Pelter made his decision. Some might have diought it the height of idiocy, but he knew that it was by taking such risks that in the end he would win. While he studied the device he quickly constructed a program between Sylac's aug and Crane's command module. It took only seconds. He looked across at Grendel.
'I will not be controlled,' he said.
'We did not think that you would, Arian Pelter. This aug is, as I stated, for you to receive the information Dragon wishes you to have,' he said. 'Take it away and have it studied, if you wish. I would not want you to go into this blind.'
Pelter nodded. That meant that whatever was concealed in this aug was concealed very well. But there had to be something. He brought the thing up to the side of his head and slapped it into place. For a moment nothing happened, then he gasped as the bone-anchors went in unanaesthetized. He kept his hand in place and suddenly the thing felt warm, febrile. He felt Mr Crane's brass hand lifting to mirror the position of his own, and images of the android's foolish toys flashed through his mind. Grendel stood behind his desk, worry in his expression. The two by the door, Pelter saw through Mr Crane, had their hands poised over their weapons. Coldness suffused the side of Pelter's head. He did not feel the links going in. The nanonic fibres would be passing through cells and through bone, like stiff hairs through foam. He did feel the connections they made.
For a moment there was a doubling of function with the aug he had from Sylac, then that first aug switched off. He got control again, closed his eyes and linked through to Mr Crane and had him lower his hand. Control and access was slick. He froze Crane into complete immobility and accessed a local server. Fast, very fast. He found a search program in the aug, and sent it after any references to himself. There were none at the server, but information came through. He knew now that a network of people wearing these augs had been waiting for him. They had known as soon as Dusache and Svent had bought their tegulate augs and placed them on the sides of their heads. The information had been passed on, whether willingly or not. Pelter opened his eyes and stared at Grendel.
'I repeat: I will not be controlled,' he said.
'I assure you again, Arian Pelter. Your and my client's purposes are one and the same.'
Pelter closed his eyes again. He reached in, closed down the second aug and reinstated Sylac's. It was like switching from colour to black and white. Knowing he now could do this, he sent an instruction to stand down the program he had sent to Mr Crane. In another thirty seconds the android would have killed the two at the door, next killed Grendel, then torn this soft aug from the side of Pelter's head. He opened his eyes to see Grendel settling his ponderous bulk behind his desk again.
'Now, to business,' said the fat man, smiling his jowly smile. 'What exactly do you require in the hardware department?'
Pelter said nothing for a moment. He watched through Mr Crane as the two men at the door moved their hands away from their weapons. When they had done this, he spoke very precisely. He reached up and rested his finger on his aug.
'I have an extensive list,' he said. 'Amongst other items, I require seeker bullets and Drescon assault rifles. I require seeker missiles, laser carbines, explosives, and the various delivery systems of said. I also require surveillance drones, proton guns and a dropbird.'
'Obviously you understand the difficulties entailed in acquiring the last three. Luckily I do have two proton guns and some surveillance drones. The dropbird may present some difficulties, but not difficulties that cannot be overcome. Let me have your list.'
Pelter called up the list he had been steadily building since his arrival on Huma, and transmitted it on a secure link to Grendel. The fat man showed momentary surprise, but then smiled.
'You like to be prepared,' he said.
Pelter did not bother replying to that. Grendel rubbed his hands together and leant forwards.
'Now to the details and, of course, the price.'
Pelter sat back and stared past the fat man. In his new aug he felt something poised in the background. It was there behind the frames and graphics. It was there when all of that was gone. He knew that, at some point, he would hear a voice. He did not yet know how he would respond to it. He squinted, concentrated, and raised Sylac's aug, while running the other. It was a balancing act, but one he considered necessary. He would not be controlled. He again focused his attention on Grendel.
'Price,' he said flatly.
Jarvellis lay with a smug cat-after-cream expression on her face. Stanton inspected the various scratches on his body and wondered just from where she got the energy. She wasn't boosted like him, but she certainly tended to wear him out. He studied her and wondered just how much he could trust her. She returned his regard, then reached under the pillow to her left. He read, for a second, a craftiness in her expression, and abruptly rolled across her and clamped his hand down on her left wrist.
'John, where is your trust in people?' she asked him.
'I lost it when my mother turned my father in to the proctors, and when they dragged him from our apartment in the arcology and shot him through the face,' he said.
Jarvellis lost her mocking expression. 'I keep forgetting. You came from Masada, didn't you?'
'I did. Religious law and the theocracy ruling from orbital stations. Nobody trusted anyone and the heresy laws were exactly what the proctors wanted them to be at any time.'
'John, you can trust me.'
Stanton looked at her for a long moment. It frightened him just how much he wanted to trust her. He released her wrist and slid his weight off her. He did not move too far back, and every muscle of his body was taut as a guitar string. Trust; it was hard for him. With care she slid her hand out from under the pillow. She held out to him a long and flat box made of rosewood.
'I got you a present,' she said.
Stanton took the box and let out a long slow breath. Engraved on the lid was the letter T.
'Open it, then,' she said, sitting up.
Even now he found it difficult. Some kind of trap inside? Trust. He pressed the catch on the side and the lid slowly lifted.
'My God,' he said.
Inside the box, cushioned in black velvet, were a dagger, its sheath, and a gold ring. The weapon was one casting of yellow chainglass. Inside the handle was a frame of silver wires and inside that a complexity of small cubes in which dim lights nickered. The sheath was plain black metal with two skin-stick pads.
'It's an early one. Twenty-third century. Its provenance is recorded in its micromind. Tenkian made it on Jocasta. It's one of the first he made with a micromind. Limited AG,' Jarvellis informed him.
Stanton took the weapon from the box. The grip appeared smooth, but was firm and positive. He felt a faint tingling sensation in the palm of his hand. Jarvellis went on.
'Now it has impressed on you. Anyone else tries to handle it now, without reprogramming it, will get a brief nerve shock; enough to make them drop it.'
'What does it do?'
'Not much, really. You see the ring?'
Stanton took the ring from the box and inspected it. It was plain gold with a circle of green gold set concentric in its outer surface. The outer ring was octagonal, as if made to take a spanner.
'Put it on your right index finger,' she told him as she sat upright.
He slid the ring into place. As soon as it was there it seemed to tighten.
'Now,' Jarvellis continued. 'Put the dagger back in its sheath.'