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softscreen.
    “Well?” Kranda asked.
    “Read my report,” Farini said, unable even to look Kranda in the eye.
    Kranda looked past the grey-snouted Farini to one of the men and said, “Glaran, with me, please.” Glaran had been male now for over four years, and was suitably docile. She gestured to her ship and he followed her. Over her shoulder, she said to Farini, “Take a break. We’ll convene for a meal at noon.”
    She sat down on the steps of her flier, gesturing Glaran to sit beside her. Of her team, the small male was her favourite, and while she tried to discourage sexual congress between her team members, she had felt strong urges towards Glaran soon after emerging from her hayanor . It did not help matters, she admitted to herself, that Glaran was also a favourite of Farini.
    She indicated the softscreen. “Well, was I right, Glaran?”
    He smiled. “Of course. We knew you would be. Farini too, although she wouldn’t admit as much.”
    “She’ll calm down. I don’t have time to read all this, so if you could précis...”
    The small male looked uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t you be asking Farini?”
    “Are you questioning my judgement?”
    Glaran bridled. “Of course not!”
    “Very well then, a précis...”
    Glaran said, “The technical co-ordinates are in the report, Sen-Kranda,” he said, using her official title as team leader. “On the sea bottom we discovered evidence of disturbance. Initial analysis suggested accidental tectonic slippage, which has resulted in something... leaking , perhaps, from the hub.”
    “Or, as I suggested, a disequilibrium of pressure, Glaran. If there’s been a breach on the sea-bed, which there obviously has, then that might explain the surge.”
    Glaran nodded tentatively. “That might explain the storm activity, Sen-Kranda. We did detect thermal activity issuing from the vent.”
    She smiled. “It’s always nice to be right, Glaran.” She reached out and touched his knee. He looked away. “And it’s also quite pleasing to know that the Builders are not infallible, hm?”
    He looked at her, startled at her near-blasphemy. “Sen-Kranda...”
    “I’m joking, Glaran,” she said, then, “Did Farini say anything? I mean, did she have an alternative theory?”
    “She wouldn’t venture an alternative explanation, Sen-Kranda. As I said, she knew you were right.”
    She looked up. “And here she is. On the warpath, by the look on her face.”
    Farini strode up to the pair and stared at them. “Must I report you for unprofessionalism?”
    “Meaning?”
    “You should be discussing these matters with me, as team sergeant, after all.”
    Kranda, reasonably, indicated the softscreen. “But I did attempt to,” she pointed out. “As I recall, you advised me to consult the ’screen. As you seemed unwilling to give me an immediate verbal report, I sought one from your deputy.” She glanced at Glaran. “That will be all.”
    When he’d hurried away, Kranda stood and faced Farini. “Let’s talk this over like fellow professionals, hm? Glaran reported the finding of tectonic slippage. I diagnose depressurisation. What do you think?”
    Mollified, Farini blinked and said, “Yes, that is the most likely explanation.”
    They walked away from the ship, turned and paced back again, discussing the slippage and what they should do about it. The rest of her team looked on, perhaps expecting a fistfight. That, Kranda knew, would not happen: she had defused Farini’s anger for the time being.
    Five minutes later they were about to return to the others when Farini stopped in mid-sentence, screwing her eyes up as she stared at something flying low over the veldt.
    A vast Engineering Corps interworld ship was lumbering towards them. Seconds after it came into view, the dull drone of its engines rumbled over them like thunder.
    At first Kranda thought that it was in transit past them, on some mission to a neighbouring world. But the behemoth slowed, eased itself to