‘I saw the truth, working its way through you. You always had trouble with relationships with men. They kept growing too old for you, didn’t they? When you’re young even a subtle distancing is enough to spoil a relationship. And—’

‘And I haven’t had children.’

‘You kept putting it off. Your body knew, love. And now your head knows too.’

Sool said earnestly, ‘You must understand the situation.’

‘I understand I’m in trouble. Immortality is illegal.’

He shook his head. ‘You are the victim of a crime - a crime committed centuries ago.’

It was all the fault of the Qax, as so many things were. During their Occupation of Earth the Qax had rewarded those who had collaborated with them with an anti-ageing treatment. The Qax, masters of nanotechnological transformations, had rewired human genomes.

‘After the fall of the Qax the surviving collaborators and their children were given the gift of mortality.’ The Commissary said this without irony.

‘But you evidently didn’t get us all,’ Faya said.

Sool said, ‘The genome cleansing was not perfect. After centuries of Occupation we didn’t have the technology. In every generation there are throwbacks.’

‘Throwbacks. Immortals, born to mortal humans.’

‘Yes.’

Faya felt numb. It was as if he was talking about somebody else. ‘My sister—’

Her mother said, ‘Lieta is as mortal as I am, as your poor father was. It’s only you, Faya.’

‘We can cure you,’ Sool said, smiling. ‘It will be quite painless.’

‘But I could stay young,’ Faya said rapidly. She turned to Sool. ‘Once I was famous for my Dancing. They even knew my name on Earth.’ She waved a hand. ‘Look around! I made a fortune. I was the best. Grown men of twenty-five - your age, yes? - would follow me down the street. You can’t know what that was like; you never saw their eyes.’ She stood straight. ‘I could have it all again. I could have it for ever, couldn’t I? If I came out about what I am.’

Sool said stiffly, ‘The Coalition frowns on celebrity. The species, not the individual, should be at the centre of our thoughts.’

Her mother was shaking her head. ‘Anyhow, Faya, it can’t be like that. You’re still young; you haven’t thought it through. Once I hoped you would be able to - hide. To survive. But it would be impossible. Mortals won’t accept you.’

‘Your mother is right,’ Sool said. ‘You would spend your life tinting your hair, masking your face. Abandoning your home every few years. Otherwise they will kill you. No matter how beautifully you Danced.’ He said this with a flat certainty, and she realised that he was speaking from experience.

‘I need time,’ she said abruptly, and forced a smile. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? Just as I’ve been given all the time anybody could ask for.’

Spina sighed. ‘Time for what?’