The grey ship flew. It left the Caul of Jupiter. None of the guns it passed turned to follow it; none of the ships holding station moved to mark its passing. Auspexes that looked at it found their augurs turning away, their questions answered by cipher codes that removed even the beginning of the question. On it flew, grey in the night, a shadow at the edge of sight, into the dark, towards the glimmer that was the sun.

Mersadie looked back at Jupiter as the gas giant shrank. An enhanced pane of vision had opened in front of the circular viewport. She could see the lights of void engagements. The ships of the invaders were coming from the outer system in growing force now.

‘The vanguard,’ said Loken softly, coming to stand beside her. She had not heard him enter. No hiss of door pistons or thump of locks, and his armour followed his movements without a sound.

The chamber that they waited in was small, but with a high ceiling and a lone viewport set into its wall. It was a small and quiet space, a refuge of solitude on a ship of whispers. The servitors that she had seen had been hooded in grey, and moved with fluidity and in silence. The ship itself did not growl or tremble with power but slid through the night seemingly without effort, gathering speed in silence.

Mersadie looked around at Loken, who nodded at the image of the orb of Jupiter.

‘The enemy have loosed jackals to harry our lines. The true force is still crossing the gulf from Uranus. It will be in battle range in hours.’ He let out a breath. ‘And then those lights will seem just the sparks falling before the inferno comes.’ She twitched and he looked around to meet her gaze. ‘The humans you brought from Uranus will be free of the planet’s sphere by then. They have been put on ships, and those ships sent out amongst the asteroid colonies.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, quietly.

‘It may not save them,’ said Loken. ‘There are no safe places any more. But you brought them as far as you could.’

Mersadie did not answer but looked around. Mori and Noon lay curled together beneath a blanket under the light of a glow-globe. They had refused to leave her, and so had come with her onto the grey ship. They had slept most of the time since then; perhaps they had succumbed to exhaustion and shock, or perhaps the sense that they had finally reached a place of safety had given them the gift of rest. That gift had not been given to Mersadie.

Things like the shadows of wolves had been waiting for her during the few moments in which she had closed her eyes.