“I was useful to them. I could go places without people staring and pointing. So when they found me, they recruited me, honorary Nissa agent, right?” Mal said. “Only they don’t own me, and they can’t control me. I can make things work too, now. And they don’t like conflict, either. So I bloody get away with it.” Another taut grin, which Lee tried to match. Her hand crept towards Mal’s, feeling as though she was reaching across more than mere physical distance. The return grip was strong, calloused, unbelievably welcome. The Girl Who Came Back.

She looked about the room, feeling the invisible machinery as though it towered over them, past the suspended ocean giant to the twin row of skylights in the ceiling. There was one other non-Stig, besides themselves and Khan: a white woman with fair hair. She was sitting on the ground and hugging her knees, plainly not wanting to be there. The nearest Stig was keeping an eye on her.

“Who—?” she asked.

“No idea,” Mal said. “Not security or staff. Last I heard—”

The room shivered and Mal stopped speaking. There was a drop in temperature that had frost sparkling on the columns and glass cases.

“Mal,” Lee whispered. “What are they doing here?”

“Great experiment. Trying to seal a load of fractures between the worlds, all at once, then see if it sticks. This mob here, and probably another lot on their side. Close the doors between the parallels, hopefully with everyone on the ‘right’ side of them. Heal the universe, right? Or fuck it up some more. Although from what I hear, there’s not much more up left to fuck.”

II

Julian had anticipated having to break into the museum’s side entrance, but someone had already crowbarred the lock, with enough twisted damage to suggest they hadn’t been subtle about it.

He coaxed the door open, ready for any sudden movement, but the hall beyond was still as the grave. Slipping in, he took cover by the security desk, glancing at the exhibits leering from their shadowy nooks: here a Pteranodon skeleton spread out as though for autopsy, there a sand-blasted baby rhinoceros tipped on its back, withered stumpy legs in the air.

The side entrance lacked the grand hall and immediate access to the dinosaur wing, but the place’s interior designers had done their best to impress. Beyond the poised skeleton of a Stegosaurus, bony tail raised high in threat, a stilled escalator led into a globe of jagged metal plates. An Earth, Julian thought grimly, either coalescing or shattering into pieces.

The corpse on the floor probably wasn’t a regular exhibit.