Thalia Ng felt her weight increasing as the elevator sped down the spoke from the habitat's docking hub. She allowed herself to drift to the floor, trying to judge the point at which the apparent force reached one standard gee. Thalia hoped this was not one of those habitats that insisted on puritanically high gravity, as if it was somehow morally improving to stagger around under two gees. Her belt, with her whiphound and polling-core-analysis tools, already weighed heavily on her hips.

"Thalia," Dreyfus said quietly as the elevator slowed to a halt, "try not to look so nervous."

She tugged down the hem of her tunic.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"You're going to do fine."

"I wish there'd been more time, sir. To read up on House Perigal, I mean."

"You were informed of our destination as soon as we left Panoply."

"That was only an hour ago, sir."

He looked at her, his lazy right eye nearly closed.

"What's your speed-reading index?"

"Three, sir. Nothing exceptional."

Dreyfus took a sip from the bulb of coffee he'd carried with him from the ship. Thalia had conjured it for him: black as tar, the way her boss liked it.

"I suppose it was quite a long summary file."

"More than a thousand paragraphs, sir."

"Well, there's nothing you need to know that wasn't covered in training."

"I hope so. All the same, I couldn't help noticing …"

"What?" Dreyfus asked mildly.

"Your name's all over the summary file, sir."

"Caitlin Perigal and I've had our fair share of run-ins." He smiled tightly.

"As I'm sure she'll be at pains to remind me."

"Count on it," said Sparver, the other deputy field on the lockdown party.