“We did most of that job for you already,” muttered Iona—then a thought occurred to her. “Wait—all the matter?”

“Yes.”

“Including our spaceship?”

“The spaceship was nonfunctional.”

“We still might’ve wanted it.”

“All matter comprising the habitat has been reprocessed.”

Iona was surprised by how deeply she felt the loss of the Mull of Kintyre. She’d only remembered its existence very recently but it had come to stand for the life she’d lost. Burning the city she’d lived in as long as she could remember had been difficult to accept but she had accepted it. Losing the ship, broken and ruined as it was, felt harder to accept.

But the figures had done the right thing. They’d resolved the issue in the cleanest possible way. Just blitzed everything inside. It was all gone.

“Can I go outside, please?”

* * *

The figure advised Iona to keep to the walkways. It didn’t say what would happen if she stepped off the sides and Iona didn’t want to ask, although she noted it was still pointing that weapon at her.

The figure had informed her two days had passed since they’d stepped out of the dome. The days here were roughly three hours longer than days in the city, which had presumably been attuned to the humans’ natural rhythms. It was afternoon, and quite sunny, but still a little cold.

The medical facility was located in a space between two of the domes. As she walked between them Iona noticed something she’d been too distracted to absorb the last time she was here: the domes were located in a shallow canyon, its sides only a little higher than the domes themselves. Steps had been carved at regular intervals along the sides, leading up out of the canyon.

Iona still felt anger at the figures for holding them all captive but she had to keep it in check. Aggression would not help the situation. Understanding it might. She still had little idea of what was going on or why.

“These other ones,” said Iona, pointing at the domes around them, “are there humans in them too?” She held out some hope that more of the Mull of Kintyre’s crew had survived the crash.

“No, they contain the other life of this planet,” the figure said.

Iona stopped walking. “What other life?”

“Other life.” The figure pointed the weapon upward and operated a control. In the air directly above the muzzle an image appeared of something dark brown and birdlike, with no beak and wings at least five times the length of its body. This image was replaced by one of a shaggy creature that looked like an antelope covered in grass cuttings. Then a long-limbed insect-looking thing with twelve legs, six of which were on its back. There were more.

Iona realized the thing wasn’t a weapon at all. It was a device for displaying visual recordings, which meant . . . it probably also made visual recordings. That was why the figure had been pointing it at her all this time, it was keeping a record.