“Will you shut your goddamn… speaker and listen?” Horza shouted, breaking into the machine’s breathless monologue. “We’re not on Vavatch, and I don’t care how god-damn smart you are, or how many qualifications you’ve got. You’re on this ship and you do as I say. You want to get off? Get off now and float back to whatever’s left of your precious fucking Orbital. Stay, and you obey orders. Or get junked.”
“Those are my choices?”
“Yes. Use some of your accredited free will and decide right now.”
“I…” The drone rose from the table, then sank again. “Hmm,” it said. “Very well. I shall stay.”
“And obey all orders.”
“And obey all orders…”
“Good, at—”
“…within reason.”
“Machine,” Horza said, reaching for the plasma pistol.
“Oh good grief, man!” the drone exclaimed. “What do you want? A robot?” Its voice sneered. “I don’t have an Off button on my reasoning functions; I can’t choose not to have free will. I could quite easily swear to obey all orders regardless of the consequences; I could vow to sacrifice my life for you if you asked me to; but I’d be lying, so that I could live.
“I swear to be as obedient and faithful as any of your human crew… in fact as the most obedient and faithful of them. For pity’s sake, man, in the name of all reason, what more can you ask?”
Sneaky bastard, Horza thought. “Well,” he said, “I suppose that will just have to do. Now, can—”
“But I am obliged to serve immediate notice on you that under the terms of my Retrospective Construction Agreement, my Incurred Generation Debt Loan Agreement and my Employment Contract, your forcible removal of myself from my place of work makes you liable for the servicing of said debt until my return, as well as risking civil and criminal proceedings—”
“Fucking hell, drone,” Yalson interrupted. “Sure it wasn’t law you were going to study?”
“I take full responsibility, machine,” Horza told it. “Now, shut—”
“Well, I hope you’re properly insured,” the drone muttered.
“— up!”
“Horza?” Balveda said.
“Yes, Perosteck?” He turned to her with a sense of relief. Her eyes were glittering. She licked her top lip again, then looked back at the surface of the table, her head down. “What about me?”
“Well,” he said slowly, “it did cross my mind to blow you out a vactube…” He saw her tense. Yalson, too: she turned in her seat to face him, clenching her fists and opening her mouth. Horza went on, “…But you may be of some use yet, and… oh, call it sentiment.” He smiled. “You’ll have to behave, of course.”
Balveda looked up at him. There was hope in her eyes, but also the piteousness of those who don’t want to hope too soon. “You mean that, I hope,” she said quietly. Horza nodded.
“I mean it. I couldn’t possibly get rid of you anyway, before I find out how the hell you got off The Hand of God.”
Balveda relaxed, breathing deeply. When she laughed it was softly. Yalson was looking with a jaundiced expression at Horza and still rapping her fingers on the table. “Yalson,” Horza said, “I’d like you and Dorolow to take Balveda and… strip her. Take her suit and everything else off.” He was aware of them all looking at him. Balveda was arching her eyebrows with faked shock. He went on, “I want you to take the surgery equipment and run every sort of test you can on her once she’s naked to make sure she hasn’t got any skin pouches, implants or prosthetics; use the ultrasound and the X-ray gear and the NMR and anything else we’ve got. Once you’ve done that you can find something for her to wear. Put her suit in a vactube and dump it. Also any jewellery or other personal possessions of any sort or size, regardless of how innocent they may look.”
“You want her washed and anointed, put in a white robe and placed on a stone altar, too?” Yalson said acidly. Horza shook his head.
“I want her clean of anything, anything at all that could be used as a weapon or that could turn into one. The Culture’s latest gadgetry for the Special Circumstancers includes things called memoryforms; they might looked like a badge, or a medallion…” He smiled at Balveda, who nodded back wryly, “…or anything else. But do a certain something to them — touch them in the right place, make them wet, speak a certain word — and they become a communicator, a gun or a bomb. I don’t want to risk there being anything more dangerous than Ms Balveda herself on board.”
“What about when we get to Schar’s World?” Balveda said.
“We’ll give you some warm clothes. If you wrap up well, you’ll be all right. No suit, no weapons.”
“And the rest of us?” asked Aviger. “What are we supposed to do when you get to this place? Assuming they’ll let you in, which I doubt.”
“I’m not sure yet,” Horza said truthfully. “Maybe you’ll have to come with me. I’ll have to see what I can do about the ship’s fidelities. Possibly you’ll all be able to stay on board; perhaps you’ll all have to hit dirt with me. However, there are some other Changers there, people like myself but not working for the Idirans. They should be able to look after you if I’m to be gone for any amount of time. Of course,” he said, looking at Yalson, “if any of you want to come along with me, I’m sure that we can treat this as a normal operation in terms of share-outs and so forth. Once I’m finished with the CAT, those of you who so desire may want to take it over for yourselves, run it any way you like; sell it if you want; it’s up to you. At any rate, you’ll all be free to do as you wish, once I’ve accomplished my mission on Schar’s World — or done my best to, at least.”
Yalson had been looking at him, but now she turned away, shaking her head. Wubslin was looking at the deck. Aviger and Dorolow stared at each other. The drone was silent.
“Now,” Horza said, rising stiffly, “Yalson and Dorolow, if you wouldn’t mind seeing to Ms Balveda…” With a show of some reluctance, Yalson sighed and got up. Dorolow started to undo some of the restraining straps around the Culture agent’s body. “And do be very careful with her,” Horza continued. “Keep one person well away from her with the gun pointed in her direction the whole time, while the other does the work.”
Yalson muttered something under her breath and leaned to pick up the stun gun from the table. Horza turned to Aviger. “I think somebody should tell Neisin about all the excitement he’s missed, don’t you?” Aviger hesitated, then nodded.
“Yes, Kraik—” He stopped, spluttered, then said no more. He got up from his seat and went quickly down the corridor towards the cabins.
“I think I’ll open up the forward compartments and have a look at the laser, Kraiklyn, if that’s all right with you,” Wubslin said. “Oh, I mean Horza.” The engineer stood, frowning and scratching his head. Horza nodded. Wubslin found a clean undamaged beaker and took a cold drink from the dispenser, then went down the corridor through the accommodation section.
Dorolow and Yalson had freed Balveda. The tall, pale-skinned Culture woman stretched, closing her eyes and arching her neck. She ran a hand through her short red hair. Dorolow watched warily. Yalson held the stun gun. Balveda flexed her shoulders, then indicated she was ready.
“Right,” Yalson said, waving Balveda forward with the gun. “We’ll do this in my cabin.”
Horza stood up to let the three women by. As Balveda passed, her long, easy stride unencumbered by the light suit, he said, “How did you get off The Hand of God, Balveda?”