From Quince Guide, compiled by humans
The houses, fast-build plascrete domes rather like giant igloos, were scattered wide apart amongst the conifers and native chequer trees of an old forest. No thought had been given to roads, so the town was obviously a new one, in terms of Viridian's age, built after AGC use had become well established. The houses would also have self-contained energy sources and waste disposal. The only linkage they would have would be for optic cables and water: the latter essential, the former to prevent EM pollution. Stanton, watching the edge of this forest town from the shadow of a huge basalt slab, noted the AGC quartering the area. It's paint job immediately identified it to him as local police. He had no doubt it had been Cheryl who had informed them, but any silencing he would have done would have been too late. She had an aug. She would have sent out a call immediately after Pelter's damping device got out of range. At least this is what Stanton told himself. At the back of his mind was the knowledge that not so long ago he would have killed her, just in case.
Stanton moved from the slab's shade into the green sunlight, and set out at a jog for the edge of the forest town. Every household there would no doubt possess one or more AGCs. So the first house he reached would probably provide what he needed - for the moment. He was within a hundred metres of that house when the AGC swerved in the sky and accelerated towards him on a tongue of flame. He swore and broke into a run. Twenty metres from the house, and a voice bellowed out above him:
'Stop there! You, stop there!'
Stanton cut a swerving course across the boggy ground. There were two AGCs by a house, nestling under the spread of a huge chequer tree, its leaves the shape and size of playing cards casting a dappled emerald shade.
'Stop or I shoot!'
Ten metres.
There was a crackle in the air and Stanton's left arm jerked from electric shock. He dived and rolled behind a low, self-pruning box hedge. Another crackle and leaves fell from the hedge. Big space between him and the AGCs, and the man standing holding a pot plant. Small space between him and the door. Stanton ran at the door and took it out with his shoulder. Crashed into the room beyond. As he rolled from the wreckage, the air crackled behind him. He came up into a crouch, took in the woman standing in an open kitchen area holding some kind of package.
'What the hell?' the woman said.
'Sorry about the door,' said Stanton, and moved to peer through the window.
The police AGC crashed down through the trees, slid sideways towards the house, and landed heavily only a few metres from the door. Two policemen came from it fast, and headed straight for the door. They both appeared to be boosted. The first of them rolled through and came up into a crouch, with a stun gun levelled at the woman. He had half a second to realize his mistake before Stanton was on him. The mercenary stamped the back of his leg. As the officer reeled back, he caught him in a neck-lock, his right hand closing on the man's gun hand as he turned him. The second officer came through more cautiously, only to walk straight into the blast. He was flung, jerking, back through the door, with small lightnings lacing his uniform. The first officer continued to struggle as Stanton tightened his lock. Eventually his struggles ceased as he blacked out. Stanton held the lock just a little longer to be sure, then released him. He went down on his face. A glance round showed him that a back door was open and the woman was gone. As he collected the two stun guns on his way to the police AGC, Stanton considered how much he had changed. A sleeper lock rather than just breaking the man's neck. He felt almost civilized.
A blast of frigid air came in through the door as Thorn entered the shuttle. Cormac pointed to a bench seat and returned his attention to Blegg. The ancient Japanese undipped the mask of the suit and let it hang to one side. His breath fogged the chill air. Cormac could not help but wonder if he had put on the suit - which a technician had hurriedly fetched for him - out of politeness. In the containment sphere, in his thin monofilament overalls, he had shown no sign of noticing the cold. Cormac undipped his own mask.
'You knew about the dracomen,' he said.
'I knew,' Blegg acknowledged.
'What else didn't you tell me?'
'We knew about the artefact as well. It was discovered during the initial survey, and left where it was. It was whole.' Blegg leaned forwards and spoke loudly, as if Cormac was deaf. 'No hurry… y'understand?'
Cormac nodded. 'Is that all? Anything else you want to hold back, to keep me dancing?'
'We knew the egg was adamantium. Not much else could have been learnt.'
'The tunnel was made by the energy creature - or the dracomen.'
Blegg shrugged. 'The Maker, yes… if it could hatch from an adamantium egg, making a tunnel would have been no problem…' Blegg studied him carefully. 'What do you think of Dragon's explanation?' he asked.
Cormac said, 'I don't know. Still not enough evidence to confirm or deny it. What do you think?'
'Assume it's the truth. Dragon might not have a great respect for human life, but why should it? There's plenty to spare.'
'All right, I'll assume it's the truth. How do I react to that truth?' Cormac asked.
'Your decision,' said Blegg. 'You're in command here.'
Cormac snorted and studied Thorn. The Sparkind had a tightly controlled look to him. He averted his eyes from Cormac, then stared down at his hands. Abruptly he stood up and moved off into the wing of the shuttle.
'My decision would be to get some sort of recompense for the deaths of ten thousand people. Of course, I would have to go to Viridian to get… recompense,' said Cormac.
'Viridian, yes,' said Blegg, a hint of a nasty smile on his face. 'Funny thing about that place: lot of activity there.'
Cormac felt a sinking sensation. There was more. There was always more.
Blegg went on. 'On Cheyne you killed Angelina Pelter.'
'I did. What has that to do with this?'
'Young Arian shut things down,' Blegg said.
'How do you mean?'
'You gave your testimony. None of the cell leaders was apprehended. Every one of them was killed by a metal-skin android.'
'They had one… broken Golem?'
'Very likely. We don't know. Neither Pelter nor the android were apprehended either.'
'Go on.'
'Prior to these deaths, as I believe you know, Pelter managed to withdraw Separatist funds and his entire personal fortune from the Cheyne III Norver Bank. Shortly after those deaths the local police chased an AGC to the spaceport. It had, supposedly, Pelter and John Stanton aboard. The shuttle crashed and exploded. It took the police two solstan days to discover that the bodies they recovered were not those of Pelter or Stanton. A little retrospective investigation revealed that a trispherical craft called the Lyric launched just after the explosion. Your back-up team there was beginning to take an interest in this craft. It was, ostensibly, insystem and light cargo, only it had an underspace engine.'
Blegg looked round as Thorn returned. The Sparkind brought back three coffees. One he placed where he was sitting. The other two he handed to Cormac and Blegg. Cormac pulled the tab on his coffee and wondered why Blegg was studying the soldier so intently.
'Thank you, Thorn,' said Blegg. 'You know that personal agendas cannot be allowed.'
'I know,' said Thorn.
Blegg returned his attention to Cormac. 'You know Huma?' he asked.
Blegg's face was so close Cormac could see the strange gold flecks in the irises of his eyes. His breath smelt of garlic.
'It's where the arms were being smuggled in from. The Lyric went there?'