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was the thrum of the under floor heating. The curtains
were drawn, but through a small gap he could see the night sky, and
the distant stars twinkling like old friends. He stroked his chin.
The stubble made him feel dirty, a little wretched even. Stretching
out his good hand before his eyes, he was pleased to see it was
steady, under control. It was time for a shave, and another shower
wouldn’t go amiss either.
    Twenty
minutes later he was dressed in the cleanest uniform he could find,
and let himself out of the bedroom. The staircase felt solid beneath
his feet, and he no longer needed to grip the balustrade for dear
life. He entered the office to find Roe had returned, and was sitting
at her desk, eyes blank, lost in Espirnet, perhaps even writing her
report. Jon was sitting behind the long unused second Deputy Desk,
his expression sombre, even morose, but he quickly replaced this with
a smile when he saw Jacob.
    “Dad,
you’re looking better.”
    Jacob
scratched his head and smiled. “Feeling better, thanks.”
    Roe’s
eyes refocused on reality and she returned his smile. “Marshal,
you’re OK.” She stood up and rushed over to hug him. He
felt a little embarrassed by the show of affection and felt a wave of
disapproval from Jon. Roe didn’t seem to care, but she let him
go quickly enough, her small brown eyes darting from side to side as
she examined him. He hoped his smile and clean shaven chin would
reassure her. He had no idea what Jon had said, but he noticed that
when she looked at his son, it was not with approval.
    Jacob
appreciated her loyalty. She had been his deputy for seven months,
had it been that long already? Seven months since he had fired his
last Deputy for taking bribes. When she had applied for the role, he
thought she was too young, too spindly. Her short-cropped brown hair
had made her appear almost boyish. He had known her father Abe
Jenkins for years, had drunk with him on many occasion. It was safe
to say her father did not approve of the appointment and would rather
she worked on his farm. But even at the age of twenty, she had never
developed the necessary muscle to be of any real help. She had proved
too restless to belong on a farm. She could not fit herself around a
routine. But what she lacked in physical strength, she more than made
up for in speed, wit, and an accuracy he had rarely seen with a
concussion pistol.
    A
lawman did not require much muscle on Threshold. Human strength was
no good against a Threshian anyhow. The weakest of them was superior
to the strongest human. Tactics and gunplay were the only superiority
a human could have. In recent weeks he had grown confident enough in
her abilities to send her out alone to deal with the more complicated
disputes. He trusted her judgement, in some ways more than his own.
With an intermittent supply of Jopo, perhaps he had trusted her too
much. He valued her respect, valued it enough to hide his condition
and send her out further afield far more often that he should have.
Seeing her in the jail he suddenly feared he had made a mistake by
allowing Jon to recall her. He had made a great many mistakes lately.
    As if
sensing his thoughts, she met his eyes. “How are you, really?”
    “What
do you know?” Jacob asked.
    She
glanced at Jon. “He,” she emphasised. “Told me
about what happened in the street and about Lucas.” She paused.
“He also told me you’re a Jopo H addict. Is that true?”
    Jacob
took a step back, he couldn’t meet her eyes. He could almost
feel his damaged hand throbbing away again in the gel pack.
    “Jon
wasn’t lying, I am an addict. I have been one for a long time.”
    He
saw the pain written on her face, the disbelief. “But you look
OK.”
    “Forbes
gave me another shot,” he explained. “I’m good for
now, but it won’t last.”
    She
retreated to her desk, and he was suddenly aware of the widening gulf
between them, a gulf he had just created.
    “That
stuff will kill you,” she said. It