"Look," he said. "Look." And pointed.
Julia was halfway down the staircase as the murmur of astonishment began. It spread out in a wave; the Celestials edged towards the foot of the staircase, ignoring Greg and the others. The children were shy and curious, adults incredulous. Two of the crash team moved protectively in front of Julia.
"She knows the dawn we await is real," Sinclair said. "She came to us because our path is right."
"You should shut the old prick up," Suzi's voice said in Greg's earpiece. "The daft sods will want miracles next. And we can't deliver."
"Too late," he whispered back.
Sinclair folded his arms across his chest and faced Julia. "Behold, my kingdom. Yours to command."
Julia studied the faces in front of her, they were all quiet, waiting for her to speak. Greg sensed a curious calm settle in Julia's mind.
"You have all waited a long time for this day," she said. "And it hasn't been without its trials. But tomorrow the change we all expect will come." And she smiled warmly.
"Oh, bollocks," Suzi said as the Celestials started to applaud. "She's flipped. She's totally flicking flipped."
Tears were forming in Sinclair's eyes. There were calls of "How?" coming from the crowd.
Greg left them behind and walked into the middle of the village for a closer look at the flatscreens; the move was intuitive. All the screens were showing images of space, taken from cameras on the outside of New London as far as he could tell. There was the archipelago, and Earth, the Moon, silver flowers of industrial modules.
"I didn't know who you were before," said a voice behind him. It was the Oriental girl in the black net top who had handed him the leaflet in the Trump Nugget castle quadrangle. She was carrying a baby, about eighteen months old, who looked at Greg with wide brown eyes.
"A lot of us saw you in the Cavern this afternoon," she went on. "We thought you'd stolen Sinclair from us."
"I was just looking for him. Julia Evans wanted to see him."
The girl smiled pertly. "I can't believe that's really her. Even though I believed in Sinclair. But it's actually happening, isn't it? All the things he told us. How is she going to save us?"
"It's a bit complicated. All plugged in to alien technology." He moved on round the flatscreens, searching. There was something to see here, something to watch for. The impulse was irresistible.
"An alien?" the girl asked, intrigued. "Are you making fun of us?"
"No, I'm perfectly serious."
"Sinclair always said that our souls would be liberated by a celestial angel; and that we would be safe up here while stars fell upon the Earth and smote it. And there would be locusts and plague, too. I was never really sure. Could your alien be the same thing as Sinclair's angel, do you think?"
He gave the gently zany girl a sideways glance. "I've no idea, theology and xenobiology aren't my strong points. What are these flatscreens for?"
"So we can watch for the dawn of change to emerge from the stars." The tone wasn't quite self-mocking, but close. "Perhaps your alien's star."
"The images are real-time?"
"Yes. Tol plugged the flatscreens into the colony's datanets."
"Who's Tol?"
"A brother."
Greg stopped in front of a flatscreen showing a view of the southern hub crater, the docking spindle covered a third of the screen. "He must be a very technical lad."
"Yes, he is. He knows everything there is to know about the asteroid's communication networks, he used to belong to one of the big channel companies." She giggled. "He's been with Sinclair almost since the beginning. I don't think he really believes in the Celestial Revelation, but he contributes as much as anyone. Five of the children are his, as well. Including Zena here." she bounced the softly cooing baby on her hip.
"Busy man," Greg said. One star was brightening, edging across the screen. He stared at it, and knew.
"Melvyn," he called.
"Greg," Melvyn's voice was equally urgent. "Victor's on line. He reckons there's a tekmerc squad on the way."
The Celestial Apostles didn't like it.
"The time for running and hiding is over," Sinclair protested plaintively.
"Nobody is asking you to run," Melvyn's voice clanged out of his suit speaker. "We just want you safely out of the way."
"This is our home, now, Mr. Ambler. We live here. We built this place with the sweat of our brows."
"You may live anywhere in New London you wish after this," Julia said. "That's what you told me you wanted."
"That I did, yes. But why do you have to wait until these monster criminals come down here? Why not waylay them somewhere else?"
Greg listened to the argument with half an ear. The collective mind tone of the Celestials was nervous. And a fair proportion were practical types. They'd go. What he and Julia wanted was for Sinclair to carry on and show them where the drone had been. He suspected Sinclair was angling for concessions.
"They'd better get a move on," Suzi grumbled. She was standing beside him as he watched the spaceplane approach New London.
"Yeah. You going to stay here with the ambush team?"
"Fucking right I am."
"Don't annoy Melvyn, OK? He doesn't need it."
"Oh, thanks for the confidence. I'm fluid enough to take orders when I have to."
"Sure you are; I can read minds, remember?"
"Bollocks. All you know is that I'm pissed off with Leol fucking Reiger. Don't take no genius."
"Reiger's squad are bound to be in muscle-armour suits. How are you going to know which one is him?"
"'Cos the bastard walks with a swagger. Even in a suit, Greg, he walks with a swagger. I'll know him when I see him."
The spaceplane's auxiliary reaction drive came on, a vivid white spear of plasma extending across half of the starfield.
Sinclair started shouting orders, spurred by the sight. The Celestials were running round, collecting children, picking up flight bags stuffed with clothes.
Sinclair grabbed one of the girls. "Where's Tol?" he demanded loudly.
"I haven't seen him," she said.
"Holy Mary, the lad's probably off in the caves with a girl. All he thinks about, you know," Sinclair told Julia. "Terrible it is, but his heart's in the right place."
"You'll have to put someone else in charge," she said.
"Right you are there. Marcus!" he bellowed. "For the love of Mary, Marcus, where are you?"
One of the Celestials rushed over to Sinclair; Greg recognized him as a member of one of the afternoon's leaflet teams.
"I'll send a couple of the crash team with them to make sure they get out all right," Julia said.
"That's very kind of you," Sinclair said.
Greg smiled. Even down here, Julia was automatically in charge.
Eventually the Celestials were shepherded into a single agitated group. Some of the younger children were crying.
Sinclair stood on the rock staircase to talk to them, Julia at his side. "You can't use the Moorgate station, take them out through the Whitechapel entrance," he told Marcus. "It's the quickest from here."
"There will be some of my company security people waiting for you," Julia said. "Not the police, all right? They'll put you up in a hotel for tonight. After that, we'll sort out where you're going to live permanently."
The spaceplane's plasma drive cut off, revealing a small grey triangle floating beyond the end of the docking spindle. Pinpoint twinkles of blue light flickered around its nose, and it began to turn in towards the crater.