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There is disjointed applause. As if the soldiers aren’t sure whether they should or not.

At the top bench, Meg is watching me, back straight and body perfectly still.

Cosmer is no longer there – and I can’t see him anywhere.

And Dezeeves is on his feet.

Just as I start to panic, he says gushingly, with a slow clap, “Wonderful. That was wonderful.”

He wipes a tear from his eye.

I make sure no one is looking, and that I’m well away from Riss, who is dancing again, before I open the note. It’s scrawled in extraordinarily neat Rhavnan script.

I need to get hold of a radio. It’s about Integration – and perhaps, Rhavna.

It's too risky for me to try to take R’s with the talent they have. I regret to have to ask you to do this. But I need you to retrieve C’s and leave it for me outside my cabin. Knock once. I know you’ll think of a way. I’ll return it by morning.

–Your friend.

On the back, he’s added,

P.S. Soak this in water to destroy it.

P.P.S. Stop stealing people’s drinks.

CHAPTER 18

The Unstolen Radio

An hour later, Cosmer still hasn’t reappeared – and Riss has noticed. She rounds up Drake and I and marches us back to our cabins. It would be an understatement to say she isn’t happy.

“Completely irresponsible. Always disappearing. We’re going to have to sort out sleeping arrangements tonight. Find a four-sleeper⁠—”

She stops mid-sentence, having just opened the door to my cabin.

“Oh,” she says. “You’re here.”

She holds the door open for us, and we squeeze into the tiny room. She pulls the lever that manually turns on the laser light, which otherwise seems to go on and off by itself.

Cosmer is on his bed. Has he just been laying here in the dark?

He does something strange. Unnerving.

He starts chuckling to himself.

“You thought I’d deserted my post?” he says, in an odd, giddy, higher-pitched voice. “I’m no deserter.”

He rolls over, sort of falling out of the bed into a crouch. He staggers to his feet.

“Not like some people in this room,” he says, taking a few wobbly steps towards us. He squints at Drake. “People like you.”

“He’s drunk,” I gasp.

Drake is calm. “I think high is the correct term.” He asks him, rather smugly, “Take a trip down to Deck 1, did we?”

Riss whips around to him. Stabs a finger at his chest. “Shut up. No more.” Glancing at me, too, she says, “This doesn’t leave the room.”

I say nothing.