‘She did,’ Prozor said. ‘Then she redeemed herself. Still entitled to her cut.’

‘Magnanimous of you.’

‘Just doing things Rack’s way, is all.’

Jastrabarsk gave another of his slow nods. The way his huge, bony head tilted, it made me think of a boulder wobbling on another boulder. ‘We do things fair as well. What we find on the Monetta by way of loot, that’s yours to divide. But what’s left in the bauble, that’s nobody’s until it’s claimed.’

‘No complaints with that.’

‘You’re going back into the bauble?’ I asked.

‘Back?’ Jastrabarsk asked. ‘We haven’t been once. Yes, we’ll be going into it. But we’re too near the end of this window. Quancer’s auguries predict a high likelihood of another opening in about eighteen days. It won’t stay open long enough to make more than a few trips, but we’ll make the most of it.’

‘You could do it,’ Prozor said, her voice still raw.

‘Do what?’ Jastrabarsk asked.

‘My estimate, you’ve got another thirty hours before that surface firms over.’

Jastrabarsk set his jaw. ‘All very well saying that, when it won’t be your neck on the line.’

‘Who’s to say it wouldn’t be?’

His eyes flashed out from their gloomy depths.

‘Meaning what?’

‘I’ll stand by my reading of that bauble. I’ll go in with your team. With,’ she added, raising a finger, ‘a fair cut of the loot. And unless your Opener doesn’t know their work, we can be in and out of there with a ten-hour safety margin.’

I looked at Prozor, thinking of all that had passed between us. I believed that she was as good as her reputation maintained, but I’d really only seen the evidence of that once, when the bauble opened in exact accordance with her prediction. Only a fool would have put too much stock in that, knowing how easily blind chance could have played its role. But now that the rest of the crew was gone, there wasn’t anyone else left for me to hang my loyalty on.

‘I trust Prozor,’ I said quietly. ‘I know she wouldn’t get this wrong. And I’d like to see the inside of a bauble as well. If you allow her to go, I’ll go with her.’

‘Eighteen days with your thumbs jammed where no photon’s ever gone,’ Prozor said. ‘And nothing at the end of it after that but wait. Or you could be in and out and on your merry way inside thirty hours.’

Whether Jastrabarsk knew it himself or not, the doubt had been planted. This was Prozor, after all, one of the best Scanners that ever breathed, and she was offering him a chance to avoid weeks of tedium.