Dreyden continued to glare and Cormac realized that the man would just never believe what he was being told — he had too much invested here and was evidently too frightened of Earth Central Security to trust any of its agents. In reality his attitude was perfectly understandable: the Polity had without compunction absorbed worlds into itself when that best served the interests of its entire population, and for the same reasons empires like Dreyden's had been undermined, or obliterated.
"I've no time for this," said Cormac, heading for the hatch.
"What do you want with this Asselis Mika, the life-Coven woman?" Dreyden asked suddenly.
Cormac turned as he began to climb down. "Her expertise. And we will leave with her — understand that."
"So long as you do leave." Dreyden gulped the rest of his drink. "Perhaps, after you are gone, you can pass on the message that Polity battleships are no longer welcome here."
"Oh, I'll pass that on," said Cormac, departing.
Jarvellis was probably the most smoulderingly sexy woman Thorn had ever met. She had long straight black hair, a face that seemed perpetually cheeky, as if she was just about to say something quite shocking, and a figure that was well emphasized by the ersatz acceleration suit she wore. Thorn also understood, even on such very brief acquaintance, that she was completely and utterly in love with John Stanton. She did not give a swooning display in his presence, nor did she simper; it was just a sense of connection between the two of them. He had caught it in that one glance exchanged between the two when he and Stanton had entered the bridge sphere of this trispherical ship. It was a personal connection that completely cut anyone else out of the circuit.
After strapping himself in, Stanton gestured back the way they had entered. "That's cargo, as you saw, and the other sphere is the living quarters. We've got a small galley and a machine shop just behind here as well."
As he too strapped himself into one of the two acceleration chairs immediately behind Stanton and Jarvellis, Thorn considered the hold he had just seen. He'd noted the four cryopods fixed upright to one wall and been unable to miss seeing the racked cargo of weapons crates and other less easily identifiable items.
"What I could do with is an autodoc," he said, delicately probing his broken teeth.
"We've got one, but you'll have to wait. All consoles are DNA-keyed to me and Jarv. Also, Lyric II is run by an AI, and she tends to trust people even less than I do."
That figured.
Thorn turned his attention to Jarvellis as she piloted Lyric II up and away from the planet. The rumbling of acceleration through atmosphere was growing less now, and the middle one of the three screens showed whitish sky diffusing away over starlit space. The right screen displayed a view of the rapidly receding world.
"Ooh, those ECS boys know some dirty words," said Jarvellis, her head tilted towards her earplug.
"And what words are they saying?" asked Stanton.
"Well," said Jarvellis, turning to give Thorn an estimating look, "the gist is 'Stay where you are and wait to be boarded', but the language is much more colourful."
"They'll think you're escaping Separatists," said Thorn. "Which of course you are not."
Stanton glanced back at him. "No, we are not." He returned his attention to Jarvellis. "What about the 'ware?"
She shook her head. "The runcible AI will be on us now and we'll not hide the AG signature from it."
"Can we outrun them?" Stanton asked.
"Oh, pleeaase," spoke a voice from the console in front of Jarvellis.
Jarvellis patted the console. "I think Lyric can handle a couple of rusty old ECS attack boats — can't you, dear?"
"I should think so," replied the voice of Lyric II's AI.
Just then there came a deep roar from within the ship, and subscreens displaying outside views of the ship whited out. Thorn surmised, by this sound, that a powerful engine had just been put online.
"The language just gets worse and worse," said Jarvellis. "Here we go." She touched a control and the view on one of the main screens changed to show Cheyne III's only moon, Cereb, and two much closer objects — identifiable only as being vaguely wedge-shaped — quickly receding. Jarvellis ran her fingers expertly over some more controls, then pulled her earplug. She turned and again looked back at Thorn. "Now, what do we do with your friend here?" she asked.
Before Stanton could say anything, Thorn asked, "You're going after this Deacon character, I take it?"
"Yes," said Stanton, his face assuming the same hardness that Thorn had earlier seen at any mention of the Deacon.
"Then let me come with you. That barge back there will soon become a reef, if it isn't already, and any mission I had there is over."
"Why would you want to come with us?" asked Jarvellis.
"Because whoever that guy was, he was supplying the Cheyne Separatists and I'd like very much to find out more about that."
"We don't work for ECS," said Jarvellis.
"It is also worth bearing in mind," added Stanton, "that ECS has a reward out for our capture."
"I've no intention of trying to claim it," said Thorn. "You saved my life and that might not count for much on a policy level, but it sure as hell means a lot to me."
"Academic, really," said Stanton. "If we try to stop off at any Polity-controlled world or station we'll have ECS over us like worms on a turd — one of Brom's charming expressions, that — so there's no way we'll be dropping you anywhere."
"What about this Deacon — will you be able to track him?" Thorn asked.
"No need," Stanton replied. "He'll head for his rat hole at Masada. That's where we intended to go next anyway, and that's where I'll kill him."
"Masada?" Thorn queried.
"Yes," said Stanton. "Let me tell you about my home world."
The grapes were hard and green and, being a long way from ripeness, only the size of eyeballs. As she chewed on another of the sour fruit, Eldene tried not to think about nut-potatoes and bread and the occasional luxury of meat.
"Do you ever need food?" she asked, after lowering her mask and spitting out a mouthful of green goo.
"Small amounts of nutrients sometimes," replied Fethan, "otherwise my source of energy is somewhat hotter."
Eldene hinged her mask back up into place and spoke through it, having earlier discovered that some device in the collar prevented the muffling of her voice. "Why were you… a worker? How did you become a worker?"
"I came here about four solstan years ago at the behest of Earth Central Security, to bring certain devices and make an assessment of the situation down here. Infiltrating the city was not difficult, as to the Theocracy even the citizens are not individuals — just people to be used up. I completed my assessment in two years, by which time I'd found out about the Underground and made contacts there. I've since been working for one Lellan Stanton — the leader of the rebellion — gathering intelligence on the worker situation, and gathering opinions." Fethan shrugged. "It is easy to get defectors from the city, especially from the processing plants, but not so easy out here, and she wanted to find out how best it might be done."
"And have you succeeded?"
Fethan reached into the pocket of his coverall and removed a short plastic tube of pills that Eldene immediately recognized as those used to prevent a scole rejecting and dying.
"Once we've had these analysed," he said, "we have an opening. It seems the only way now. We'll distribute these through those agents we have placed, and when the time is right have a mass breakout."
"Then what?" asked Eldene, looking pointedly up into the lurid sky.
Fethan put away the pills. "You have to understand, girl, I was not sent here by ECS on a purposeless assignment. When the time is right this world will become part of the Human Polity, whether the Theocracy likes it or not."