‘Under more favourable circumstances, I think we might have.’
‘The pig needn’t detain us,’ Skade said. ‘It’s his good fortune that Clavain defected, forcing us to make this journey to the inner system, or we’d have had to return a corpse, packed into a high-burn missile warhead. That option was seriously considered. We’d have been perfectly within our rights.’
Remontoire stepped away from the pod. I thought it might be you in there.‘
‘And were you relieved to find it wasn’t me?’
The voice startled him, because it had not come from the crab. He looked around and for the first time paid proper attention to the unfamiliar object he had only glanced at before. It had reminded him of a sculpture: a cylindrical silver pedestal in the middle of the room, supporting a detached human head.
The head vanished into the pedestal somewhere near the middle of the neck, joined to it by a tight black seal. The pedestal was only slightly wider than the head, flaring towards a thick base inset with various gauges and sockets. Now and then it gurgled and clicked with inscrutable medical processes.
The head swivelled slightly to greet them and then spoke, pushing thoughts into his head. [Yes, it’s me. I’m glad you were able to follow my proxy. We’re inside the range of the device now. Do you feel any ill effects?]
Only a little queasiness, Remontoire replied.
Felka stepped closer to the pedestal. ‘Do you mind if I touch you?’
[Be my guest.]
Remontoire watched her press her fingers lightly across Skade’s face, tracing its contours with horrified care. It is you, isn’t it? he asked.
[You seem a little surprised. Why? Does my state disturb you? I’ve experienced far more unsettling conditions than this, I assure you. This is merely temporary.]
But behind her thoughts he sensed chasms of horror; self-disgust so extreme that it had become something close to awe. He wondered if Skade was letting him taste her feelings deliberately, or whether her control was simply not good enough to mask what she really felt.
Why did you let Delmar do this to you?
[It wasn’t his idea. It would have taken too long to heal my entire body, and Delmar’s equipment was too bulky to bring along. I suggested that he remove my head, which was perfectly intact.]
She glanced down, though she could not tilt her head. [This life-support apparatus is simple, reliable and compact enough for my needs. There are some problems with maintaining the precise blood chemistry that my brain would experience if it were connected to a fully functioning body — hormones, that sort of thing — but apart from some slight emotional lability, the effects are pretty minor.]
Felka stepped back. ‘What about your body?’
[Delmar will have a replacement ready, fully clone-cultured, when I get back to the Mother Nest. The reattachment procedure won’t cause him any difficulties, especially since the decortication happened under controlled circumstances.]
‘Well, that’s fine then. But unless I’m missing something, you’re still a prisoner.’
[No. I have a certain degree of mobility, even now.] The head spun around through a disconcerting two hundred and seventy degrees. From out of the room’s shadows stepped what Remontoire had until then taken to be a waiting general-utility servitor, the kind one might find in any well-appointed household. The bipedal androform machine had a dejected, slumped appearance. It was headless, with a circular aperture between its shoulders.
[Help me into it, please. The servitor can do it, but it always seems to take an eternity to do it properly.]
Help you into it? Remontoire queried.
[Grasp the support pillar immediately beneath my neck.]
Remontoire placed both hands around the silver pedestal and pulled. There was a soft click and the upper part, along with the head, came loose in his hands. He elevated it, finding it much heavier than he had imagined it would be. Hanging beneath the place where the pedestal had separated was a knot of slimy wriggling cables. They thrashed and groped like a fistful of eels.
[Now carry me — gently — to the servitor.]
Remontoire did as she asked. Perhaps the possibility of dropping the head flickered through his mind once or twice, though rationally he doubted that the fall would do Skade very much harm: the floor would most likely soften to absorb the impact. But he fought to keep such thoughts as well censored as he could.
[Now pop me down into the body of the servitor. The connections will establish themselves. Gently now… gently does it.]
He slid the silver core into the machine until he encountered resistance. Is that it?
[Yes.] Skade’s eyes widened perceptibly, and her skin took on a blush it had lacked before. [Yes. Connection established. Now, let’s see… motor control…]
The servitor’s forearm jerked violently forwards, the fist clenching and unclenching spasmodically. Skade pulled it back and held the outspread hand before her eyes, studying the mechanical anatomy of gloss-black and chrome with rapt fascination. The servitor was of a quaint design that resembled medieval armour; it was both beautiful and brutal.
You seem to have the hang of it.
The servitor took a shuffling step forwards, both arms held slightly in front of it. [Yes… This is my quickest adjustment yet. It almost makes me think I should instruct Delmar not to bother.]
‘Not to bother doing what?’ asked Felka.
[Healing my old body. I think I prefer this one. That’s a joke, incidentally.]
‘Of course,’ Felka said uneasily.
[But you should be grateful that this has happened to me. It makes me more likely to try to bring Clavain back into our possession alive.]
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because I would very much like him to see what he has done to me.’ Skade turned around with a creak of metal. ‘Now, there is something else you wanted to see, I think. Shall we continue?’
The suit of armour led them out of the room.
CHAPTER 15
A word pressed itself into Volyova’s skull, as hard and searing as a cattle brand.
[Ilia.]
She could not speak, could only shape her own thoughts in response. Yes. How do you know my name?
[I’ve come to know you. You’ve shown such interest in me — in us — that it was difficult not to know you in return.]
Again she moved to hammer on the door that had sealed her inside the cache weapon, but when she tried to lift her arm nothing happened. She was paralysed, though still able to breathe. The presence, whatever it was, continued to feel as if it was directly behind her, looking over her shoulder.
Who… She sensed a terrible mocking delight in her own ignorance.
[The controlling subpersona of this weapon, of course. You can call me Seventeen. Who else did you think I was?]
You speak Russish.
[I know your preferred natural language filters. Russish is easy enough. An old language. It hasn’t changed much since the time we were made.]
Why… now?
[You have never reached this deeply into one of us before, Ilia.]
I… have. Nearly.
[Perhaps. But never under quite these circumstances. Never with so much fear before you even began. You are quite desperate to use us, aren’t you? More than you’ve ever been before.]