He gave her a pointed once-over--taking in, she assumed, her uniform, though not without a slight pause here and there. "You tell me," he said. "I'm sure the Abyssal government doesn't tie its collective shoes without the permission of the Virga Home Guard."

Rather than answer that, she pointed to the obvious. "They do have a bug, don't they? Capital bugs aren't native to this part of Virga. It's too cold for them. So if one strayed this deep..."

"Oh, yes, if one strayed this deep." He shook his head. "But I happen to know that a bug that's been living on the fringes of Meridian for years disappeared about a month ago. There were witnesses said they saw ships circling it in the evening sky--heard the sound of artillery being fired. Now, tell me: those horns there. Do they look intact to you?"

She did think she could see dark pits in the giant horns, now that he'd mentioned it. Behind her, one of the men from the government was saying, "It took weeks for it to cool down enough to fall into a dormant state. We didn't really have to do anything, just keep it away from the city until it finally began snowing in its body cavity. Now, as you can see, it's in hibernation."

Antaea frowned at the frost-painted hide, more landscape than flank, that curved far beyond the range of the ship's floodlights. She had to admit, she wanted the monster to have been something ordinary like this. It would be so much simpler; so reassuring.

If she thought this way, though, how much more so would the officious, conservative bureaucrats who ran Abyss these days? Monster was not a column heading in their ledgers. So, would they invent an answer if they couldn't find one? Of course they would.

She shot her companion a sour look. "Are you going to mention your little theory to our hosts? And how did you hear about it anyway?"

"I pride myself in listening well," he said; then he put out his hand for her to shake. "Jacoby Sarto."