“Why exactly are we here?” the android Parinherm asked, looking round the pleasantly wide, softly carpeted and very slightly curving corridor they’d found on exiting the lift. The corridor’s white-with-a-hint-of-blue walls glowed very gently with the fake daylight of a lightly overcast day and were covered in thin grooves, some of which indicated doorways with hermetic-quality shut-lines.

“You are here to protect Ms Cossont,” the ship’s avatar explained, also looking round. “She is here because she is looking for something.”

“May I help?” the android asked brightly. Like Cossont and Berdle, it wore well-cut if nondescript civilian clothes. Cossont wore a thick necklace of what looked like brushed silver.

“Just be prepared to step in to protect Ms Cossont,” Berdle told it patiently, “in case I am unable to.”

Parinherm stared at the avatar. “You are remarkably opaque to my senses,” he remarked. “What are you?”

“An avatar, Parinherm,” Berdle said, smiling. “Surely you guessed that?”

“Yes,” Parinherm said, nodding. “Good to have it confirmed. Would this be a joint Culture–Gzilt scenario?”

Berdle nodded. “Feel free to treat it as such.”

“And I,” Cossont said, “am a human. With a low boredom threshold. I’m almost starting to regret leaving Pyan back on the ship.” She spread all four arms. “Can we … do something?”

Berdle nodded. “We’re going to have to,” it said. “There’s nothing coming back.” He smiled at Cossont. “This will require you to make an official request to locate and retrieve your property from the facility.”

“Yippee. Do I have to fill out a form?”

“You have to submit a formal application five days in advance,” Berdle told her.

She stared at him. “Five days? I assume you have some clever—”

“The formal application was emplaced two seconds ago,” the avatar told her. “Suitably, if illegally, back-dated.” Berdle bowed. “Please follow me,” he said, turning on his heel.

“Ms Cossont,” the Executive Recoupments Officer said, coming to stand before them. He nodded at her companions, bowed to her. The waiting area was extensive, pale, lush with potted plants, filled with the sound of water trilling in fountains and pools and dotted with very comfortable seating. Cossont lounged in what she trusted was a suitably proprietorial fashion, upper arms spread, her lower set concealed by her formal jacket, legs crossed, a small shoulder bag lying on her lap. Berdle and the android had chosen to remain standing, looking slowly about all the time. “May we offer you a beverage?”

“No, thank you.”

“I wasn’t even aware there were any arrivals today,” the Incast officer said, glancing at a projected screen hanging in mid-air down and to one side of his straight-ahead sight-line.

“Ms Cossont arrived by private craft,” Berdle said smoothly.