The Cereb runcible installation had, over a period of sixty years, turned into a small city. Originally there had been only the runcible itself, sitting inside a fifty-metre sphere of mirrored metal, which in turn was clamped between the curved grey monoliths of the runcible buffers and sealed under an airtight dome a quarter of a kilometre across. These constructions remained unchanged at the heart of the city. The city itself had grown up to cater for the huge transient populations of travellers. As a consequence of this, it mainly consisted of hotels, hypermarts and leisure facilities. There was little in the way of residential building. All of these buildings had at first been linked together with tunnels; now the areas between them were roofed over. The main building material used for this roofing was chainglass, so to any visitor it appeared they had walked into a giant conservatory.

Cormac stepped through the shimmer-shield airlock into a reception area hundreds of metres wide and floored with the cut stone of the moon. Walled off in the centre of this area were small groves of palm trees and other more exotic tropical plants. All around were shops, restaurants and more dubious leisure facilities. Some of the buildings were only a couple of storeys high. Those any higher than four storeys penetrated the diamond-patterned roof through which the Cheyne III sun glared down.

‘You will of course need to register your testimony,’ said Blegg, as they set out across the stone floor.

Cormac observed the slightly amused expression on Blegg’s face. He considered commenting on the obvious implication, rejected it for a moment, then decided, What the hell?

‘Would this be because there’s a chance I might not be coming back?’ he asked.

‘That is a possibility, though I was thinking it would be an idea for the local police to deal with the cell here before it goes to ground.’

‘Very neat,’ said Cormac. ‘Best I pay a visit to the local constabulary.’ He altered his course across the stone floor to a gap between buildings, and to a moving walkway beyond, but Blegg clamped a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Cormac turned and looked at him. Blegg seemed to have changed. He no longer appeared so old and he now had a distracted air about him.

‘I will leave you now, and you will make your way with suitable efficiency and logic.’

‘Going inscrutable on me again, are you?’ Cormac asked.

‘Do not accept things as they appear to be, Ian Cormac.’

‘Have I ever?’ Cormac asked.

‘Yes, you are right for this.’