She disembarked on the furthest edge of the Rook and made her way inside a single-storey building, also owned by Sarbakshian. Passing through a pressure field that separated the native atmosphere from that inside, she peeled off her mask and found herself in the nondescript foyer of what purported to be a trade and economics consultancy. It was completely deserted, and there was a fine layer of dust evident on the single desk it contained.

As instructed, she made her way down a dark and dank staircase at the rear of the foyer, until she reached a security door at the bottom. Light flickered in her eyes for a moment, and then the door swung open with a gentle click.

Megan passed through a second pressure field: the air was now warm and moist and slightly perfumed. She looked around, seeing that the entire lower level was open plan in layout. Pillars supporting the building above were artfully concealed behind clusters of ivy, while grass crunched beneath her boots. One or two tiny yellow birds fluttered from the branches of potted trees. She could almost have been in one of the cloistered gardens of Morgans World. The illusion was marred, however, by a number of crates stacked here and there, with their contents spilling out.

She felt sweat beading on her forehead and pulled off her heavy coat before making her way towards a set of divans arranged around a low table at the centre of this open space. Arrayed on the table were tiny silver bowls filled with what passed for delicacies on Redstone.

Sarbakshian himself, looking tired and grizzled, sat on an upholstered chair to one side of the table, the invisibly narrow band of a data interface pressing against his long and unkempt hair. He waggled a finger towards one of the divans, without even looking at her; his attention was clearly focused elsewhere.

She took a seat and waited until the man finally pulled off his interface, dropping it onto the table between them with a sigh. He leaned back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for several seconds, then dropped them back in his lap before giving her a smile.

Long day? she asked.

Like you wouldnt believe, he replied, in a monotone. Everyones getting out.

I noticed. Why?

He eyed her with an expression of disbelief. Youre kidding me. The Freehold is on the way here. They want Redstone back.

No, I havent heard anything about that. I mean, there were some rumours floating around the Tabernacle, but . . .

Sarbakshian laughed unpleasantly. Rumours? More than rumours, my dear. People know exactly whats going down. Now that the Demarchys been effectively wiped out, its only a matter of time before a bunch of crazy tattooed Freehold bastards turn up here in Aguirre, armed to the teeth and claiming ownership. And once theyve finished with the Sacerdotal Demarchy of Uchida, their neighbours, the River Concord States, will be next.