‘I believe it is no more than can be attributed to many others on this station.’ She stood and took off her VC suit and underclothes, then headed for the shower. ‘Messina is as guilty as hell, as are also his core delegates and whatever staff implemented their decisions. But there must be members of staff, bodyguards, wives, husbands and children who are no more guilty than anyone else you’ll find out there.’ She pointed to the door leading to the control centre, before propelling herself into the shower booth.

The spray was good and hot, as she washed away the grime, clouding the water with soap till she seemed to be floating in a pool of milk. As she came out of the shower, she found Saul standing motionless, his gaze distant.

‘Forty-one delegates, plus Messina himself, have been involved in the decisions about sectoring, and the euthanizing of dissidents. All of those have blood on their hands, as do most of their staff and some of their family members. Most of the Executive present here are killers, too. However,’ he now focused his gaze on her, ‘how exactly do we measure guilt? They are all of them the product of a society where the only route to power and wealth was a career in government, and it was impossible to rise high anywhere in this regime without getting blood on your hands. Bucking the trend in any way would be suicidal, and altruism a fast route to poverty – and quite possibly to readjustment in an Inspectorate cell.’

‘Then the buck stops with Messina and his forty-one delegates,’ decided Hannah. ‘And anyone else who has directly ordered or committed an act of murder.’

Saul blinked. ‘That means thirty-eight more, then, according to their records.’

A tightness returned to Hannah’s stomach, but this time it wasn’t panic but a strange species of excitement – and awe. While just standing there, he must be processing hundreds of personnel files, running searches, decoding govspeak and assessing every one of all those people currently confined in Arcoplex One.

‘The others must be allowed to leave the arcoplex,’ she declared.

‘What do I do with them?’ he shot back.

‘Assign them quarters and find them work to do throughout the station. Give them a chance to redeem themselves.’

Saul gave a doubtful sneer. ‘Generally, their skills aren’t of the kind the station requires. These people are bureaucrats now deprived of their natural environment of endless micromanagement and interference.’

‘Then they must be retrained on the basis of whatever other skills they possess.’

‘Very well.’ Saul headed for the door. ‘But you still haven’t told me what you want done with the remaining seventy-nine.’