She put down the desk. ‘I knew you would come.’

‘You did?’

‘You have learned about the new orders. Your emotions are confused.’

Tentatively he sat beside her on the bed. ‘I’m not confused. I don’t want to be parted from you.’

‘Do you think I should defy my duty? Or you yours?’

‘No. I just don’t want to lose you.’

Her blue eyes were wide, deep as oceans. ‘It’s not that. You’ve been to New Earth. Now you know where I come from - what I am. You want to save me, don’t you?’

He was hot, miserable, perplexed. ‘I can’t tell if you are mocking me.’

She took his hand and enclosed it in hers. ‘Go home.’

‘Take me with you,’ he said.

‘What?’

It was as if he was framing the thoughts even as the words emerged from his mouth. ‘To the Front. Give me a posting on the Rock.’

‘That’s absurd. You’re a Commissary - a Novice at that. You don’t have the training.’

He let his voice harden. ‘I could surely be as useful as the twelve-year-old conscripts who will be riding with you.’

‘Do you know what you will face?’

‘I know you will be there.’ He moved his face closer to hers, just a little, until he could feel her breath on his mouth. It was his last voluntary act.

Her passion was primal, like the way she ate, as if after this moment there would be no more to savour. And all through the love-making, and the hours later they spent asleep together, he could sense the strength in her - a strength she held back, as if afraid of damaging him.

IV

Luca huddled at the bottom of the trench. It was just a gouge scraped roughly in the surface of the Rock.

He stared up at a great stripe of sky that was full of cherry-red light, a sky where immense rocks sailed like clouds. Sometimes they came so close to his own Rock he could actually see people moving on their inverted surfaces. It seemed impossible that such vast objects could be crowded so close. The slightest touch of one of these great jostling rocks against another could crush him and these shallow trenches and chambers, utterly erasing him and any trace to show he had ever existed, scraping clean his life from the universe. He was in a heavily armoured skinsuit, but he felt utterly defenceless. He was just a mote of soft blood and flesh, trapped in this nightmare machinery of churning rock and deadly light.

All of this in utter, inhuman silence, save for the shallow scratch of his own breathing, the constant incomprehensible chatter over his comms.