Off the ocean, straight up some shabby, effluent-poisoned beach somewhere at the north end of Vchira, out of sight, but barely, of the Newpest suburb skyline whose shanties supplied the poison by piped outflow. No one stupid enough to come here to swim or fish, no one to see the blunt nosed, heavy-skirted skimmer come brazening through. Across the oil stained mudflats behind, through choked and dying float-foliage and then out onto the Expanse proper. Zigzag through the endless belaweed soup at standard traffic speeds to break the trail, three stops at different baling stations, each with haiduci-connected employees, and a change of heading after each one. Isolation and journey’s end at Segesvar’s home from home, the panther farm.

It took most of the day. I stood on the dock at the last baling station stop and watched the sun go down behind clouds across the Expanse like wrappings of bloodstained gauze. Down on the deck of the skimmer, Brasil and Vidaura talked with quiet intensity. Sierra Tres was still inside, trading haiduci gossip with the vehicle’s two-man crew last time I checked.

Koi was busy elsewhere, making calls. The woman in Oshima’s sleeve wandered round a bale of drying weed as tall as both of us and stopped beside me, following my gaze to the horizon.

“Nice sky.”

I grunted.

“It’s one of the things I remember about Kossuth. Evening skies on the Expanse. Back when I worked the weed harvests in ‘69 and ‘71.” She slid down into a sitting position against the bale and looked at her hands as if examining them for traces of the labour she was describing. “Of course, they kept us working ‘til dark most days, but when the light tipped over like this, you knew you were nearly done.”

I said nothing. She glanced up at me.

“Still not convinced, huh?”

“I don’t need to be convinced,” I told her. “What I have to say doesn’t count for much around here. You did all the convincing you needed to back there aboard Floating World.”

“Do you really think I would deceive these people deliberately?”

I thought about it for a moment. “No. I don’t think that’s it. But that doesn’t make you who you think you are.”

“Then how do you explain what has happened?”

“Like I said, I don’t have to. Call it the March of History if you like. Koi’s got what he wants.”

“And you? You haven’t got what you want out of this?”

I looked bleakly out at the wounded sky. “I don’t need anything I don’t already have.”

“Really? You’re very easily satisfied then.” She gestured around her. “So, no hope for a better tomorrow than this? I can’t interest you in an equitable restructuring of social systems?”

“You mean smash the oligarchy and the symbology they use to achieve dominance, hand power back to the people? That kind of thing?”