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get over the loss of Max. If you recall, she even threatened to sue Steiner for negligence."
    "But the enquiry cleared him," I began.
    "That's beside the point. Whatever his involvement, Trevellion held him responsible. That makes their liaison now all the more suspicious."
    I considered telling Doug that the lack of opportunity to play the real detective on Meridian was forcing him to imagine intrigue where none existed.
    "Perhaps," Abe suggested, "Trevellion has seen the error of her ways, found Steiner to be a thoroughly decent guy, and fallen in love with him."
    "Don't give me any of that romantic bullshit, Abe! I've been around long enough to know when something smells... fishy ," and he chuckled again at his pun. Trixi joined in.
    Abe took the opportunity to change the subject. "Talking about Steiner," he said, "I couldn't contact him today about what happened on Brightside. Is he likely to be here tonight?"
    "He'll no doubt be dancing attendance to Trevellion," Doug said. He kissed Trixi on her pink snout and patted her bottom. "Run along, now. There's a good girl." He turned to us. "About those remains..." he said when Trixi had scampered away. He seemed reluctant to discuss work when there was a party to enjoy.
    In the event he was saved the effort.
    We were interrupted by the arrival of the nighttime phase. The leading edge of the oval shield swooped over the island, bringing with it the brief twilight which presaged eight hours of total darkness. Towards the sunward horizon, the shield was drawing slowly across the burning orb like a great shutter. With the advent of the penumbra, the Brightside aurora burned all the more magnificently, creating spectacular reflections on the surface of the sea. There was a spontaneous burst of applause from the guests on the lawn. Trevellion's dome glowed in the gathering darkness, and from nowhere a spotlight flashed on, picking out the arched exit and the steps leading down to the garden.
    "What did I tell you?" Doug murmured in satisfaction.
    The music grew muted. A hush descended over the gathering, and the Altereds beside us gazed up in adoration. Tamara Trevellion made her entry.
    I stared, too, but the emotion I experienced was more revulsion than reverence. I thought at first that she was wearing a sheer, black evening gown. But then I saw, as she paused in the spotlight at the top of the stairs a matter of metres from us, that I was mistaken. Tamara Trevellion was entirely naked. The gown was in fact a membranous series of frills and fins which flowed and eddied around her body like the finest filigree. Her breasts had been removed, her vagina concealed behind a flap of scales. But it was her face that I found more shocking. Thin lips hyphenated mailed cheeks, and her eyes were huge, grey and depthless. A high, spined crest began at her brow and carried on over her narrow skull to the nape of her neck. Gills, sealed now, were angry red incisions at her throat. The entire effect — far from being aesthetically pleasing, as I guessed had been her intention — was monstrous. I recalled the beautiful mer-woman I had seen on my vid-screen a year ago, and could not decide if my senses had been at fault, or if Trevellion had had herself further Altered.
    "The Black Widow fish of the Darkside deeps," Abe whispered to me, staring at her. "Its pigment blackens for camouflage when the male of the species has fertilised it and died."
    I stared up at the tall, regal figure. I had to admit that I found her imposing, perhaps because of the way she stood, immobile and silent, regarding her guests as if we were her subjects.
    Only then did I notice the two people standing in her wake. One was a small, thin girl, who I took to be her maid or companion. I was immediately taken by her: she was dressed rather plainly, as if she had had the yellow smock selected for her, rather than having chosen it herself — but this served only to highlight her natural prettiness. She was the first woman