Captain Dakk said dryly, ‘Obviously you two have - issues - to discuss. But I’m afraid I can’t give you the time. Events are pressing.’

Tarco turned to face her. ‘Then let’s get on with it, sir. Why did you ask for me?’

Dakk said, ‘Navy intelligence have been analysing the records from the Torch. They have begun the process of contacting those who will serve on the ship - or their cadres, if they are infants or not yet born - to inform them of their future assignments. It’s the policy.’

Tarco looked apprehensive. ‘And that applies to me?’

Dakk didn’t answer directly. ‘There are protocols. When a ship returns from action, it’s customary for the captain or senior surviving officer to send letters of condolence to cadres who have lost loved ones, or visit them.’

Tarco nodded. ‘I once accompanied Captain Iana on a series of visits like that.’

I said carefully, ‘But in this case the action hasn’t happened yet. Those who will die haven’t yet been assigned to the ship. Some haven’t even been born.’

‘Yes,’ Dakk said gently. ‘But I have to write my letters even so.’

That was incomprehensible to me. ‘Why? Nobody’s dead yet.’

‘Because everybody wants to know, as much as we can tell them. Would it be better to lie to them, or keep secrets?’

‘How do they react?’

‘How do you think? Ensign Tarco, what happened when you did the rounds with Iana?’

Tarco shrugged. ‘Some took it as closure, I think. Some wept. Some were angry, even threw us out. Others denied it was real . . . They all wanted more information. How it happened, what it was for. Everyone seemed to have a need to be told that those who had died had given their lives for something worthwhile.’

Dakk nodded. ‘After a time hop you see all those reactions too. Some won’t open the messages. They put them in time capsules, as if putting history back in order. Others take a look, find other ways to cope with the news. We don’t tell people how to react. But we don’t keep anything from them; that’s the policy,’ She studied me. ‘This is a time-travellers’ war, ensign. A war like none we’ve fought before. We are stretching our procedures, even our humanity, to cope with the consequences. But you get used to it.’

Tarco said apprehensively, ‘Sir, please - what about me?’

Gravely, Dakk handed him a data desk.

‘Hey, buttface,’ he said, reading. ‘You make me your exec. How about that. Maybe it was a bad year in the draft.’

I didn’t feel like laughing. ‘Read it all.’

‘I know what it says.’ His broad face was relaxed.

‘You don’t make it home. That’s what it says, doesn’t it? You’re going to die out there, in the Fog.’