He took his hand away. “So what you said about Saori killing Victor—”

“—was a lie, yes. Saori’s just been in a funny sort of mood, culture shock probably, she’s still herself. I told one of the figures to tell Saori and Victor I’d gone missing and take them on a wild-goose chase looking for me. Just needed them out of the way—the figure will have told them the truth by now. Useful how the figures do anything humans tell them to without question—I’ve got you to thank for that, haven’t I? I mean you were the decider, weren’t you?”

Steve remained silent.

“I reckon when the interior of the dome got reset,” Iona went on, “you were still in there, because you can survive anything, can’t you, and you took over one of the figures. You took DNA from the dead decider and used the figures’ medical tech to grow a new body. The crashed ship where they found you was actually Alyssa’s, maybe? Then you pretended to set off for some other part of the colony. But actually you stayed, and you took Steve.” Her voice became unsteady with those last few words. “Did you choose him just because he was the one who shut you in the oven? Getting your own back, were you?” She looked up at him, waiting for confirmation.

He rushed at her and punched her in the chest. As she dropped to the floor of the craft she knew that if she’d gotten the story wrong he’d have taken pleasure in telling her so. But she was right so he was going to take pleasure in killing her instead. The shaking of the craft was getting more and more violent, its metal frame buckling under the pressure: there was little time left anyway. This small dark box would never reach Earth, and no one would ever know why she had left in it without Saori or Victor. No one would know what she’d died for. But that didn’t matter. Everything got forgotten eventually anyway.

Iona barely felt the blows as they rained down on her. She’d already let go of everything. After all those long and meandering years in the city she was finally doing something meaningful.

She was still alive when the craft finally broke up. Her last thought was that the creature hadn’t managed to kill her like it had killed Hanna. She’d chosen her own way out.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Alan Barnes—this book started life as a pitch for something else a long time ago, and without him the idea would never have taken shape. It’s changed a lot over the years and I’m surprised it’s happened at all, but I’m very glad it has. Thanks to Mark Clapham, Lance Parkin, and James Cooray Smith for support and feedback, and thanks to Paul Cornell for his enthusiasm and inspiration.

Special thanks to Adam Christopher and to my editor, Lee Harris, and the biggest thanks of all to Catherine Spooner, without whom none of this would be possible.