"It's somewhere in this general area," said Randall five days later. "As near as I can tell, anyway."

     They were standing in the middle of a large meadow. The long grass was wet from a shower that had stopped a few minutes before and water had seeped into their shoes, making their feet cold and camp. Even after more than a full week of waking up in this new world, that kind of minor discomfort was still taking a lot of getting used to. At least their clothes had stopped itching, the former businessman thought, although it still felt strange to be wearing clothes that hadn't been tailored to fit perfectly.

     A herd of cows was watching them curiously from the other side of the field and some of then had already begun to drift in their direction while contentedly chewing the cud. In another field, separated from the one they were standing in by a low hedgerow, a young man was guiding a large cart horse as it pulled a plough, turning the soil over in preparation for the winter frosts. He also glanced curiously at the hibernators whenever he could spare a moment from what he was doing. Above them, the clouds were dark and heavy. There was more rain in them, Loach thought. Another downpour could begin at any moment. Even now, there were a few cold drops of water in the air, being blown into their faces by the gusty wind. Loach turned up the collar of his coat and hunched his shoulders against the cold.

     He returned his attention to the matter at hand and looked around doubtfully. Beside him, Jane did the same. It looked like any other patch of countryside as far as either if them could tell. "What do you mean by 'this general area'?" asked the former gang boss.

     "Well, I'm pretty sure that the river we crossed back there was the river Avon," said Randall, looking back the way they'd come as if he could still see it through the trees that lined the southern horizon. "If it was, then that tributary that branched off from it was the Leam, unless the river network has changed completely over the past millennium, which isn't likely. Back in our time, rivers had remained in pretty much the same courses since the time of the Romans. If that's so, then we're about half way between where Kenilworth and Coventry used to be."

     "And no trace remains of either of those cities," pointed out Loach. "We could be twenty, thirty miles away from where you think we are."

     "If you want to be pessimistic."

     "I prefer to say realistic. There are no landmarks left from our time except the rivers, which may have moved. If there were the remains of a motorway somewhere in the area... I know the road itself will be gone but there might be a cleft cut out of a hillside where the road used to run, something like that. A feature of the landscape that would still be there after a thousand years."

     "Well, there isn't," Randall replied in a perfectly deadpan voice. "This is a very flat part of the country. Nevertheless, I believe that we are where I said we are."

     "And that's where this place is?" said Loach. "The place that can help us beat the machines?"

     "A thousand years ago, there was a hardware depot here," replied Randall. "It was a cover for a highly secret underground facility owned by my company. The purpose of the facility was to hack and eavesdrop on the communications satellites of our competitors."

     "You want to hack VIX," said Loach with a wide grin.

     "Something like that. He's on guard against any signal coming from this planet, probably putting it in a buffer while a non--sapient sub system screens it for yama666, something like that. I'm hoping he's not so vigilant about signals coming from elsewhere. Other machines in space, for instance. We use the facility to send yama666 to another machine up there somewhere. Doesn't matter if it's sapient or not. If it is, yama666 will bring it under our control. There may even be some of my own satellites still up there, in orbit. Long forgotten but still able to be reactivated. Once we have something in space under our control we tell it to send the virus to VIX, which will accept it all unsuspecting. VIX then passes it on to every other machine in the solar system. Or perhaps the first machine will be able to do it directly. Whatever."

     Loach looked out across the tranquil rural landscape. There was a small village visible in the distance, with thatched roofs and smoke rising from tall chimney pots. Other than that there was nothing in sight but fields and the occasional farm worker. If there'd ever been a hardware depot anywhere nearby, no trace of it remained above ground. "So, how do we find it?" he asked.

     "To communicate with satellites you need a satellite dish," said Randall. "For secrecy, this place's dish was kept in an underground storage container, below what used to be the helicopter landing pad. If the place were ever used, huge doors would open and the dish would rise up to deploy above ground. Those doors were made of of plasteel. Nearly thirty metres wide, twenty centimetres thick. Covered by a layer of tarmac for the helicopter to land on. The tarmac will long since have gone, of course, but I'm betting the plasteel doors are still there, covered by a thin layer of topsoil. Maybe there's a spot where the farmers can't dig because there's something hard down there. Harder than the hardest rock."

     "So your plan is to go from farmer to farmer asking questions," said Loach, giving him a look of mingled amusement and disbelief. "We're talking about sixty, eighty square kilometrea, and all the farms we've seen so far look pretty small. Ten hectares, a dozen, which could mean that there are hundreds of farmers in the area. Maybe as many as a thousand. Apart from how long it would take, it would attract attention. Exactly the kind of attention we're trying to avoid."

     "Farmers talk to each other," said Jane, gingerly coming forward across the hammocky grass while keeping a wary eye out for cowpats. "We could go to a tavern and ask our questions there. Someone might have heard of a farm with something hard just below the surface."

     "There'll be a lot of taverns in the area as well," replied Loach. "Enough for us to gain a reputation before we'd been to half of them. The outsiders who speak with funny accents and who are fascinated with shallow soil. It would only need word to get to one priest..."

     "Perhaps if we had a legitimate reason for making those kind of enquiries," said Randall thoughtfully. "If we were working for a local landowner who was interested in building something hereabouts. A new stately home, perhaps. We could say we need a place where the soil is thin. There's no need to say why. Simple farmers will believe whatever made up baloney we tell them. We could even get a real surveyor to examine the area. For all we know, someone might already have done a survey like that. Maybe all we've got to do is go to the nearest city and look through the records."

     Loach nodded thoughtfully. "Would this place of yours still be functional after all these years?"

     "Our hibernaculum was still working," pointed out Randall.

     "Just about. It woke us up because it was finally breaking down. This facility of yours might be in no better condition."

     "We won't know until we look."

     Loach nodded. "So we go to the nearest city, that'll be Elmton, won't it?" Randall nodded. "We look through the town records," continued Loach. "Look for any land surveys that might have been done. Perhaps we can break in at night."

     "How are you doing learning the written language?" asked Randall. "I've had my head phone analysing every bit of writing we've come across since we left Tattlehall and it's still filling in gaps. A land survey is likely to be written in technical language. It would be better if we had an expert to read it for us."

     "You think they'll do that for a pair of, sorry, three strangers wandering in from the countryside? We'd need money. Probably quite a lot. More than we've got now, certainly. Suppose we manage it, though, and suppose it pans out. What then?"

     "Then we hire people to ask around in taverns, and if that doesn't work we hire a surveyor to do our own survey."

     "Which will take even more money. Fortunately, acquiring money is something I used to be rather good at."

     Randall smiled. "So we go to Elmton," he said. "You take up your old hobbies, see if you can make some money illegally, while I try the legitimate route. Take over an official position in the town. A high paying one."

     "Just like that," said Loach with a mocking smile.

     "I did it once," said Randall unperturbed. "Back in our own time. I would imagine that things are a bit simpler these days, and basic human nature won't have changed. I know how to manipulate people, how to make them do what I want. Give me a few months and I'll be running the city. We'll have all the money we could ever need."

     "And what do I do?" asked Jane, "while you big, important men are busy taking over the city?"

     "Get a job in the surveyor's office," said Randall. "Use your head phone to become a star accountant. That was your original idea, remember? Back when we first arrived in this new world. Once you're there, you'll be able to snoop around in their old records, see if anyone's done a land survey. The information we want might already be in an old drawer somewhere, gathering dust."

     Jane nodded, remembering. "It would mean settling down in one place for quite a long time," she said. "Months at least. Maybe years, while the priests are looking for us. There'll be priests in the city, and people will get suspicious if we don't go to church. We'll be taking a big risk."

     "You don't have to take it," said Randall. "You can move on, leave us here..."

     "No! VIX must be stopped, it's worth any risk. I just wanted to point out that we'd be taking a big risk, that's all."

     "Have you got a better idea?" Jane shook her head. "Then let's go to Elmton and see what kind of place it is," said Randall.

     The others nodded, and the three of them walked together back to the small road where they'd left their carriage and horses.

☆☆☆

     Elmton was almost as large as Tattlehall, they were pleased to see. It would make it easy to lose themselves in it. Like Tattlehall it was surrounded by a high stone wall, though which made the hibernators nervous as they remembered how they'd almost been trapped in the coastal city. They had no choice, though, and so, trying their best to blend in with the stream of traders and travellers passing through the large oaken gates, they drove their carriage in.

      They stopped at the stables to rent space for their cart and horses, then walked further into the city, where they were quickly engulfed by the clamour of a hundred thousand people, most of whom seemed to be out on the streets at the moment, packed virtually shoulder to shoulder just as they'd been in Tattlehall. Back in the coastal city they'd had virtually nothing worth stealing, but now they had purses that still held a substantial amount of money and they kept a wary eye on the people around them, on the alert for cutpurses and pickpockets until they could find a secure place to keep the bulk of their wealth.

     By now they were getting used to the smells of a post apocalyptic city and they barely noticed the reek of filth and rotting vegetables. The centre of the city had an advanced and efficient sewage system, they'd learned while passing through other towns and small cities, but the outer districts relied on the gong farmers; night workers who, for a small fee, collected the contents of cesspits and privvies and took them away to where they were used as the raw materials of several industries. The very poorest of the city's occupants preferred not to waste money by hiring their services, though, and simply tossed their wastes out the window and into the street.

     The three hibernators passed quickly through the city's outer districts, therefore, until they passed through another city wall that separated them from a middle class district where the streets were considerably sweeter smelling, as well as being wider and less crowded. A pair of guards moved to stop them as they passed through the gates, but moved aside when Randall handed them each a silver coin.

     They hadn't gone much further when they saw a figure lying motionless in the gutter by the side of the road. Loach and Randall walked past it with barely a glance but Jane stooped down to examine him more closely. It was an elderly man dressed in ragged clothes, thin and gaunt, his wrists and ankles looking as thin as broom handles. Jane looked about to see if any of the other passers by might want to help him, but nobody else in the crowded street seemed to care.

     "Excuse me," she said, bending down closer to the man's grimy, stubbly face. "Are you alright?"

     The eyes snapped open and a hand lashed out to grasp her wrist. "Em fine, honey. Ye leks fine too. Let's get a better lek." His other hand went to the neck of her tunic and pulled. Jane leapt back away from him with a yelp but the man had a firm grip and pulled her down beside him. The man rolled on top of her and began pulling at her clothes while the passers by continued to ignore them.

     Jane struggled in his grasp, quite uselessly, and began to panic. "Randall!" she cried in desperate fear. "Loach! Help me!"

     In a moment they were beside her, pulling the man off her. Loach gave him a solid punch to the jaw that sent him flying back against the wall. The former gang boss pulled his knife and the man shrank back in fear. "No harm, mate!" he gibbered, holding his hands out in front of him as if to ward the hibernator away. "Didn't mean no harm!" Loach made to advance on him again, but then turned away in disgust and the man scuttled away into the crowd.

     "Thank you..." began Jane, but Randall grabbed her by the arm and pulled her roughly away. "We gotta go," he said, staring around at the crowded street as if enemies might appear at any minute. "Now!"

     Loach was also glancing around at the crowd, his knife still in his hand, but as the other pedestrians continued to pay them no attention he returned the knife to its sheath and followed after Randall and Jane.

     "Don't use our real names!" hissed Randall furiously at Jane as they walked. "The priests know our names. Anyone could have overheard."

     Jane stared in bewilderment. Didn't he have any sympathy for what might have happened to her? "I'm sorry," she muttered.

     "Don't be sorry, be careful."

     Jane nodded numbly, one hand holding the torn neck of her tunic closed, and the three of them continued on in an awkward, uncomfortable silence.

     They spent the rest of the day walking the streets and getting to know the basic layout of the city before choosing a boarding house in which to rent rooms. The one they settled on, the Interesting Weasel Tavern, was in the outer circle of the city, among the common people that Randall and Loach would both need if they were to achieve positions of power in the city. It was in the best part of the outer circle, though, and was reasonably high class and luxurious. It was also quite expensive, but Randall had had enough of slumming it. He wanted a taste of the comfort and luxury he'd become used to in his former life and, if they were successful, they would soon have money to spare. If they weren't successful... But Randall wasn't prepared to even consider the possibility.

     They had a meal in the dining room, then moved into the common room to relax with glasses of wine. Evening was beginning to fall, and a young boy was going around with a smoking taper to light the oil lamps. There were a handful of other guests sitting around the room, almost hidden in the gathering gloom, but none of them were close enough to overhear them so long as they spoke in low voices.

     "I expect we'll each be finding our own places to live after a few days," said Randall as they sat in comfortable, padded chairs around a small table. "but this'll be where we meet up to compare notes. We'll come here whenever we can, and if we can't meet in person we can leave notes for the others with the manager."

     "And remember," said Loach with a warning glance at Jane, "do not take your head phone out of flight mode for any reason. If you do, if your phone sends out any signal at all, the priests will almost certainly detect it, and that'll be the end of us."

     "You seem to be aiming that comment at me," said Jane testily.

     "I was," said the former gang boss unapologetically. "Of the three of us, you're the one most likely to do so."

     "Because I'm a weak and feeble woman who's going to panic the first time some ruffian leers at me and call upon the big, strong men to save me?"

     "Which is exactly what happened earlier this afternoon."

     "I'm sorry. He startled me, that's all. It won't happen again." Loach simply stared at her and Jane felt her anger rising. "It won't!" she insisted. "You can trust me!"

     "No good is done by putting on a phony show of feminist empowerment," said Loach. "A weak and feeble woman is exactly what you are. I ran an organisation of ruthless criminals. To control them, I had to be even more ruthless then they were. Randall also had to be ruthless to run a business empire. You though..." He allowed his voice to trail off while staring at her meaningfully.

     "Me what?" demanded Jane.

     "Do you want me to say it?"

     "Please do," said Jane with a voice that could have frozen a furnace. Her eyes drilled into Loach like a pair of laser beams.

     "You're the spoiled daughter of a rich businessman. You've enjoyed a life of pampered luxury. The greatest challenge you've ever faced was what dress to wear to the opera..."

     "You know nothing about me! You have no idea what dangers I've faced!"

     "So what dangers have you faced?"

     "I've done alright so far, haven't I? I've faced the same dangers and challenges as you since we came out of hibernation."

     "You've had the two of us right there with you, every step of the way. How will you fare when it's just you, all alone in a primitive city full of lusty, brutish men who see you as nothing but a fanny and a pair of tits?"

     "I can handle myself! I've had self defence classes."

     "The only self defence classes worth a damn are the ones that tell women to scream and run."

     Jane stared at him in fury, then jumped from her seat and strode towards the door back to the entrance hallway and the stairs up to the guest rooms. Her back was straight and her eyes glared straight ahead as if they would burn through the door and save her the bother of opening it.

     Loach stared after her, then turned to Randall. "She's a weak link," he said. "She'll give us away. Something'll happen to her, she'll panic and turn on her head phone to call us for help. The priests will detect it and goodnight Vienna. We should never have brought her."

     "We might need her head phone," replied Randall, but he looked doubtful, as if he was also having second thoughts.

     "The risk outweighs any possible benefit. We're safer without her. I can take care of it right now. She won't feel a thing. It'll look like she died in her sleep."

     Randall looked torn for a moment, but then he nodded, his head lowered with regret.. Loach nodded back, rose from his seat and followed after Jane.

     She wasn't in the room she'd picked out for herself. Thinking she'd gone to the wrong one Loach checked all the other rooms, including one containing a naked couple so engrossed in what they were doing that they failed to notice as he quickly searched the apartment. It was also empty, though, and he left in growing frustration.

     He saw a serving maid with a foaming tankard of ale in each hand and grabbed her arm. "You. Did you see a woman? Dark hair? Red dress?"

     "She wenn out," the serving maid replied, nodding towards the door back out into the streets of the city. "De ye mind?"

     Loach swore, tore the door open and ran out into the street where he searched in every direction, but Jane was nowhere to be seen.