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‘Not long.’

‘Same here,’ said Lom. ‘It’s an odd sort of place. It’s hard to know what it’s all here for. It’s not easy to fit in.’

Mikkala nodded. Her cheeks flushed.

‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Yes! That’s it exactly. That’s how I feel too. I thought I could be friends with the resurrectionists. I thought they liked me, and it made me feel part of something, not just on my own.’

Lom put down the towel and showed her his face.

‘How is it now?’ he said.

Mikkala frowned and squinted.

‘Your nose has stopped bleeding,’ she said. ‘It looks a bit sore though, and I think you’re going to have a black eye. Oh, there’s still blood in your hair. You poor man, I’m so sorry.’

Lom dipped his hands in the water and pushed them through his hair.

‘So what went wrong tonight?’ he said. ‘I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it…’

‘Oh it was awful,’ said Mikkala. ‘Sergei took me to see the resurrectionists’ building, where they work. He showed me the freak shop and it was horrible. It made me really upset. I was sick on the floor, and afterwards… Sergei had a bottle of aquavit and we went somewhere and drank it. He said it would make me feel better but it didn’t. I drank too much–we both did. I don’t normally drink at all. But after what I saw…’

‘At the freak shop?’

‘Yes.’

‘How’s my hair, Mikkala? Do you mind just checking?’

‘What? Oh, yes, it’s fine now–I think so–but your coat…’

‘That’s nothing.’ Lom took it off and began to dab at the sleeve. ‘What did Sergei show you at the freak shop?’

She shuddered. ‘Dead babies. In jars. Ruined babies. Deformed foetuses.’

She went quiet.

Keep going, thought Lom. Don’t stop now.

‘Dead babies?’ he said gently.

‘It’s not right,’ said Mikkala. ‘What they’re doing. I don’t think it’s right. Of course they have their duty. It’s their part of Task Number One, they’re working to solve the common problem and that’s a good thing, but… they’re experimenting with the effects of exposure to different isotopes, and it goes wrong all the time. It feels wrong. They have old bodies too. From graves.’

‘Why are they doing that?’

‘It’s the resurrection programme, learning to grow artificial bodies and bring people back from death, making it so people can live for ever and not die any more. So we can make the long journey to planets around other stars. The Director told me himself, one day we’ll be able to bring someone back to life if you have even just a few atoms left from their bodies, because atoms have memories and they’re alive. Sergei said they’re thinking now that you don’t need living people on the ships at all, only a few crew: you could maybe just send out small pieces of the dead and bring them back to life when you get there.’

Lom remembered Josef Kantor’s strange invitation to him, six years before, alone in Chazia’s interrogation cell in the Lodka. Looking into Kantor’s dark brown eyes was like looking into street fires burning.

Humankind spreading out across the sky, advancing from star to star!

Impossible, Lom had said, and Kantor slammed his hand on the table.

Of course it’s possible! It’s not even a matter of doubt, only of paying the price! Imagine a Vlast of a thousand suns. Can you see that, Lom? Can you imagine it? Can you share that great ambition?

It had seemed like an invitation. Lom had turned him down without a thought.

‘But you must know this already,’ said Mikkala. ‘Everyone here knows about the resurrectionists.’

‘Not me. I’m just a grease monkey. Rivets and bolts. I do what I’m told. I haven’t been here long. Still learning the ropes.’

Mikkala got up from the bed and moved to the chair at the desk.

‘I shouldn’t talk so much,’ she said. ‘I feel giddy. I’ve had a lot to drink.’

‘It’s fine, Mikkala,’ said Lom. ‘You’re fine. That thing with Sergei was a shock, but you’ll be OK.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I can’t remember your name. I don’t know what you do. I’ve never seen you before.’

‘Vissarion. I’m a construction engineer.’

‘What are you working on?’

Lom thought fast. ‘Prototype assembly.’

‘Yes? Really? Then maybe you can tell me about the—’

She stopped.

‘I don’t think I’m supposed to ask,’ she said. ‘I ought to know, for my work, but nobody will say. They don’t trust me; they keep me in the dark and they expect me to work alone. I don’t like it. I don’t feel comfortable here; it doesn’t feel right.’

‘I’ll tell you what I can, Mikkala. We’re all in this together. Working for the common purpose. That’s what Vitigorsk is all about. What do you want to know?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘What?’

‘It’s just… the vessels, the planetary ships… I’m supposed to be working on launch calculations, only there are two kinds, and one kind is meant to leave this planet and make the long voyages, but the other only needs to reach a low orbit, and I think there are going to be more of those. But that makes no sense, does it? It doesn’t fit in and I don’t know why. Which kind is it you’re building? I’ve never even seen it.’

She was looking at him, hot and staring eyes. He could see the wildness there. She was on the edge.

‘I don’t know,’ said Lom.

‘Oh.’

‘Like I said, I just build what I’m told.’

‘You mean you wouldn’t tell me,’ she said fiercely, ‘even if you knew.’

‘Of course I would.’

Her shoulders slumped.

‘I don’t feel well,’ she said. ‘I’d like to sleep now.’

‘I would tell you if I knew, Mikkala. I tell you what: I’ll help you to find out.’

She got up unsteadily from the bed.

‘I think you should go,’ she said. ‘You’re not meant to be here, you know.’

‘Of course.’ Lom stood and started putting on the truck driver’s coat. There was blood soaked into the sleeve.

‘Who would know?’ he said.

‘Know what?’

‘Who knows about the plans for the different ships? Where could we find out about that?’

‘Some people know, but they won’t say.’

‘So who knows? Who could we ask, if we wanted to?’

‘I… Oh, lots of them know. The von Altmann programmers, the supervisor of mathematics, the chief designer. And the Director of course. Khyrbysk knows everything.’

‘Khyrbysk? Yakov Khyrbysk?’

‘Of course.’

‘Khyrbysk is here? Where?’

‘What do you mean, where?’

‘I mean where’s his office?’ said Lom.

‘Why?’

‘We’re old acquaintances. I’d like to go and see him. Where’s his office?’

Mikkala slumped down again on the bed.

‘In the Administration Block,’ she said. ‘But…’ She stared up at him. Her face was drawn and chalky. Dark tears behind her eyes. ‘Oh god. I’ve made another mistake. I thought you were my friend.’

‘I am your friend. Of course I am.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You’re a good person, Mikkala. I don’t mean you any harm. I’m glad we met.’

‘Please go now.’

‘Get some sleep,’ said Lom. ‘Everything’ll be fine.’

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