the Convention employee?’ ‘We dealt with him, yes. Do you want to see him?’ ‘I imagine it might amuse my guests. Why not?’ H shrugged, as if all that was being debated was whether to have afternoon tea now rather than later. ‘I’ll fetch him,’ Zebra said. She turned around and clicked into the distance. Another pair of footsteps approached. Clavain corrected himself. It was really two pairs of footsteps, but which fell in near-perfect synchrony. It was the two huge mouthless men wheeling a chair between the settees. Antoinette was sitting in the chair, looking tired but alive. She had many bandages on her hands and forearms. ‘Clavain…’ she started to say. ‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘And pleased to hear that you’re well. I’m sorry to learn that there was trouble on my account. I sincerely hoped that when I left, that would be the last of it for you.’ ‘Life’s just never that simple, is it?’ Antoinette said. ‘I suppose not. But I’m sorry all the same. If I can make amends, I will.’ Antoinette looked at Xavier. ‘You’re OK? She said you were, but I didn’t know if I should believe her.’ ‘I’m fine,’ Xavier told her. ‘Right as rain.’ But neither of them had the energy to get out of their chairs, it seemed. ‘I didn’t think I’d manage it,’ Antoinette said. ‘I was trying to get your heart started, but I didn’t have the strength. I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, so I gave it one last try. I guess it worked.’ ‘Actually, it didn’t,’ H said. ‘You passed out. You’d done your best, but you’d lost a lot of blood yourself.’ ‘Then who… ?’ H nodded at Scorpio. ‘Our friend the pig saved Xavier. Didn’t you?’ The pig grunted. ‘It wasn’t anything.’ Antoinette said, ‘Maybe not to you, Mr Pink. But it made a hell of a difference to Xavier. I suppose I should say thank you.’ ‘Don’t cut yourself up over it. I’ll live without your gratitude.’ ‘I’ll still say it. Thanks.’ Scorpio looked at her and then grunted something unintelligible before looking away. ‘What about the ship?’ Clavain said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. ‘Is the ship OK?’ Antoinette looked at H. ‘I guess it isn’t, right?’ ‘Actually, she’s fine. As soon as Xavier was conscious, Zebra asked him to instruct Storm Bird to fly on automatic pilot to some coordinates we provided. We have secure holding facilities in the Rust Belt, vital for some of our other operations. The ship is intact and out of harm’s way. You have my word on that, Antoinette.’ ‘When can I see it again?’ ‘Soon,’ H said. ‘But exactly how soon I am not willing to say.’ ‘Am I a prisoner, then?’ Antoinette asked. ‘Not exactly. You are all my guests. I would just rather you did not leave until we have all had a chance to talk. Mr Clavain may have his own opinion on the matter, perhaps justifiably, but I think it is fair to say that some of you owe me for saving your lives.’ He held up a hand, cutting off any objections before anyone had a chance to speak. ‘I do not mean that I hold any of you in debt to me. I merely ask that you indulge me with a little of your time. Like it or not,’ and he glanced at all of them in turn, ‘we are all players in something larger than any of us can readily grasp. Unwilling players, perhaps, but then it has always been thus. By defecting, Mr Clavain has precipitated something momentous. I believe we have no option but to follow events to their outcome. To play, if you like, our predetermined roles. That includes all of us — even Scorpio.’ There was a squeaking sound, accompanied by more of the metronomic clicking. Zebra had returned. Ahead of her she propelled an upright metal cylinder the size of a large tea urn. It was burnished to a high gleam and sprouted all manner of pipes and accoutrements. It sat propped on the cushion of a wheelchair, the same kind that Antoinette had arrived in. The cylinder was, Clavain noticed, rocking slightly from side to side, as if something inside was struggling to escape. ‘Bring it here,’ H said, gesturing Zebra forwards. She wheeled the cylinder between them. It was still wobbling. H leaned over and rapped it softly with his knuckles. ‘Hello there,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘Nice that you could make it. Do you know where you are, I wonder, or what has happened to you?’ The cylinder wobbled with increasing agitation. ‘Let me explain,’ H said to his guests. ‘What we have here is the life-support system of a Convention cutter. The pilot of a cutter never leaves his spacecraft for his entire term of service, which can be many years. To reduce mass, most of his body is surgically detached and held in cold storage back at Convention headquarters. He doesn’t need limbs when he can drive a proxy via a neural interface. He doesn’t need a lot of other things, either. They are all removed, labelled and stored.’ The cylinder lurched back and forth. Zebra reached down and held it steady. ‘Whoah,’ she said. ‘Inside this cylinder,’ H said, ‘is the pilot of the cutter responsible for the recent unpleasantness aboard Miss Bax’s spacecraft. Nasty little fellow, aren’t you? What fun it must be, terrifying innocent crews who have done nothing worse than violate a few silly old laws. What larks.’ ‘It isn’t the first time we’ve done business,’ Antoinette said. ‘Well, I’m afraid our guest has gone just a little bit too far this time,’ H said. ‘Haven’t you, old fellow? It was a simple matter to detach your life-support core from the rest of the ship. I hope it didn’t cause you too much discomfort, although I imagine there must have been no little pain as you were disconnected from your ship’s nervous system. I’ll apologise for that now, because torture really isn’t my business.’ The cylinder was suddenly very still, as if listening. ‘But I can’t very well let you go unpunished, can I? I am a very moral man, you see. My own crimes have sharpened my sense of ethics to a quite unprecedented degree.’ He leaned close to the cylinder, until his lips were almost kissing the metal. ‘Listen carefully, because I don’t want there to be any doubt in your mind as to what is to happen to you.’ The cylinder rocked softly. ‘I know what I need to do to keep you alive. Power
