Dover, October Y37 (Autumn)

Salvatore stood in front of the bathroom door, unsure whether he should offer his help or if Hester might prefer him to go away. From the sound of things, she probably wanted him to go away.

"What's Mamma doing?" chirped a little voice behind him.

Salvatore turned to find his eldest daughter Solvikt looking up at him with wide brown eyes. She was still in her night dress and stood twiddling her long sandy hair around her fingers, obviously waiting for an answer. An ungainly sound of retching emanated from the bathroom door and Salvatore hastily picked Solvikt up.

"Come on, let's go back to have breakfast," he said, carrying the child into the dining room.

"Why?" asked Solvikt.

"Because good little girls need food so they can grow big and strong."

"Why?"

Salvatore placed Solvikt on her chair beside Bruno's high chair. Evidently pleased to see his father back in the room, Bruno waved his arms, flicking a wad of porridge into Solvikt's hair. The little girl started to wail, picking the sticky hot mess out of her hair and onto her night dress and the floor.

"Here, I'll clean that up for you," exclaimed Salvatore, hastily getting a tea towel. "Don't touch it, Solvikt! Let me."

Solvikt obediently sat still while Salvatore wiped the porridge out of her hair. He could tell she was livid with anger, though; in fact, she was radiating waves of intense hatred towards her little brother. Like her father, Solvikt had moderate empathic abilities, and being only three years old, she liked to use them. Now Bruno started to cry, evidently upset by the emotions his sister was projecting. As if in sympathy, five-month-old Rachel, who should have been asleep in her pram, suddenly started to holler as well.

"Oh shut up, the lot of you," said Salvatore half-heartedly. Having children was more exhausting than he had ever realised when he got married.

He threw the dirty tea towel into the laundry basket and then set about calming the infants. This required him to concentrate intently on each child in turn and try to project calming emotions. He had never used his powers voluntarily before, but he had found from early in Solvikt's life that he had the ability to quieten the babies if he concentrated hard enough. He avoided the method as much as possible but with Hester so sick, he wanted the children quiet.

"Glad to see you have everything under control," he heard Hester say.

She walked over to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Salvatore was leaning over to spoon feed Bruno, but he kept an eye on Hester as well. She looked very pale and weak.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Awful. I just can't stand the smell of that porridge."

Salvatore was about to say that porridge had no smell, but he knew that would be pointless. He knew from past experience that Hester's sense of smell seemed to grow more acute in the first trimester.

"It's just as well you're not coming with me," he said, wiping Bruno's chin as the boy dribbled his porridge. Salvatore looked up at Hester again. "If you like, I could stay here. It isn't as if I have to go. I only wanted to go because I thought you and I could enjoy a break after Rachel's birth... and since you're not coming, it seems a bit pointless to go over there."

Hester was preparing to feed Rachel. The baby was only very recently weaned and still objected to being offered a bottle instead of her mother's breast. Salvatore could feel Rachel's irritation even from where he was standing.

"I think you should go," said Hester once Rachel had finally accepted the bottle. "We've both been very active on the political forum, and it would be a shame if neither of us was there."

"But you --"

Hester smiled. "I know that's not what I said the other day, but I was upset and I really do want you to go. I wanted to go too, but the last thing I want is an atmospheric flight right now. Your mother has promised to look after the kids, so maybe I can have a rest." She yawned and looked down at Rachel with a sigh. "I could do with a rest."

"Oh, Hester. I feel so bad about this."

"It's my fault as much as yours," she said affectionately, shaking her head. "Goodness knows Halima told us often enough that breast-feeding isn't a method of contraception. Anyway, another reason I think you'd be better off at Bedrock is that I still haven't told Mama what's happened. She will kill you if you're around when she finds out."

"Oh yes, me and my wicked Catholic ways, right? She thinks that under my veneer of Alphan civilisation, I'm just a chauvinist pig who wants to confine you to a life of slavery and baby-making."

Hester wiped Rachel's mouth and offered her the bottle again before glancing up at Salvatore. "Something like that," she said. "Mama's already having a fit because Sarah and Blake are having another kid. God forbid that any of Mama's girls should give birth more than three times!"

The couple exchanged a warm smile. Their lives had been turned upside down by the arrival of the children; they got little sleep, rarely had any appetite for sex, and seemed to spend most of their waking hours when they weren't at work running after or worrying about the children. But in spite of all this, Salvatore was happy. Exhausted, but happy. He loved Hester and he adored his children. And although Hester had probably found their first four years together even more exacting than he had, Salvatore knew that she was happy too. Now that his empathic abilities were rekindled, he could sometimes feel her pride and contentment when she was with him and their children.

"I get down now!" exclaimed Solvikt suddenly, wriggling off her seat.

Salvatore caught her before she got down and checked that she had finished her porridge. She had left some, but not enough to warrant a scene. "You can get down, but what do you say first?"

Solvikt scowled at him, annoyed at being interrupted when she wanted to run off and do something else. "Please," she muttered.

"Good girl." Salvatore let go of her. It wasn't long before Bruno was also agitating to be let out, anxious to rush out to the bedrooms and see what exciting things Solvikt was doing without him.

Having let the two eldest children wander off, Salvatore turned his attention back to his wife.

"Hester... if you can't do this, you don't have to," he said softly. "I don't want you to go through with this pregnancy if you're not ready. I mean, I'll do everything I can to help look after the children, but I know having three small kids is already a strain on you, and having four will just be worse."

Hester nodded and put Rachel back in her cot. "I know. I've been thinking about that too. I know I'll be feeling better in a month or two, but then I'll be too big to carry Rachel and I already found it a strain to look after Bruno and Solvikt when I was expecting her. On the other hand, if there's nothing wrong with the child..."

"...Alpha needs all the healthy children it can get?" completed Salvatore. "Hester, you don't owe Alpha anything."

"What would you like me to do?"

"Well..." Salvatore sighed. "Ideally, I'd want you to have the child. But I don't like seeing you so sick and tired like this. I don't want the kids to have an unhappy mother when they don't have to."

Hester shook her head. "I'm not going to have an abortion just for my convenience. You remember that book The Diary Of A Mad Housewife, when the husband told his wife that if she's going to spend 80% of her time looking after one child, she might as well spend 90% of her time looking after two? I need to look at things in the same way. One more won't make that much difference."

"You sound like Aisha," said Salvatore. "Oh, I thought we had it all under control. I guess nature had some other plans for us."

"I know." Hester made a face. "Aisha was obviously right. Once you start having children, it gets easier to have more. Not that we've ever had problems. Still, at least this child will be getting the best parents ever."

"But is Alpha really ready for a fourth little psychic Psychon?" said Salvatore brightly. He kissed Hester's cheek. "I'll only be gone a week. I'll be back and hypnotising the kids to sleep before you know it. Get the grandmas to babysit and have a rest while I'm gone, OK? Do something about your colour and those bags under your lovely eyes."

Hester laughed. "All right, I promise to be more presentable when you come back."

Helena checked the kitchen cupboards one last time. She didn't want the children to be lacking anything while she was gone. The prospect of leaving the six children on their own for a whole week was daunting. But aside from the two youngest, Trevor and Zaineb, they were all over ten years old, and Helena was hopeful that they would come to no harm with both their uncle Duncan and their aunt Layla checking on them every day or so.

Sophie came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with her arms folded, obviously annoyed at something.

"Daddy is such a jerk!" she muttered. "Inch'allah he'll bloody well stay at Bedrock!"

Helena turned to stare at her daughter. "Such language," she admonished. "Now what has your poor father done?"

For the past couple of years, Sophie seemed to really have it in for Karim. The two could barely talk without the conversation degenerating into an argument. Helena had exchanged a few messages on this issue with Mary Silberstein and was relieved to know that some teenage girls developed inexplicable antipathies to their fathers. It was a phase, apparently. Not that Sophie didn't have at least one good reason to dislike her father.

"He was going on at me about kissing Nick," said Sophie with an exaggerated sigh.

Helena nodded approvingly. "I should think he would, too! Nick is your first cousin."

"Oh, I know that. I'm not about to sleep with him," exclaimed Sophie. "Goodness, I'm not about to sleep with anyone. I only kissed Nick once, and the next thing I knew, Daddy came crashing down on us out of nowhere. As if he can lecture me on morality."

"It's not the same morality," said her mother. "It doesn't matter what you were doing. You shouldn't be doing it with your cousin. If you'd been kissing... Jean-Michel Castellano for instance, I'm sure your father wouldn't have intervened."

"Jean-Michel Castellano?" exclaimed Sophie, wrinkling her little Arab nose. "Ugh. Now there's someone who hasn't a hope in Hell."

Helena was surprised; she thought Jean-Michel was quite a handsome young boy. He and his older siblings, Celestine and Mohammed, were working at Dover for a tour of duty. Although Helena wasn't sure she wanted to be connected to the Castellanos, given not only their disreputable marriage but their indirect connection to Brenda Blackmore-Lameroux, she couldn't help worrying about her daughter's prospects. There was plenty of time for Sophie to find a lover or a husband, but the fact was that there were relatively few young boys her age, and their number wouldn't increase as she got older. Jean-Michel and Mohammed Castellano were among the small group, and Helena found herself sizing them up even at this young age. She had come to the conclusion that Jean-Michel was more attractive than Mohammed, though neither were to be sneezed at. On the other hand, there was no accounting for the taste of a fifteen-year-old girl.

"Besides, he's already dating someone," said Sophie, her black eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of having the last word.

"Well, anyway," said Helena drawing herself up to her full height and looking down at her daughter with all the authority of a parent. "I'm sure what your father was trying to tell you was to stay out of trouble while we're gone."

"I think I can spend a whole week without snogging or screwing anyone," said Sophie confidently. "In fact, I can probably hold out for years yet. I'm in no hurry. When the time comes, I know I'll be able to find someone just like that." She snapped her fingers.

I bet she will, thought Helena enviously. Given the respective genes of her parents, Sophie had been extremely fortunate. She had her father's large black eyes and little nose, with her mother's light coffee colouring and thick lips. Her figure seemed to belong to the Habibi side of the family, which was a mixed blessing, since it made her very curvaceous and no doubt prone to put on weight in later life. Helena took a guilty pleasure in this possible flaw of her daughter's. Try as she might, Helena couldn't help feeling jealous of Sophie's beauty. She knew her own life would have been very different if she had been as pretty as her daughter.

"Why are you going with Daddy anyway?" asked Sophie more seriously. "Making sure he doesn't take any mistresses with him?"

"Don't be stupid, Sophie," snapped Helena.

Helena did not want to discuss Karim's affairs with her daughter. She was furious at whoever had told the girl about her father's past infidelities, whoever truthful the revelations might have been. Helena felt it was something which should either be concealed forever, or only revealed once the children were adults themselves and could understand all the complexities of an adult relationship.

"What do you see in him?" asked Sophie, her face scrunched up in perplexity.

'Nothing' would have been a truthful answer, but Helena decided she could do better than that.

"Your father is a good man, regardless of what he might have done in the past. There's a lot more to any human being than their so-called 'moral conduct'. Karim is an excellent administrator, a very good father and believe it or not, an excellent husband in all the ways that matter. You have no right to talk about him the way you do. He's still your father and you should respect him."

"Great. R-E-S-P-E-C-T for adulterers." Sophie shook her head, obviously completely unconvinced. "Oh, speak of the devil."

"Talking about me, were you?" Karim came in and smiled hopefully at Sophie, though he elicited no response. The young girl merely tossed her head and sauntered out of the room.

"I see the starlet is throwing a tantrum again," said Karim with a sigh. "Making more disparaging comments about her morally-corrupt old man, right?"

"Right."

"I've tried to talk to her..." he started.

Helena huffed impatiently. She thought Karim wasted way too much time worrying about what Sophie thought of him.

"Don't worry, she'll get over it," she said. "Isn't it time to leave now?"

"Yep. Don't forget your anorak -- it's absolutely pouring out there."

This was not good news. Helena's hair always got frizzy when the air was humid. She followed Karim into the hallway and was pleasantly surprised when he handed her a hat. He evidently knew what was going through her mind. Yes, she thought to herself, Karim was a good husband in all the ways that counted.

"He looked as if he had energy to spare, so I sent Antonio down with our bags," said Karim as he helped Helena put her anorak on.

"He always has energy to spare," said Helena with an indulgent smile. Antonio was her favourite. "All right, children! We're off!"

As if by magic, all the children in the flat seemed to suddenly materialise in the hallway. All except Sophie put on their shoes and outdoor clothes and followed their parents down to the train station in the Dover bay. Before boarding the train, Karim scooped up Zaineb for a farewell kiss and then exchanged some secret hand message with Maya Souad.

"Come on," said Helena, tugging on Karim's sleeve to interrupt their private conversation. She found it very irritating to watch her husband communicating with their daughter in some language she didn't understand.

"Okay." Karim obediently got onto the train. "Are you sure Sophie will get over it?" he asked once they had left the station.

"Positive," promised Helena. "She might even be over it by the time we get back from Bedrock. If I could forgive you," she added in a lower voice, "then so can she!"

Jorge was supposed to be doing the last minute check of the Eagle, but instead, he was watching his wife. Becky didn't usually come to Koenigshafen to see Jorge off; he did the regular run between Dover and Bedrock up to several times a week, after all. He couldn't remember her ever coming to see her mother when Mrs Collins was leaving on a trip either. But this time, Becky had chosen to come to the terminal with him, and Jorge was under no illusions why. It was Karim she had come to see off.

Becky was talking to the Cadmin right now, her face lit up with a flirtatious smile as they presumably exchanged their usual banter. It sickened Jorge to think that he was married to this woman when it was so obvious what was going on. Becky spent most of her waking hours with Karim, and given the Cadmin's track record with women, Jorge had no doubts that at least some of those hours had to be spent in a bed somewhere.

It made him angry. He had sacrificed his own happiness for her. He had even given up on the idea of marrying the one woman he had met who might possibly have loved him. Becky had said he couldn't marry Sydney, so he hadn't married Sydney. And she repaid him for his sacrifice by cheating on him.

The obvious thing to do was to confront her about Karim, get her to admit her guilt and then divorce her to be spared the humiliation Helena Habibi had subjected herself to. But Jorge couldn't do that. He didn't have the courage to confront his beautiful headstrong wife, because he was too afraid of losing her. So instead, he put up with the situation, certain that she was unfaithful, but unwilling to deal with the truth.

"I've done all the checks," said Friedhelm, suddenly appearing from under the Eagle. "All systems are go."

"Yes... they always are."

Jorge tore his eyes away from his wife to look at the tall man beside him. "Come on, let's get this show on the road," he said, purposefully climbing up into the Eagle.

This was the signal for the passengers to assemble. Aside from Friedhelm and Jorge, there were seven passengers; not a bad load for a late Autumn trip. The weather was starting to turn bad, though it would be a few more months before the planet became completely uninhabitable. Bedrock wasn't a very popular destination when the weather was wet, but the denizens of the online Political Forum had apparently decided to hold their conference in neutral territory. The Dover representatives, Karim Habibi and Salvatore Verdeschi, were on this Eagle, as well as Helena Habibi, who was accompanying her husband, and Celestine Castellano who was presumably going to meet her parents at the conference.

The other passengers were Jorge's mother-in-law Mrs Collins and the old Najims. Like Friedhelm, they were on their way to the kapok plantation in the foothills of the Kano mountains. The precious but temperamental kapok plants grew extremely well in that region, so Ken Sauique had established a plantation there, with a small settlement of workers nearby. Lina Najim, Ken Sauique's wife, was expecting another child and her parents had decided to visit her before she came back to Dover for her confinement. Mrs Collins was going to the Sauique settlement to visit her son Matthew, but Friedhelm was due to do some actual work. Mary Osgood was over there to supervise some engineering works, and she needed her favourite dogsbody.

Dropping off the visitors at Sauique would mean making a detour from the usual flight path to Bedrock, but Jorge welcomed the diversion. He knew the way so well that he sometimes thought he should be able to do the two-hour journey to the resort with his eyes closed. His was the 'slow haul' from Dover to Bedrock on one of the original Eagles. Although it was first built back on Earth some fifty years earlier, the craft was still in excellent condition and it would have been a pity to simply discard it. Like its fellow Eagles, it had instead been retired to do atmospheric work on Loki; the more recent Falcon craft, formerly called Eagle-II, were used for everything else, from cargo hauls to off-world passenger transport. When the weather was good and demand was high, Jorge sometimes had to use a Falcon to do the Bedrock run, but the rest of the time, he liked to use this Eagle. He was beginning to consider it his personal property; he had even adorned the cockpit with pictures of his wife and daughter.

At the beginning of every trip, Jorge kissed his fingers and gently pressed the tips to the nearest picture of Colette. His wife would have scoffed at this little ceremonial, but Friedhelm, who had taken the co-pilot's seat to keep Jorge company, merely smiled approvingly. Jorge wasn't usually superstitious, though he did think there might be some truth in Kano's assertion that the planet was alive with a powerful spirit. Jorge stopped short at actually praying to this hypothetical presence, but he did feel that repeating the same gesture at the onset of each voyage might ward off bad luck. So far, it had worked. Invoking his little angel Colette had kept him safe for years. There was no reason why the gesture shouldn't continue to do so for many years to come.

"Can I interview you, Mr Habibi?" asked Celestine almost as soon as the Eagle had departed.

Karim smiled indulgently. Celestine was working as an operative in the Dover command centre. She was a plain girl, with a long face and small eyes, but with a vivacious intelligence and a great interest in the government of the settlement. Few native Doverians in the third generation had shown any interest in the management side of things, and Karim was thinking about asking Celestine to stay after her tour of duty was over.

"Oh, I was forgetting your ambition to be one of Alpha's first political journalists," he said. Celestine was a regular contributor to the political forum.

"Well, maybe not a journalist," said the young woman, leaning on the back of her seat. "I might decide to become a politician instead, just like you. Anyway, I'm sure the Political Forum would be interested to hear what you think will come of the conference. You were the very first person in the second generation to achieve some kind of political power, after all."

"I wouldn't call myself a politician, though."

"So what are you?"

"An administrator," he said. "I think a politician is more someone who actually seeks out power for its own sake. My job is merely to manage the day-to-day business of running the community."

"Okay, so can we start the interview?" Celestine looked down at her slate, evidently switching on the recording facility. "Interview with Karim Habibi, 5 October 37."

"Hello posterity," said Karim with a chuckle.

"Right, so... What do you think will come from this conference, Mr Habibi?"

"I think it should be pretty interesting," he answered. "With our second elections coming up, I'm looking forward to some in-depth discussions between the various political currents that are beginning to emerge. We're only just learning the rudiments of democracy, and it's important for people from all the different sites to coordinate their views and try to build some kind of consensus on the issues at hand."

"What issues do you think those will be?"

"Oh, something like 'Can Koenig Be Beaten?' will no doubt be a hot topic," said Karim with a grin.

Celestine also smiled; that was probably a subject of debate in the Castellano household. "Do you think there's a chance Koenig might lose?"

"No," he said honestly. "Not a hope in hell. I doubt Michel Castellano will even get a vote. I know I won't be advising my representatives to vote against Koenig, and I can't see any of their colleagues voting any differently than last time."

"You rat fink!" exclaimed Salvatore humorously from the other side of the Eagle. Everyone was obviously listening to the interview.

Karim laughed. "It sounds terrible, but much as I respect the opposition candidate, I wouldn't vote for him. Castellano is 75 years old; that's not a great improvement on Koenig. I might be more tempted if your father decided to stand, Celestine, or even your friend Delores, Sal. At least they're from my generation. But even then, given a choice between the 88-year-old devil we know and a bunch of newbie political theoreticians, I think I'd still stick with Koenig."

"Yeah, but he set it up that way," said Salvatore, climbing out of his seat to come over and join them. He sat down beside Celestine, kneeling on the seat so that he was facing the Habibis.

"Koenig has made sure no one stands a chance," he continued. "The other potential candidates are all theoreticians because no one in the second generation has been given a chance for a hands-on experience of Alpha's government. Koenig has persistently refused to groom a successor, even though he could have dropped dead decades ago. Even this so-called democracy he has set up is merely an excuse to hold on to power. When he introduced it, my understanding was that he was going to retire and let democracy select a successor. But no, instead, he continues to run for office, thereby completely scuppering anyone else's chances. Of course people keep voting for him; there's been no political system for any potential competitors to go through and make a name for themselves."

"Well, we have the political system now," said Karim, "and imperfect though it might be, it might give a few people a chance to make the grade. I think most people now know who Delores is, for example, and the increased exposure given to her and her beliefs might put pressure on the Council to moderate their views... Eventually."

Salvatore waved his hand angrily. "Now, there's another weak point of the system. Why is the Commander elected by a Council? The Council members are picked by people like yourself who have a vested interest in the status quo; their election by the voting class is just a formality. It's obvious that none of those councillors are then going to vote against the man who put them in power. Why isn't the Commander elected directly by the people?"

"Because the 'people' aren't necessarily qualified to pick the Alphan Commander," intervened Helena. "I mean, speaking purely for myself, I might have an informed opinion on who should be running the School Board, or even possibly the Dover settlement. But I'm definitely not entitled to pick the Commander. How would I know what criteria would make the best Commander! If I had a direct vote, I'd probably end up either re-electing Koenig because he is the Commander in my limited point of view, or I'd vote for the handsomest candidate or one who promised -- I don't know, more eggs for schoolchildren or something."

Salvatore rolled his eyes, but Karim spoke before he could answer. "Sal, I know exactly what you mean, and you have a point. Back on Earth, this political system probably wouldn't have qualified as a bona fide democracy. But Alpha has never been a democracy. We've never been taught how to handle civic rights and responsibilities. All our lives, we've been asked to follow a leader who was designated by some bureaucrats on Earth some fifty years ago. He's been an excellent leader all this time; of course we don't know how to choose a replacement for him! It'll take a long time before we're ready for real democracy. In the meantime, this is a transition period."

"In which every so-called election ends up being a plebiscite for the existing powers-that-be," said Salvatore disdainfully.

Helena got up and left to go to the toilet. Karim watched her go and then turned his attention back to the conversation.

"To be honest, I don't think any other political system would have yielded a different result," he said. "The only way an opposition candidate will get through is if Koenig dies or steps down. But since there's no such thing as an immortal human being, your friend Delores will get her chance some day."

Jorge read the display in front of him and then turned to look at Friedhelm, sitting in the seat to his left.

"Looks as if there's some bad weather on the mountains," he said thoughtfully. "Doesn't look too bad, but I wonder if we should make a detour."

"I don't know, this Eagle has been through worse," said Friedhelm. "And a detour won't take away from the fact we'll be landing in the pouring rain. We might as well go there straight and get it over with."

Jorge double-checked the meteorological data on his screen and nodded. Nearly twenty years of experience told him that the storms ahead represented little danger for the craft. If necessary, the Eagle could always rise above the turbulence and wait until the rain clouds had cleared away from the Kano mountains. He observed all the data at his disposal and made a decision.

"We'll be fine," he said confidently. "Just to be on the safe side, we can steer south. That'll get us away from the main storm front without getting us too close to the peaks. I'll give Dover a buzz and let know what we're doing."

"Sounds good to me," said Friedhelm, starting to program in the appropriate course correction. "I say, I wonder what all that lot are going to talk about at Bedrock."

"Politics."

Jorge didn't have much interest in political matters. Becky seemed obsessed with the Council and its biennial elections. She talked endless about people Jorge hadn't known about until recently, like Delores Doherty and Jean-Paul Castellano, and she was always poring over the bulletin boards, analysing the minutiae of every Council meeting. Jorge didn't care who was running Alpha as long as he had food and clothing for his daughter, a roof over his head, and a job to keep him occupied.

"Yeah. I guess they'll be talking about the elections," said Friedhelm. "I don't know why they bother to get so excited. I mean, it's obvious Koenig is going to win."

"They might as well elect him king and have done with it."

"Huh?"

"It's something Becky said."

"It's a good idea," said Friedhelm appreciatively. "I'm sure Alex would be a good successor for him. And their family name already means 'king' and all."

Jorge looked at Friedhelm with amusement. "Um, Friedhelm, I don't think Becky meant that literally."

The other man shrugged. "I still think it's a good idea. What's the point of replacing him with someone we don't know like that Doherty woman, when we already have him and we know his son will do just as well? All this politicking just means that people like Marion get resources for swanking around Alpha as Councillors instead of doing proper work."

Jorge was about to point out that Marion only got to 'swank' around Alpha a couple of times a year, and did most of her 'councilling' from Dover. But he didn't really want to discuss politics; he got quite enough of that from his wife at home. Instead, he turned on the Eagle's comm system and gave the Dover control centre their new flight path.

When Helena came out of the toilet, Karim was still discussing politics with Salvatore and Celestine. It wasn't Helena's favourite subject of conversation, so she opted to sit with the Najims and Mrs Collins instead. A nice chat with them about her children and their grandchildren would be better than another endless "Who can replace Koenig?" debate.

Helena sat down beside Mrs Collins, in the row in front of the Najims, on the left side of the Eagle. She looked significantly at her husband before turning back to the elderly couple and their colleague.

"It seems everyone has political fever these days," she said with a sigh. "I shudder to think what life will be like from now on if every second October is spent in political debates and speculation."

"It'll be just like back home," said Ellen Najim. "There were elections every two years in my country too. It was always the same people who got elected, and a lot of people seemed to have lost interest in voting by the time of Breakaway."

"I hope that doesn't happen here," said Tarik Najim. "When Alphans get the vote, I hope they will cherish it as the precious gift it is. I came from a democratic country which degenerated into war, both civil and external; my family and I were forced to leave. I can say that even in the face of the worst adversity, the right to choose and change your leader is essential to any civilised society. It's the difference between being oppressed and being the master of your own destiny."

"Right," said Helena noncommittally. The right to vote had probably meant something on Earth, but it meant nothing to her. "Well, believe me, I hear plenty about politics these days... Anyway, I'm sure you're all looking forward to seeing your respective children again." She included Mrs Collins in the statement by glancing at her.

Mrs Najim smiled tenderly. "Oh yes! It will be great to see Lina."

"I hear Lina is expecting again," said Helena. This was a subject she was interested in. "I thought they weren't having any more."

"Oh, Lina thought she didn't want any more children," said Mrs Najim, "but I really didn't see why they should stop at four. She has a wonderful husband; they should have as many children as they can." She patted her husband's hand. "We couldn't have as many children as we wanted, so we have to make up for it by having a lot of grandchildren."

"Regardless of where they come from," said Shermeen Collins in a low voice.

She was presumably referring to the Najim's insistence that their brain-damaged daughter Djemila proceed with a pregnancy even though it was obviously the result of a rape. Helena wasn't sure she approved of their decision either, but it was one of those unpleasantnesses of life which she preferred to ignore. None of her children were the same age as Djemila's twins, so she didn't need to worry about them associating with the offspring of a rapist.

"My daughter Sophie is going to be one of the stars of this winter's play," she announced. "She'll be playing Hero in Much Ado About Nothing. Of course, she'd much rather play Beatrice, but Basma decided she's much too young. I wasn't sure I wanted my daughter to play a part where she gets married and there's all sorts of innuendo about her sexuality, but on the other hand, it's only make-believe. And Shakespeare was such a revered author on Earth."

Everything Helena knew about Shakespeare came from half-remembered, half-hearted school lessons and the little Sophie had told her. Fortunately, neither the Najims nor Mrs Collins seemed keen to discuss the topic in any more depth.

"Your daughter is very beautiful," said Mrs Collins with a polite smile. "And she'll be a very good actress some day."

Mr Najim nodded. "She seems very bright, too, though. You should encourage her to learn a trade, instead of staying at school and spending so much time in rehearsals."

Helena frowned and shrugged her shoulders, annoyed at the criticism. It wasn't the first time someone has questioned Sophie's continued formal education. "Sophie is already learning a trade. She's learning about learning. She'll probably become a teacher later, or an administrator. Or who knows, she might grow up to rule Dover like her father. As far as important jobs are concerned, she'll learn more useful things in the classroom than in the fields."

That was obviously the worst thing she could have said to the Najims. Helena could tell from their expression that they were offended, though she didn't care. They had no power or authority over her; their two families weren't even remotely connected.

Even though she too had worked in agriculture, Mrs Collins didn't seem so concerned by Helena's remark.

"Education is very important," she agreed. "I wish I'd had a bit more of mine before I came to Alpha. Not that I regret the way my life turned out in the least, but there's so much to know about the world, whether this one or all the things that happened on Earth. It's easier to learn if you're doing it full time, rather than trying to do it while you're working on something else. And if Sophie wants to study, don't stop her. Antonio is already working part-time, isn't he?"

"Oh yes," said Helena proudly. "He's working with his aunt in the Computer section. She says he'll make a fine computer technician some day. So you see, not all our children are wasting their time," she added for the Najims' benefit.

"Antonio is very good at sports, too," said Mrs Collins. "Eddie was very fond of him."

Helena didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and pretended to be observing the cloudy view from the porthole beside Mrs Collins. Eddie Collins had died of a heart attack the previous year, and Helena preferred not to talk to people about their dead relatives; they tended to get emotional and she found that disturbing. Mrs Collins had put on quite a display of grief at her husband's cremation.

Helena couldn't imagine being so upset at Karim's death. She observed her husband, sitting across the aisle, and tried to imagine how she would feel if he were to drop dead from a heart attack. Upon reflection, she decided that she would probably be quite sad. He was a part of her life, after all, and the father of her children. She knew the children would be very upset if they lost him, and that thought made her think she would probably be pretty upset for their sake, too. Still, this wasn't something she needed to worry about. Karim was only thirty-six, and the very picture of health. With her luck, he'd probably live as long as Koenig -- another fifty years of marriage to look forward to. Helena smiled at Karim as he glanced in her direction. He smiled back before resuming his political debate with Salvatore and Celestine.

"...So Sylvia said 'why not?' and voilà, a new bedroom!" Friedhelm was saying. "With the addition of Florian, it was time we had more places to put all our kids. The partition works fine. I reckon it probably lets through some noise, but at least it gives Petra and Louisa some privacy. I think they were driving each other crazy. Of course, if Thi Hoa decides to move out next year, then we can give her room to Petra."

"Hmm." Jorge merely nodded noncommittally.

"But you see, even though Thi Hoa is eighteen next year, I don't think she'll be moving out. Not unless things get serious between her and her boyfriend. But it's really early days for that. Jean-Michel only asked her out a couple of weeks ago, and though she seems quite keen on him, it's difficult to tell. Anyway, I'm not in any hurry for Thi Hoa to leave us. We've got such a lovely family and I know I'd really miss having her at home."

Friedhelm paused, but Jorge decided not to say anything this time. Anyone who got Friedhelm as co-pilot was guaranteed to be regaled with endless stories of his large, happy family. It reminded Jorge why he usually preferred to do his Bedrock runs alone; he could listen to some music or let the computer read out selected bulletin board messages to him, both solitary activities which kept him entertained when he did his runs. He found it more difficult to concentrate with Friedhelm jabbering away beside him.

"Don't you ever regret only having one child?" continued Friedhelm.

He was obviously rambling mindlessly, so Jorge decided not to take offence. He seemed to remember having this conversation with Friedhelm once or twice before.

"We can't have any more children," he said shortly.

"I know. Sorry to bring it up again," said Friedhelm. "I was just wondering, you know."

Jorge smiled forgivingly. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind more children. But Colette is everything I've ever wanted. She's perfect." He looked at the picture beside him.

"Ah yes, your Colette is growing into a very pretty young lady, just like her mother."

"Yes, just like her mother..."

Jorge's voice trailed off as he thought about Becky, and Sydney. He could have had the large, happy family Friedhelm had, if only Becky had let him marry Sydney. The children wouldn't have looked like Becky, and that was a pity, but at least he would have had them. But Becky just couldn't stand the idea of him marrying again. Of course, he could understand that; it hadn't been the practice of his ancestors to have more than one spouse at a time, and virtually all the books and films in the Alphan library reinforced the monogamist principles of Christian societies on Earth. He also knew that Becky was merely reacting out of natural jealousy and he had decided to accept that as a compliment, a sign that she did love him after all. But Jorge also knew he would have been happy with Sydney, and some part of him resented Becky for denying him that happiness. Especially if it should turn out that she was also having it off with Karim Habibi!

With these dire thoughts in mind, it was a moment before Jorge noticed that his instruments indicated they had reached the storm front. The Eagle rocked as a strong wind hit it, but Friedhelm soon had the craft stabilised.

"I think I'll tell our passengers what's up," said Jorge, switching on the intercom. "This is your pilot Martinez talking. We'll be going through some turbulence for the next twenty minutes or so until we reach the Kano plantation. Nothing to worry about."

Seated in front of Karim in the passenger section, Salvatore thought the 'turbulence' was a lot worse than Jorge made it sound. He had always been prone to travel sickness, and the slightest rocking motion was liable to make him queasy. Now was no exception.

He tried his best not to show that he wasn't feeling well. He didn't want everyone to know that he was as sick as a small child. Celestine, who was sitting beside him, looked at him with concern.

"Are you all right, Salvatore? You look pale," she said.

Salvatore knew exactly what he looked like. He remembered being on a couple of rough Eagle trips before and seeing his own grey reflection in the toilet mirror. The same grey face he had had after trying to commit suicide.

He smiled awkwardly. "I'll be all right when the Eagle stops shaking," he admitted in a low voice.

Celestine's black eyes pleated with amusement. She was a pretty girl, at least by Salvatore's standards. Not too tall, creamy brown skin, straightened dark hair. She had her mother's generous figure, but her features bore the unmistakable hallmarks of a Castellano; a long face with a straight nose and black irises that seemed to completely fill her small eyes.

"I used to be travel sick when I was a child," she said in a low whisper. "Mamie couldn't take me anywhere on a travel tube without a plastic bag for me to throw up in."

"Mamie?" queried Salvatore.

"My grandmother, the other Celestine," she explained. "She and Papy more or less raised us."

"Oh, yes, of course." Salvatore remembered Aisha saying something about the old Castellanos doing a lot to look after their numerous grandchildren. Not exactly raising them, but at least helping out. Years ago, when Celestine and her siblings -- and her parents -- were young.

"Sorry, I've forgotten, how old are you now?" he asked her apropos of nothing.

"Nineteen," she said. She looked a little surprised by the question, and regarded Salvatore suspiciously, as if he was trying to chat her up.

"Oh right." Salvatore tried hard to concentrate on the conversation, in the hopes that this would make him forget his nausea. "Any boyfriends?"

"No. Not yet." Celestine was smiling, her black eyes scrunched up so that the whites didn't show at all. "I'm too busy to worry about men. Besides, there's plenty of time before Mr Right falls into my lap."

"Oh, I don't know. I met Hester when I was nineteen."

Celestine gave him another funny look as if to say that Hester must be a cradle snatcher. "Well, I suppose it's always possible that I might meet the man of my life sooner rather than later," she said. "But I've met quite a few people from Alpha and Dover, and Mr Right hasn't turned up yet."

"Maybe he's just hiding on Ceres II," suggested Salvatore.

This made Celestine laugh. "Oh no. Don't talk of bad luck!"

The conversation was a help, but Salvatore still felt queasy. The glands in his neck seemed to be secreting a sour bile that filled his mouth; or maybe it came from his stomach. The Eagle suddenly started to rock more violently and he felt downright nauseous. Another few minutes of shaking and Salvatore knew he was going to be sick.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed, unfastening his seat belt and rushing back to the toilet.

Once in the cubicle, Salvatore leaned his head down towards the toilet to throw up. He then activated the flush and closed the cover, sitting on it with his head between his knees. It occurred to him that Hester must be going through hell if she felt like this every single morning. And she had been through this four times so far.

As the blood flowed back into his grey face, Salvatore thought about his family. He was concerned about Hester's unexpected pregnancy, but he wasn't worried about having a fourth child. The children were hard work to begin with, but once the first two years were over, they were well worth the effort. Salvatore took great pleasure in watching Solvikt's intelligence develop; how she learned language by asking incessant questions, how the first strands of logic were beginning to manifest themselves as she discovered more about the world around her and how events, objects and people related to each other. Salvatore was looking forward to all the other children reaching and passing this stage.

His musings were interrupted as the Eagle lurched more violently and the lights dimmed, flickered and went out.

"Hijo de putana! What the hell was that?" exclaimed Jorge when the emergency power came on and their controls lit up again.

"We've been struck by lightening," said Friedhelm, though Jorge had already guessed the answer. "Our secondary power relay is not responding, but the primary is back up."

Jorge read the display. "They both shorted out when we were hit. That's not a good sign. There must be something wrong with the circuitry. That lightening bolt must have hit one of our power relays straight on."

"Oh, Christ! What are the odds of that?" exclaimed Friedhelm, shaking his head. "Do you think we should go back to Dover?"

"No... I'd rather touch down at the plantation and take a look at our superstructure..."

He was interrupted as the Eagle was shaken by another gust of wind. Jorge struggled to fight the wind and increased the Eagle's speed, anxious to get to the plantation before anything else went wrong. His main concern was that if there was a false contact in the power relay, the electronics might just fail again.

Unfortunately, his fears were justified.

Just a few minutes after lightening first struck the craft, the lights in the cockpit went out. No lights, and no electronic controls. No way to check whether the engines were still running or not. With the wind howling outside, Jorge couldn't hear any significant noises from the boosters. He took a gamble and assumed that they were still working.

"Switch to manual," he told Friedhelm, though a glance at his co-pilot's darkened console revealed that the man was already clutching the manual rods. Jorge stood up to try and get a visual bearing. They had lost altitude and were flying dangerously near a mountain top. "We need to go up. Steer starboard, 1 o'clock bearing."

There was a pause as Friedhelm followed his order. The Eagle shuddered and gained a little altitude, though not enough to completely clear the mountain. There was no change in bearing. This is not good, thought Jorge. Stating the obvious, even in his mind, had the paradoxical effect of making him feel a little better. At least he had no illusions about how bad things really were.

"I'm getting no response from the port manoeuvre booster," said Friedhelm finally. "Scheiß, what were the odds of this?"

"Pretty low. Let's work on some altitude. We were only about ten kilometres away from the low lands and we'll be better off crashing into the plains than up here."

"Pity we can't take this cuckoo out of the atmosphere," said Friedhelm. "We'd be out of this wind and we could just drift on momentum until a Falcon could pick us up. One of these gusts is going to shove us into that cliff before we know where we are."

"If we take this out of the atmosphere, we'll never get it back in. Besides, there's no telling how damaged we are."

Jorge was about to expand on this idea, to remind Friedhelm that the damaged electric relays might be a sign of worse damage to the Eagle's outer hull. They couldn't even be sure that the Eagle would remain properly pressurised. But this was no time for a pointless conversation. Friedhelm knew as well as Jorge what kind of danger they were in.

"Do you feel that?" said Friedhelm. "We're losing altitude."

Through the gaps in the clouds, Jorge could see the mountains getting nearer. Most of all, he felt his ears pop as the Eagle, still buoyed up by the air currents, gradually sank towards the ground.

"Shouldn't we tell the passengers?"

"We have no communications and we don't have time to pry open the door."

Jorge swallowed hard and strapped himself into his seat. He prayed that the people in the passenger cabin would have felt the Eagle's fall and realised that they needed to put their seatbelts on. But most of all, he prayed that the Eagle would hit some of the bushes so common in this season, so that the fall would be cushioned and there might be some survivors. And he prayed that he might be one of them.

Rain was falling in thick, heavy sheets, the drops occasionally catching the dull light that filtered through the clouds, like a curtain of beads connecting the ground to the sky. Rivulets ran through the cracks in the rocks, in channels which had been dug by centuries of rainfall in Loki's wet seasons.

Everywhere the water ran, there was life. Mosses and algae pullulated, outlining the rivulets, and filling the water with spores. Larger bushes had sprung up in the channels further down the mountain side, where they could feed on the spores from the plants higher up the hill. A few more months, and the spores would be frozen in the ice of the long Lokian winter, dormant until the water that had trapped them flowed once more.

There was nothing but the sound of the wind and the running water and the patter of raindrops beating the rocks. But then a different sound, the dull whoosh of a falling object, filled the air. The Eagle hit the mountain in the middle of a long slope which led down to a ravine. The first part of the Eagle to hit the rock face was the front port-side leg. The leg collapsed, crushed under the weight of the Eagle, and the craft continued its movement into the mountainside until the whole front left-hand side of the passenger module and half the cockpit had caved in. By then, the crumpled craft had lost all its momentum. It toppled onto its belly and skidded down a few meters before encountering a boulder that made it turn upside down. It rolled over and over until it reached the edge of the ravine. Balanced on its crumpled left side, the Eagle teetered on the brink for a split second, rocking gently in the wind. Finally, it lurched forwards and fell straight down the chasm.

Maya checked once more that her little apartment was child safe. No open cupboards in the kitchen, no dangerous objects within reach anywhere, plenty of paper for Solvikt and Bruno to scribble on. Hester had called shortly after Salvatore left to ask if Maya would mind taking care of the children that night. Maya had naturally accepted; as the children's grandmother, there could be no excuse for her not to.

She found looking after her grandchildren a lot easier than raising Salvatore had been. Not that Salvatore had ever been any more of a handful than his three hyperactive offspring; but Maya felt less responsibility with her grandchildren, and the fact that she could always contact their parents for advice made her more relaxed.

The apartment was definitely suitable, so Maya sat down and waited. It was only a few minutes before there was a ring at the main entrance and Maya let in Hester and the children.

"Nonna!" exclaimed Solvikt enthusiastically. "Are we having biccies?"

Maya had looked after the children often enough to know that biscuits were a prime concern in her granddaughter's life. She always made sure to get some from Supplies before the children came over. Smiling indulgently, Maya opened the tin she had left on the dining table and handed cookies to Solvikt and Bruno. The toddlers also discovered the paper laid out on the floor and immediately lay down to start drawing.

Maya indicated the sofa and Hester sat down, placing Rachel's basket beside her.

"Thank you for taking them tonight," said Hester. "I have all Rachel's stuff in this bag."

She indicated one of the bags she had brought, and Maya looked inside. It was full to the brim with nappies.

"She travels with more things than her father!" said Maya with a chuckle.

"And that's saying something! Salvatore is only supposed to be at Bedrock for a week, but he packed as though he was going to be there all winter. Anyway, Bruno's nappies are in there too. He's starting to use the potty, but I thought he'd be better off with the nappies for tonight."

Maya nodded. She remembered all the fuss Hester and Sal had gone through to get Solvikt potty-trained; the little girl had obviously decided that nappies were far more practical than having to strip and go into the toilet every couple of hours. In fact, Solvikt had pretty much refused to use the toilet until peer pressure at school had convinced her that it would be, if not more practical, at least more socially acceptable.

It occurred to Maya that Hester and Sal would have to go through the same battle all over again with Bruno and Rachel. She wondered how they could handle having three small children all going through different stages of learning, from Solvikt who needed tutoring in writing to Bruno who had to be potty-trained and Rachel who had to be weaned. It made Maya thankful that she was a grandmother and didn't have to deal with the nitty-gritty of raising all these children. She had no recollection of going through any of this with Salvatore; on the other hand, maybe it was a memory parents simply repressed.

"I think the kids will enjoy a night with you," said Hester. "In any case, Sal all but ordered me to have some rest, so I'm following his orders."

"Why? Are you ill?" asked Maya, suddenly concerned. She had been surprised when Salvatore went to Bedrock on his own; to the best of her recollection, the couple had rarely been apart since they married. She had been wondering why Hester was staying behind.

"No, I'm not ill, just pregnant," said Hester in a matter-of-fact voice. "It wasn't planned, obviously. But Salvatore is delighted."

"And how do you feel?"

"I'm happy too," said Hester. "Well, I'm sick as a dog and I'm barely recovering from having Rachel! And I'm not looking forward to another 26-hour marathon session quite yet. Still, that's only a couple of days out of my life, and I..." She looked at Bruno and Solvikt, who had started to squabble over a pencil they both wanted. "I don't really mind. To tell you the truth, I like children, and having a large family was always an ambition of mine. Salvatore is happy, I'm happy... But my mom is going to be horrified."

"You haven't told her yet?"

"No, I thought I'd wait until Salvatore was out of reach," said Hester with a grin. "I just know she'll blame him. Never mind about me being a twenty-nine-year-old who should know what she's doing with her body. Mama will just think this is a all a conspiracy of my Italian husband to turn me into a baby factory. She already complains that she's swamped whenever we bring the children over." Hester's smile and tone of voice suggested that she didn't really buy her mother's complaints.

"I think your mother is exaggerating," said Maya gently. "I don't believe for one minute that she isn't enjoying every instant of being a grandmother so many times over. I know she believes that small families are best, but if you feel happy coping with four children, then there's no reason for her to object. As you said, you're old enough to know what you're doing. On the other hand... I might be biased because it gives me a selfish pleasure to see that Tony and I have so many descendants."

She thought about mentioning Salvatore's brother and sisters who had died, to say that in some ways, Hester's children replaced them in her heart. But she decided not to bring up the past; Angelo, Francesca and Solvikt were a burden of grief she didn't need to pass on to her surviving son and his wife.

Hester hesitated but then reached out and placed her hand on Maya's. It wasn't a spontaneous gesture, but it was genuine nonetheless.

"I'm really pleased you and Tony have so many descendants too," said Hester, smiling warmly. She paused briefly. "You know... we've already done the genetic testing. It's a boy. I wonder if Salvatore will let us name this one Tony."

Maya lowered her eyes and involuntarily withdrew her hand. This issue had come up before, when Bruno was first tested.

"I don't think Salvatore will have changed his mind," she said, shaking her head. "And I'm not sure burdening a child with the name Tony Verdeschi is such a good idea. Salvatore is concerned that the child will feel pressured to live up to the name. It would be like calling a child John Koenig."

Hester sighed. "Oh I know. I just think we could use Tony as a second name or something. It would be an homage to his grandfather."

"I do understand. But you'll have to discuss it with Salvatore."

Left to her own devices, Maya would have encouraged the couple to use the name. After all, she and Tony had named Salvatore after his grandfathers; it was a practice which could have become a family tradition. But Salvatore had got it into his head that it would be unfair to a child to give him the exact same name as the local Dover hero. He also thought there were enough Tonys around as it was: Tony Nuñez and Tony Collins, for instance. Still, Maya wondered what it would be like to have another Tony Verdeschi around.

"Anyway, have you made any progress with the computers?" asked Hester conversationally. "Did you decide to recommend more storage on the slates in the end?"

Annoying the Computer section with her tinkering was Maya's current hobby when she wasn't keeping an eye on Loki's weather. The meteorological systems now ran smoothly under Sylvia Worcester's supervision; the weather forecast was no longer enough to hold Maya's attention. She needed a new project, and the system-wide computer network was the one which had appealed.

Maya shook her head at Hester's question. "No. I did wonder about adding more storage space on the slates themselves, rather than keeping everything on the servers. But Layla pointed out that barely a week goes by without someone losing their slate, and it's better if losing a slate doesn't mean losing every single piece of data that the user possessed as well. So we have to keep the servers and instead work on improving the connections--"

Maya interrupted herself as an alarm went off in her office. "That's the automatic satellite monitoring system," she said, getting up. "It's programmed to go off if there's a malfunction or something unexpected happens. I'll just go and see what's wrong..."

"What do you mean, the Eagle has disappeared?" repeated Becky, staring incredulously at Mrs Verdeschi's face on the screen.

"The monitoring satellite lost the Eagle's location beam about ten minutes ago." Mrs Verdeschi was trying to sound calm, but Becky could see the worry lines creasing her forehead. "I contacted Astrogation on Alpha and they can't locate the Eagle either. Judging by its last position, it must have gone down in the Kano mountains."

"The Kano mountains..?" Becky realised she was repeating Mrs Verdeschi's words again and stopped herself. "Has anyone tried the slates of the people on board?"

"Hester tried Sal's slate, but it's turned off." On screen, Mrs Verdeschi shook her head, the movement forming a little blur around her grey hair. "I haven't had time to try anyone else. I called Alpha when the satellite reported that the Eagle was gone, and then I called you as soon as I was sure it wasn't a glitch."

"Okay. You stay in contact with Alpha and get that satellite to do a thorough scan next time it passes over that area; thermal, magnetic, anything that might locate the Eagle. I'm going to get the Computer people on to tracking the slates and see about getting a Falcon out there." She hesitated and then added, "I'm sure it's nothing serious, Mrs Verdeschi. You know the satellite has been acting up ever since that meteorite hit it. Keep me informed if there's any news."

She smiled an insincere smile full of reassurance and was pleased to see the creases on Mrs Verdeschi's forehead abate a little. The Psychon signed off. Becky immediately called up Layla and asked her to contact the slates of all the people on board the Eagle. The computer network would be able to check all the slates much faster than one individual trying the usual communication channel. It was still possible that the crisis was due to a glitch in the Eagle's locator beacon; at least contacting someone on the craft would reassure them that no one was hurt.

Becky also talked to Trevor at Koenigshafen; he too had noticed the Eagle's disappearance and was already preparing the Millennium Falcon for a reconnaissance mission.

"They called just ten minutes ago to say they were making a course correction to avoid a storm," he told Becky. "Then their signal just vanished. They may have had a technical problem."

"I thought you people never had technical problems," said Becky wryly.

Trevor shook his head. "Well, we try not to, but that's one very old Eagle Jorge has taken out there. It passed all its maintenance tests, but there's no accounting for plain old age."

"Well, thank you for being so reassuring."

"It might be nothing, you know. The technical problem might just be the locator beacon. Anyway, Jorge's the best pilot we have when it comes to weird weather conditions and the Kano mountains. Whatever has happened, he'll make it. Still, I'll be happier when I'm out there with the Falcon. Do you think I should get the Swallow team down here and load a couple of Swallows on the Falcon? They'll be more useful in mountainous terrain; the Falcon isn't very manoeuvrable in tight conditions."

"How long will that take?"

"Well, about half an hour, but it's the difference between being able to do something once we get over there, and sending back for Swallows later."

Becky considered the options briefly. "Okay, take the Swallows and their pilots. I'll expect you to be taking off in half an hour."

"Aye, aye, sir," he said as he signed off.

It occurred to Becky that Trevor didn't seem to be taking the situation very seriously. On the other hand, he wasn't used to emergency situations; those were usually handled by Jorge and Friedhelm. Or Neil. Becky nearly smacked her forehead as she realised Neil was the man she needed in the Falcon, not Trevor. She called Neil's slate and ordered him to drop what he was doing in the Computer centre and go to Koenigshafen. It occurred to her that Trevor probably wouldn't be pleased at being put in charge of a job only to be pre-empted by someone else. But Trevor's hurt feelings could be dealt with some other time.

With all her staff following her orders, Becky stood up to look out of the window, leaning on the sill, just as Karim was wont to do. The view was dreary; cloudy, rainy and dim. Becky wondered what had happened to the Eagle. Her mother was on that Eagle. Jorge and Karim as well. She had already lost her father just the previous year. She didn't think she could stand to lose anyone else.

Especially Jorge. She had lived with him so long it was difficult to imagine not having him in her life. They had had their ups and downs, particularly when he got his harebrained idea of wanting to marry Sydney Broekhuizen. But they had survived their problems; Jorge had abandoned his stupid idea and they had carried on as before. At last a happily married couple who were faithful to each other and devoted to their daughter Colette. Becky still wasn't in love with him, but she respected Jorge as a husband and loved him as a brother. That seemed to be enough to live on.

The computer beeped and Becky turned abruptly, knocking over the box of pens as she activated the terminal. It was Layla, and she didn't look happy.

"You haven't been able to contact them," said Becky in a deadpan voice.

Layla shook her head. "The computer initially reported that all the slates were turned off. That's a possibility, but highly unlikely. When Neil and I investigated further, we found that the signal is more probably being jammed. Sylvia says some of the mountains in the Kano range contain high levels of magnetic rock. This may be interfering with the carrier signal."

"So our most probable theory is that the Eagle has crashed into the mountains," stated Becky. "Keep trying, though, just in case someone turns their slate on."

"Becky..." said Layla, her expression full of compassion that Becky didn't want.

"Just find out what you can, Layla," interrupted Becky.

She could see the disapproving look in Layla's eye, how the other woman probably thought she was a cold-hearted bitch. But she didn't want to start commiserating about their mutual concern for Karim. Or indeed her own concern for Jorge and her mother. She closed the connection with the Computer Centre. The computer almost immediately beeped again. This time, it was Mrs Verdeschi.

"Becky, the satellite has picked up a faint residue from the Eagle's boosters in the atmosphere. It gives us some idea where the Eagle was heading when it was last spotted."

"Great, give those coordinates to Neil Garforth; he'll be taking a Falcon over there with some Swallows."

Mrs Verdeschi nodded purposefully, but then added, "There's just one thing, Becky. The trail is very short. It's most likely that the Eagle has crashed but... the satellite didn't pick up any heat in that area. No body heat and no sign of the Eagle's engines."

Becky didn't know what to say. Her mother, her husband, her best friend... all dead? The junior operative Celestine Castellano as well? And Friedhelm and Salvatore and the Najims?

"That can't be possible," she exclaimed. "They can't all be dead!"

"Becky, we haven't established that they are," said Mrs Verdeschi calmly. "Even if they were all dead, the satellite would still pick up some residual heat from the Eagle. But we're not even detecting that. Either the Eagle has cooled down dramatically in the rain, or it's in a position that the satellite's sensors can't penetrate. A ravine or a deep chasm, for instance."

"Is that probable?"

"It's possible."

"That would also explain what has happened to the slates," said Becky, thinking out loud. "But it's going to make it damn difficult for the Falcon to find them."

Neil stood on the tarmac of the Eagle hangar, watching as the Swallows were loaded into the Falcon. He didn't like the sound of this mission at all. Becky had called him from Dover as soon as he reached Koenigshafen and debriefed him on everything they knew. The Eagle had probably crashed into a chasm somewhere, but they had no way of pinpointing its location. Neil already knew from Layla that something was blocking slate transmissions; and whatever the something was, it was also shielding the Eagle from their sensors. They would have to rely on visual reconnaissance by the Swallow teams.

Neil was confident that Crystal and Alex would do a good job; he was more reserved about the advisability of taking Basma Habibi along as well. Yes, she was a pilot and with both Jorge and Friedhelm missing, all the backup pilots had to be brought in to handle the three Swallows. In order for the search to be effective, each craft would have to carry at least one pilot and one medic. But Basma's brother Karim was on that Eagle. Neil wondered if the personal involvement would affect her performance.

"How are things?"

Neil turned to find Benito Nuñez beside him.

"We're nearly ready to leave," said Neil. "Have you got your team ready?"

"Mostly, yes," said Benito with a nod. "Patrick is coming over to replace Thi Hoa. He'll be here in a minute... She really wasn't happy, you know."

"Who, Thi Hoa?" Neil shrugged. "There's no way I'm letting her go out on a mission like this. What if she was in the Swallow that finds the Eagle, and Friedhelm is already dead? Or even worse, severely wounded? I don't want a kid to see her father like that. You know the cockpit is always the first place to get totalled in an Eagle accident."

"So it's better for Patrick to see his sister Helena 'like that'?"

"At least he's old enough to deal with it. The truth is, I can't win. Just about everyone on that Eagle was related to someone on the emergency team. I can spare an underage girl like Thi Hoa, but everyone else will just have to do their jobs and deal with the consequences." He paused, feeling Benito's disapproval. "I'm not exactly looking forward to finding out what happened to my brother-in-law either. And Friedhelm and Jorge were close friends of mine."

"Well, you're the boss," said Benito with a shrug. "Patrick will probably be more useful on the paramedic team anyway. Speaking of which, here he is."

Patrick Vincent had indeed arrived, suited up in his paramedic jumpsuit and carrying a case of equipment. He was followed by Maya Verdeschi, who was also wearing field clothes.

The Psychon smiled as she approached Neil. "I thought you might need some wildlife to help you find the Eagle. Besides, I can't let you go and look for my only son without me."

Becky had never felt so helpless. Correction: it had been a long time since she had felt this helpless, but the feeling was hideously familiar. She remembered waiting feverishly for news of Sue Ellen when her silly little sister had got lost in the snow with that creep Davey Kano. Boy was she ever glad that Kano was now Sue Ellen's ex-husband. But there was no one to blame this time. The Eagle had disappeared, and they still didn't know what had happened.

It had been an hour since news of the Eagle's disappearance had first reached Dover. The conference room had been transformed into an ad hoc relative's room, and indeed most of the relatives were assembled there. They would be able to follow any video feedback on the viewscreen there; though Becky had given Derek Worcester the task of checking any incoming transmissions. She didn't want any shots of dismembered relatives to be broadcast.

There was quite a crowd in the conference room. Helena's brothers Duncan and Chris; Celestine's brothers Mohammed and Jean-Michel, and her aunt Halima; Jorge's sisters Louisa and Marion; Karim's sister Layla and his mother Ms Donatelli; Salvatore's wife Hester; Friedhelm's wife Sylvia; Shermeen Collins' children John and Sue Ellen; Robert Sauique, the son of the Najims' friend Carla. Few were without their offspring, and the room was filled with the noise of babies crying and children playing, oblivious to the crisis that loomed.

Becky had joined the relatives in the cafeteria, both to provide an official presence and to share in their worry. She was related to most of these people, and a friend or acquaintance to all of them. It was difficult to maintain her persona as the official representative of the powers-that-be who were looking for their lost relatives.

She started as her slate beeped. Everyone in the room fell silent and turned to look at Becky, no doubt expecting some news from the Falcon. Unfortunately, it was merely Connie calling to say that the Golden Hind was going to land at Dover instead of going on to Bedrock. The Falcon was supposed to be carrying Alpha's representatives to the Bedrock political conference, but the meeting had been cancelled following news of the accident. The Falcon's passengers included Celestine Castellano's parents and Jorge's brother Willem. More distraught relatives for Dover to take care of. The people at Sauique had also called earlier to request transport back to Dover.

"Any news?" asked Duncan when Becky had finished talking to Connie.

"No, nothing," said Becky. "The Golden Hind is coming here instead of going to Bedrock. Aside from that, the Millennium Falcon is still on its way to the area where the Eagle was last spotted. We won't have any news until they get there, and even then, conditions in that area will make the search very difficult."

"What kind of conditions?" asked Louisa.

"It's pouring with rain, for one thing," explained Sylvia, putting on a matter-of-fact professional voice. She handed her three-year-old son Florian to her daughter Thi Hoa and inspected her slate. "The weather satellite shows a heavy rain front over the Kano mountains, with a lot of lightening. That's probably what caused the accident in the first place."

"We're sure it's an accident?" asked Hester, looking at Becky. "There isn't any possibility that... that the Eagle could be... I don't know."

Looking at the pale-faced young woman, sitting with a baby on her knee and two toddlers at her feet, Becky felt a pang of sympathy. She too was hoping against hope that something else might have happened. For a moment, feeling everyone's eyes on her, Becky couldn't think what to say. As Karim's replacement, she was the current representative of the Establishment that was looking for their relatives. It was her job to reassure them. But she was also personally involved in this affair; it was difficult to disassociate the two roles.

"We... I've talked to the people at Sauique," said Becky. "The Eagle never arrived there, and there isn't anywhere else it might have gone. For one thing, we'd still be able to track it using the monitoring satellite."

"So it has definitely crashed," stated her brother John dully.

"That's our best hypothesis," was all Becky could say.

Duncan grunted disdainfully. "I guess that's what you get for using an Eagle to cross the Kano mountains."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked his wife Marion, quick to respond to the possible slight against her brother Jorge.

"Come on. That Eagle was so old it was known as the Cuckoo. It was an accident waiting to happen."

Becky remembered Celestine Castellano once referring to it as a "coucou", apparently a French slang word for an airplane in particularly bad condition. The name had stuck.

"I don't believe for one minute that Jorge would have taken the craft out if he didn't think it was safe," protested Louisa.

"Well, it was very old," said Sylvia. "Friedhelm often said that Jorge was being sentimental and putting himself in danger by using an Eagle for passenger transport. Friedhelm would never have flown an Eagle that old so far."

"He didn't say anything before getting into it today, though, did he?" said John. "If Friedhelm thought the Eagle was unsafe, he shouldn't have allowed Jorge to take it. Certainly not with so many elderly people in it."

Mohammed Castellano shook his head and added, "Not just elderly people, either. My sister is only nineteen, and if they put her life in danger by taking an unsafe Eagle out into a storm, I'll kill them both if the accident didn't."

"What kind of talk is that?" exclaimed Sylvia. "If the Eagle has crashed, then Friedhelm and Jorge are victims just like everyone else. And if anyone is to blame, it's Jorge anyway."

"Jorge didn't do anything dangerous," said Louisa aggressively. "He has crossed the mountains in that Eagle for years, without any problems whatsoever."

"That's enough!" said Becky firmly, lifting her hands. "Sitting here bickering isn't going to help. We have no idea why the Eagle crashed, and we won't know until the Falcon finds it. There's no point trying to work out who is to blame..."

Sylvia shook her head. "Of course you'd say that. You're Jorge's wife. You're just standing up for your husband."

Becky stared at Sylvia, wondering what in the universe had got into the usually mild-mannered woman. On the other hand, seeing Sylvia nervously stroking her young son's hair, Becky realised that she was a lot more concerned about Friedhelm's welfare than she wanted to show.

"Look... We're all worried about our friends and relatives," said Becky gently. "I don't just have my husband in that Eagle. My boss and my mother are there too."

"Oh, your boss. Right," repeated Sylvia dubiously.

Becky sighed. Rumours about her and Karim had a habit of surfacing periodically. People evidently found it impossible to believe that two people of opposite sexes who worked together could be anything but lovers.

"Becky's right, Mama," said Thi Hoa. She pulled away from her boyfriend Jean-Michel, who had been holding her. "This isn't helping. We don't know what caused the accident, and we won't know until the Falcon gets back." She looked at Becky, her slanting light brown eyes hopeful. "The Falcon will find them, won't it?"

"Of course it will," Becky assured her. "But the only thing we can do in the meantime is just sit and wait. And hope for the best."

All Karim could hear when he regained consciousness was crying. Someone was weeping hysterically less than a couple of metres away. Karim opened his eyes, but couldn't see anything. Either he was completely blind or it was completely dark. He decided to assume the latter. On the other hand, the former possibility couldn't be entirely discounted either. It seemed as though every bone in his body hurt, though a more thorough assessment revealed that he was mainly experiencing pain in his neck, shoulders and ribs, and in his arms. The left arm was definitely broken; Karim recognised the sensation from a break he had had as a child. His right wrist also radiated a dull ache, but possibly less serious. The pain in his shoulders and ribs was attributable to the seatbelt he was still wearing. The neck pain worried him more; he wondered if it could be whiplash.

As the minutes passed, Karim began to get his bearings and realise what had happened. He was in the Eagle, still strapped into his seat, which was at an uncomfortable 45 degree angle. The Eagle must have crashed after the lights went out. The woman crying in front of him had to be Celestine. He wondered if anyone else was alive, but he couldn't tell with the girl weeping so loudly.

"Celestine," he said. "Celestine, stop crying!"

He realised his tone wasn't very sympathetic, but at least it had the desired effect. "Mr Habibi?" she hiccuped. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Well, I have some broken bones. How are you?"

"I'm not sure. I don't know if I have anything broken. My shoulders still hurt a bit, but they're better now I've taken my seatbelt off."

"Good. Now shush."

Karim listened intently, but all he could hear was the patter of rain. That was a bad sign, since it meant there had to be a hole in the Eagle's hull. The air was also a lot colder. Karim couldn't hear any noise from the other people who had been in the craft. They were either dead or unconscious.

After a pause, Celestine said, "I think we've fallen down a hole of some sort. I felt us falling before we crashed here. We'll need to go out and see where we are. I... I haven't heard any noise from anyone else. I thought everyone was dead. That's when I panicked and started crying."

Karim could sympathise with her reaction. The silence was eerie.

"Celestine, can you see anything at all?"

"No, it's pitch black in here... so no, you haven't gone blind." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I thought there were supposed to be emergency lights in these Eagles."

"Something must have gone wrong with the electronics. Look, you're nearer to the door than I am. Do you think you could find it? There should be a box on the wall beside it. As far as I remember, that has a torch in it."

"Okay, I'll try."

There was a lot of scrambling as Celestine presumably lowered herself onto the seat beside her, which was now below her in the inclined Eagle. Karim mentally followed her progression. She would have to stand up, possibly balancing herself on the arm of the seat, and then fumble to find the box. Fortunately, it would be on the same side of the door as she was, so she didn't have the added complication of having to cross the sloping walkway in the middle of the Eagle.

After much clanging and muffled swearing from Celestine, Karim heard the emergency box open. A few seconds later, a thin beam of light appeared to Karim's left.

"Oh merde."

Alarmed by Celestine's soft-spoken expletive, Karim turned to look at what the torch was revealing. His neck hurt as he moved his head, but the sight he saw in the feeble light made him momentarily forget his own pain.

The forward left-hand side of the passenger module was nothing but a mangled mass, as if the hull had been mere aluminium foil. There was no sign of Mrs Collins, who had been sitting where that tangle of metal now lay. Helena was strapped into her seat on the other side of the aisle from Karim, her head hanging on her chest. In the pale light of the torch, Karim could tell that her tunic was covered in blood. He stared at his wife for a long time, his mind unable to fully grasp what he was seeing, but then he pulled himself together and looked at the Najims behind her. He didn't need to take full stock of their multiple injuries to realise that the two elderly Alphans were dead.

Karim couldn't look any further back without unstrapping himself from his seat. "Celestine, can you see Salvatore?"

In the darkness beyond the torch, Karim could just see the young woman nodding.

"He's lying in a heap beside the loo," she said. "I think he's still breathing, but he's covered in blood."

Karim looked down at himself and realised that he too had suffered some cuts. He could feel a warm sticky mess under the left sleeve of his shirt. He wondered if the break in that arm was a compound fracture.

"Celestine," he said, "you seem to be the only one in one piece. I know this is hard, but I want you to check the pulses of all the people who are unconscious. Just find out if any of them are alive, but don't move them in any way. Then I need you to get me a neck brace and the first aid box that's above the toilet. Hopefully that'll get me back on my feet so we can both try and open the door and see where we are and how Jorge and Friedhelm are doing."

As he spoke, Karim realised that the two pilots were unlikely to have survived the impact. As it was, it was remarkable that he and Celestine had escaped relatively unscathed. Karim sat still in his seat, keeping his head straight while Celestine checked the pulses of all the other people. He closed his eyes and thought about Helena. He remembered her smiling at him shortly before the lights went out. He wondered if she was dead and what he would do if she was. How would he tell the children?

After about ten minutes, Celestine came back to sit beside him, perching uncomfortably on the seat to his left. Karim took the torch from her as she fitted a brace on his neck.

"The... Mr and Mrs Najim are definitely dead, and I can only see Mrs Collins' legs in the wreckage." Karim could see how upset Celestine was. "Your... your wife is still alive. So is Salvatore, though they're both in very bad shape. But I can't really tell what's wrong with them. I only did basic first aid in school."

"I know. So did I."

He got Celestine to bandage his right wrist and then instructed her to cut away the clothes on his left arm. As expected, he had a compound fracture of his forearm. Celestine stared at it for a couple of seconds and then turned away rapidly. Karim could hear her throwing up in the row behind his.

When she joined Karim again, her face was an unhealthy ashen ochre in the torchlight. "Sorry... I... I'm really not good at this. I'd never have made a good nurse."

"Well, you're the only nurse I've got," said Karim severely. "Put some antiseptic on the wound and then pull on my arm to straighten it as best you can so you can put the sling on."

"Okay," she said with a determined sigh.

The process was long, awkward and incredibly painful. Despite taking one of the painkillers in the box, Karim felt dizzy with agony as Celestine clumsily tried to rearrange his broken bones. She handled him gingerly at first, but then grew more confident -- and less gentle -- as the bones refused to snap back into place. Karim dropped the torch twice before she was finished. Once Celestine was satisfied that his arm was reasonably straight, she strapped on a plastic sling.

"Oh God," breathed Karim, leaning back on his seat when the ordeal was finally over. "Inch'allah I won't ever have to recommend you for medical duty..."

He took a few deep breaths, and then stood up awkwardly. His head spun a bit, but his legs were in excellent shape. Karim knew he would have to rely on Celestine to do any kind of manual work, but at least he would be able to follow her around and tell her what to do. Assuming he was going to be any more savvy about their situation than she was.

"Now, we need to..." he started. He paused to think what they needed to do. Prise the door open and find out what happened to Friedhelm and Jorge? Or take care of Salvatore and Helena first, and then tackle the door? He decided to deal with the situation inside the passenger module before tackling the outside.

"Okay, we're going to start off by taking a look at Helena to see what we can do for her. Then we'll have a look at Salvatore, and then we'll see about getting out of here and finding out where the others are."

"Shouldn't we be calling for help?"

"Well, help should be on its way already, because the positioning satellite will have noticed that we've dropped out of the sky. But yes, we should perhaps look for a slate."

"Mine will be near my seat," said Celestine. She immediately went to look for it. "Here it is... Oh no." She paused and Karim had to prompt her before she spoke again. "The signal's dead. It says the network is down."

"There must be some interference. That's probably why these things haven't been bleating at us ever since we crashed."

Karim didn't want to show it, but he was disappointed; being able to contact the outside world would have made his present situation more bearable. It would also have allowed him to talk to one of the doctors and get some advice on how to treat Helena and Salvatore.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that," he said decisively. "Let's take a look at our injured and see what we can do for them."

It wasn't easy to take care of the two injured people with only torchlight to work by and the combined knowledge of two first-aiders to work with. As far as Karim could remember, the first rule of first aid was "if it's serious, don't touch and wait until the medics arrive". He therefore decided to keep his interventions as simple as possible.

In any case, he couldn't tell exactly what was wrong with them. Helena had one obvious injury, where a long strip of metal from the inner hull had traversed her abdomen, impaling her on her seat. But there could be any number of other internal injuries as well. It was a miracle that she was still alive. Karim fought the instinct to tear the metal spike out. Instead, he sprayed some disinfectant on the wound and gently stroked his wife's cheek before going to tend to Salvatore.

The Psychon had evidently been inside the toilet cubicle when the Eagle crashed. His clothes and skin were seared and discoloured by the chemicals from the toilet. The wan torchlight didn't reveal how much bruising he had suffered, but there was a large cut on the top of his head which Karim took to be the sign of a possible concussion. Salvatore was breathing a lot more strongly and easily than Helena had been, and he groaned when Karim and Celestine tried to lay him flat on the sloping gangway.

"I think he's waking up," said Celestine.

"Yes," agreed Karim. "You stay with him. Read the instructions on the burns spray and see if that will help his injuries. I'll... I'll see how Helena is doing..."

Leaving Celestine to hold the torch, Karim scrambled back to where Helena was sitting. He kneeled down on the gangway in the middle of the Eagle, balancing precariously so as not to slip into the Najims' row or onto Helena. He used Celestine's slate to cast a faint light on his wife. She was still breathing. He could see bubbles form at regular intervals in the blood that surrounded the metal shaft which impaled her. The shaft had probably punctured one of her lungs, and the air was escaping from her rib cage with each breath.

"Oh, Helena," he murmured, too shocked by her injuries to formulate a more coherent sentence.

They had put a neck brace on her; there were plenty of those in the medkit, and they apparently did wonders to prevent spinal injuries. Given the extent of Helena's other injuries, it was perhaps an unnecessary precaution, but the brace kept her head straight. Karim could see the curly lashes on her eyes. Her eyes were closed, and he wondered if he would ever see them open again.

The thought hit him like a blow. This couldn't happen. Helena was still a young woman, only thirty-four; she couldn't die now. Karim knew that the whole solar system would be out looking for them. He was confident that the rescue team would arrive in time, and that the doctors would be able to save her life. They had to save her life. She had a whole family who needed her at Dover. She couldn't die now.

His eyes riveted on Helena's face, shining green in the light from the slate's screen, Karim was barely aware of Celestine as she approached.

"Sir, Salvatore isn't awake yet, but he's breathing very strongly and he did mumble something when I spoke to him. Do you think I should see about opening the door and seeing where we are?"

Initiative. A welcome quality at this point in time. After the initial burst of activity following his return to consciousness, Karim was starting to feel tired. The painkiller he had taken was wearing off and the full implications of the situation were beginning to sink in. Three people were dead already, two more were injured and unconscious, and two others were in an unknown condition on the other side of the cockpit door. The Eagle had no power and the interior was beginning to cool down significantly. They had no way of communicating with the outside world, and there was no hope of rescuing themselves alone. And Helena, his wife of sixteen years, was dying before his very eyes.

Karim was about to answer Celestine when he realised she was no longer sitting beside him. He could hear noise to his right; the young woman was apparently trying to force the cockpit doors open.

"There should be a manual release on the left-hand side," he instructed her.

There was a dull creak as Celestine pushed the two door panels apart. Dim, grey daylight filtered into the passenger section, bringing with it a freezing cold wind and the smell and sound of rain. Karim realised that the lower left-hand side of the Eagle, the part the craft was lying on, was filled with water. It was filthy and stained with blood. He also had a clearer view on the Najims' injuries, and Helena's. All he could see of Mrs Collins were her legs in the dirty water. Her body seemed to be somewhere in the wreckage of the hull. He didn't even want to look at Salvatore.

Karim tried not to think about the horror of what he was seeing. He needed to concentrate on Helena. Maybe if he spoke to her, she'd respond to his voice. That was what he had always been told to do if someone was unconscious.

"Helena, come on, don't leave me," he said, keeping his voice low and his face close to Helena's. "You can't die now! We have to see Sophie in Much Ado next week, remember? You know she's been looking forward to it; it's her first important role. It means so much to her. We have to be there to see her, both of us. And don't forget Antonio has an important match coming up too, when Fiorentina is up against Arsenal..."

He stopped as Celestine came back. She looked sick and he noticed for the first time that her hands and arms were spattered with blood. His own, perhaps, from her attempts to straighten his arm. She was soaked with rain.

"How are they?" he asked, though he gathered the news was not good.

"Mr Martinez is still alive and conscious. I need the medkit for him." She got the box and then opened one of the luggage compartments. Its contents -- Celestine's anorak and travel bag -- burst out, narrowly missing Karim as they fell onto the gangway.

"Thanks. All I need right now is to be brained by your bags," he said wryly.

"Sorry, I didn't realise everything would fall out like that." She tossed the bag onto the floor in the row she had been sitting in. "I need my anorak. It's pouring out there, and really cold."

"There should be some thermal blankets somewhere. In that compartment beside the emergency kit, I think."

"Oh yes, I'll need that for Mr Martinez too."

Celestine pulled on her anorak and soon found the blankets. She took two and gave Karim the rest.

"He'll need something to keep the rain off him. I'll also see if I can find out where we are," she added as she left.

It occurred to Karim that she hadn't mentioned Friedhelm at all. He assumed that his friend was dead. Firmly deciding to deal with that thought later, Karim used the blankets to cover Salvatore and Helena, and then wrapped one around himself. After a moment's hesitation, he covered the Najims as well; it was more respectful for them and would spare Karim and Celestine the sight of their injuries. All the activity was agonisingly painful with his broken arm and wrist. He took another painkiller and then sat beside Helena again.

He continued to talk to her as he had done before. He reminded her of all the things they had planned to do with the children, that one subject they had always had in common. There was no response. After a while, Karim stopped talking and held her hand. The bubbles were still frothing around the metal shaft, but every breath was now accompanied by a rattle, as if Helena's lungs had suddenly been made of metal. Karim knew what the noise meant. He listened as the rasping continued for a while, a couple of minutes, perhaps five, and then stopped.

"No..." Still holding Helena's hand, Karim leaned his forehead on her cheek and whispered, "Please, no."

The plateau in the mountains came back into view as the bird swooped into the rain below the clouds. She could see the large shiny thing on the rock surface; that was the place she was programmed to come back to. She allowed the wind to carry her nearer and then reduced her wing span so as to sink closer to the plateau. Gradually losing altitude as she approached, she finally landed near the shiny structure and obeyed the instinct to transform.

Maya changed back into herself as Neil approached. It felt strange to be transforming 'professionally' again. These days, she only ever used her powers to amuse her grandchildren. Her ability to metamorphose had been affected by her pregnancies over twenty-five years earlier, and although it had steadily improved since Salvatore's birth, Maya did not find metamorphosing as easy now as it had been when she was young. But today, the difficulties seemed to have vanished. Knowing that her only son was in danger quite literally gave Maya wings.

Maya gratefully accepted the parka Neil handed her. She followed him back into the Falcon, where he made her a cup of tisane, a fortifying tea made from various herbs. The tisane warmed Maya up and gave her the energy boost she needed.

"Any luck?" asked Neil, sitting down beside her in the Falcon's cargo bay.

Maya shook her head. "Not in the area I surveyed. To be honest, I couldn't see much at all. The clouds are very close to the mountains, so most of the time, I had to be very careful not to collide with anything myself."

"Okay, well, we've covered the first sector. We just need to keep going."

"So the Swallows didn't find anything either?"

Neil shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry."

Maya acknowledged the sentiment with a wan smile. She looked at the dark rainy sky visible through the cargo door and longed to take flight again. She knew she needed to warm up first; her body was old and tired, and transforming exhausted her now. But she wanted to be out in the clouds, looking for her son. Maya had been unable to save Tony when he died, but at least she had a chance to do something before Salvatore did.

"We have to keep trying," she said. "I'm going back out there."

Neil seemed to hesitate, but then nodded sadly. He took her parka and stood by as she transformed back into a golden eagle.

Salvatore was cold and uncomfortable. He was also terrified. The place he was in was filled with the stench of blood and strong emotions of fear and grief. Every time his consciousness rose to the surface, close to awakening, Salvatore could feel death all around him. The sensation frightened him and his mind would sink back into unconsciousness, seeking protection in oblivion.

But it was gradually getting harder to lose consciousness. Salvatore's body was screaming for attention, begging his mind to do something about the cold of the air, the hardness of the surface he was lying on, the muted pain of sedated injuries. Salvatore was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to see all the human blood he could clearly smell. But at the same time, he wanted to know what had happened to him.

For a while, he lay still and listened. There was the sound of rain on metal and the trickle of water nearby. Not more than a metre away, he could make out the shuffle of synthetic materials brushing against each other; perhaps a human moving in a standard issue parka. He could feel the person's fear and dejection. Further away, above his head -- or was it behind since he was lying down? -- he heard voices. They were distant and muted, and only spoke sporadically. At least there were other people around.

Salvatore opened his eyes and found himself looking at Celestine. She was dirty and wet, and although she was wrapped in a thermal blanket, he could see she was shivering. She was the one radiating the intense fear and grief. Salvatore tried to sit up, responding to an impulse to put his arms around her and comfort her. Celestine saw the movement and placed her hand on his chest to keep him lying down.

"Don't move, Salvatore. You've been injured." Her fear seemed to abate as she spoke. "You have to lie still. Do you remember what happened?"

Salvatore couldn't. He tried to shake his head, but found that his neck was immobilised by a brace.

"The Eagle has crashed," she told him. "We've fallen to the bottom of a ravine. You're one of the lucky survivors. There's you, me, Mr Habibi and Mr Martinez."

Salvatore just stared at her dumbly. He didn't remember being in an Eagle. He remembered Hester telling him that she was pregnant, that they were going to have another little boy. But he didn't remember taking an Eagle. Why would he leave Hester if she was pregnant? Unless...

"Hester! She's not... not..."

Celestine looked very surprised. "She wasn't with us. She's still at Dover."

That reassured Salvatore. If Hester was at Dover, then she was safe, and so was the baby. And so were the children, presumably. And since he had evidently survived the crash, he would presumably see them all again very soon. He was alive, and all was well.

Salvatore looked around and realised he was in a very damaged Eagle which was lying at an angle in a puddle of blood and water. He got a feeling all was not so well after all.

"What are we doing here?" he asked. Again, Celestine was taken by surprise. He wondered if she had received a blow on the head and was having comprehension problems. "Why are we still in the Eagle?" he asked patiently.

"We're waiting for the rescue team."

"Oh." That made sense. "How long are they going to be?"

"We don't know. We haven't been able to contact them." Celestine looked as if she was going to burst into tears. "It's been three hours and we don't even know if they're coming!"

She calmed herself after this outburst and didn't cry, but Salvatore could feel renewed waves of panic. Salvatore began to experience some panic of his own. Wherever they were, it had to be somewhere on Loki, and it wouldn't normally take the emergency team more than a couple of hours to come out and rescue them. What could be keeping them?

"What injuries did you say I have?" he asked. He wanted to make sure he wasn't likely to turn his toes up before the medics finally got there.

"You have some chemical burns and a few broken bones. Mr Habibi thinks you might have a concussion. You've been unconscious since the accident."

"How did I get burns?"

"You were in the toilet."

Salvatore smiled wryly. "Great. Just as well I didn't die in there. I'm hoping for a more dignified demise."

Celestine didn't smile. She wrapped the blanket more closely around her and started to get up.

"Will you be all right if I just go and tell Mr Habibi that you're awake?"

"Aren't you injured?"

"No, not very."

That was all she said. She seemed dazed, as if she hadn't slept in a very long time. Salvatore was struck by how much older she looked. Observing her, he reflected that she was definitely more of a Castellano than an Ofori. She was still an attractive young woman, though. Celestine stood up and awkwardly made her way out of his line of sight.

Salvatore lay still and looked up at the ceiling. He felt very tired again, as if his three hours of varying unconsciousness hadn't been enough to rest him. Still, a bit of sleep wouldn't hurt.

He closed his eyes and immediately sank into a dream.

He was lying in a pool of blood on a cold hard floor. The blood was his own, he assumed, though looking to his right, he realised he wasn't alone in the gory puddle. Celestine was lying beside him, naked except for a metal necklace that seemed to cut into her long neck. Salvatore wondered if that was the source of the pool, and if he was the one who had killed her. But looking up, he realised Hester was standing over him. Maybe she was the one who had killed Celestine because he had thought the girl was attractive. Or maybe the blood came from Hester. She seemed to be bleeding, as if she had just had a miscarriage. But Hester was smiling as she knelt down and embraced him. She faded away and left Salvatore to look down a long black tunnel, with a small patch of light at the end of it. He had learned in basic first aid that this was a symptom of oxygen deprivation. My brain is being deprived of oxygen, he thought without concern. It felt rather good.

But then the pleasant feeling disappeared. Salvatore woke up with a start and was back in the cold, damp Eagle, his nostrils filled with the stench of blood. Lips touched his and blew warm air into his lungs. Salvatore coughed and took a few deep breaths. He was barely recovering from the shock of waking up when strong arms unceremoniously turned him onto his side. Something cracked but he felt no pain.

"I think we've broken something," he heard Celestine say. She didn't sound very concerned.

There was a groan and then a pause. "That might have been my arm." It sounded like Karim. There was another pause. "Even if we did break something, I'd rather we did that than let him choke like that again. He must have some internal injuries that made him cough up all that blood. Salvatore, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he answered in a hoarse voice. He could taste blood in his mouth and it made him retch.

"If you want to throw up," Karim told him, "you're right on the edge of a row of seats so go ahead. Don't worry about messing up the Eagle. We've been doing worse ourselves."

Salvatore heard Celestine give a dull chuckle. He wondered if they'd been using the row as a toilet. The purpose built cubicle would be useless with the Eagle in this position. The thought was unsavoury but vaguely entertaining.

"Inch'allah help will come soon." That was Karim again. "Jorge is in a terrible state too, and he's losing a lot of blood. Not to mention it's freezing out there." A pause. "I'm going to talk to Jorge again. There must be something we can do. You stay here and make sure he doesn't choke again. Don't worry, you're doing a wonderful job, Celestine. I'll let you know if I need a pair of functional hands. Okay?"

"Okay," said Celestine in a little voice.

Salvatore heard some shuffling as Karim walked off. The position they had put him in left him facing the lower side of the Eagle. He had a good view on the pool of water. There seemed to be less blood in it now. Maybe the blood had been washed away by now. Or maybe there was more water there now than there had been before, and the blood was more diluted. Salvatore closed his eyes and hoped the emergency team would get here soon.

"I feel so helpless," admitted Neil when he talked to Becky later that afternoon. "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. Or more to the point, a large bale of kapok. There are low-lying clouds all over these mountains, and the magnetic interference is driving us mad. Jorge couldn't have picked a worse place to crash."

"Trust him to be difficult," said Becky wryly, drumming her fingers on Karim's desk. After four hours of worry, she now felt numb to the horror of the situation. "But I don't get it. You're sure the Eagle didn't cross the mountains and we know exactly where it was when it disappeared. There are only so many places it can be hiding."

"I know, and we've looked in all of them. God, I really wish their bloody beacon was working."

"Would that cut through the interference?"

Neil nodded sadly. "It was designed to. But there's no point thinking about what might have been. The beacon obviously isn't working, and for whatever reason, the Eagle is shielded from our sensors. So we're back to good old fashioned eyesight. At least Mrs Verdeschi's is better than ours."

Becky knew Neil was alone in the Falcon's cockpit, so she leaned forward confidentially. "How is she holding up? She must be frantic, looking for her son."

"I don't know. She seems very calm. She comes back to rest and warm up, and then goes out. She doesn't say much."

"Yeah. She didn't say much when her husband died either," said Becky.

"What about you? How are you doing?"

Neil wasn't the first person to ask that. In fact, Becky had left the relative's room because she was tired not only of the worried bickering, but also the way some people were handling her with kid gloves. Becky shrugged.

"I'm trying not to worry too much. I'll deal with whatever has happened once you find the Eagle."

Karim looked through the devastated cockpit windows and mentally reviewed the situation. The Eagle was in three pieces at the bottom of a narrow gorge which ran through magnetic rock. The boosters and cockpit had become separated from the passenger module. The superstructure which housed all the wires and connections was flattened beyond repair, and the command module in the cockpit was totalled. In fact, the only intact bit of equipment was the small section that currently pinned Jorge's legs down. All the rest was Friedhelm's coffin, now covered in a thermal blanket.

According to Jorge, only the Eagle's location beacon might be able to cut through the magnetic interference in the rocks. He had suggested a couple of simple procedures which Celestine and Karim had carried out. They had tried using the power source from Celestine's slate to reactivate the beacon, but to no avail. It was possible that the beacon was broken.

"There must be something we can do!" exclaimed Karim. "I can't just sit here and watch you and Salvatore die."

Jorge opened his eyes and shook his head slowly. "Why don't you hop up onto the passenger module and wave your arms?"

"Very amusing. Night will be falling in another couple of hours, and if they don't find us by then, we've all had it."

"I've had it anyway."

"Oh don't give me the brave soldier act. 'Tell my Mum that I...'." Karim dramatically imitated the trademark style of the numerous WWII dramas in the entertainment databanks. He had no time for Jorge's self-pity. "In any case, I'm worried about Celestine and Salvatore. Celestine went into some kind of shock about two hours ago and seems keen to stay that way. And Salvatore is dying, plain and simple. As to you, I've a good mind to leave you here when the rescue team gets here. If they get here."

For all his crushed legs and multiple injuries, Jorge seemed to have an unlimited amount of energy to spare when it came to arguing. Karim remembered Becky complaining once that Jorge didn't know how to argue. But that was evidently a trait he only displayed in her presence.

"Oh that would be convenient, wouldn't it?" said Jorge bitterly. "Wouldn't you just like to have me out of the picture?"

"Not really. Good pilots don't grow in bushes."

"And what about Becky?"

"What about Becky? She isn't a pilot, is she?" Karim knew what Jorge was getting at, but preferred to be obtuse.

"Now that your little lady is gone, all you need is me out of the picture, and you'll be well away."

Karim growled irritably and shook his head. Sitting on what was left of the gangway between the pilots' seats, he turned to his right, this time to look out of the gutted doorway at the passenger module. It was just a metre away, lying crushed in between the steep sides of the gorge. Helena's cold, wet grave.

"Believe me, the last thing on my mind is some silly romance," he said finally. "I've just lost my wife of sixteen years. I... My only hope concerning Becky right now is that she has sent a rescue team after us. I just want to get back to my children. I want you and Salvatore in the Medical Centre, and I want Celestine to have a long, peaceful holiday. I just want this to be over."

Jorge didn't answer. Karim listened to the rain pattering on the waterproof sheet they had thrown over the cockpit. The floor of the gorge was filled with a flowing river of dirty water, out of which a variety of plants sprang, reaching for the dim light above. Karim leaned out of the cockpit door and looked up to find out what he could see. Nothing but cloud. He couldn't even tell how tall the gorge was or if it would be possible to climb out of it. Not that he could attempt the ascension, and he didn't think Celestine had the skill or stamina to do it either. The walls were very smooth, almost to the point of artificiality, though Karim had no time to ponder this peculiarity.

There had to be some way of letting out a signal, something to show where they were. A slate could be programmed to work as a beacon; that would surely be enough to get someone's attention. But how to get the slate out?

"Jorge, do you reckon we could modify one of the boosters to carry a slate out of the gorge?"

"Well..." Jorge considered the question for a while. "No. At least, not under our present circumstances and given our skills. Even assuming that one of the boosters was still intact, it needs a power source to keep going. You'd have to find some way of getting the hydrogen and..."

"Hydrogen? That's lighter than air, isn't it? Could we use that in a balloon?"

"A balloon?" Jorge's dirty bruised face winced dubiously. "As in an air balloon?"

Karim was about to snap 'what other kind of balloon', but thought of a better reply.

"Yes. If we could make one of these waterproof tent sheet things into a balloon, and then filled that with hydrogen, wouldn't that be enough to carry the slate out of the gorge?"

"It wouldn't stay up very long."

"It doesn't have to. Once the slate clears the interference, it'll give the rescue team our position. With any luck, it won't drift too much, and they'll know exactly which cloud we're under."

"It's an idea," admitted Jorge.

Karim had to admit that it was a strange idea, but upon reflection, it wasn't completely daft. Assuming they had enough hydrogen, it shouldn't be too difficult to concoct a balloon. Anything that could get a working slate out of the black hole this ravine had become would signal their location to the rescue team.

He was surprised when Jorge's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Tell me something, Karim... Have you ever slept with her?"

Concealing his irritation at being interrupted for such a trivial matter, Karim turned to look at Jorge. The man was in very bad shape, his acrimonious outbursts notwithstanding. His legs were crushed into the front of the cockpit and Karim knew he was in severe pain which only a regular supply of painkillers could overcome. He felt Jorge deserved an answer.

"No, mate. I've never slept with her." He paused and grinned. "She's not even interested in me!"

Jorge seemed uncertain whether to believe him or not. But then his features relaxed a little. He didn't smile, but he looked as if he had decided to accept Karim's assurances.

"Anyway, the important thing is to get you back to her, right?" continued Karim. "We know the communications satellite will detect a slate if we somehow catapult it out of this hole. So now the question is, how do we get it up there?"

"Are you sure this will work?" asked Celestine dubiously as she attached the slate to the drenched 'balloon'.

"Well, if it doesn't, we have half a dozen other slates to use," said Karim. "Not masses of fuel, but we can have a couple more tries."

They were both sitting on top of the passenger module in the pouring rain. The surface of the Eagle's hull was slippery and Karim had to brace himself against the destroyed superstructure to avoid skidding into the nearest rock wall. He had spent the last hour in the cabin with Celestine, transforming one of the emergency tents into a sac which they had painstakingly filled with hydrogen from the Eagle's only undamaged tank. The balloon was bobbing up and down promisingly in the cold air, though Karim doubted it would stay up for very long.

"It'll eventually lose all its hydrogen and fall back to the ground," he said thoughtfully.

"Let's hope they see it before it does," said Celestine.

"I jolly well hope they will!" exclaimed Karim, using his right hand to pull his hood forward and get his face out of the rain. "It's the best idea I've had all day. The only idea I've had, in fact. If this doesn't work, we'll have to think of something else."

An hour earlier, Celestine had looked as if she was going into catatonic shock. But the activity of creating and launching the balloon seemed to have woken her up. Her black eyes were bright as she released the balloon. It rose rapidly, drifting to their left as the wind caught it.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something else if this doesn't work," she said confidently. She gave Karim an admiring glance which he didn't feel he deserved. "This was a brilliant idea, though I must admit an air balloon is a pretty low tech solution."

Karim shrugged and started to make his way back along the Eagle's sloping spine. "Oh, low tech solutions have been known to work. Come on, Celestine, we need to get out of this rain."

"Yeah, my hair is already ruined," said Celestine as she followed him.

Karim was about to struggle off the Eagle, but he paused as Celestine's words sank in. He remembered Helena making a fuss about her hair just before they left Dover, only a few hours earlier. The humidity had always made her hair frizz out of whatever hairstyle she had. It had been a constant source of irritation to her. Karim thought about the fact that he would never hear Helena complain about the weather again.

"Are you all right? Do you need help to get down?" asked Celestine.

"I was thinking about Helena. She... she had the same kind of hair." He looked at Celestine's narrow face ensconced in her parka hood. She was not unlike Helena. Nearly as ugly, too. "Um, yes, I could do with some help to get off this Eagle."

Celestine smiled and climbed down the side. She stretched her arms out to Karim. Embarrassed at needing her help, Karim gingerly clambered off. Unable to hold on to anything with his injured arms, he only narrowly missed falling off, though he was eventually standing on the same boulder as Celestine. The rock was between the opening of the passenger module and the side of the ravine, and high enough to clear the water that was rising at the bottom of the chasm.

"I wonder if this is a natural formation," said Celestine as she entered the Eagle and helped Karim follow her. She stayed near the entrance. "The walls are really smooth, and I wonder why it stops the slates from getting through to the satellite."

"There's some magnetism in the rocks," explained Karim. "I remember there were a lot of concerns about crossing the mountains when Jorge first started on his Bedrock run. The science team did a survey and came to the conclusion that the magnetism was natural and wouldn't affect the Eagle while it was flying."

Karim observed the view from the passenger module. The walls of the ravine did indeed look very smooth. "But you're right, maybe we should give this place a more thorough investigation -- next season, when the weather is better. You can head the expedition if you want."

"My little sister Buffy is the one who would enjoy that. She's into rocks and stuff," said Celestine. "Anyway, I don't think I'll want to come back here."

"No, I can't say I blame you."

The eagle flew through the clouds. She knew instinctively that she had flown this way before; the polar magnetism was stronger than that which emanated from the rocks, and she could sense her position. But she knew she had to try this corridor again. There was something different here, just the faintest smell in the air which suggested that what she was looking for couldn't be far away.

Then she saw something. Not on the ground as she had expected, but actually floating in the air. It was a square contraption, light grey in colour, and it was sinking quite rapidly, pulled down by something heavy at the bottom of it. The eagle was intrigued by this unexpected object, but could not comprehend what it was. It did however understand that anything unusual could be a clue to what it sought.

The eagle dived below the object and into a deep, long chasm. Success at last! Changing into a mountain goat better suited to the rocky terrain at the bottom of the ravine, Maya rushed towards the crashed Eagle.

Karim woke up with a start. Disoriented, he looked around his room and took a moment to realise that he was in the Medical Centre. He remembered little of the rescue, though he did have some recollection of being strapped to a stretcher and winched up to Alex Koenig's Swallow. His brother-in-law Patrick had administered a sedative and after that, nothing.

He suddenly realised he wasn't alone. Celestine was standing near the curtain, evidently unsure whether she should approach or not. He noticed that she was wearing civilian clothes, not a pair of medical pyjamas, and assumed from that that she had been discharged. She smiled when he looked at her.

"Hello," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Karim paused to check that. "Yeah, I feel fine."

"They operated on your arm," she said, pointing at it.

Karim looked at his left arm and saw it was plastered and tied to an overhanging frame. His right wrist was merely bandaged. The rest of him seemed to be intact.

"How long has it been?" he asked. "I mean, since we came back here."

"A day. This is the morning after." She hesitated and then nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I just came to see how you were." Celestine seemed about to leave.

"Wait," called out Karim. "How are you?"

Celestine smiled again and approached hesitantly. "I'm fine. Just a few cuts and bruises and I guess I was in shock yesterday. They gave me a sedative and kept me in overnight, but I'm ready to go home now."

"Sedatives are always popular." Karim yawned. "I'm glad to know there was nothing wrong with you. I'd be feeling terribly guilty if I had made you do all that running around with some hidden injury."

"No, you did everything right," she assured him. "They'll probably give you a medal. I mean, Mrs Verdeschi found us, and the emergency team brought us back, but they would never have known where we were if you hadn't sent up that balloon. You saved our lives!"

Karim's mood suddenly dampened as all the details of the accident came back to him. "Not everyone's lives," he said shortly.

Celestine nodded seriously. "I know. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Karim acknowledged her apology with a wan smile. He held out his right hand and patted Celestine's arm.

"It's all right. I'm glad your life was saved. Mohammed and Jean-Michel must be relieved."

"And my parents and everyone else in the family. They're all in the waiting room, ready to take me back to the flat."

"Will you be going back to Alpha with them?" asked Karim.

"I don't know," said Celestine with a shrug. "Halima says I'm going to need some rest. I don't know; I might go to Alpha with my parents and then come back when I've recovered a bit. I'd certainly like to continue working here. I've been enjoying it."

"We've enjoyed having you here, too. I hope you'll come back. But make sure you have a nice long holiday first."

Celestine smiled, screwing her eyes into even smaller slits. "I will. I'd better go. Thank you for everything."

To his surprise, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. Karim wiped the spot with his free hand as she left. He sincerely hoped the young girl wasn't getting any strange ideas about his heroism. Or his new-found single status. He dismissed that as unlikely; Celestine was merely grateful, of course.

Lying back on his bed, Karim thought about the previous day. What was he going to do without Helena? It had barely been twenty-four hours, but already, he felt a gap in his life. He wondered who had told the children about their mother's death, and how they had taken it. Perhaps Layla or Duncan had broken the news to them. Karim hoped that someone had stayed with his children to comfort them, since he was unable to do that himself. He wondered if they would come and see him.

Karim looked up hopefully as the curtain moved again. He was nearly disappointed when he saw a white face peek around the curtain, but immediately perked up when he realised it was Becky.

"Glad to see you awake," she said, walking into the cubicle. "You've been asleep all morning."

Despite her smile, Becky looked very tired, and the skin under her eyes was darkened by lack of sleep. She came and sat on the bed beside him.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. Just a broken arm, that's all... How is Jorge?"

Becky took in a deep breath and looked away. "Not well. He, ah... Halima had to..." She took a moment to regain her composure. "Well, he's lost both his legs, basically."

"Oh God. Becky, I am so sorry!"

Karim had already known that Jorge's legs were injured in the crash. But it was still a shock to hear the end result from Becky. Jorge would not be able to fly an Eagle again.

"I... I'm sorry about Helena," said Becky, taking Karim's free hand. "I saw Sophie this morning. She seemed to be bearing up well. Layla has scheduled Helena's cremation for tomorrow. Evidently Halima said you would be able to attend by then."

"Good."

Karim nodded, though it was still difficult to believe he was going to attend his wife's funeral. His mind came back to his last image of Helena, smiling at him in the Eagle. They had been through a lot together, and it just wasn't fair for a woman in her prime to die such a horrible death. But he remembered that Helena wasn't the only person who had died on that flight.

"When's your mother's funeral?" he asked softly, squeezing Becky's hand awkwardly with his bandaged wrist.

"That's today, this afternoon. Friedhelm's is just before. I feel I should attend, but I just couldn't do it. Basia will be representing the command staff."

"Oh." Karim was surprised; Basia Poniatowski was one of the operatives. He grinned. "We're really scraping the barrel, then, aren't we?"

The comment brought a wan smile to Becky's face. "The Poniatowskis aren't doing too badly out of all this. Anna has been left in charge of Sauique, since Pete and Lina had to come back here."

"Good heavens, yes." Karim used his free hand to scratch his face. "There aren't many people who aren't affected by all this. Have you seen Sylvia?"

Becky shook her head. "No. Sophie is the only person I saw this morning. But Sylvia must be devastated. And all the children too. I know I should go and see her, to deliver our condolences, rather than sending Basia. But you know, Sylvia was blaming Jorge for the accident yesterday, and I'm afraid she'll have a go at me if I go to see her..."

"No one is expecting you to go and see people," said Karim. "You're entitled to compassionate leave just as much as everyone else. I'll try and see her when I'm let out of here, but in the meantime, I'm sure Basia will be suitably sympathetic without being totally involved. Any preliminary information about what did cause the accident, by the way?"

"I haven't heard yet. The Alphan security team is on its way to investigate. Officially, the Eagle was struck by lightening. That's all Jorge could say before they sedated him." She paused and ran her hand through her hair. "Oh, Karim. This has all been such a nightmare. I mean... I can sort of rationalise what happened to my mother; she was old, she had a good life, all that stuff. But what's happened to Jorge... It's just so awful, I don't think I can cope with it!"

"I understand. I'm sure you'll do all right, though."

They were silent for a while, both no doubt thinking of the dead and the living they had left behind.

"What about Salvatore?" asked Karim suddenly. "How is he?"

Becky seemed surprised by the question. "He's... he's still unconscious. At least, that's the last I heard."

"Boy, I hope he makes it. There have been quite enough deaths so far."

Maya rarely left Salvatore's bedside. Hester too spent most of her days there, leaving her mother to care for the children. Any moral objections Jenna might have had to her daughter's unplanned pregnancy had apparently been swept away by a more legitimate concern for her son-in-law's state of health. The expected confrontation never took place.

Salvatore had been conscious when Maya reached the Eagle. He had muttered a hoarse "Hi Mom" when he saw her, no doubt making some half-hearted attempt at humour by quoting from some film or other. But he had lapsed into a coma by the time he reached Dover, and had remained in that state ever since. He had been operated on three times in an effort to stop internal bleeding. Various parts of his body, including one side of his face, were bandaged to treat chemical burns. He was breathing on his own, but had shown no signs of consciousness in a whole week.

Maya heard a noise behind her and looked up, expecting to see Hester. It was Halima. The CMO smiled at Maya and came over to check the monitors above Salvatore's bed.

"Any change?"

Halima shook her head. "No. It's the same as before. To all intents and purposes, he's asleep and having a vivid dream." She pointed at the pattern on one of the monitors. "His readings are normal and his internal injuries are healing well. But I'm going to give him something to wake him up. I know you said this is a part of your Psychon healing process, but he really needs to be conscious for us to assess the damage from that concussion."

"Yes, I understand." It was a course of action the doctor had already discussed with Salvatore's family.

"We also need to see if he's suffering from shock," continued the doctor. "I've been keeping an eye on all the survivors. Jorge and Karim are both affected, and poor Celestine's hair is going grey."

"Grey?" exclaimed Maya. "But she's only twenty."

"Nineteen. And her hair is definitely grey," said Halima. "I'd never seen it happen, though I've heard of cases like that. We're hoping it's only temporary. It would be terrible for her to have to dye her hair when she's so young."

"Poor girl," said Maya sympathetically. "This accident has been a terrible tragedy for the whole community. So many deaths..."

Halima was still reading Salvatore's monitors, but she looked away as Maya spoke. "I've never had so many autopsies to do," she said with a pained sigh. "Duncan has been so upset about Helena's death. And Marion was devastated by what happened to Jorge. That poor man. I feel... so helpless. So much death and destruction, and I wasn't able to do anything to help."

Maya shook her head. "You can't blame yourself. It was an accident, that's all. Just one of those very unfortunate things that can happen in life. You can only accept it as a twist of fate -- or the will of God if you believe," she added, remembering that Halima was religious. "But in the end, all you can do is grieve for those who died and be grateful for those who survived."

The curtain at the entrance was drawn back and Hester came in. She noticed Halima and seemed relieved; she went to sit beside Maya. The Psychon took Hester's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Despite her speech about resignation, Maya did not feel grief for those who had died, even though Shermeen had been a long-time friend and Helena Habibi her neighbour. The main feeling in Maya's heart was selfish relief that Salvatore had survived. She did not think she could have borne losing her only son nearly ten years to the day after she lost his father. And it would have been a tragedy beyond belief for Hester to be widowed with so many small children.

"Are you going to wake him up?" Hester asked Halima.

"Yes." Halima's demeanour was back to its usual calm professionalism. "I've checked all his readings and he seems to be fine except for the fact he is unconscious. I'm going to inject a stimulant, and hopefully that will be enough to wake him up."

Halima administered the stimulant, and the three women waited. It was a good ten minutes before Salvatore's long lashes started to flutter. He looked at Halima, and then at Hester and Maya. Glancing at her daughter-in-law, Maya could see how happy Hester was. The young woman stood up and wrapped her arms around Salvatore, kissing the cheek that wasn't bandaged. Maya also laughed with delight. Salvatore seemed rather overwhelmed.

"Hey... I was having a nice dream," he protested, though he smiled sheepishly as Hester drew back. "Hello, gorgeous."

"Hello to you, too. We thought you were never going to wake up!" she said softly.

"Well, I was having a nice sleep until Halima injected that stuff in me." He looked at the doctor with a mock frown before turning his attention back to Hester. "How are you? And how's little number four?"

"We're both fine," Hester assured him.

"What about your mother?"

"She's fine too," said Hester with a giggle. Maya couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"No, I meant: have you told her?"

"Yes. And in view of your weakened condition, she's decided to postpone the execution."

"Cool," said Salvatore with a grin. "Does that mean we're having another one after this?"

"Not on your life!" exclaimed Hester.

Evidently satisfied that Salvatore was going to be fine, Halima had already left the cubicle. Maya was about to follow suit, but she leaned over the bed before leaving. Hester moved aside and Maya gave her precious son a kiss.