I smiled back. Got up from the chair. “You know, Sylvie, part of me really wants to tell you. But—”

“Alright, alright—”

“—it’s a part of me I’ve learnt not to trust.”

“Very witty.”

“I try. Look, I’m going to go check a couple of things outside before it starts getting dark. Be back in a while. You think you still owe me for the Beards, do me a small favour while I’m gone. Try to forget I came on quite as crass as I did just now. I’d really appreciate that.”

She looked away, at the datacoil. Her voice was very quiet.

“Sure. No problem.”

No, there’s a problem. I bit back the words as I made my way to the door. There really fucking is. And I still have no idea what to do about it.

The second call picks up almost at once. A brusque male voice, not interested in talking to anyone.

“Yeah?”

“Yaroslav?”

“Yeah.” Impatiently. “Who’s this?”

“A little blue bug.”

Silence opens like a knife wound behind the words. Not even static to cover it.

Compared to the connection I had with Lazlo, the line is crystal clear. I can hear the shock at the other end.

“Who is this?” His voice has shifted completely. Hardened like sprayed evercrete.

“Enable the videofeed, I want to see a face.”

“Wouldn’t help you much. I’m not wearing anything you’d recognise.”

“Do I know you?”

“Let’s just say you didn’t have much faith in me when I went to Latimer, and I lived up to that lack of faith perfectly.”

“You! You’re back on the World?”

“No, I’m calling from orbit. What the fuck do you think?”

Long pause. Breathing on the line. I look up and down the Kompcho wharf with reflexive caution.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

Another hesitation. “She’s not here.”

“Yeah, right. Put her on.”

“I mean it. She left.” There’s a catch in the throat as he says it—enough to believe him. “When did you get back?”

“A while ago. Where’s she gone?”

“I don’t know. If I had to guess…” His voice dies off in breath blown through slack lips. I shoot a glance at the watch I ransacked from the bunker in the Uncleared. It’s been keeping perfect time for three hundred years, indifferent to human absence. After years of chipped-in time displays, it still feels a little odd, a little archaic.

“You do have to guess. This is important.”

“You never told anyone you were coming back. We thought—”

“Yeah, I’m not much for homecoming parties. Now guess. Where’s she gone?”

I can hear the way his lips tighten. “Try Vchira.”

“Vchira Beach? Oh, come on.”

“Believe what you like. Take it or leave it.”

“After all this time? I thought—”