Sitting back, Skellor began the process of editing everything that he had taken. He dumped huge amounts of memory he considered irrelevant, and acquired-skills he himself had already far exceeded. In the end, what remained to him was her knowledge of this ship; of the ship's layout and the location of those areas the Occam AI could not see; of the function of automatic systems; of the drones, their connections back to the AI, programming languages — a wealth of knowledge that would enable him to travel throughout the ship undetected even without his chameleonware. From her he also learnt why the ship had so quickly departed Callorum, and viewed through her eyes the destruction of Miranda as displayed on the viewing screen in her cabin. He discovered too that there was no command crew, but that there was an interfaced captain. He learnt of the army of Golem in storage, of the five-hundred-strong staff of technicians, crew, maintenance, and ECS — mostly now gone into cold-coffins. Finally he learnt where the Separatist prisoners from Callorum were being held, and realized what his next task would be.
Cormac stepped into Medical and quickly caught hold of the doorjamb before he shot up into the air. The youth lay propped up in a cot, his foot in an auto-doc boot, drug patches on his arms. He was eating ravenously from a well-stacked plate. Bright-eyed he glanced up at Cormac. Then, remembering something, his expression became bewildered.
"You're Cormac," he said.
Cormac nodded and moved carefully across the carpeted floor to take a seat by the cot. Abrupt changes in gravity took some getting used to, but any higher than it was at that moment would have been uncomfortable for the youth.
"You're Earth Central Security," Apis added.
"That I am," said Cormac.
"I killed them."
Cormac looked at him carefully. Twenty-three Masadans?
"Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning. You are from station Miranda I take it?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what happened to you."
Apis did that. When the boy finished, it was Cormac who felt bewildered. So, Dragon definitely was involved — but how? That question would have to wait for the moment.
"It's doubtful you'll be tried for murder. What you did, you did in self-defence, no matter the number killed." Cormac put his hand gently on Apis's shoulder. "If anything, I congratulate you. These Masadan soldiers sound like fanatics and, from what I've heard, seem likely to have been responsible for many deaths." He took his hand away. The youth looked relieved, but that might be because Cormac had not crushed his shoulder. "As for your mother, Mika is having her moved to a cold-coffin up here, where she can more easily make a diagnosis. Mika is good, and I have no doubt your mother will soon be conscious and well. Tell me, do you have any idea why Dragon attacked the ship?" Apis shook his head. "How far did this attack take place from where the station was destroyed?"
"I don't know — we went into U-space. It'll be in the landing craft guidance computer."
Cormac nodded. Occam would have downloaded that information by now.
"Have you any idea why the Masadans took you and your fellows off the station?"
"Not to rescue us… though that's what they said. But they made some of us work in the engine room of their ship. Mother said we were to be slaves."
Null-gee construction, thought Cormac: Outlinkers would make excellent station builders.
"That's all for now. I'll leave you to finish your meal."
In the bioscience section adjoining Medical, Cormac found Mika seated with her feet up on a workbench while she studied a portable screen.
"How's the mother?" he asked.
"She'll take a while. She had a fractured skull and a cerebral haemorrhage. I'm leaving her in cold-sleep for the present while I check my files here on Outlinker physiology." She nodded down at the screen she was holding.
Cormac moved further into the room and gazed into the isolation booth containing the thing he had killed on Callorum. Suddenly it just didn't seem as important now.
"Tomalon… Ship!" he said.
"What is it?" the ship AI asked abruptly.
"Do you have the co-ordinates of the Dragon attack on the Masadan craft?"
"Of course."
There then came a strange whining muttering sound followed by a sharp snapping. Like a vessel filling from the bottom with flesh, Tomalon appeared in the middle of the room.
"Yes, we have the co-ordinates," he said, taking over from Occam.
"I didn't know you had holojectors on this ship," said Cormac.
"Only in some sections. The Occam Razor was being refitted, prior to being called out to Callorum."
Cormac considered that: this ship was an old one and, though powerful, was in many ways far more primitive than other Polity ships.
"Can you take us to the co-ordinates of that attack?" he asked.
A moment's displacement had the room wavering and Tomalon's image flickering on and off, then it stabilized — they had dropped into U-space.
"In transit," said Tomalon, confirming this.
Cormac turned to Mika, who wore a puzzled expression. "Did you ask the boy about what happened to him?" he asked, trying not to put too much irony into his voice.
With a flash of irritation she replied, "I didn't need to ask. He needed to tell someone."
"Then you realize things are starting to get complicated."
"They always do when you are involved," she replied, returning her attention to her screen.
Cormac studied Mika until there came a further feeling of displacement as the Occam Razor rose back out of underspace. Returning his attention to the Captain's hologram, he observed it sliding sideways to pause by a console and screen probably used to run research programmes. The screen came on and lights played around the touch-pads of the console, as it no doubt linked into the ship's ubiquitous communications channels.
"We are there now," said Tomalon, his mouth moving but his voice issuing from the console.
Cormac walked over and stared at the screen. It showed him a spreading cloud of twisted lumps of metal tumbling through the void; the hazy glitter of metallic particles and a fog of gases. One large tangle of wreckage contained a dull red glow, and vapour was spilling from this out into space.
"Identify," he said flatly.
"Everything you would expect," said Tomalon. "The remains of a ship torn apart: hull plates, insulation, gas, and corpses."
Now a square isolated the glowing tangle of wreckage and the view closed in on that. Clinging to a twisted structural member projecting from the tangle were two bloated human shapes — one with bright red skin and one with skin of a golden yellow.