“No? How unhealthy. How easily we wrap ourselves up in our own concerns, eh? How easily we detach from the wider scheme of life as it’s lived by the majority.” He leaned forward to collect the furthest dishes and I handed them to him. “Thank you. Next week, the end of next week, is Konrad Harlan’s birthday. In Millsport, celebration will be mandatory. Fireworks and festivities without mercy. The chaos of humans at play.”

Brasil got it before me. His face lit up. “You mean …?”

Koi smiled gently. “My friend, for all I know this might well really be it, as you rather cryptically describe it. But whether it is or not, I can tell you now we are really going to do this. Because we really have no other choice.”

It was what I wanted to hear, but I still couldn’t quite believe he’d said it. On the ride south, I’d imagined I might get Brasil and Vidaura, maybe another few of the neoQuell faithful, to weigh in on my side whatever the holes in their wish fulfillment. But Brasil’s data shrapnel story, the way it fitted the New Hok detail and the understanding that it came from someone who knew, who’d been there, the meeting with this small, self contained man and his serious approach to gardening and food—all this was pushing me towards the vertiginous edge of a belief that I’d been wasting my time.

The understanding that I hadn’t was almost as dizzying.

“Consider,” said Koi, and something seemed to have changed in his voice. “Maybe this ghost of Nadia Makita is exactly that, a ghost. But is not a woken and vengeful ghost enough? Has it not already been enough for the oligarchs to panic and disobey the binding covenants of their puppet masters back on Earth? How then can we not do this? How can we not take back from their grip this object of their terror and rage?”

I traded another look with Brasil. Raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t going to be easy to sell,” the surfer said grimly. “Most of the ex-Bugs will fight if they think it’s Quell they’re going to get, and they’ll talk the others round. But I don’t know if they’ll do it for a woken ghost, however fucking vengeful.”

Koi finished clearing the plates, took up a napkin and examined his hands. He found a ribbon of chainberry juice caught around one wrist and cleaned it off with meticulous attention. His gaze was fixed on the task as he spoke. “I will speak to them, if you wish. But in the end, if they have no conviction of their own, Quell herself wouldn’t ask them to fight, and nor will I.”

Brasil nodded. “Great.”

“Koi.” Suddenly, I needed to know. “Do you think this is a ghost we’re chasing?”