‘That about sums it up,’ said Janer. ‘It would also explain your interest in a submersible kitted out for removing the bile ducts from ocean-going leeches.’

They were now on a walkway. Just ahead of them lay a jumble of bones and reif joint motors. An eye irrigator was spraying intermittently into the empty socket of a stripped skull. Wade prodded at the reif wreckage with his toe.

‘You know, this one is only dead in his or her own terms. I have to wonder what this individual’s reaction would be if its crystal was reawakened in a Golem chassis. Would this one choose to be shut down again and have its crystal destroyed?’

‘Probably not,’ said Janer, peering into the distant reaches of the bilge.

‘Yes, death as a matter of degree. Strange times we live in.’

Janer let that one ride. He could not make much out of it. Instead he said, ‘The hive mind I worked for wanted sprine so it could dominate this world. And it seemed likely that, had it succeeded, Polity AIs would not have minded that much. Sprine hornets would have acted as a counterbalance to the indestructibility of Hoopers.’

‘That is not the case now… if it ever was,’ replied Wade.

‘What?’

Wade held a finger up to his lips and Janer fell silent. He could hear nothing unusual, but that did not mean the Golem could not.

After a moment he whispered, ‘What’s it doing?’

‘I suspect it is feeding. Unusual that. On their home planet the prey must remain alive to prevent certain poisons being released from the inedible to the edible portions of its body.’

‘Nice,’ said Janer.

‘Very much not nice for the prey. But why has the hooder behaved the way it has here? At the encampment it was similarly maddened, though it did feed as it should, on a couple of occasions. It was starved, but I don’t think that accounts for this.’

Janer stared at Wade’s profile. The damned Golem was leading him away from the subject. ‘What, precisely, is not the case now?’

Wade turned to him. ‘The Polity no longer needs sprine hornets as a counterbalance to Hoopers.’

‘Why not?’

‘Supposing it to be true that they ever did, then it’s because there is a small population of alien sentients on this planet who would be in danger of being wiped out by those same hornets. However, I question your assertion: what about boosted and mechanically augmented humans, or those loaded to Golem shells? Where is their counterbalance?’

‘So you’re not here after the sprine?’ Janer at least wanted to be clear on that.

‘Why come here for it?’

‘It’s also obtainable off-planet?’

Wade rubbed his forefinger against the bridge of his nose—a very human gesture. ‘Do you think for one moment that the leech genome is unknown to Polity AIs? Do you think, as a corollary, that they do not also know the formula for sprine?’

‘That doesn’t mean that hive minds know it.’

‘No, not unless they happened to decode it from any of the millions of samples of leech flesh that have been taken off-world, or have managed to steal it from secure storage.’

Was he to believe this? It all sounded perfectly plausible, but then Janer would not expect a lie from this Golem hive-mind agent to be implausible. And anyway, if Wade did consider Janer’s knowledge and suspicions a threat, why hadn’t he already neutralized that threat? Or was that why they were down here now?

Janer slowed his pace to allow Wade to get ahead of him. The Golem stepped down a few steps, out of the previous unroofed corridor onto a grated walkway. Up ahead now, Janer could hear movement. Something big and hard-edged was travelling rapidly across a wooden floor.

‘I’m not sure I believe you, or can afford to believe you.’ said Janer.

Now ten paces ahead, Wade turned to face him. ‘I am not any danger to the people of this world. I understand its exigencies. I realize why sprine is so valuable to them.’

What the hell was he talking about?

Janer raised his weapon and aimed it straight at Wade’s chest.

‘You’re a tourist then?’ he asked.

‘Not really. When we have time I will tell you why I am here. We no longer have the time now.’

The noise was louder now: hard carapace on metal, gratings rattling. Something so big should not move so fast. Darkness rose behind Wade, rows of red eyes glared and multiple sickle limbs clattered together, as if sharpening each other. Maybe this was the solution to all Janer’s qualms.

When he was ready, he pulled the trigger.

Bloc did not know if his anger was real, or some feedback through that now fully functional third channel. Nevertheless, he felt it burning red inside his mind, dislocated from the functions of glands but emulating them all the same. But it only revealed itself in the fidgety movement of Aesop and Bones as it spilled through his links to them.

OUTPARAFUNCT… WARN: EXTREMITY PROBE… B.P. LOAD…

MEMSPACE: 00030

He shut off the messages conflicting with his vision and hauled himself to his feet. This could have been avoided had he gained full control of the hooder before bringing it here. However, gaining full control of it, through the spider thralls implanted in each segment of its body, had required programming similar in function to the way a shepherd controlled his sheepdog. The whistles and hand signals were given when the animal naturally did what would later be required of it: one whistle for left, another for right, others for come here, or go there. The animal mind, connecting sound and action, would then carry out those actions in response to the whistles. But some willingness was required on the part of the animal itself. The hooder was not so willing, and it was difficult to prevent this particular dog biting the sheep. It had attacked the Kladites he had sent down to finish off any of Ellanc Strone’s followers who had escaped. But now he was beginning to gain control of the beast—he was returning it to the chain lockers in the bow—and these people now wanted to destroy it. All this would not have been required but for the obstinacy and selfishness of… people. He had done his best for them all—had always done his best. It was the fault of those who interfered with his plans, those who tried to halt his progress in every respect. His gaze returned to Forlam, then he strode forward with his two shadows close behind him.

‘Men! To me!’ he shouted, and did not need to look round to know his little army was gathering round him and unlimbering their weapons. ‘It is time now for some lessons to be learnt. You,’ he stabbed a finger at Forlam, ‘are an employee, as is your Captain. You will obey me or know the consequences, as will he. I control everything that happens aboard this ship.’

‘Like you control Aesop and Bones?’ suggested the male reif.

Bloc felt something lurch inside him. Was this one of Ellanc Strone’s rebels? He did not know the man.

‘Your meaning?’ He continued staring at Forlam.

The six Hoopers here carried a few weapons, but those were nothing in comparison to the forty or so laser carbines at his back. Thinning out their number might be beneficial, as would destroying any reif who knew too much.

‘Prador thrall technology,’ said Styx bluntly.

‘Really,’ said Bloc, turning towards him.

Styx nodded towards Aesop and Bones. ‘I knew it had to be something like that. I researched your background before coming here, and I know where your interests lie. Most of the other passengers do too. It does not really concern us, so long as you bring us to the Little Flint and our chance at resurrection.’ Styx stepped closer, placed a hand against Forlam’s chest and pushed him back. ‘Ellanc Strone and his kind are in the minority.’ Styx turned and looked at Forlam. ‘Bloc is right, don’t you see? Those weapons were no help to the Batians, so even in the hands of Hoopers what good would they do? And Forlam here should perhaps try to show a little self-control.’