Ramiro glanced at Agata on the couch to his left; it was hard to read her face through her helmet. ‘Agata gets first call on any extra food.’

‘Why?’ she demanded.

‘When the Surveyor breaks down and we’re stranded on Esilio, someone will have to populate the planet.’

Tarquinia said, ‘Don’t worry, Ramiro: by then, the Peerless will have so much knowledge from the future that they’ll be able to send us detailed instructions for triggering division in males.’

Before he could think of a suitable riposte his console beeped and began displaying the countdown. Three lapses remained to the launch. Ramiro tried to relax; he trusted Verano and his team. And even if the hull broke apart they’d stand a fair chance of surviving – so long as it happened sooner rather than later.

Two lapses. As Ramiro watched the symbols flickering towards zero, his anxiety vanished. He’d already crossed the point of no return. To get under way now would be nothing but a relief.

One lapse.

Eleven pauses. Ten. Nine. Eight.

Tarquinia said, ‘Commenced burning support ropes.’ The cables holding them to the mountain were as thick as Ramiro’s arms; even a dozen high-powered coherers couldn’t slice the Surveyor free in an instant.

Three. Two. One.

‘Released.’ Tarquinia’s announcement was redundant: they were weightless, and the mountain was receding.

Through the window, the Peerless began drifting off-centre, perversely moving to the right; they’d been flung from the rim moving right themselves, but the tiny spin they’d inherited from the mountain had at first cancelled, and was now overtaking, the effect of their changing perspective.

‘Firing engines.’

The thrust from the rebounders rose up smoothly, then levelled off. Ramiro sank into the seat of the couch. He was heavier than he’d been before the ropes were cut – and the jetpack felt like more of a burden, tugging down on the narrow shoulder straps. But the acceleration itself was no different from that of the Peerless during the turnaround.

The mountain had disappeared from sight completely. Through the window in front of him the blazing rim of the home-cluster star trails appeared horizontal as the Surveyor ascended towards the dark hemisphere.

‘Everyone all right?’ Tarquinia enquired.

‘I’m fine,’ Azelio replied.

Agata said, ‘Can I leave my jetpack on?’

‘As long as you want to.’

‘Then I’m fine, too.’

‘Ramiro? Any special requests?’

He said, ‘I’ll be happy once we can see where we’re going.’

Tarquinia buzzed curtly. ‘When I agreed to the confidentiality conditions, Greta stressed that you were the last person I should let in on the secret.’

Azelio was confused. ‘What secret?’

Agata said, ‘We’re not going to travel all the way to Esilio by dead reckoning. Accelerometers are good, but they’re not that good. And the home-cluster stars aren’t enough, either.’

Azelio understood. ‘They finished the time-reversed camera, in secret?’