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oceanic depths to the stratosphere, Everest-high black fins finger-combing the watery currents. Beyond them the tropical heat of the Pacific gave way to the subarctic chill of the Nether Ocean. Sailing between them, the ship was reduced to the proportions of a cockroach crawling along a canyon between skyscrapers. Maddy had taken one look at these guardians of the interplanetary ocean, shuddered, and retreated into their cramped room for the two days it took to sail out from between the slabs.
    Bob kept going on about how materials scientists from NOAA and the National Institutes were still trying to understand what they were made of, until Maddy snapped at him. He didn’t seem to understand that they were the bars on a prison cell. He seemed to see a waterway as wide as the English Channel, and a gateway to the future: but Maddy saw them as a sign that her old life was over.
    If only Bob and her father hadn’t argued; or if Mum hadn’t tried to pick a fight with her over Bob—Maddy leans on the railing and sighs, and a moment later nearly jumps out of her skin as a strange man clears his throat behind her.
    “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
    “That’s all right,” Maddy replies, irritated and trying to conceal it. “I was just going in.”
    “A shame: it’s a beautiful night,” says the stranger. He turns and puts down a large briefcase next to the railing, fiddling with the latches. “Not a cloud in sight, just right for stargazing.” She focuses on him, seeing short hair, a small paunch, and a worried thirtysomething face. He doesn’t look back, being preoccupied with something that resembles a photographer’s tripod.
    “Is that a telescope?” she asks, eyeing the stubby cylindrical gadget in his case.
    “Yes.” An awkward pause. “Name’s John Martin. Yourself ?”
    “Maddy Holbright.” Something about his diffident manner puts her at ease. “Are you settling? I haven’t seen you around.”
    He straightens up and tightens joints on the tripod’s legs, screwing them into place. “I’m not a settler, I’m a researcher. Five years, all expenses paid, to go and explore a new continent.” He carefully lifts the telescope body up and lowers it onto the platform, then begins tightening screws. “And I’m supposed to point this thing at the sky and make regular observations. I’m actually an entomologist, but there are so many things to do that they want me to be a jack-of-all-trades, I guess.”
    “So they’ve got you to carry a telescope, huh? I don’t think I’ve ever met an entomologist before.”
    “A bug-hunter with a telescope,” he agrees: “kind of unexpected.”
    Intrigued, Maddy watches as he screws the viewfinder into place, then pulls out a notebook and jots something down. “What are you looking at?”
    He shrugs. “There’s a good view of S Doradus from here,” he says. “You know, Satan? And his two little angels.”
    Maddy glances up at the violent pinprick of light, then looks away before it can burn her eyes. It’s a star, but bright enough to cast shadows from half a light-year’s distance. “The disks?”
    “Them.” There’s a camera body in his bag, a chunky old Bron ica from back before the Soviets swallowed Switzerland and Germany whole. He carefully screws it onto the telescope’s viewfinder. “The Institute wants me to take a series of photographs of them—nothing fancy, just the best this eight-inch reflector can do—over six months. Plot the ship’s position on a map. There’s a bigger telescope in the hold, for when I arrive, and they’re talking about sending a real astronomer one of these days, but in the meantime they want photographs from sixty thousand miles out across the disk. For parallax, so they can work out how fast the other disks are moving.”
    “Disks.” They seem like distant abstractions to her, but John’s enthusiasm is hard to ignore. “Do you suppose they’re like, uh, here?” She doesn’t say like