"Then they should have thought about that before. If you don't like the idea of being caught in a lockdown, do the homework on your habitat."

"That's a very callous outlook.".

"They screwed with democracy. I'm not going to lose much sleep when democracy screws them back.". Thalia felt her weight returning as they neared their destination and the transit slowed. The two prefects disembarked into another cavern, smaller and brighter than the first. This time the floor was an expanse of interlocking black and white tiles, polished to a luxurious gleam. A cylindrical structure rose from a hole in the centre of the floor, wide as a tree trunk, its spired tip almost touching the ceiling. The cylinder's black surface flickered with schematic representations of data flows: rapidly changing red and blue traceries. A railingless spiral staircase wrapped around the pillar, offering access to the stump-like branches of interface ports.

A man in beige uniform – some kind of technician or functionary, Thalia decided – stood by the base of the trunk, his face a study in suspicion.

"Don't come any closer," he said. Sparver answered him.

"Didn't Perigal make it clear we were on our way, and that we weren't to be hindered?"

"It's a trick. You're agents of House Cantarini.". Sparver looked at him sceptically.

"Do I look like an agent of House Cantarini?".

"An agent could look like anyone.".

"I'm a pig. How likely is it that they'd send an ugly specimen like me when there was an alternative?".

"I can't take the risk. You touch this core, I lose my job, my standing, everything.".

"Step aside, sir," Thalia said.

"I'm sorry. I can't let you any nearer." The man opened his hand to reveal a matt-silver device cuffed to his palm, inset with a red firing stud.