‘Coming back is at the end.’ Lorenzo gestured towards the stack of images yet to reach the board. Luisa hushed him, as if he might be spoiling a secret.

‘I hope we didn’t keep you from something,’ Azelio said.

‘I was just going to look around again. Fix things in my mind.’ Agata knew that sounded strange, but the more familiar she became with the craft’s interior, the less anxious she felt about the prospect of seeing nothing else on their journey to Esilio for the next six years. ‘I want to get accustomed to the place in small doses, and then I’ll be ready for it non-stop.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I never thought about bringing my own changes of scenery.’ She moved aside to let Lorenzo continue with the strip of images he was attaching.

‘You can share the pictures if you like,’ Azelio replied. ‘Believe me, I’ll be asking to borrow your books.’

‘Can I share them?’ Agata asked Luisa.

‘Of course,’ Luisa replied affably.

Lorenzo said, ‘Just be careful you don’t smudge them.’

Agata took her leave. To reach her own cabin she had to descend and then climb a different ladder. The layout was a mirror image of Azelio’s; she’d already stacked the shelves with books, the vertical piles made less precarious by restraining strings.

She knelt on the blank wooden picture board, wondering if it would seem strange to the rest of the crew if she pinned a photograph of Medoro there. Or maybe she could have a stylised print made that looked like a skin impression, and then it wouldn’t stand out too much among the borrowed pictures from the children.

Agata walked over to the shallow indentation that would hold her sand bed. She leant against it and imagined waking in this spot, gazing up at the cabin’s moss-free ceiling, everything around her muted grey in the safety light.

But she’d woken in the same apartment for more than six years, and that had never felt oppressive. Here, there would be a reward for her patience drawing inexorably closer – the kind of guarantee that her work had never been able to provide. To walk on a planet, to tread on open ground beneath the stars would be extraordinary. Between that, the test of Lila’s theory, and the chance to rid the mountain of Medoro’s killers, she ought to have more than enough to sustain her.

Agata climbed down the ladder and crawled out through the airlock. It was time to start saying her farewells.

17

Ramiro couldn’t understand why Rosita had brought Vincenzo with her to the launch party. He didn’t need to spend his last few chimes before departing watching the man hovering possessively around his sister, while the two of them made small talk with the vapid dignitaries who’d descended on Verano’s workshop like an infestation of mites.