A civilian, she hadn’t been backed-up; one of those who believed life was lived all the more sweetly and more sensibly for knowing there was no second chance, while understanding, without ever really needing to think about it, that a society as sophisticated and mature as that of Gzilt made sudden accidental death almost unheard of anyway. So, it wasn’t her, and it would never be her.

And only three days to go anyway, he told himself again, so it didn’t really matter. He stumbled slightly as he walked in front of the silver creatures to the opening doors of the presidential chamber. He wondered who would have noticed.

Only three more days.

He walked into the hundreds-strong swirl of bizarrely accoutred aliens and milling, red-clad people thronging the presidential chamber.

“Septame, a word?” Marshal Chekwri said, touching him on one elbow to draw him slightly aside from the crowds surrounding the dais where the acting president was greeting the avatars.

“Of course, Chekwri, but I am busy.”

“As ever. However. Two things. First: the ships we had see off the Ronte reckon they’re heading for Vatrelles. I thought we might let that leak to our new allies the Liseiden.”

“What? Why?”

“Distraction. Something to fill the news, and, if they quarrel, then perhaps another reason to leave this squabbling reality behind, no? Reinforcement.”

“Yes, yes, all right. Is that all?”

“No. I did say two things. Some pleasant news.”

“Always welcome. What is it?” The marshal’s staffers and his own, headed by Solbli and Jevan, had created a space around them so they could talk with a degree of privacy.

Chekwri brought her mouth close to his ear. “We have a major asset in place somewhere it might come in useful.”

“Do we? That’s good. What, and where?”

“Where, is Xown. What, is the returned Churkun. It was off for a while there, thinking about Subliming early following the event at Ablate, but in the end it didn’t make the leap; wants to go with everybody else – isn’t that nice? – so reported to me, happily – always worth covering such possibilities in standing orders – and asked if it could be of use. So I sent it to Xown, because that was the last place the Culture ship and the absconded Ms Cossont seemed to be interested in.” The marshal drew back a little, winked at him. Winked! Had she done this before? Was this some new thing, some fresh loosening of behaviour and discipline ahead of the so-near-now Subliming? “The simulations backed me up, but it was my idea first. Always good to be proved right. Isn’t it, Septame?”

“Always,” he agreed.

“And I think this time we go in full force, gloves off, maximum strength, if called for, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, whatever you think fit.”