‘We’ve done what we could,’ Khouri said, with a trace of defensiveness. Clavain held up a hand. ‘I know. Given your constraints, you did well to get as many off the surface as you’ve managed to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do a lot better now. The wolf weapon — the Inhibitor device — has nearly bored its way through to the heart of Delta Pavonis. There simply isn’t time for any other plan. With Storm Bird we’d need only fifty return trips. Maybe fewer, as Antoinette says. Forty, perhaps. She’s right — it’s an ark. And it’s a fast one.’ Volyova let out a sigh as old as time. ‘If only it were that simple, Clavain.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘We aren’t simply moving faceless units off the surface of Resurgam. We’re moving people. Frightened, desperate people.’ The grey goggles tilted a fraction. ‘Aren’t we, Khouri?’ ‘She’s right. It’s a mess down there. The administration…’ ‘Before, there were just two of you,’ Clavain said. ‘You had to work with the government. But now we have an army, and the means to enforce our will. Don’t we, Scorpio?’ ‘We can take Cuvier,’ the pig said. ‘I’ve already looked into it. It’s no worse than taking a single block of Chasm City. Or this ship, for that matter.’ ‘You never did take my ship,’ Volyova reminded him. ‘So don’t overestimate your capabilities.’ She turned her attention to Clavain and her voice became sharper, more probing than it had been upon his arrival. ‘Would you seriously consider a forced takeover?’ ‘If that’s the only way to get those people off the planet, then yes, that’s exactly what I’d consider.’ Volyova looked at him craftily. ‘You’ve changed your tune, Clavain. Since when was evacuating Resurgam your highest priority?’ He looked at Felka. ‘I realised that the possession of the weapons was not quite the clear-cut issue I’d been led to believe. There were choices to be made, harder choices than I would have liked, and I realised that I had been neglecting them because of their very difficulty.’ Volyova said, ‘Then you don’t want the weapons, is that it?’ Clavain smiled. ‘Actually, I still do. And so do you. But I think we can come to an agreement, can’t we?’ ‘We have a job to do here, Clavain. I’m not just talking about the evacuation of Resurgam. Do you honestly think I’d leave the Inhibitors to get on with their business?’ He shook his head. ‘No. As a matter of fact, I already had my suspicions.’ ‘I’m dying, Clavain. I have no future. With the right intervention I might survive a few more weeks, no more than that. I suppose they might be able to do something for me on another world, assuming anyone still retains a pre-plague technology, but that would entail the tedious business of being frozen, something I have had quite enough of for one existence. So I am calling it a day.’ She raised a bird-boned wrist and thumped the bed. ‘I bequeath you this damned monstrosity of a ship. You can take it and the evacuees away from here once we’re done airlifting them from Resurgam. Here, I give it to you. It’s yours.’ She raised her voice, an effort that must have cost her more than he could even begin to imagine. ‘Are you listening, Captain? It’s Clavain’s ship now. I hereby resign as Triumvir.’ ‘Captain…?’ Clavain ventured. She smiled. ‘You’ll find out, don’t you worry.’ ‘I’ll take care of the evacuees,’ Clavain said, moved at what had just happened. He nodded at Khouri as well. ‘You have my word on that. I promise you I will not let you down, Triumvir.’ Volyova dismissed him with one weary wave of her hand. ‘I believe you. You appear to be a man who gets things done, Clavain.’ He scratched his beard. ‘Then there’s just one other thing.’ ‘The weapons? Who gets them in the end? Well, don’t worry. I’ve already thought of that.’ He waited, studying the series of abstract grey curves that was the Triumvir’s bed-ridden form. ‘Here’s my proposal,’ she said, her voice as thin as the wind. ‘It happens to be non-negotiable.’ Then her attention flicked to Antoinette again. ‘You. What did you say your name was?’ ‘Bax,’ Antoinette said, almost stuttering on her answer. ‘Mm.’ The Triumvir sounded as if this was the least interesting thing she had heard in her life. ‘And this ship of yours… this freighter… is it really as large and fast as is claimed?’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’ ‘Then I’ll take it as well. You won’t need it once we’ve finished evacuating the planet. You’d just better make sure you get the job done before I die.’ Clavain looked at Bax, and then back to the Triumvir. ‘What do you want her ship for, Ilia?’ ‘Glory,’ Volyova said dismissively. ‘Glory and redemption. What else did you imagine?’ Antoinette Bax sat alone on the bridge of her ship, the ship that had been hers and her father’s before that, the ship that she had loved once and hated once, the ship that was as much a part of her as her own flesh, and knew that this would be the last time. For better or for worse, nothing would be the same from this moment on. It was time to finish the process that had begun with that trip from Carousel New Copenhagen to honour a ridiculous and stupid childhood vow. For all its foolishness it had been a vow born out of kindness and love, and it had taken her into the heart of the war and into the great crushing machine of history itself. Had she known — had she had the merest inkling of what would happen, of how she would become embroiled in Clavain’s story, a story that had been running for centuries before her birth and which would see her yanked out of her own environment and flung light-years from home and decades into the future — then perhaps she might have quailed. Perhaps. But she might also have stared into the face of fear and been filled with an even more stubborn determination to do what she had promised herself all those years ago. It was, Antoinette thought, entirely possible that she would have done just that. Once a stubborn bitch, always a stubborn bitch — and if that wasn’t her personal motto, it was about time she adopted it. Her father might not have approved, but she was sure that in his heart of hearts he would have agreed and perhaps even admired her for it. ‘Ship?’ ‘Yes, Antoinette?’ ‘It’s all right, you know. I don’t mind. You can still call me Little Miss.’ ‘It was only ever an act.’ Beast — or Lyle Merrick, more properly — paused. I did it rather well, wouldn’t you say?‘ ‘Dad was right to trust you. You did look after me,
