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this. She seemed to welcome the latest ideology. Rala wondered if she had been through too many shocks to be able to resist.

    ‘It’s not going to work,’ Rala said softly. ‘The Extirpation was pretty thorough. The Qax planted replicators in the soil, to make it lifeless.’ Their ultimate goal had been to wipe off the native ecology, to make the Earth uninhabited save for humans and the blue-green algae of the oceans, which would become great tanks of nutrient to feed their living Spline ships. ‘No amount of scraping with hoes is going to make the dirt green in a hurry.’

    ‘We have to support the Coalition,’ said Ingre. ‘It’s the way forward for mankind.’

    Pash wasn’t listening to either of them. He said, ‘You’d never get in the Army, but those Green Guards are the gang to join. Most of them are pretty dumb; you can see that. A smart operator could rise pretty fast.’

    They spoke like this only in brief snatches. There was always a collaborator about, always a spy ready to sell a story to the Guards for a bit of food.

     
    The cuts began.

    It was as if the Coalition believed that starvation would motivate the new shock troops of its uninterrupted revolution. Or perhaps they simply weren’t managing the food stocks competently. Soon the first signs of malnutrition appeared, swollen bellies among the children.

    Rala had always kept her handful of replicator dust, from her old cell in the Conurbation. Now she found a hidden corner by the Conurbation walls, where she dug out the earth and sprinkled in a little of her dust. Still nothing happened.

    One day Pash caught her doing experiments like this. By now he had fulfilled his ambition to become a Green Guard. The former trader had donned the green armband of his enemies with shameless ease.

    She said, ‘Will you turn me in?’

    ‘Why should I?’

    ‘Because I’m trying to use Qax technology. This action is doctrinally invalid.’

    He shrugged. ‘You saved my life.’

    ‘Anyhow,’ she said, ‘it’s not working.’

    He frowned and poked at the dirt. ‘Do you know anything about this kind of technology? We used a human version in the Port Sol’s life support - cruder than this, of course. Nanotech manipulates matter at the molecular or atomic levels.’

    ‘It turns waste into food.’

    ‘Yes. But people seem to think it’s a magic dust, that you just throw at a heap of garbage to turn it into diamonds and steak.’

    ‘Diamonds? Steak?’

    ‘Never mind. There is nothing magic about this stuff. Nanotech is like biology. To “grow”, a nanotech product needs nutrients, and energy. On Sol we used a nutrient bath. This Qax stuff is more robust, and can draw what it needs from the environment, if it gets a chance.’

    She thought about that. ‘You mean I have to feed it, like a plant.’

    ‘There is a lot of chemical energy stored in the environment. You can tap it slowly but efficiently, like plants or bacteria, or burn it rapidly but inefficiently, like a fire. This Qax technology is smart stuff; it releases energy more swiftly than biological cells but more efficiently than a fire. In principle a nano-sown field ought to do better than a biologically planted crop …’

    She failed to understand many of the words he was using. Though she pressed him to explain further, to help her, he was too busy.

    Meanwhile Ingre, Rala’s cadre sibling, became a problem.

    Despite her ideological earnestness she was weak and ineffectual, and hated the work in the fields. A drone supervisor, a collaborator, one of her own people, punished Ingre more efficiently than any Guard would have done. And when that didn’t work in motivating Ingre to work better, she cut off Ingre’s food ration.

    After that Ingre just lay on her bunk. At first she complained, or railed, or cried. But she grew weaker, and lay silent. Rala tried to share her own food. But there wasn’t enough; she was going hungry herself.

    Rala grew desperate. She