A Virtual popped into existence in the middle of the cabin. ‘I think I can answer that.’ It was a man, perhaps as old as Symat’s father, though it was hard to tell physical ages. But unlike Hektor he was short, squat, his limbs short and his belly large.

Symat resented this sudden intrusion. He snapped, ‘Who are you?’

‘Actually I don’t have a name. You can call me by my role, which is the Curator.’ Despite his persistent grin he looked like a curator. He was bald, and he wore an antique-looking robe, black, sweeping to the floor, its breast adorned with a green tetrahedral sigil.

Mela asked, ‘Curator of what?’

‘Why, of Port Sol, of course. One of mankind’s most precious bastions - and still a working place today.’

Symat said, ‘But Port Sol isn’t in the Kuiper Belt any more.’

‘No indeed. Now it swoops around a long elliptical path that reaches from Saturn all the way in to Earth’s orbit. It has been brought in from the dark, along with a whole flock of other outer-system objects. All for a purpose.’

‘Why are you so fat?’ Mela asked bluntly.

The Curator patted his belly, apparently not offended. ‘Do say what’s on your mind, child! In the cold, the rounder your shape is the better off you are. Ask a Silver Ghost! And out where Port Sol came from, believe me, it’s cold, even now. You’re Mela, aren’t you? There has been a lot of gossip in the Conclave about you. Metaphorically speaking, of course. You’re doing a good job. A lot of us are jealous.’ He reached out and ruffled Mela’s short-cut hair. She flinched back, glaring.

Symat said heavily, ‘Can’t you tell she doesn’t like that?’

‘Actually, no. I’m a little light on sentience programming. In the empathy area, in fact. Though I hope that what I lack in personality I make up for in charm. Of course I could be wrong about that. But how would I ever know?’ He laughed lightly.

Mela stared at him. ‘How can you be like that? Don’t you want more, to be whole?’

‘Not really. Believe me, when you see the job I have to do, you’ll understand why.’ Even now he kept smiling. ‘Welcome to Port Sol!’

Under the Curator’s effortless control, the flitter dipped and swooped over Port Sol’s eroded landmarks.

Every child in the system knew about Port Sol. It was itself ancient, a fragment of unprocessed rubble left over from the formation of Sol system. And its human history stretched far back too, almost as far back as man’s first tentative steps off the home planet.