The Revelation Space Collection (355 page)

‘Children behave oddly in adult environments. It was a mistake to have her there.’

‘She wasn’t behaving oddly at all,’ Grelier said. ‘In my view, she was behaving very rationally. It was the adults who weren’t. They all knew that the recruiting agent was lying, but she was the only one who wasn’t in denial about it.’

‘I expect she overheard some remark before the interview, something about how the recruiting agents always lie.’

‘She may have done, but even at the time I thought it went a little deeper than that. I think she just knew that the recruiter was lying simply by looking at him. There are people, individuals, who have that ability. They’re born with it. Not more than one in a thousand, and probably even fewer who have it to the extent of that little girl.’

‘Mind-reading?’

‘No. Just an acute awareness of the subliminal information already available. Facial expression, primarily. The muscles in your face can form forty-three distinct movements, which enable tens of thousands in combination.’

Grelier had done his homework, Quaiche thought. This little digression had obviously been planned all along.

‘Many of these expressions are involuntary,’ he continued. ‘Unless you’ve been very well trained, you simply can’t lie without revealing yourself through your expressions. Most of the time, of course, it doesn’t matter. The people around you are none the wiser, just as blind to those microexpressions. But imagine if you had that awareness. Not just the means to read the people around you when they don’t even know they’re being read, but the self-control to block your own involuntary signals.’

‘Mm.’ Quaiche could see where this was heading. ‘It wouldn’t be much use against something like Heckel, but a baseline negotiator . . . or something with a
face
. . . that’s a different matter. You think you could teach me this?’

‘I can do better than that,’ Grelier said. ‘I can bring you the girl. She can teach you herself.’

For a moment, Quaiche regarded the hanging image of Haldora, mesmerised by a writhing filament of lightning in the southern polar region.

‘You’d have to bring her here first,’ he said. ‘Not easy, if you can’t lie to her at any point.’

‘Not as difficult as you think. She’s like antimatter: it would only be a question of handling her with the right tools. I told you something jogged my memory a few days ago. It was the girl’s name. Rashmika Els. She was mentioned in a general news bulletin originating from the Vigrid badlands. There was a photo. She’s eight or nine years older than when I last saw her, obviously, but it was her all right. I wouldn’t forget those eyes in a hurry. She’d gone missing. The constabulary were in a fuss about her.’

‘No use to us, then.’

Grelier smiled. ‘Except I found her. She’s on a caravan, heading towards the Way.’

‘You’ve met her?’

‘Not exactly. I visited the caravan, but didn’t reveal myself to Miss Els. Wouldn’t want to scare her off, not when she can be so useful to us. She’s very determined to find out what happened to her brother, but even she will be wary of getting too close to the Way.’

‘Mm.’ For a moment the beautiful conjunction of these events caused Quaiche to smile. ‘And what exactly
did
happen to her brother?’

‘Died in clearance work,’ Grelier said. ‘Crushed under the Lady Morwenna.’

TWENTY-ONE

Ararat, 2675

Skade lay half-cocooned in ice and the frozen black froth of Inhibitor machinery. She was still alive. This much was clear as they squeezed through the narrow, crimped opening of the crushed bulkhead. From the control couch in which she still lay, Skade’s head tilted slightly in their direction, the merest glaze of interest troubling the smooth composure of her face. The fingers of one white-gauntleted hand hovered above a portable holoclavier propped in her lap, the fingers becoming a blur of white in time with the gunlike salvos of music.

The music stopped as her hand moved away from the keyboard. ‘I was beginning to wonder what had kept you.’

‘I’ve come for my child, bitch,’ Khouri said.

Skade showed no sign of having heard her. ‘What happened, Clavain?’

‘A little mishap.’

‘The wolves took your hand. How unfortunate.’

Clavain showed her the knife. ‘I did what had to be done. Recognise this, Skade? Today wasn’t the first time it’s saved my life. I used it to cut the membrane around the comet, when you and I had that little disagreement over the future policy of the Mother Nest. You
do
remember, don’t you?’

‘There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since I last saw that knife. I still had my old body then.’

‘I’m sorry about what happened, but I only did what I had to do. Put me back there now, I’d do the same thing again.’

‘I don’t doubt it for a moment, Clavain. No matter what people say, you always were a man of conviction.’

‘We’ve come for the child,’ he said.

She acknowledged Khouri with the tiniest of nods. ‘I had gathered.’

‘Are you going to hand her over, or is this going to become tedious and messy?’

‘Which way would you prefer it, Clavain?’

‘Listen to me, Skade. It’s over. Whatever happened between you and me, whatever harm we did each other, whatever loyalties we believed in, none of that matters any more.’

‘That’s exactly what I told Remontoire.’

‘But you did negotiate,’ Clavain said. ‘We know that much. So let’s take it to the limit. Let’s join forces again. Give Aura back to us and we’ll share everything she tells us. It’ll be better for all of us in the long run.’

‘What do I care about the long run, Clavain? I’m never going to see the outside of this ship again.’

‘If you’re hurt, we can help you.’

‘I really don’t think so.’

‘Give me Aura,’ Khouri demanded.

Scorpio stepped closer, taking a better look at the injured Conjoiner. She wore armour of a very pale shade, perhaps even white. Chameleoflage armour, probably: the outer integument had tuned itself to match the colour of the ice that had condensed or ruptured through into the cabin before the lighting failed. The suit was styled in the manner of medieval armour, with bulbous sliding plates covering the limb joints and an exaggerated breastplate. There was a cinched, feminine waist above a skirtlike flaring. The rest of the body - below the waist - Scorpio could not see at all. It vanished into ice that pinned Skade neatly in place like a doll for sale.

All around her, in little aggregations of blackness, were warty clumps of Inhibitor machinery. But none were touching Skade, and none appeared active at the moment.

‘You can have Aura,’ she said. ‘At, of course, a price.’

‘We’re not paying for her,’ Clavain said. His voice was faint and hoarse, stripped of strength.

‘You’re the one who mentioned negotiation,’ Skade said. ‘Or were you thinking more along the lines of a threat?’

‘Where is she?’

Skade moved one of her arms. The armour creaked as it budged, dislodging curtains of frost. She tapped the hard plate covering her abdomen. ‘She’s here, in me. I’m keeping her alive.’

Clavain glanced back at Khouri, his eyes conveying the admission that, finally, everything she had told them had turned out to be true. ‘Good,’ he said, turning his attention back to Skade. ‘I’m grateful. But now her mother needs her back.’

‘As if you care about her mother,’ Skade said, mocking him with an adversarial smile. ‘As if you truly care about the fate of a child.’

‘I came all this way for that child.’

‘You came all this way for an asset,’ Skade corrected.

‘And I suppose the child means vastly more to you than that.’

‘Enough,’ Scorpio interrupted. ‘We haven’t got time for this. We came for Khouri’s child. Fuck the reasons. Just hand her over.’

‘Hand her over?’ Now Skade laughed at the pig. ‘Did you honestly think it was going to be that easy? The child is
in
me. It’s in my womb, wired into my circulatory system.’

‘
She
,’ Khouri insisted. ‘Aura isn’t an “it”, you heartless piece of shit.’

‘She isn’t human either,’ Skade said, ‘no matter what you might think.’ Her head tracked back towards Clavain. ‘Yes, I had Delmar culture me another body, just as he’d always intended. I’m all flesh from the neck down. Even the womb is more organ than machine. Face it,
Nevil
: I’m more alive than you are, now that you’ve lost that hand.’

‘You were always a machine, Skade. You just didn’t realise it.’

‘If you’re saying I only ever did my duty, then I accept that. Machines do have a certain dignity: they’re not capable of betrayal or disloyalty. They’re not capable of treason.’

‘I didn’t come here for a lesson in ethics.’

‘Aren’t you curious about what happened to my ship? Don’t you like my fabulous palace of ice?’ She gestured around her, as if inviting commentary on her choice of décor. ‘I made it especially for you.’

‘Actually, I think something went wrong with your cryo-arithmetic engines,’ Clavain said.

Skade pouted. ‘Go ahead, dismiss my efforts.’

‘What happened?’ Scorpio asked quietly.

She sighed. ‘Don’t expect to understand. The finest minds in the Mother Nest barely grasped the underlying principles. You don’t even have the intelligence of a baseline human. You’re just a pig.’

‘I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t call me that.’

‘Or you’ll do what? You can’t hurt me, not while I’m carrying Aura. I die, she dies. It’s that simple.’

‘Nice hostage setup,’ Clavain said.

‘I’m not saying it was easy. Our respective immune systems needed a great deal of tinkering before we stopped rejecting each other.’ Skade’s eyes flashed to Khouri. ‘Don’t even think about taking her back into your womb now. I’m afraid the two of you just aren’t remotely compatible.’

Khouri started to say something, but Clavain quickly raised his good hand, talking over her. ‘Then you are willing to negotiate,’ he said, ‘or else you wouldn’t have needed to warn her about compatibility.’

Skade’s attention remained on Khouri. ‘You can walk out of here with Aura. There should still be functional surgical tools aboard this ship. I can talk you through the Caesarean. Otherwise, I’m sure you can improvise. After all, it’s not
brain
surgery.’ She looked at Clavain. ‘You did bring a life-support unit, didn’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then we’re all set. I still have neural connections with Aura’s mind. I can put her into a temporary coma until the surgery is over.’

‘I’ve found a surgical box,’ Jaccottet said, shoving a heavy black case across the ruined floor. A bas-relief caduceus stood out from its surface, rimed with frost. ‘Even if this doesn’t work, we’ve probably got all the tools we need in our own emergency kits.’

‘Open it,’ Clavain said. There was something hollow about his voice, as if he grasped something that everyone else was missing.

The box sprung open, seals hissing, divesting itself of many cunningly packed trays. Surgical instruments made of matt-white metal sat in neat foam inlays. The instruments - all looped fingerholes and precisely hinged mechanisms - made Scorpio think of some weird alien cutlery. They were all made of dumb matter, designed to be used in field surgery situations where rogue nanomachinery might corrupt smarter, more subtle instruments.

‘Need some help?’ Skade asked.

Jaccottet’s gloved fingers lifted one of the instruments from its nest. His hand trembled. ‘I’m not really a surgeon,’ he said. ‘I’ve had Security Arm medical training, but that didn’t stretch to field operations.’

‘No matter,’ Skade said. ‘As I said, I can talk you through it. It has to be you, you see. The pig lacks the necessary dexterity, and Khouri has far too much of an emotional investment. And Clavain . . . well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?’

‘It isn’t just because of my hand,’ Clavain said.

‘No, not just that,’ Skade agreed.

‘Tell them,’ Clavain said.

‘Clavain can’t do the procedure,’ Skade said, addressing the other three as if Clavain were not present at all, ‘because he won’t be alive: not by the end of it, anyway. This is the arrangement: you walk out of here with Aura, and Clavain dies, here and now. No negotiation, no argument over the terms. It either happens this way or it doesn’t happen at all. It’s entirely up to you.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Scorpio said.

‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Clavain dies. Aura lives. You walk out of here with what you came for. How can that not be a satisfactory result?’

‘Not this way,’ Khouri said. ‘Please, not this way.’

‘I’m afraid I’ve already given the matter a great deal of consideration. I am dying, you see. This palace will also be my mausoleum. The options - for me, at least - are remarkably restricted. If I die, I take Aura with me. Humanity - whatever
that
means - will lose whatever gifts she carries. But if I give her to you, those gifts may be put to some practical use. In the long run it may not be the difference between extinction and survival, but it may be the difference between extinction now, this century, and extinction a few thousand years down the line. Not much of a stay of execution, really . . . but human nature being what it is, I’m sure we’ll take what we’re given.’