'Make your point, Dakota,' he snapped, finally sounding angry.

She crouched down, reaching behind her to feel the edge of the lip. A cool wind blew over her bare skin. 'Tell me exactly what you gave the Bandati before they stuck you in here with me. Or was that all your idea?'

He stared at her in silence, looking guilty as all h.e.l.l. For Dakota, it was as good as an admission of complicity with her tormentors.

Despite her still-weakened state, Dakota started to lower herself over the rim of the lip, reaching out to her right to take a grip on one of the rough grooves of the tower wall, her flaccid muscles protesting as she did so. Her feet briefly kicked at air before finding a toehold, and she wondered if she would die if she let go or if the Bandati had a contingency plan if either of them looked ready to commit suicide.

Corso stepped forward, half-crouching, his arms extended as if he were about to rush forward and make a grab for her. 'Stop this, Dakota! Just come back in here, for f.u.c.k's sake, please. please.'

Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was about to drum its way out of her chest. Terror mixed with a strange giddy joy, the two emotions somehow intermingled. 'The whole time you've been in here with me, you've hardly been able to look me straight in the eye, not for one second. Whatever it is you've been holding back, now's the time to tell me.'

'You'll die, you crazy f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!' he yelled, his anger finally a.s.serting itself. 'Look at you, you're half-starved, you can't think straight. For G.o.d's sake, let me help you back in, okay?' at you, you're half-starved, you can't think straight. For G.o.d's sake, let me help you back in, okay?'

'A couple of weeks ago you were ready to kill me and steal a starship you wouldn't even have been able to fly without me. I don't trust you, Lucas, so just tell me what you're up to.' She began tensing her arms as if she were about to let go.

And realized, with a certain distant horror, that she might actually be prepared to do so.

She heard a distant roaring, not unlike a waterfall, and blackness scrawled its way across the corners of her vision. She felt lightheaded, the metal surface of the ledge taking on a curiously soft, rubbery quality . . .

. . . hands were pulling her back inside, Lucas Corso's breathing harsh amid words and curses spilling out of his mouth in a jumble as he braced himself against the door frame, one foot wedged against it while he half-kneeled to reach her. She held onto him tight, suddenly all too conscious of the void beneath her kicking feet, and was pulled back into the suddenly welcome confines of their cell.

She sprawled face-down on the floor and watched as he scrambled backwards, gasping from the sudden exertion of saving her life again.

'Try not to make a habit of that,' he wheezed. 'I have bad enough nightmares nowadays as it is.'

'Tell me,' she whispered, cheek still pressed against the steel floor. She closed her eyes, and waited.

A moment later, she heard him sigh. 'They already know you're in communication with the derelict,' he muttered, almost too quietly for her to hear.

She blinked. 'And?'

'They've been trying to get inside it. I offered them my help.'

'Of all the stupid, idiotic-'

'Shut the h.e.l.l up!' he shouted, rising up and looming over her. 'They already know know you're the one making it so hard for them to get inside the derelict, or even the you're the one making it so hard for them to get inside the derelict, or even the Piri Reis.' Piri Reis.'

She laughed weakly. 'Whatever the Piri Piri's doing, it's got nothing to do with me,' she retorted. 'Sounds like you're quite friendly with those things that were torturing us, Lucas. Funny you never mentioned that to me until now.'

He shook his head, speaking more quietly now. 'They wanted to kill you once they knew about the protocols I'd developed. But then I told them you were still the key, and how they couldn't get the derelict to cooperate without your help.' He tapped his chest. 'I'm 'I'm the only reason you're still alive, Dakota. And the only way either of us is going to the only reason you're still alive, Dakota. And the only way either of us is going to stay stay alive from this point on is if they think we're both useful to them.' alive from this point on is if they think we're both useful to them.'

She stared at him with a deep sense of loathing. 'So, what next? You told them you could talk me into helping them, is that it?'

'What was I meant to do, stand by while they murdered you? Look, we both both talked. When the torture didn't work, they relied on the drugs to get information out of us. They showed me recordings where I'm talking about my work, about how I could get them inside the derelict. I don't talked. When the torture didn't work, they relied on the drugs to get information out of us. They showed me recordings where I'm talking about my work, about how I could get them inside the derelict. I don't remember remember saying any of it, but I talked, all the same. We both did, Dakota.' saying any of it, but I talked, all the same. We both did, Dakota.'

'The first derelict you found back in Nova Arctis tried to kill you when you tried to use the protocols on it. Did you tell them about that?'

'Only because that d.a.m.n Shoal-member in your head interfered!' Corso snapped back. 'That. . . thing thing sabotaged all my work, entire months of it. Look,' he said, his voice taking on a more pleading quality, 'the Bandati still have good relations with the Consortium. If we can help them get control of this derelict, then we can both go home, and then I stand a chance of helping swing a better deal for the Freehold and maybe for the whole human race, once we understand how to replicate the drive technology.' sabotaged all my work, entire months of it. Look,' he said, his voice taking on a more pleading quality, 'the Bandati still have good relations with the Consortium. If we can help them get control of this derelict, then we can both go home, and then I stand a chance of helping swing a better deal for the Freehold and maybe for the whole human race, once we understand how to replicate the drive technology.'

She chuckled and shook her head. 'You've had plenty of time to say all this to me before, and instead you've just been skulking around saying nothing. What were you doing, just looking for the right moment?' She shook her head in disgust. 'I think maybe you should have just let me fall.'

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. 'You've been granted a privilege no other human being alive has ever enjoyed. You've seen inside a civilization as old as the stars, Dakota, and it's wrong to keep all of that to yourself. It's an act of, of. . . tremendous tremendous hubris to think that you and you alone deserve to. Humanity should be the judge of what you know. Meanwhile I don't know how far we can trust the Bandati, but I'm willing to try even if you aren't.' hubris to think that you and you alone deserve to. Humanity should be the judge of what you know. Meanwhile I don't know how far we can trust the Bandati, but I'm willing to try even if you aren't.'

For a moment she was ashamed of her anger at him. Neither of them had asked to be swept up by the events that had recently taken place.

So she closed her eyes and ran away once more, opening her mind to the greater presence that suddenly emerged from beyond the bright limb of a moon almost one hundred and forty million kilometres away, far from the current torment of her physical body.

The derelict was still waiting for her, as it always would wait for its navigator.

Six.

The Fair Sisters moved serenely along the path of their respective orbits, the pair of them more or less evenly matched in diameter, atmospheric composition and albedo, but separated from each other by some hundreds of millions of kilometres of empty s.p.a.ce. Dakota, still trapped in a high tower on Ironbloom, had not yet realized that by linking these two worlds with a common name, the Bandati were also commemorating a battle between Darkening Skies and Immortal Light that had taken place in that very system some millennia before.

As was the case in the majority of colonized systems with an emphasis on industry, robot scoops routinely dived into the upper atmosphere of the two gas giants in order to dredge helium three for use in fusion-based power systems. Once they had their fill, these simple-minded machines would boost back out of a deep gravity well, before heading for one of the hundreds of similarly automated refineries that orbited the many moons of the Fair Sisters.

One of these orbital refineries, however, was not what it seemed.

It floated high above Blackflower's pocked landscape, which still bore the scars of a strategic encounter between the ma.s.sed forces of the two Hives so long before. The transmissions that frequently pa.s.sed between the refinery and Ironbloom utilized the same encryption employed by the highest echelons of Immortal Light's royal court. Further, the refinery was far larger than the rest of its ilk, and boasted a variety of defensive weaponry out of proportion to its apparent intrinsic value, along with a newer section that had been put under gravitational spin.

It was also occupied.

Hugh Moss sent one of his newer bead-zombies to greet the Queen of Immortal Light's proxy, once the incoming cruiser had settled into the docking facilities. While he waited, he stood by a railing surrounding a deep, oval pit that had become known, to those who lived and more frequently perished within the Perfumed Garden, as the Killing Floor.

The air was damp and humid, the rust-streaked walls of the converted refinery now half-hidden behind dense greenery, while insects and small bio-engineered winged creatures constantly darted here and there. Water dripped from the uneven surface of the ceiling and the light was dim and grey-green, the combined effect giving the illusion to those few visitors to the Perfumed Garden that they were underwater.

Moss wore a long, thick coat deliberately left open over his emaciated, naked body so as to better feel the cool dampness of the air against his mottled and heavily scarred flesh. Relatively fresh welts wriggled across his narrow chest and torso, mementoes of an unpleasant encounter quite recently.

Two men circled each other warily at the bottom of the pit as Moss gazed down upon them. Each moved in a low crouch, keeping their distance as they circled, and waiting to see who might make the first move when the right time came.

Of the two, Da'ud Anwar had risen from the gutter, working as a hired thug for an extortion racket in Nairobi before being given the choice of immediate execution or joining a prison mining operation on a prospective colony world. From there he had lied and cheated his way onto a coreship before developing a taste for extortion and a.s.sa.s.sination. He had eventually learned of the Perfumed Garden, the place from which the most highly valued a.s.sa.s.sins within the Consortium originated, and found his way there, as some few very determined ones always did.

Victor Nimitz was already an a.s.sa.s.sin of some repute, but one who had been sent to kill Hugh Moss specifically. He was not the first to be sent on this quest and Moss knew for sure would not be the last. A variety of physical and psychological torture had been used to first destroy Nimitz's mind, and then carefully rebuild him into the efficient and vastly improved killing machine that now prowled the floor of the pit.

If he survived this contest, the remade Victor Nimitz would be repaying those who had sent him on his mission by killing them all.

Both men had benefited from Moss's extensive knowledge of extreme body modification. Da'ud Anwar had chosen to model himself on a Terran wolf; his internal musculo-skeletal structure had been altered so that his bones could unlock one from another, allowing him to morph his body into remarkable new configurations. He was, for instance, able to stretch and alter his limbs in such a way that he could run on all fours with surprising speed. His teeth had been removed and replaced with sharpened diamond flakes; a modification that allowed him to rip out another man's throat with startling efficiency. Da'ud had even extended the morphology to his tongue, so it was now long, black and eel-like, and the poison it secreted could kill any other human he encountered within seconds.

Da'ud's present opponent had taken a different approach. Victor's muscles could inflate in seconds, so that what at first appeared to be a human being of normal musculature could rapidly increase in size and for a limited period only physical strength. His sweat carried deadly neurotoxins. His jawbones had been replaced with t.i.tanium, and the flesh that covered them altered to enable him to stretch his jaws wide like a snake and crush an opponent's head in their grasp.

As Da'ud glanced upwards and caught Moss's eye, there was a certain admiration in their exchanged glance; something that might even be called love. Victor's expression remained bright but blank, for he was little more than a walking automaton now, really, and Moss already had a good idea which of the two engineered warriors would win this battle. And yet this knowledge was coloured by the awareness that Da'ud, a.s.suming he survived this contest, had every intention of confronting Moss himself at the earliest opportunity.

And that would never do.

Moss spared Da'ud a brief smile; he had faced similar challenges quite a few times before and survived all of them and more. If Moss's thinking was correct, Da'ud would win this fight, more by virtue of his intact intellect than anything else, and the relatively robotic Victor would most probably lose.

Or, if he was wrong, Victor would kill Da'ud and thereby solve a potential problem for Moss. Either way, Moss had carefully engineered and nurtured the two men's rivalry in the hope that precisely such a face-off as this one would occur.

Victor's body tensed in a way that signalled he was ready to attack. Moss then withdrew a dagger from the inside pocket of his long coat and tossed it down onto the floor of the pit. The blade struck the absorbent matting covering the floor fairly near Victor, its hilt wobbling slightly from the impact.

Two pairs of glittering eyes stared unwaveringly up at Moss with a mixture of respect, awe, terror and hatred.

'Wait,' Moss ordered quietly. A moment later, the Queen of Immortal Light's proxy, along with a select group of the Queen's own councillors and advisers, entered the chamber that contained the Killing Floor. The Queen's proxy was young, fed just enough of the gene-morph secretion produced by the Queen herself to keep her stand-in both enormously fat and effectively immortal, but without achieving the gargantuan scale of the real thing.

This proxy if she was lucky and proved herself sufficiently loyal might get the chance to found her own Hive in some distant future millennium. For the meantime, however, she served the same Queen that had mothered her and all the other citizens of her Hive; and although not as large as the Queen herself, the proxy was still of sufficient girth to warrant a field suspension platform all to herself. She appeared to float into the room on a platter of coloured light, the field-generator itself hidden under the vast folds of fat that composed most of her bulk. The Royal Councillors walked on either side of her.

Shortly after the Queen of Immortal Light had granted Hugh Moss shelter within the Night's End system, he had made a point of carrying out surgery on his body that would allow him to interpret the scent-speak on which the Bandati so regularly relied. He easily picked up the air of imperious aloofness his visitor evinced.

'The proxy of her imperial ruler, the Queen of Immortal Light, gives you greetings,' one of the Councillors spoke into a gently glowing interpreter hovering directly before his mouth parts. The Councillor then glanced towards the ringed pit, and continued: 'She also wishes to know the nature of the entertainment you intend providing for us.'

Moss bowed slightly, and gestured down towards Da'ud and Victor, who still waited patiently. 'This, my dear proxy, is the method by which I test the results of my continuing research,' he explained, listening carefully to the tick-tack sound of a simultaneous translation into the Bandati dialect. 'As you already know, my creations are much in demand.'

'These are your newest a.s.sa.s.sins, then?' the proxy asked him directly, clicking breathily into her own interpreter.

Moss knew that every word, every nuance, was being transmitted to the actual Queen of Immortal Light via instantaneous tach-net transmission. As the proxy spoke, the alien entourage moved forward until it encircled the railing above the pit.

'Yes, my dear proxy,' Moss replied, his ghoulishly thin lips drawing back over the brilliantly shining shards. 'I and my creations represent a prime resource: the finest a.s.sa.s.sins and warriors that ever lived and breathed.'

'Then what's the point of wasting them by setting them to murder each other like this?'

'If my a.s.sa.s.sins can't defend themselves from each other, then they don't deserve to leave this place alive. They would have proven themselves inferior. My purpose is to refine the flesh into something far superior to the apparent sum of its parts which is why the very few who get to leave my gardens can demand such high prices from their prospective employers.'

The Queen's proxy shifted to afford herself a better view of the two a.s.sa.s.sins waiting in the pit below, the movement causing her field platform to tilt slightly. 'I think, Moss, I understand you after a fashion. You are the least humanlike human I have ever encountered. You don't think think like the rest of your brethren.' like the rest of your brethren.'

'I'll guess that you're alluding to my interest in bioengineering.'

'I believe you know the history of our Grand Reformation in some detail?'

'Of course. And your Queen's interest in developing further alterations to your own species reflects my interests. Her approval of my . . . suggestions suggestions on how to re-engineer the weakest elements of your society has led directly to her esteemed patronage these past several years. I have much to thank her for.' on how to re-engineer the weakest elements of your society has led directly to her esteemed patronage these past several years. I have much to thank her for.'

'Be careful, Hugh Moss, that these words remain here, here, for our people retain a very strong taboo against further racial engineering.' for our people retain a very strong taboo against further racial engineering.'

'Of course. One moment, please.'

Moss turned and glanced down, signalling for the combat to begin. Da'ud let out an ear-rending howl, his bones audibly grinding as they and his muscles shifted into startling new alignments, his diamond teeth glittering brightly in the dim green light. Victor's muscles meanwhile stretched and bulged, sinews rippling under his flesh like steel cables, his jaws opening inhumanly wide.

Moss smiled as his two latest proteges came together. The fight did not last long, because, with his diamond teeth, Da'ud had the clear edge. He had engineered his body for speed and agility rather than brute musculature, and Victor was learning his lesson the hard way. Bright scarlet soon stained the Killing Floor and Victor lay gasping and screaming as Da'ud stared up at his audience, eyes shining with murderous fever, as he waited for Moss's signal to deliver the coup de grace. coup de grace.

Moss nodded, and Da'ud bent down, almost delicately slicing Victor's throat open with glittering razor-sharp incisors. Victor jerked and trembled for several seconds, then lay still for ever. The matting under his body was stained reddish black as Da'ud stood up, his face and shoulders daubed in scarlet. He let out an animal howl that was all the more disturbing for coming from an apparently human throat, before heading out of sight into the darkness of the doorway set into one side of the pit. The Queen's proxy spoke as Moss turned his attention from the spectacle below.

'You should know, Hugh Moss, that my primary reason for being here is because of the derelict. The Queen herself decided not to pursue the question of precisely how how you came to know so much about it, in return for your help in gaining entry to its core systems. Yet your efforts so far have proven, frankly, negligible, and your claims of special knowledge didn't prevent valuable Bandati technicians from vanishing utterly while attempting to penetrate its interior. I'm sure you're aware there are means by which your "special knowledge" could be extracted directly from your skull?' you came to know so much about it, in return for your help in gaining entry to its core systems. Yet your efforts so far have proven, frankly, negligible, and your claims of special knowledge didn't prevent valuable Bandati technicians from vanishing utterly while attempting to penetrate its interior. I'm sure you're aware there are means by which your "special knowledge" could be extracted directly from your skull?'

Moss's feral smile was stained yellow. Neither the proxy nor the Queen she served suspected he was entirely aware of what else they had hidden just a few light-years away, in a neighbouring star-system.

'The craft's defences indeed proved extremely formidable,' he replied. 'It seems to be in sporadic communication with someone or something elsewhere in this system. I believe it's being actively directed to resist any attempts at boarding it. And yet you've gone out of your way to keep back vital information that might have allowed me to achieve actual results. Perhaps you're in a mood to enlighten me now?'

'Yes,' the proxy replied, somewhat to Moss's surprise. Up till now, the Queen's failure to be in the least forthcoming had proved a constant irritation. 'Two humans arrived with the derelict and were taken to Ironbloom for extensive questioning. One of them proved cooperative, but the other, named Dakota Merrick, is unfortunately far from willing to cooperate. Yet both clearly have some means of controlling the derelict which we've so far been unable to ascertain.'

Dakota Merrick? How remarkable, thought Moss. Fate could be a subtle beast indeed. His hands tightened at his sides in antic.i.p.ation. thought Moss. Fate could be a subtle beast indeed. His hands tightened at his sides in antic.i.p.ation.

'Then if one of them is cooperative, you already have what you need,' he replied, choosing his words carefully while his thoughts raced.

'Not so.'

Moss regarded the proxy quizzically.

'The other human a certain Lucas Corso has informed us of communications protocols designed specifically to communicate with the derelict. He claims to have had some success with these, and he also claims technology contained within the derelict is responsible for the recent, unexplained destruction of Nova Arctis. We have reason to believe he may be telling the truth. Further, he tells us that Merrick is somehow linked to the starship through cerebral implants. We've run some a.n.a.lytical scans on her, although so far we've avoided surgical intervention at least until we have a clearer idea exactly what it is we're dealing with.'

Moss fought hard to hide his sudden excitement. He was finally being allowed access to the high-level records he needed and perhaps, if he burrowed a little further, he might find the confirmation for those rumours that had first brought him to the Night's End system.

When Nova Arctis had been destroyed, he'd felt certain Trader in Faecal Matter of Animals had played a part in its death. So perhaps the Shoal's carefully maintained peace was finally unravelling after so very long.

'What else can you tell me?' he asked, straining to keep his tone level.

'Corso is apparently an expert in archaeo-cryptology, with a particular emphasis on Shoal communication languages. We're a.s.suming for the moment Merrick is the one responsible for some of our setbacks. That would certainly support your thesis of outside interference, and would explain some of her behaviour when she believes she's un.o.bserved. We can't rule out the possibility that we won't be able to make any more progress without her cooperation willing or otherwise.'

Moss opened his lips wide in an apparent snarl, and then started to make the most remarkable barking sound. One of her attendants informed the startled proxy that he was 'laughing'.

'My, she does have you over a barrel, doesn't she?' he said, shaking his head. 'So why come running to me now? You already sabotaged my own efforts by not telling me everything I needed to know. Perhaps if I'd been the one to interrogate the two of them in the first place-'

'Merrick nearly killed you not so long ago, Hugh Moss. She told us that herself, while in a drug-induced trance. We . . . were concerned about your actions if we gave you direct access to either her or Corso.'

'You thought I'd take my revenge on her, even at the risk of losing my Perfumed Gardens after all these years?' He cast his gaze around the rusted and foliage-dense walls surrounding them. 'I like to think I'm a little more pragmatic than that.'

'Your point is taken,' the proxy replied, with maybe a hint of brittleness beyond the normal artificial tones of the interpreter. 'However, certain circ.u.mstances dictate-'

'What circ.u.mstances?' Moss barked.

'Certain circ.u.mstances dictate the need for haste. My Queen has therefore ordered that a new strategy, suggested by Corso, should be pursued. In the meantime, you will return with us once more to Ironbloom, and yourself interrogate Merrick. If you can't find some way to force her to cooperate with us, then she'll die . . . but not by your hands. And my Queen has also decreed that your failure would result in the immediate loss of her patronage and the confiscation of this facility, along with all your research materials.' dictate the need for haste. My Queen has therefore ordered that a new strategy, suggested by Corso, should be pursued. In the meantime, you will return with us once more to Ironbloom, and yourself interrogate Merrick. If you can't find some way to force her to cooperate with us, then she'll die . . . but not by your hands. And my Queen has also decreed that your failure would result in the immediate loss of her patronage and the confiscation of this facility, along with all your research materials.'

Moss smiled grimly. He glanced down at his clawlike hands, the sight of them hateful and disturbing in the way the skin stretched over the bones beneath. For a moment, his sense of self-loathing gave way to a sense of wonder; for the one thing he'd sought all these years was about to fall into his murderous grasp.

The Bandati Queen and all her kind could rot in h.e.l.l for all he cared; what mattered more than anything was the derelict. If he could gain control of it, his greatest desire the destruction of the entire Shoal species might actually, finally, be within his grasp.

One Shoal-member in particular had featured in many of his revenge fantasies over the years. He'd got so close to him that time on Bourdain's Rock, so close . . . and then that b.i.t.c.h Merrick had stolen his chance to finally confront and kill Trader in Faecal Matter of Animals.

'Very well.' A smile of genuine pleasure twisted the corners of Hugh's lips. He enjoyed a frisson of pleasure in the knowledge that neither the proxy nor the Queen she served had any idea just how well they were serving his own aims. 'I can certainly give you results, but are there any limitations on my methods of interrogation?'

The proxy's reply was blunt. 'She's of no use to us unless you can find a way to extract the information we need.'

'Pick her brain apart, then. It'll kill her, but you'll have what you need.'

'But then it might also kill her before we get get what we need. You well know such invasive measures are far from certain. Therefore see that you do not fail us, Hugh Moss.' what we need. You well know such invasive measures are far from certain. Therefore see that you do not fail us, Hugh Moss.'