‘Why do you need a suit?’ Forlam asked, as he began donning one.

‘I can’t be hurt by much out there,’ Wade replied, ‘but I could lose much of my syntheflesh.’

‘What’s the plan then?’ Forlam asked.

‘Thirteen can lead us to a place on the Prador ship’s hull where we can gain access. We find the Vignette’s crew. If they’ve been fully cored we leave them and get out fast. If they’re just controlled by spider thralls, we excise their thralls and lead them out.’

‘Nice and simple then.’ Forlam reached down and drew a ceramal diver’s knife from where it was sheathed at his calf. ‘What about the ship’s security systems?’

‘Where we are going, the security system is weak, and Thirteen can disable it undetected just so long as Vrell doesn’t run a diagnostic check.’

‘And if he does?’

‘Then we’re in trouble, and we may need our weapons.’ Wade reached for his APW, which was resting against the door of the next cabinet.

Forlam eyed the footwear in the base of the cabinet, undecided on whether to wear flippers or the weighted boots. When he saw Wade choose boots he did the same. Soon they were ready and, hoisting a waterproof pack onto his shoulder, Wade led the way towards the shimmer-shield, where Thirteen was already pushing through into the ocean. On his turn, Forlam felt as if he was stepping through a wall of treacle. Once through, and dropping the few metres down to the Prador ship’s hull, he felt a sudden horrible excitement. Few Hoopers learnt to swim, since no Hooper went into the sea as amatter of choice, fear of it being inculcated from birth. Forlam looked around, almost disappointed by the dead waters surrounding him. Then, clutching his carbine, he followed Wade across the spaceship’s hull.

Thirteen led them out from the Sable Keech to the base of one of the weapons turrets. All about drifted the remains of juvenile rhinoworms, prill and glisters. This organic wreckage lay motionless, which for Spatterjay life forms was unusual because, even in pieces, they usually kept moving. This mess was, however, blurred around the edges and seemed to be dissolving. He realized that though the battle had killed most large animals in the area, the voracious plankton remained unaffected.

‘Here,’ came Thirteen’s voice from a com button in the corner of Forlam’s mask. He noticed that the hull nearby was very uneven where it curved down to the base of the weapons turret. Thirteen was poised over a metre-wide gap between the edge of the turret and the hull. Joining the other two, Forlam peered down into the dark cavity. The drone now descended, opening its seahorse mouth to emit a beam of light. Forlam immediately jumped after it, his boots dragging him down between narrow walls and landing him on a set of guide rollers for the turret. The light was now playing down by his feet. He stooped and peered into what might have been a crawl space for humans, so may well have been intended for human blanks. He ducked inside as Wade descended above him, more light spearing down from a torch the Golem held.

As he landed Wade said, ‘The light, on your carbine,’ and pointed with the torch he himself held. Unfamiliar with all of the controls but the trigger, Forlam groped about until Wade reached over and pressed a button on the stock. Now his weapon emitted laser light at the lowest setting and maximum diffusion.

‘Thanks,’ said Forlam, and wriggled after the drone.

Ten metres in, Thirteen tilted, manipulating something in the crawl-space ceiling with its forked tail. A hatch hinged down and the drone ascended. Forlam followed, standing up out of the water into a duct, then climbed up over the edge of it. As Wade clambered up behind him Forlam took off his mask. Somewhere he could hear fans operating, and a rank breeze blew in his face.

‘Ventilation duct,’ he decided.

‘Even Prador have to breathe,’ Wade observed, then turned to the hovering drone. ‘Thirteen, your AG?’

‘There are no gravitic detectors inside this ship,’ the drone replied, moving on.

Now, half-crouching, they made their way on through hundreds of metres of ducts. Forlam realized that if he got separated from Thirteen and Wade he might not find his way out again. Finally they came to a heavy metal grating set in the floor.

‘The holding area,’ Thirteen announced. ‘Do not shine a light in there as it will be detected.’

The drone descended tail first, turning slightly to fit through one of the diamond-shaped holes in the grating. Once Thirteen was out of sight there came a flickering of green light from below.

Lasers, Forlam realized.

Then, metallic clickings and scrapings ensued for a few minutes until Thirteen called, ‘I have disabled the three cameras. They will show a previously recorded scene until I instruct them otherwise.’

Wade now shone his torch down inside, revealing the scuttling of large lice. Directing his own light into the area below, Forlam discerned Hoopers sprawled on the floor. With a horrified thrill he realized that the lice were feeding on them.

‘Where did you learn that trick?’ Wade asked the drone.

‘From an old Polity war drone who knows more about Prador security systems than the Prador would be comfortable with,’ replied Thirteen.

Forlam grinned—he knew that old drone.

‘Your carbine,’ said Wade, holding out his hand.

Forlam handed it over, then shielded his eyes when the Golem knocked the weapon’s setting back up and used it to cut their way in. It took some time; the bars were thick even though out of the prisoners’ reach. When Wade had sliced along three sides, he used the beam only to heat the metal on the remaining side, before kicking the grating to bend it down.

‘How do we get them out of there?’ Forlam asked.

Wade opened his pack and took out an electric hoist and a webbing harness.

‘Right.’ Forlam snatched back his carbine and, jumping down into a mass of lice, began stamping on them. Wade landed lightly beside him, stepped over to the prostrate Hoopers, and began pulling off the lice still chewing on them. Soon the horrible creatures got the idea and began scuttling for cover. Forlam kicked one of the stragglers against the wall and leaned down to more closely inspect a woman lying at his feet just as Wade adjusted the setting on his torch so it became a lantern.

‘They’re gonna be trouble,’ Forlam observed.

The female’s clothing was ragged on her starveling dark-blue body; a leech tongue protruded over the unnatural jut of her lower jaw. The man next to her, he saw, had fingers twice as long as normal, had shed all his hair, and his nose had melded with his top lip.

‘Evidently.’ Wade placed his light on a stony slab jutting from the nearby wall. He then opened his pack and took out an injector—high dose Intertox.

Yeah, like that’s going to work, thought Forlam.

He remembered back to when he had approached this state, and some of the things he had done at the time. He also recollected days spent in a reinforced straitjacket, being similarly dosed until he ceased to be a danger… to everyone. He hung his carbine from his shoulder by its strap, then reached down and turned the woman over onto her face. Drawing his ceramal knife he wondered where to cut… Then something lashed out beside him, snatching the knife from his hand.

‘We cannot do that,’ said Thirteen, now holding the knife in its forked tail.

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Wade.

‘I’ve been scanning,’ said the drone. ‘They have been converted into an adjunct to the ship’s computer systems. If we remove their thralls now, Vrell will realize at once.’

‘How strong is the signal?’ asked Wade.

Thirteen turned in mid-air to face the Golem. ‘I picked it up earlier on the Sable Keech, but could not identify it then. Some sort of high-level mathematical program is being run.’