricated sections had been joined, then sealed, with a composite of crushed rock and epoxy resins. Vapour jetted from them as they were heated and the moisture and excess CO2 was pumped out. The whole complex was knitted together by more enclosed walkways, pylons carrying s-con cables, ground-level pipelines, and by a nimbus of electric light. Beyond the perimeter was impenetrable darkness.

Night had come to Samarkand.

The minishuttle rested in the twilight at the perimeter and, as he disembarked, Cormac had a good view across the complex. He paused for a moment on the CO2 slush, his visor polarizing as the containment sphere emitted a flash of orange light. After fooling with the directional gain of his comunit, he heard Chaline bawling out one of her technicians.

‘Dave! I said ninety gigahertz not megahertz! You’re not going to get anywhere near alignment—What? What did you say?’

‘I said why not leave it to the AI.’

‘Because we are here and the AI isn’t. Now, ninety gigahertz. Try to get it right this time.’

Cormac’s visor polarized again as a tower of rainbows rose from the sphere and stabbed into the starlit sky. As it flickered out, he heard Chaline speaking in a somewhat happier tone.

‘That’s it: the spoon’s in, close as we’re going to get. The AI can lose the light-show.’

Cormac looked round as Jane disembarked, carrying a small suitcase.

‘Seems they’re ready for you,’ he said.

‘I heard. A good thing too.’ She patted the suitcase. ‘It’s getting impatient.’

They set out for the runcible, where figures could be seen gathered around one of the buffers.

‘That you, Jane?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Head for control. Everything’s set up.’

One of the figures detached from the group and headed for the building nearest to the runcible. Jane and Cormac headed there also, and were soon inside, removing their masks. The temperature was twenty below, so they kept their suits on.

‘There you are,’ said Chaline, and gestured to the device in the centre of the room. It had the appearance of a font made of glass and chrome pipes. A duct crossed the room from it, heading in the direction of the runcible. Next to it stood a pedestal-mounted console Cormac could not help comparing to a lectern. Here was the chapel. The god was about to be installed in his rightful home.

‘I presume you have no more use for it now, and we can get on,’ was Chaline’s acid comment to Cormac.