Cossont nodded. “I can certainly see the point of that.” She stopped, frowned. “You’ve invented a …?” She shook her head. “No, never mind.”

“I agree with Mr Berdle,” Eglyle Parinherm said. “However, I do detect a degree of discordant tonality.”

The android had been activated hours earlier, waking instantaneously on the bed platform where he’d been stored. He’d stared straight up and, in a deep, controlled voice said, “Unit Y988, Parinherm, Eglyle, systems checked, all enabled. Sim status ready, engaged, chron scale subjective one-to-one.”

“Hmm,” Berdle had said. It had tried turning the android off and on again a few times since, but to no avail.

Cossont flexed her fingers, stowed the instrument’s two bows in its case. “Discordant tonality about covers it,” she said.

“While you were playing,” Berdle said, “I found some screen of your mother.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Shall I …?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Two days after they’d left the Izenion system, Cossont had suddenly realised she ought to let her mother know she was okay. She’d asked the ship to get a message to Warib telling her that she was alive and well but couldn’t communicate directly.

“But I could arrange a direct communication quite easily,” the ship had told her.

“Could you really?” she’d said, eyes wide. “Anyway, as I was saying: alive and well but not able to communicate directly … um, don’t tell anybody I’ve been in touch, obviously, ah … hope you’re well … should see you before the Instigation.” She’d smiled at the very handsome Gzilt male that the avatar had become. “And tell her I’ve met an extremely good-looking and very powerful man, if you like. That’ll keep her happy.”

“Any customary sign-off?” Berdle had asked.

“Well, hers to me is usually, ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that!’ followed by the screen going blank, and mine is usually, ‘Um, you take care,’ because it sounds, well, caring, without necessitating the use of the word ‘love’.”

“Hmm,” the avatar had said. “Also, it’s a little un-personalised. As it stands, anybody could be sending her this, and she might suspect she is being lied to by a third party.”

Cossont had sighed. “I suppose. Well … tell her Pyan says hi, and … I’m keeping my natural hair colour.”

And now the ship had found some screen of Warib.

“This is from yesterday afternoon, on one of the channels on the cruise sea ship your mother inhabits,” Berdle told her, as a screen appeared in mid-air, level with where Cossont stood. She threw herself down into a chair. The virtual screen dipped, following her. Pyan flapped and flopped over to arrange itself on the lounger next to Cossont. Even Parinherm leaned over to get a better view. Cossont thought of requesting some privacy, then decided she didn’t care.