I bolted across the remaining open space, slipped between two of the cabins and made for the nearest outcropping of Martian alloy, where it rose out of the rock like a tree root five metres thick. The archaeologues had left a set of metal steps bolted into the ground beside it. I took them three at a time and stepped onto the outcropping, boots slithering on alloy the colour of bruises. I steadied myself against a bas-relief technoglyph facing that formed the side of the closest cantilever support as it extended outward into the air. The support was at least ten metres high, but a couple of metres to my left there was a ladder epoxied to the bas-relief surface. I grabbed a rung and started climbing.

More shouts from back among the cabins. No shooting. It sounded as if they were checking corners, but I didn’t have the time to crank up the neurachem and make sure. Sweat jumped from my hands as the ladder creaked and shifted under my weight. The epoxy hadn’t taken well to the Martian alloy. I doubled my speed, reached the top and swung off with a tiny grunt of relief. Then I lay flat on top of the cantilever support, breathing and listening. Neurachem brought me the sounds of a badly organised search thrashing about below. Someone was trying to shoot the lock off one of the cabins. I stared up at the sky and thought about it for a moment.

“Dig? You there?” Voice a murmur.

“I am in communication range, yes.” The construct’s words seemed to come out of the air beside my ear. “You need speak no louder than you are. I assume from the situational context you do not wish me to become visible in your vicinity.”

“You assume right. What I would like you to do is, on my command, become visible inside one of the locked-up cabins down there. Better yet, more than one if you can handle multiple projections. Can you do that?”

“I am enabled for one-to-one interaction up to and including every member of the original Dig 301 team at any given time, plus a guest potential of seven.” It was hard to tell at this volume, but there seemed to be a trace of amusement in the construct’s voice. “This gives me a total capacity of sixty-two separate representations.”

“Yeah, well, three or four should do for now.” I rolled with painstaking care onto my front. “And, listen, can you project as me?”

“No. I can choose among an index of personality projections, but I am not able to alter them in any way.”

“You have any males?”

“Yes, though fewer options than—”

“Alright, that’s fine. Just choose a few out of the index that look like me. Male, about my build.”

“When do you wish this to commence?”

I got my hands positioned under me.

“Now.”

“Commencing.”