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Horza.’ Balveda sighed and looked down to the floor.
    Horza wanted to touch her, to ruffle her short black hair or pinch her pale cheek, but guessed it would only upset her more. He knew too well the bitterness of defeat to want to aggravate the experience for somebody who was, in the end, a fair and honourable adversary. He went to the door, and after a word with the guard outside he was let out.
    ‘Ah, Bora Horza,’ Xoralundra said as the human appeared out of the cell doorway. The Querl came striding along the companionway. The guard outside the cell straightened visibly and blew some imaginary dust off his carbine. ‘How is our guest?’
    ‘Not very happy. We were trading justifications and I think I won on points.’ Horza grinned. Xoralundra stopped by the man and looked down.
    ‘Hmm. Well, unless you prefer to relish your victories in a vacuum, I suggest that the next time you leave my cabin while we are at battle stations you take your - ‘
    Horza didn’t hear the next word. The ship’s alarm erupted.
    The Idiran alarm signal, on a warship as elsewhere, consists of what sounds like a series of very sharp explosions. It is the amplified version of the Idiran chest-boom, an evolved signal the Idirans had been using to warn others in their herd or clan for several hundred thousand years before they became civilised, and produced by the chest-flap which is the Idiran vestigial third arm.
    Horza clapped his hands to his ears, trying to shut out the awful noise. He could feel the shock waves on his chest, through the open neck of the suit. He felt himself being picked up and forced against the bulkhead. It was only then that he realised he had shut his eyes. For a second he thought he had never been rescued, never left the wall of the sewercell, that this was the moment of his death and all the rest had been a strange and vivid dream. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the keratinous snout of the Querl Xoralundra, who shook him furiously and, just as the ship alarm cut off and was replaced by a merely painfully intense whine, said very loudly into Horza’s face, ‘HELMET!’
    ‘Oh shit!’ said Horza.
    He was dropped to the deck as Xoralundra let him go, turned quickly, and scooped a running medjel off the floor as it tried to get past him. ‘You!’ Xoralundra bellowed. ‘I am the spy-father Querl of the fleet,’ he shouted into its face and shook the six-limbed creature by the front of its suit. ‘You will go to my cabin immediately and bring the small space helmet lying there to the port-side stem emergency lock. As fast as possible. This order supersedes all others and cannot be countermanded. Go!’ He threw the medjel in the right direction. It landed running.
    Xoralundra flipped his own helmet over from its back-hinged position, then opened the visor. He looked as though he was about to say something to Horza, but the helmet speaker crackled and spoke, and the Querl’s expression changed. The small noise stopped and only the continuing wail of the cruiser’s alarm was left. ‘The Culture craft was hiding in the surface layers of the system sun,’ Xoralundra said bitterly, more to himself than to Horza.
    ‘In the sun?’ Horza was incredulous. He looked back at the cell door, as though somehow it was Balveda’s fault. ‘Those bastards are getting smarter all the time.’
    ‘Yes,’ snapped the Querl, then turned quickly on one foot. ‘Follow me, human.’ Horza obeyed, starting after the old Idiran at a run, then bumping into him as the huge figure stopped in its tracks. Horza watched the broad, dark, alien face as it swivelled round to look over his head at the Idiran trooper still standing stiffly at the cell door. An expression Horza could not read passed over Xoralundra’s face. ‘Guard,’ the Querl said, not loudly. The trooper with the laser carbine turned. ‘Kill the woman.’
    Xoralundra stamped off down the corridor. Horza stood for a moment, looking first at the