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supplies!’
    Taince stood looking at him, near-expressionless, for a few moments longer. ‘Mind how you go, Sal.’
    He nodded, relaxing. ‘You too,’ he said. ‘See you all soon.’ He looked round them all one more time, grinning. ‘Nothing I wouldn’t do, and all that.’ He waved his hand and tramped off.
    ‘Hold on,’ Ilen said. Sal turned back. Ilen pulled her little day-pack out of the flier. ‘I’ll come with you, Sal.’
    Fassin stared, horrified. ‘What?’ he said, in a small, shocked, little boy’s voice. Nobody seemed to hear. For once he was glad. Taince said nothing.
    Sal smiled. ‘You sure?’ he asked the girl.
    ‘If you don’t mind,’ Ilen said.
    ‘Fine by me,’ Sal said quietly.
    ‘Sure you don’t mind?’
    ‘Of course I don’t mind.’
    ‘Well, you’re not supposed to go off exploring in dubious situations individually, are you?’ Ilen said. ‘Isn’t that right?’ She looked at Taince, who nodded.
    ‘You take care.’
    Ilen kissed Fassin’s cheek, winked at Taince and strode up the shallow slope to Sal. They waved and walked off. Fassin watched their footstep-traces in IR, each faint patch of brightness on the ground behind them fading after less than a second.
    ‘Never understand that girl,’ Taince said, sounding unconcerned. She and Fassin looked at each other. ‘Suggest you take a snooze now,’ Taince told him, nodding at the flier. She picked her nose and inspected her finger. ‘I’ll wake you before I head out to the hull gap to check for signal.’
    *
    A fragrance bud popped somewhere in the darkened room, and - after a few moments - he smelled Orchidia Noctisia, a Madebloom scent he would always associate with the Autumn House. There was little air movement in the quiet chamber so the bud must have been floating nearby. He lifted his head gently and saw a tiny shape like a slim, translucent flower falling chiffon-soft through the air between the bed and the trolley which had brought their supper. He lowered his head to Jaal’s shoulder again.
    ‘Mmm?’ she said drowsily.
    ‘Meet any friends in town?’ Fassin asked, winding a long golden coil of Jaal Tonderon’s hair around one finger, then bringing his nose forward to nuzzle the nape of her brown-red neck, breathing in the smell of her. She shifted against him, moving her hips in a sort of stirring motion. He had slipped out of her some time ago, but it was still a good feeling.
    ‘Ree and Grey and Sa,’ she said, her voice starting out a little sleepy. ‘Shopping was accomplished. Then we met up with Djen and Sohn. And Dayd, Dayd Eslaus. Oh, and Yoaz. You remember Yoaz Irmin, don’t you?’
    He nipped her neck and was rewarded with a flinch and a yelp. ‘That was a long time ago,’ he told her.
    She reached one hand behind her and stroked his exposed flank, then patted his behind. ‘I’m sure the memory is still vivid for her, dear.’
    ‘Ha!’ he said. ‘So am I.’ This drew a slap. Then they settled in against each other once more; she did that thing with her hips again and he wondered if there would be time for more sex before he had to go.
    She turned to face him. Jaal Tonderon’s face was round and wide and only just very beautiful. For two thousand years or so, rHuman faces had looked pretty much how the owners wanted them to look, displaying either satisfaction with or indifference to whatever womb-grown comeliness they had been born with, or the particular, amended look their owners had subsequently specified. The only ugly people were those making a statement.
    In an age when everyone could be beautiful, and\or look like famous historical figures (there were now laws about looking too much like famous contemporary figures), the truly interesting faces and bodies were those which sailed as close to the wind of being plain or even unattractive as possible, and yet just got away with it. People talked about faces that looked good in the flesh but not in images, or good in lifelike