“So how do we know where is safe?”

Blue shrugged. “We can’t be sure. We do aerial surveys, every day. Debriefs from the soldiers and police and fire boys who work in here.” He eyed Ted. “We spend human lives, the lives of civilians or scientists or emergency workers doing their duty. That’s what this thing is. A map bought with human lives.” Blue faced him, his face a broad round mask behind his scuffed and dirty faceplate. “Now, you listen to me, old man,” he said.

“I’m not much older than you.”

“Bullshit. I’m taking you in as a favour to Henry, who likes you because he’s porking your daughter.”

“I wish you’d say what you think,” Ted said drily.

“Only fools like me should risk going into such places. And for sure a dinged-up old fucker like you is just a liability.”

Blue’s mix of Japanese accent and cowboy phrasing was, Ted thought not for the first time, bizarre.

Blue leaned forward. “Now, I don’t give a rip what Henry says. Henry isn’t here. If you start coughing and spluttering and wheezing and doing other old-man stuff, you’re straight out of here. I want that clear right from the git-go. You got that?”

“I got it.”

“Okay. Then let’s get it over.”

Blue folded his map, and they walked on.

Ted wanted to get as close to the Seat as possible. That was, he reasoned, where he would find what he sought. But Blue skirted west, heading towards the New Town, and he had to follow.

In the rubble of the west of the city, there were more people than he had expected.

Many of them were civilians, poking through the ruins of their homes, business suits and summer skirts stained with ash. Some of them were filthy, their faces grimed by layers of mire; they looked as if they hadn’t washed or been properly fed for days. Evidently not everyone had made it to the comfort of a Rest Centre.

But there were provisions for people, even here. They passed a Red Cross tent complex, beds and a simple field hospital, and what looked like a morgue. Human life and activity, slowly intruding, here on the surface of the Moon.

A squad of soldiers went by. They wore grimy fatigues, cloths bound over their mouths. They looked exhausted, but they were carrying spades and body bags, on their way to another clean-up. None of them spoke. They looked inordinately young to Ted: probably younger than both his children, not much older, in the greater scheme of things, than poor Jack.

The Army crews had been working here since the volcanism had died away. But there were still many bodies. Ted could see that, just walking here.