“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Lague tried to fall at Hlawnvert’s feet, but the men at his side tugged him upright. “There is nothing to worry about, sir — I haven’t taken the dust.”

At an order from the lieutenant the two men released Lague and he walked slowly back to rejoin the rank. The line of airmen parted to make room for him, leaving a larger gap than was necessary, creating an intangible barrier. Toller guessed that Lague would find little consolation during the next two days, which was the time it took for the first effects of ptertha poison to become apparent.

Captain Hlawnvert saluted his lieutenant, turning the assembly over to him, and walked back up the slope to Sisstt and Toller. Patches of high colour showed above the curls of his beard and the sweat stains upon his jupon had grown larger. He looked up at the high dome of the sky, where the eastern rim of Overland had begun to brighten as the sun moved behind it, and made an impatient gesture as though commanding the sun to disappear more quickly.

“It’s too hot for this kind of vexation,” he growled. “I have a long way to go, and the crew are going to be useless until that coward Lague goes over the side. The service regulations will have to be changed if these new rumours aren’t quashed soon.”

“Ah.…” Sisstt strained upright, fighting to regain his composure. “New rumours, Captain?”

“There’s a story that some line soldiers down in Sorka died after handling ptertha casualties.”

“But pterthacosis isn’t transmissible.”

“I know that,” Hlawnvert said. “Only a spineless cretin would think twice about it, but that’s what we get for aircrew these days. Pouksale was one of my few steady men — and I’ve lost him to that damned fog of yours.”