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'It had a lot on its mind,' said aM!xitsa. 'Can I give you a lift?'

'No,' said Roz, 'I want to walk down – on my own.'

'Are you all right?'

Roz glanced back at the man who was sitting alone on the steps.

'I've been worse,' she said.

12

Travelling Man Blues

My baby won't do as I say

An' my father figure. He gone away

Gone to fight the righteous fight

Goin' to do what's right

Goin' wear another hole in my shoes

Get myself the travelling man blues

(Break it down, aM!xitsa)

(Oh yeah, that drone can play)

Travelling man blues

Yeah! Hit me!

Travelling Man Blues, singer unknown

Recorded: Mama Stanley's Chicken

Shack, Clanton, Alabama (1937)

The sun was a pitiless furnace burning in a cerulean sky, a cyclopean eye that baked the landscape and sucked the moisture from her skin.

'The heat,' croaked Bernice, 'it's unbearable.'

So this was what it was like to die of thirst.

A tall glass floated in front of her eyes like a mirage, white with frost and brimming with lemonade, its sides wet with condensation. Bernice reached out and gratefully wrapped her hand around it. 'Cheers, aM!xitsa,' she said and sat up, the top half of the beach bed automatically tilting to keep her back supported. 'Shade, please.' A forcefield parasol snapped into existence overhead. Bernice sipped her drink and watched aM!xitsa as the drone turned back to its sand city, parts of which had now reached a height of two metres. The drone was also keeping a sensor eye out for any intruders that might wander into Kadiatu's cove, especially ones with exterior genitalia.

'It's a human custom,' Bernice had explained to a bemused saRa!qava, the idea of a girls' day out having little meaning to people who could change their gender at will.

That morning, just as God was turning the sun up, Bernice, Roz and Kadiatu had sneaked out of the villa and flown down the coast in a scarlet open-top flitter convertible. AM!xitsa came with them, having been declared an honorary female for the duration. It was still early enough when they arrived for the air to be chilly. Shreds of mist drifted through the forest, driven by a stiff breeze from the sea. The women spread a blanket in the lee of the flitter and opened the hamper that House had packed for them. AM!xitsa made itself useful by using one of its many weapon systems to heat up the coffee.

'Who wants a ham roll?' asked Roz.

'Are you sure it's ham?' asked Bernice.

During the course of their stay each of them had spent some considerable time trying to teach House to cook familiar dishes, with the occasional notable disaster. Although Bernice was willing to admit that perhaps her description of Crab Claw Gumbo may have been a little bit too vague.

She certainly wouldn't like to come face to face with the crab that had supplied the sixty-centimetre claws and she probably should have specified that the king shrimps were supposed to be dead. The little pause as everyone checked exactly what it was they were about to eat had quickly become part of the holiday routine.

Roz sniffed the roll. 'Ham- ish,' she said.

'Give it here,' said Kadiatu. 'I'll eat anything as long as it's not fish.'

Bernice settled on a roll stuffed with cottage cheese and tomatoes the size and sweetness of spring peas. For later there was mushroom pâté, loaves of saRa!qava's bread, pickles, slabs of cheese, a collation of cold meats, vacuum flasks of lemonade, upside-down pie and the Doctor's very own version of sideways pudding. AM!xitsa served them coffee and fussily chased crumbs off the blanket.

Bernice watched Kadiatu. The tall woman, dressed in a shapeless grey pullover, looked deceptively relaxed as she lounged against the side of the flitter. There was a small scar on her right cheek where she had cut herself with a knife and applied the butterfly serum.

'What are you going to do next?' asked Bernice.

'A bit of industrial espionage here,' said Kadiatu, 'then build myself a new time/space machine, something like the TARDIS only with more style and go-faster stripes.'

'And after that?'

'Fight