By the time he reached the point where the coherers’ light gave out, he realised that the part of his brain that dealt with his gait and balance had come to terms with the ground’s bizarre behaviour as if it were nothing more than an unfamiliar texture: a kind of stickiness that rendered the soil a little unpredictable. He hadn’t slipped over once, or found himself rooted to the ground. On one level, he’d already taken the whole phenomenon in his stride.

Each time there was a dust storm the record of future movements would be erased, but even in a prolonged period of calm the footprints would overlap, conveying very little information. Compared with the crystalline certainties of the messaging system, it would be nothing: a novelty to which the settlers would soon grow accustomed.

Ramiro turned to Azelio. ‘Entertaining as this is, if you want to start the planting now I’d be happy to help.’

With so little wind about, Ramiro decided that it was worth opening both doors of the airlock so they could pass the plants straight through. Standing on the ground, he was at the perfect height to accept each pot directly from Azelio, instead of climbing up and down the ladder.

‘Be careful,’ Azelio pleaded.

The advice was redundant, but Ramiro took no offence. Azelio had been nurturing the things for six years – and tending to them while they were spinning in their tethered pods had probably been the most arduous task that any of the crew had faced.

Azelio brought out a dozen of the plants to start with. The wheat was a miniature variety that he’d succeeded in maintaining at a staggered set of stages in its growth cycle, allowing him to compress the time needed to assess its viability in Esilian soil. Instead of waiting a year to be sure that it could survive from sowing to harvest, in one-twelfth of that time they’d watch each representative plant advance from its initial level of maturity to that from which another had started.

Ramiro looked over the collection assembled beside the airlock. ‘And these are all going in the same kind of soil?’

‘Yes. Just a few saunters away. I’ve already chosen the spot.’