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My bet is the council work is done there, where it’s most secure.>
    “Well, keep trying,” said Roche. “And let me know if you learn anything important.”
    <1 will, Morgan.>
    Roche eased the scutter into the large dock, bringing it to a halt in exactly the spot indicated. There followed a series of clangs and small bumps; then the traffic controller spoke again.
    “You’re docked,” he said. “Praise Weryn, and welcome aboard the Phlegethon.”
    “Thanks.” Roche unclipped her harness and stepped from the couch.
    “Air outside is normal,” said Kajic. “And so far our transmissions aren’t being interfered with.” He still sounded concerned.
    “Good. I think we’re going to be okay, Uri.”
    “You’d better hope so, Morgan,” Haid put in over the open line. “Because if something does go wrong, I don’t fancy our chances of getting you out of there.”
    “Personally, I don’t give you any chance at all. Not against this thing.” Roche forced herself to sound casual. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
     said Maii.
     said Roche. She let the hint of a smile carry with her reply.

    * * *

    A tall woman with a solid build met them outside the airlock bay. She was dressed in a sky-blue uniform that seemed part robe, part jumpsuit. It was hard to tell where the folds of fabric stopped or started. Her face was long and strong-boned, her chin curved and slightly protruding.
    “My name is Hue Vischilglin,” she said, taking both of Roche’s hands in hers and pressing them to her forehead. She repeated the ritual with Maii, when Roche introduced her. The young reave, made awkward by the hazard suit, bowed slightly in return. “Be welcome here.”
    “Thank you,” said Roche distractedly, glancing along the empty, curving corridor that connected all the various docks on the inside of the ship. It was so long that the air blurred the details in the distance, and so wide that, with gravity pointing down away from the center of the ship, it almost appeared flat. She shook her head. “I never expected... this !”
    “Few do.” Vischilglin smiled warmly and gestured for them to follow her across the plain toward a distant pillar. There was no one else in sight. “The Heterodoxies have come from the Far Reaches on the other side of the galaxy. They’ve known about the problem longer than most, and have possibly suffered its worst effects. This ship is all that’s left of one of their fleets. Its Heresiarch—its ‘captain’—rebelled when he was ordered to destroy a civilian outpost inhabited by several billion people. It would seem his superiors had been infiltrated by the enemy. He managed to escape reprisal and kept on running. Eventually he was contacted by others in similar situations and directed here.
    “Like some of the other outermost Castes, their greater lead-in time has given him more chance to prepare for being here. On the other hand, his crew is exhausted from having come so far. That’s probably why they’re being so open-minded about the council running the show.” She smiled widely. “Although I suspect they were as glad to get their hands on our ftl relays and advanced camouflage as much as we were glad to get our hands on such a figurehead. What a beast, eh? And to think this was just one ship from one of the Heterodox fleets!”
    “So you’re not one of them?”
    “Oh, no,” she said, surprised by Roche’s misunderstanding. “I’m from the Rond-Spellor Outlook, myself.” Catching Roche’s reaction, she went on with even more surprise: “You’ve heard of us! That makes us practically family around here.”
    They reached the pillar, which turned out to be much thicker than Roche had first imagined; the lack of perspective was playing