‘You’re quiet.’

‘Missing you, that’s all.’

I made myself look at Halley, straight into his eyes, and I made myself smile. I’d got up early to have breakfast by myself but he’d obviously had the same idea and he looked about as tired as I felt. His face was ashen.

‘How’s Robeen?’ he smirked. ‘Charming as ever?’

‘She’s all right, actually,’ I said. ‘Do you remember the room where we found all those musical instruments? I took Robeen there and we discovered an old cello, so she can practise to her heart’s content now. Whenever we’re at the Museum – it’s too big to fit into a class one. It’s really cheered her up. Surprisingly enough we’re getting on fine.’

‘Oh?’ Halley looked thrown.

‘I showed her the canals too. They took her breath away. She was really grateful to me for showing her.’

‘But you’re still missing me? You’re still going to ask Doc Carter if we can partner up again?’

‘Oh. Yes.’

Halley frowned. ‘Well, you’re the golden girl. If anyone can change his mind, you can.’

The golden girl. The golden girl who was stupid enough to think you were her friend? I just managed to keep the words balanced on the tip of my tongue.

‘Of course,’ I said instead. ‘But we’d better leave it awhile, I think. He won’t have calmed down yet. Not after the dragomansk episode.’

‘I guess not.’

A small fly was dying on the table between us, its final act to push itself round and round in a circle on a leg no bigger than an eyelash.

‘Why did you do it?’ I asked. ‘You still haven’t told me.’

Halley started ripping his breakfast wrapper up into tiny pieces, a habit I’d previously found endearing. ‘I don’t know really,’ he said. ‘I just wanted a better look at it. They wouldn’t let us look at the other one, the one in the lab. I don’t know, I hate all the secrecy here. I hate having things kept from me.’

You and me both, I thought. I wondered how to fill the silence that followed, watching while the small fly died at last.

‘How’s Nisien’s project coming along?’ I asked.

‘Super boringly,’ said Halley, making balls of torn-up wrapper and flicking them up in the air with his thumbnail. ‘My brain’s turning to mush.’

‘Poor you.’

‘You have no idea how obsessed with vehicles he is.’

‘Not so different from you and the dragomansk.’

‘I guess.’ He blew out some air and looked round the empty room. Only nine of us remained at Base now, including us four. Most of the scientists had left to survey different sites around the country.

‘At least Nisien’s obsession is likely to end up being useful,’ I said. ‘You seem to admire these monsters, these weapons. Why?’

‘All I wanted was to see one up close, that’s all. And I want to find out about those pictures on the gallery walls. The dragomansk is like some last surviving dinosaur from a whole world of man-made insect monsters we’re not being told about. The dragomansk will soon be gone. We’re amongst the last to see them.’

‘You think they’ll be gone soon?’

‘I imagine they’ll find a way, yes.’

I’d have loved to have asked him more but was afraid of making him suspicious. Better to play dumb – which was all anyone was expecting of me anyway.

‘Halley, you mainly want to see a dragomansk because you’re not allowed. If someone says you can’t do something, you have to go and prove them wrong. Isn’t that the truth?’

‘There may be something in it.’ He half-smiled but then went on earnestly, ‘Look, I can probably stand being with Nisien another couple of days but no longer than that. Please, Bree, go to Doc Carter and beg him if you have to. It’s driving me crazy hanging around here all day long. I won’t do anything ridiculous again, or dangerous, I promise. Say you’ll do this for me, please?’

What a lying, worthless piece of dirt, I thought, but naturally I promised I would and he looked relieved.

I had another go at the celephet while I was waiting for Robeen to get ready. It was painstaking and painful work but I picked at it for as long as I could stand. I’ll spare you the details but by the time I’d finished, there was a definite wound which bled more than before. I washed and dried it carefully, scattered on some regulation medicating powder which we carried at all times and covered it with my hair. I knew full well I was going to get into proper trouble for this, but I didn’t care. Once I’d managed to get the celephet off, Doc Carter probably wouldn’t allow me back to the Museum, but I couldn’t help that either; I didn’t feel like writing any more poems anyway.

For the first time I started thinking that the dragomansk might not be so bad. It was about the only thing standing in the way of Earth’s destruction. Did I really want to hasten that? It was a scary thought, a traitorous thought. I didn’t give a damn about that either.

When Robeen and I arrived at the Museum I was in no mood to head straight for the Origins of Earth, so I sat and listened to her play for a bit before going to explore elsewhere. I found my way down to the first basement level and was amazed by the tunnel-like corridors which opened up before me, the rooms crammed floor to ceiling with the most extraordinary treasures. I guessed exhibits from the upper galleries had been moved to these lower levels to protect them in the war. There was so much down there, maybe a lot of art had been moved to the Museum for safekeeping.

In one room I came across a large, ornate bed covered with piles of heavily framed pictures. The cover of the bed caught my eye, the sumptuous golden tapestry glistening as my tilelight swept over it. I ran my fingers across the cover ever so lightly, only to feel it disintegrate beneath my touch. A few golden fibres clung to my fingertips. I imagined a lot of the treasures would be this way: seemingly well preserved until they were touched, when they simply fell to bits. All gone, forever.

There were suits of armour piled crazily on top of couches and jewelled cabinets. There were rolled-up carpets and yet more statues. There were pictures, pictures everywhere, darkened by age or mould, but here an eye peeped out at me, there a mouth grinned or a hand fluttered. These basement rooms were noticeably colder and damper than the ones at ground level. I could still hear Robeen playing in the distance. The music only made me sad. I felt wretched. I wanted to talk to someone and there was no one, absolutely no one. Halley, my one friend and ally, was gone and in his place was a stranger I hated.

I removed a stack of bowls from the seat of a finely carved chair and sat down, feeling the material tear beneath my weight. It was probably a thousand years old. My tilelight shone at the floor and cast large, vague shadows onto the ceiling. I didn’t feel scared and I didn’t care what might turn up to bother me because it couldn’t possibly make me feel worse than I already did. If the face started shouting at me again, I was going to shout back. My sobs made the giant shadows dance all around me as though they were laughing and jeering at me. Stupid girl.

Gradually I became aware that there was someone else in the room with me and it felt as though the person – I sensed a single person – was very close. My chair stood on one side of a narrow gangway and opposite was a larger high-backed chair, piled with books.

To my stirring horror, the book on the top started to shuffle forwards on its own ever … so … slowly until it was teetering on the edge, rocking to and fro teasingly. When it fell, its pages fluttered open before it hit the ground with a soft slap. I jumped, but before I could react further, the next book began to work its way forward. It fell and the next one and the next. An unseen hand was pushing the books off the chair one by one. The exaggerated shadow of the chair on the wall rose and fell, rose and fell as the chair began to rock backwards and forwards and I could hear the soft bump of the wooden feet on the ground. Finally, the rest of the books avalanched onto the floor, thumping one on top of the other until the last one fell and there was silence. The chair tipped back into an upright position.

I could hardly breathe. That same unfamiliar fear of the unknown fastened me to my seat.

I could not make out any shape in the chair and yet I knew someone had sat down on it and was sitting so close that I could have reached out and touched them. Slowly, slowly the air seemed to harden within the chair, that’s the only way I can describe it. I felt no threat this time but I did feel scared, too scared to shine my tilelight directly on to the chair, yet absolutely terrified of turning it off. I was almost too scared to blink, in case in that shaved second the dark matter in the chair might suddenly coagulate into my nightmare.

So I sat and it sat. I didn’t know if it wanted me to do anything and I certainly wasn’t going to ask. Presumably the celephet was asking its question, but how long before the thing in the chair got fed up with that and screamed at me to go away again, or worse? Of course I wouldn’t shout back at it as I’d boasted to myself. I couldn’t trust a thing Carter said and I only had his word that this energy, or whatever it was, wouldn’t hurt me.

I was still half-aware of the far-off cello music drifting sadly and sweetly down the stairs and through the corridors. I heard something else crackle above my head. A shower of sparks fell from the ceiling, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the chair. Suddenly and horribly unexpectedly, a harsh, sulphurous yellow light flashed on and off, on and off. Something had brought the old electricity system back to life. I looked up at the ceiling and all around me. The light was incredibly bright, flashing on and off, making everything in the room almost unbearably sharp: the case of stuffed red foxes fighting each other in the snow, the silken tapestry of interwoven branches and leaves which had been torn in two, the model of the moon with its craters, the darkened portrait of a woman and her children.

And the man in the chair.

On and off, on and off. In the light I could see him sitting bolt upright with his eyes closed, like a dead man. On and off, on and off. In the dark I could still see the negative of his shape.

I opened my mouth to scream but the sound stuck in my throat.

On and off, on and off, until the crackling stopped and a last few sparks burned themselves out halfway to the ground. There was silence.

I could sense that he was still there. The impression of him was burned onto my eyeballs, his eyes and mouth dark, sketchy shapes. A young, curly-haired Earth man, slim-faced and shabbily dressed, stubble on his cheeks, with his strange eyes closed and his lips slightly parted.

I jumped. My tile was bleeping with an incoming message.

The man started to melt into the vague impression of hardened air I had seen first of all.

I raised my tile level with my face and scrolled to find the message.

One word. Sender unknown.

BACH

Robeen finished playing, the final notes from her cello disappearing like vapour, and I knew I was alone again.

BACH

What did it mean?

The encounter hadn’t been as terrible as the last but it was more unsettling. I went to find Robeen in the hall. I decided to show her the message, even though I couldn’t tell her where it had come from. Of course, I couldn’t be sure the message had come from the man in the chair, but the whole business was so strange, I was prepared to believe anything.

‘Bach,’ she said. ‘Funny, that’s what I was just playing. That music was by Johann Sebastian Bach.’ I must have looked confused, but at least she hadn’t explained as though she was speaking to an idiot, the way she would have done once. ‘Who sent it?’

‘I don’t know.’ I did. The man in the chair.

Robeen just chuckled, a most un-Robeen-like thing to do.

‘Coincidence I suppose,’ she said. ‘Bach’s my favourite composer, always has been. It’s impossible to do him justice on the virtual cello, no matter how well you play.’

‘And you play brilliantly, Robeen,’ I said. ‘I’ve always told you that.’

‘Bree? What is it? What’s wrong?’

I turned away, afraid I was going to cry. ‘Please, carry on playing.’ I sat at the feet of the unhappy marble girl. ‘It’s wonderful.’

That intense look on the man’s face, the message on my tile, they both told me the same thing: how much he’d loved Robeen’s playing. Now we were sort of friends, that shouldn’t have mattered, but it was just another reminder of how clever she was and how stupid I was. All I could do was make the man mad and that wasn’t me, it was the damn celephet goading him. Robeen’s musical skills had calmed the dead man’s energy, had soothed it. Her music had even made him appear, a full body appearance for the first time. Well, I wasn’t going to reveal that to Doc Carter and make his day.

My hand crept up to the back of my head and I picked at the celephet again. I was more determined than ever to get it off, no matter how painful, no matter what.

On returning to Base that afternoon, I knew that avoiding Doc Carter was going to be impossible. If I had stopped the celephet from working properly already and he hadn’t received any data, he was bound to want to check it. I didn’t want to think what would happen then. What was the worst he could do to me?

There was a big surprise in store. Lana Leoni was hurrying out of the front door cradling a large equipment box, looking as busy as ever and apologetic.

‘I’m sorry but Doc Carter’s had to go away for a couple of days,’ she said. ‘He asked me to explain to you but I’m just on my way up to the site. He’s gone to Mumbai to train SSO scientists there.’

‘Mumbai?’

‘Yes, I’m really sorry, Bree.’ Lana had seen my amazement but hadn’t spotted the underlying relief. ‘I know you two are still working on this invention of his; I don’t know much about it but it’s obviously hugely important. He was hoping there’d be no need to go but then he got a call through this morning and he couldn’t very well say no, it would have been undiplomatic, you know: “frowned upon”. Our organisations have been working together very closely for the last few years.’

‘Honestly, it’s fine. Any idea when he’ll be back?’

‘A day or two is all I know. But he told me to tell you to carry on. He said he wouldn’t have much time to work on it while he’s away, but for you to carry on at the Museum and he’s got absolute faith in you. Does that make sense?’

‘Perfectly,’ I said, trying not to smile.

‘Great.’ After a few steps she turned and called back. ‘He took Halley with him.’

Of course he had. Halley couldn’t be trusted to hang about with me at Base in case he decided to tell the truth for once in his life.

‘Halley’ll be pleased,’ said Robeen. ‘He’ll get to see a lot more of Earth.’

I felt strangely elated. Two days lay ahead without Carter or the hateful, treacherous Halley. My interest in my poem immediately re-kindled. Even if no one on Earth or Mars believed it was any good or gave the remotest damn about it, I would satisfy myself by finishing it. I would also get rid of the parasite clinging to the back of my head and the man in the chair and the footsteps in the dark would cease. Once Carter returned, it would all be over: no more days at the Museum and some unimaginable punishment for me, but hey, that was at least two days away and I was going to spend that time doing what I most wanted to do in this world or any other. No one was going to stop me.

The next day, I made straight for Origins of Earth and constructed a larger arrangement of crinoid fossils, ammonites and trilobites on the floor all around me. I was going to let my imagination run riot. Let it swim through tropical seas, swing from the branches of trees, run headlong through fields and descend into crystal-filled caves. Let it fly over all the wonders of Earth. When Robeen began playing in the hall, the music swelled to a heartbreaking sweetness, permeating the chill darkness. I wasn’t surprised when the footsteps began and they didn’t sound angry at all. I almost managed to ignore them but not quite. I guessed they belonged to the man in the chair and couldn’t help but wonder who he had been. Had he really been one of the scientists who’d developed the dragomansk? Doc Carter was so sure he’d tuned the celephet to that specific period in history but how could he possibly know? Whoever the man in the chair had been, his anger bore out everything I’d been told about the warlike Earth humans.

I was almost past caring. I’d had another go at the celephet that morning and it felt like it was at least half off. When it finally came off, I’d lose any chance of finding out about the dead man. It was Robeen and her music he’d responded to so well, not me, so he could get lost. We weren’t about to discover the dragomansk’s genetic code either, but if the dragomansk were safe, the Earth would stay safe a little longer. Of course, this thought was best kept to myself.

I failed to add anything to my poem. I wrote a few weak, unimaginative lines but I found it impossible to get into the right creative state, even though I tried and tried, even though I knew that this was one of my last chances. The elation I’d felt the day before had vanished and in its place were the familiar inner voices taunting me, telling me how useless I was, how stupid, how talentless compared to someone like Robeen. Her beautiful playing began to grate on me. The sound of the slow footsteps, treading gently and reverentially on the other side of the wall annoyed the hell out of me. Even a ghost could detect Robeen’s talent. All it could find to say to an inadequate idiot like me was, ‘Go away’. Well, there was something I could do about it. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I managed to get my finger right underneath the celephet. My finger went under and came out on the other side. I tugged sharply, four times, my finger sticky with blood and sliding about. I could just about tolerate how much it hurt, right up to the fifth tug when the celephet came away, pinging off like a tooth coming out of its socket. I cried out in spite of myself and the footsteps ceased.

They ceased.

I couldn’t see where the hateful patch had gone, all I knew was it wasn’t attached to me anymore. I felt a little blood trickle down the back of my neck and remembered that I hadn’t replenished the medicating powder in the small canister tucked into my belt. I realised how dangerous this was, exposing a very open wound to the unstable Earth air which was full of hazardous, alien microbes. This was yet another situation they’d given us big warnings us about, the risk of infection if you happened to injure yourself. I was sure well-prepared Robeen would have some medicating powder, but if I asked her for some, she’d want to know why. I hesitated, but I had no option: I would have to ask for the powder.

‘What happened?’ said Robeen. ‘Let me see. Bree, your celephet. It’s gone!’

‘I know.’

‘But it was the only one working! Doc Carter’s going to be…’

I gave her a warning look.

‘I mean,’ she carried on, ‘the wound must be really painful.’

I bent over and let her sprinkle the blue powder onto the back of my head.

‘There’s no need to tell anyone, Robeen. I know I’m going to get into trouble but I can’t help that.’

‘You mean… You didn’t pull it off – not on purpose?’

I nearly laughed, she sounded so shocked. I was on the point of denying it but then I thought, no. Even if I couldn’t tell everything, I wanted to tell someone something. Robeen was the obvious choice.

‘Sit down.’ We both sat on the bottom of the staircase. ‘Do you remember earlier on, at the start of the mission? You didn’t think I deserved a place on it?’

She looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry I said those things. I didn’t mean it, Bree, I was just in a bad mood. I feel better now I can play the cello again and of course, it’s you I’ve got to thank for that.’

‘Shut up, Robeen,’ I said, startling her. ‘You meant every word and you know you did. You were right. I don’t deserve to be here with you and Nisien.’ I deliberately didn’t include Halley. ‘I was only chosen because the celephet would work on me and probably wouldn’t on you. Doc Carter already knew that, before we started off.’

Robeen’s eyes grew round and her mouth hung open. ‘You mean…’

‘Yes. I don’t know if Doc Carter even put proper celephets on the rest of you. They must be vastly expensive. Yours were probably dummies. Mine was the only one he had any confidence in, but he didn’t tell me that, not at first. Believe me, I was as sick of Doc Carter’s attention as you were. You have no idea how stifled I’ve been feeling all this time but he only ever valued me because of the celephet. So you were right, you were all right. I don’t deserve to be here. Teyra should be here, not me.’

Robeen looked like she didn’t know what to say.

‘It’s all right,’ I said, tears filling my eyes. ‘I’m all right with it. Now I’ve finally got the damn thing off. He should have told me what was going on from the very beginning. Well, no, I’m not all right. I’m angry. So angry.’