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tiniest bit of approval.
    ‘And have you any idea what’s inside?’ she asked.
    Jack shook his head. A silence settled.
    ‘Has any attempt been made to gain access?’
    ‘Not with that sign on the coffin—’ Jack pointed to a mauve marking. ‘That’s a fairly universal indication of “Keep out! Contents poisonous!” Although, we’ve tried pretty much every standard analysis and a few other tools besides. About all we can get is a general impression that there’s something inside and that it’s no longer alive. And that’s it. There aren’t even any individual markings on the coffins.’
    ‘No stony tears to mark my graven bed, eh?’ Agnes looked thoughtful. ‘They made the ultimate sacrifice.’
    She turned back to the giant pens of coffins, watching them wash patiently up and down.
    ‘It’s magnificent,’ she said, exhaling.
    A chill spread across the boat. Agnes rested her hands on the rail and breathed deeply. ‘ Dulce et decorum est – eh, Harkness? What a sweet and noble thing it is to lay down one’s life for one’s planet?’
    Jack stiffened. It was almost like a trace of the old fight came back into him. ‘It’s a shame you flicked through two world wars. You missed quite something. A tonne of sweet nobility going on there.’
    Agnes smiled. ‘You shouldn’t mock such sentiments – not when, as far as I can tell, you spend a fair bit of time dying for what you believe in.’
    Jack shrugged. ‘Oh, I’m lucky. I get to keep on dying until I get it right. Others only get one go.’
    ‘Shame,’ said Agnes.
    They held the moment. It was as though Agnes was waiting for something to happen. She stood, staring again at the coffins, her face twisted in a smile.
    ‘A remarkable, remarkable mystery. And you’re quite sure that no coffin has made it ashore?’
    Jack looked quite firm. ‘Only the one. And we found it quite quickly. No one saw it.’
    Agnes glared at him, full of sharp disappointment. ‘I should like to see the analysis of that coffin. Not every threat is visible.’
    Jack spread the naval charts out on the floor of the speedboat. He flicked on a portable Rift monitor, resting it on a corner of a chart. It hummed and growled like an angry dog. Finally he handed her a folder. ‘There’s the analysis,’ he said.
    Agnes took it, and leafed through it briefly, before handing it back to Jack. ‘You neglected to mention something about this coffin, Captain.’
    ‘I don’t think so. Did we?’ A trace of doubt crept into his voice. ‘We were very thorough.’
    ‘Of course you were,’ Agnes’s tone was pure honey. ‘Within your obvious limits. Without a scientific or medical expert, how could you be expected to understand the trace elements report?’
    ‘I really don’t understand,’ repeated Jack. ‘There was nothing unusual on that coffin. Certainly no traces of life.’
    Agnes nodded, sweetly. ‘Well, of course not. But this report clearly shows an area of this coffin that’s discoloured and where the metal has reacted, very slightly, with something. There are tiny indentations and mineral deposits. I’d argue that they’re the excreta of some kind of organism – I believe it may have travelled pick-a-back on the coffin.’
    Jack looked at her sharply. ‘How can you tell?’
    ‘If it was rust or mould it would still be on there. It isn’t. It’s walked off.’
    ‘No way.’ Jack shook his head. ‘It could have fallen off in the Rift.’
    ‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ agreed Agnes. ‘Or could it be that it left after it came ashore?’
    ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘That’s pure supposition.’
    ‘It’s a possibility, Jack. You’ve been collecting coffins. Coffins containing the victims of a war against something so terrible and deadly to life that they daren’t even bury the dead on their own planet. Instead, they’re firing them through the Rift. And you’ve been lucky. A coffin hasn’t broken open and unleashed whatever deadly genetic contaminant it contains.