21

Politics (An excerpt): Everybody knows that we are living in a meritocracy and that those in charge are not human. Everybody knows that AIs are running the show. Who would trust a human planetary governor? Who would trust humans with controlling the vast spread of human migration and trade? Certainly not other humans. As that sublime AI, which is referred to as 'Earth Central', once put it, 'Humans: fast machines that serve the purpose of slow genes.' Most right-thinking people would agree that we are not to be trusted with our own destiny and are glad things are the way they are. Our history should be a salutary lesson held at the forefronts of our minds when we consider these matters. Nowadays you do not see such bloody resolution to events as was seen in the past. I mean, you don't see the machines killing each other, do you?

From How It Is by Gordon

The magnetic rails lifted the shuttle from the bay floor, just like AG.

'That's it,' said Tull over the intercom. 'Now you just ease it straight out. You'll be going out opposite to the station's rotation, so you should have no problem. Obviously, once you're out, you'll fall away at one-quarter G.'

'In what direction?'

'Depends when you get through the door. I'd suggest you do this next time Viridian comes into view.'

Great, real technical.

Jarvellis kept her eyes on the door and her hand on the slide control as she waited. Already space beyond the door was taking on a blue-green haze. Any time now, then.

When the arc of the planet slowly climbed into view, she quickly pushed the control forward. She did not really fancy hurtling directly towards the planet at one-quarter G while still trying to figure out how to operate the controls of this thing. The shuttle slowly accelerated for the door, and more and more of the planet was revealed. As it went out into space, it immediately dropped and she rose against her seat straps. A glance up showed her the station now retreating with dismaying rapidity. She moved the control column and was rewarded with a cacophonous creaking as the ion engines moved in their housings.

'All or nothing,' she said, and pressed a button marked 'Grids'. Nothing happened. There was no flare, no surge of power. She leant forward and round, so as to see the ion engines. There was a glow underneath them no more vigorous than that from a faulty toaster. Jarvellis studied the other buttons available. 'Gas feed' seemed the most likely, so she pressed it. A pump started up somewhere behind her, and there was a stutt- ering roar to her right. Her view of Viridian tilted, kept on tilting. The roar started to her left, but the tilt did not correct and now the horizon was dropping away. She eased the column over, corrected the tilt. How the hell did she ease off on the power, though? It took her some minutes of frantic searching before she realized her foot was flat down on a floor pedal.

'This is Viridian control calling Nix shuttle. Answer, please.'

Jarvellis ignored the radio and concentrated on flying the shuttle. She could not figure out how to get back towards the planet. The settings of the engines seemed to be designed for re-entry only. Think! It occurred to her then that she was thinking like someone who had lived with gravity for too long. She was thinking in terms of up and down. She moved the full column over and nipped the shuttle so that Viridian was now directly above her, and then applied some power.

'This is Viridian control calling Nix shuttle. Answer, please.'

There was the airspeed indicator, and there was an altimeter giving a very strange reading. Slowly Jarvellis began to understand what each of the meters and small screens signified. She had got the shuttle in a stable orbit when a completely different voice spoke from the radio.

'This is Viridian. Will the lunatic flying that antique please respond. I have no objection to you killing yourself, but you are now entering occupied airspace.'

Shit, it was the runcible AI. Jarvellis searched for a switch to turn off the radio. She found none. What she did find was a screen that folded out from the old console. The screen flickered on to give her the same view as she had out through the front screen. She pressed a button and that view flicked to one that was identified - in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen - as infrared. She clicked along the buttons and called up all sorts of interesting views, but none of them would help to prevent her spreading herself across the surface of the planet if she didn't figure out how to land this thing.

They put the carrier down in a valley in the foothills of the cave-riddled Thuriot mountains. These mountains were not like any mountains he had imagined; they were the slabbed and laminated masses he had seen from the runcible facility. Perhaps it was the case that on a heavier-gravity planet like Earth such strange formations could not exist. He sited the camp a short distance from where the blue oaks and chequer trees of the Magadar forest petered out, on level ground thick with Arctic lichens and the chewed sprouts of new trees.

'If they come on foot, they'll come from the forest,' Cormac told Thorn. 'Sergeant, I want someone at the turret gun at all times. Organize a shift if necessary. I want you in there at the command console, co-ordinating all scan input. We'll keep channels open so you can relay everything you get.'

'So too.'

'Your gunner must take out anything airborne. Anything that even hints at being a surveillance drone, I want hit. Obviously if we get any AGCs coming in without ID, I want them hit as well. Go there now. I'll relay any further orders.'

As the sergeant moved on, Thorn said, 'The other lot came in on foot. They didn't risk coming in airborne. I doubt this Pelter chap will, either.'

'I don't believe in taking chances. Now, there are two autoguns in the carrier. Set them up in the trees and put the men either side. Between them and the trees I want weaknesses.'

'Is that a good idea?'

'We'll have Aiden and Cento in there as spotters. Anything comes through, and we'll hit it on this open ground.'

'Not much cover for us here,' said Thorn, looking speculatively at the single tilted slab behind the carrier.

'Wrong, we dig in.'

'Ah…'

Cormac nodded to the slab and the land beyond it. 'I want holes dug over there as well, but I don't want them occupied. I just want them to look like they are. You I want at that slab with your proton gun.' Thorn nodded to this and Cormac went on. 'When it's all set up, I want everyone to get some rest before nightfall.'

'And if there's no attack? We do have another mission.'

'The Maker can wait. We'll stay here for days if necessary. As I said, I want Pelter off my back.'

It took the rest of the morning for the defences to be set and foxholes to be dug. The ground was very stony, and a metre down was a layer of permafrost. They had an electric shear that could slice through almost anything, and EM blasts from a pulse rifle soon melted the permafrost, but in the end the men had to dig the holes with shovels. It was tiring work for men unused to it, and would perhaps not have been finished until nightfall had not Cento and Aiden lent a hand. The sergeant and his men rested in their tents afterwards, perhaps trying to remember if the ES recruiting officer had said anything about having to dig holes. Aiden and Cento moved into the trees.

Night descended and now there was nothing to do but wait. Cormac surveyed what he had wrought, then headed for the carrier.

As he reached it, Cormac spotted Thorn ferrying Stanton back inside. Even boosted men must empty their bladders sometime. He followed them inside and watched while Thorn tied the prisoner back in place. Then he sat on the bunk opposite, as Thorn nodded to him and left them, his proton gun tucked under one arm. Cormac looked round to see the sergeant was up near the front studying a screen flipped up from the control console. Mika he could hear moving about in the rear section somewhere.

'You know, John,' he said, 'you're culpable for just about every crime on the book.'

Stanton looked at him tiredly. 'I know that.'

'Why? Ever since I first met you, I kept wondering why. The way you operate, you didn't need to resort to crime. You could easily have made your fortune in the Polity. Was it the buzz? The danger?'

'Maybe,' said Stanton. 'But how many people do you know who made informed choices when they were young? For me, crime was a way of survival at first, then a way of life afterwards. You know what it's like beyond the Line.'

'I know.' Cormac turned away from him, then looked back. 'I don't think there's anything I can do. You've killed people and some of those people were innocent Polity citizens,' he said.

Stanton was about to reply, when Aiden spoke from Cormac's comunit, which he took from his pocket.

'What is it?'

'A message from Viridian,' came Aiden's voice. 'It may not be relevant, but a shuttle just launched from the old ring station.'

'Who's there normally?'

'Outlinkers, apparently, but Viridian tells me they don't often come down to the surface. About once every ten years… in exoskeletons… to buy supplies they cannot manufacture. It may be nothing.'

'All right, keep me informed.'

Cormac dropped the unit back in his pocket and looked questioningly at Stanton.

'Nothing to do with Pelter. No way of getting back up there,' Stanton told him.

Cormac stood up and moved to the door. At the door he hesitated, removed his unit from his pocket and turned it off. He then took out a little thin-gun he had been delighted to discover amongst the carrier's armament.

'You know, John, it'll be nothing less than total mind-wipe for you. Do you want that?'

'Are you making an offer?'

'lam.'

'I still have enough left in me not to want to die,' Stanton said. 'I just don't want to remember.' Cormac nodded, put the gun away, and opened the door. He turned his unit back on as he went out.

The night passed without event, and sunrise revealed heavy red blooms on the chequer trees. The air was filled with a perfume redolent of lavender, and the hum of adapted bees amongst the foliage. Underfoot, a light frost hoared the saplings and the lichens beyond the edge of the forest. Cormac sipped coffee and blew vapour into the clear air. He wished his mind was as clear. Three hours' sleep had revived him a little, but he knew he could do with a straight eight hours without interruption. With the coffee he swilled down a couple of wake-ups. He wasn't the only one doing this.

As he walked across to see how things were, soldier Tarm crawled from his tent, then paused, scratching his head and yawning. He saw Cormac and looked suddenly guilty. He reached back inside his tent for his pulse-rifle, dragged it out and hung it over his shoulder, and then stood up.

'Lovely morning, sir,' he said.

Cormac nodded and Tarm hurried off.

'They're much in awe of you.'

Cormac turned as Mika walked up behind him.

'I would rather you stayed in the carrier,' he said.

Mika looked around. 'You know, I miss the draco-men,' she said.

'I don't,' said Cormac. He turned towards the foxholes and watched Tarm dropping into one. The hole's previous occupant climbed out and trudged back towards the tents.

'Cormac.'

'Yes,' Cormac said to the unit in his pocket.

'We have an AGC coming in over the mountains,'

Aiden told him. 'I've only just picked it up. It's only two kilometres away.'

'Sergeant, you have it.'

'I do, sir. They're taking a juice harvest to Motford. The return signature I'm getting is of a transporter. Looks OK, sir.'

'Tell it to divert. If it flies over us, we hit it.'

Cormac began trotting back to the carrier. From his unit he heard a shout, then the sergeant telling someone to shut up. He opened the door of the carrier and stepped inside, with Mika close behind him. Stanton had his feet on the floor. He looked angry and he was pulling hard at his bonds.

'You must divert or you will be fired upon. This is my last warning,' the sergeant said.

'Fuck you, soldier boy. I got a harvest to get in. Some of us got to work for a living,' came the reply. Stanton fixed Cormac with a look. 'It's Svent,' he said.

'Oh God,' said the sergeant. 'Needles.'

'Take them down! Take them down now!' Cormac yelled.

Overhead the guns started up like an engine. Actinic light flashed through the windows.

'Mika, get out,' he said.

Mika immediately obeyed. The sergeant stood up from his console and looked round.

'You too,' said Cormac. As the sergeant passed him, Cormac ducked forwards and looked up at the gunner. The man's face was hidden behind a targeting mask as he operated the gun's controls. Hydraulics whined as the guns tracked across. Cormac moved to the control console and looked at the screen. Four traces, one moving slowly and erratically. The other three coming in fast. One of them disappeared while he watched. He gripped the edge of the console, his palms suddenly slick with sweat.

'Incoming,' he said. 'Anyone found not wearing a helmet will be on a charge.' He looked around and noted his own helmet on the bunk opposite Stanton.

'We're the target,' said Stanton.

'I know,' Cormac replied.

Only one of the fast traces remained. The slow and erratic trace had descended into the trees.

'Come on. Come on.'

It took Cormac a moment to realize when the last trace had disappeared. He looked around. Stanton met his look then sagged against his bonds.

'Right.' Cormac slapped the console, then headed quickly back. 'Good shooting,' he said to the soldier operating the gun. The man swung his mask away and gave him a sickly grin. Cormac grabbed up his helmet and exited the AGC. Even as he stepped out, there was a blinding flash above, and the turret guns on the carrier began to flash again like arc-welders. Cormac's visor took its time depolarizing.

'I can't see!' came someone's voice over his com.

Cormac heard the familiar vicious whir of a seeker bullet. Then a scream and a thump. He ran for the nearest foxhole and jumped in. Tarm glanced at him, then returned to the sight of his pulse-rifle.

'Where the hell did that come from? Aiden?'

There was firing in the trees. More smoke gusted. At the perimeter, one blue oak spurted flame. Then there was a concussion and a cloud of burning twigs and leaves flew into the air.

Aiden said, 'Someone got through. We missed him. He was moving very fast. I suspect it must have been the android.' Cormac was sure the Golem was as close as it could get to anger.

'Are either of you hit?'

'No. It just came in for the one shot.'

'Who was hit here?' Cormac asked, sticking his head above ground and looking around.

'Goff - took his head off… sir.'

Just then an amplified voice spoke from the trees. 'You next Cormac!'

'Find that!'

'We thought you might be a machine, but we were wrong. I'm glad, because at least you'll be able to feel it when I blow your guts out. We found Angelina…'

The voice died away with the flashing of a pulse-rifle. There was a delay, then Aiden said, 'Relay speaker. A drone must have dropped it.'

Cormac waited for what might come next. Nothing did. He gave it an hour, but nothing came up on scan and it seemed that no danger was close. He climbed from the foxhole speculating on Pelter's words. The man's anger was understandable, but Cormac had little sympathy for him. The Separatists on Cheyne III had been responsible for killing upwards of 500 civilians a year with bombs and other devices of mass destruction, and for carrying out hits on various officials and visiting dignitaries.

'Stay alert and ready. I want no one out of their holes unless absolutely necessary, and by necessary I mean pee on your boots if you have to,' he said, moving towards the forest. At the edge of the trees he crouched down by one of the autoguns. The device was tracking back and forth on its tripod. Through the trees he could see no movement. Aiden would pick up anything long before he saw it. Glancing back, he saw the sergeant and one of the men hauling a body-bag from one of the holes. He couldn't find the anger to berate them. He watched them lay the bag near the carrier. The sergeant went inside and the man returned to his hole. It seemed only a moment after that when the turret gun turned and fired a single shot into the treetops. From the white flash of impact burning leaves rained down.

'What was that?'

It was Aiden who replied. 'Another surveillance drone. I'm getting movement.'

Cormac moved back. There was a mosquito whining in the forest. The gun in front of him began stuttering. He ran for Goff's foxhole and dropped into it.

'Flares!'

The flares shot out while the turret guns on the carrier began flashing. Then he heard something else: a higher whine came from the treetops and the fire of the turret guns met it in the upper branches. Cormac saw something explode in a disc of fire. The severed half of a tree fell flaming.

'Shit! Needles again! Where the hell did he get this kind of armament?'

A silver torpedo shot from the burning treetops, turned in an erratic arc up into the sky, where the turret guns blew it to pieces. Another object shot through, and there was an explosion to Cormac's right. It happened too quickly for there to be a scream. All that was left was a burning foxhole and a few scattered pieces of gory body-armour. He looked up as the fourth missile came through and nosed overhead like a hunting pike. This one was larger. This was the one the others had made a way for. The carrier. Pulse hits crackled along the back of the missile and its flight became erratic. At the last it tumbled through the air and hit underneath the carrier. The carrier lifted on the blast, turned in flames and a cloud of falling earth, and crashed down on its roof.

'Oh fuck,' said Thorn.

Another explosion left another burning foxhole.

'Cento? Aiden?'

'I… tried,' came Cento's broken reply.

Two more detonations silenced the autoguns. In the trees were flashes of proton-gun fire. Something came running from the smoke and flying debris. For a moment Cormac thought it was Aiden, but even Aiden was not so tall. This figure was dressed in a long and tatty coat and had a wide-brimmed hat on its head. Mr Crane. Pulse fire hit the android from every side, but did not slow it. It came amongst them with its clothes on fire. Cormac saw it pause over a foxhole, its hand stab out. Then, all around the nearby foxholes, smoke started coiling into the air.

'Lasers!' someone yelled.

Cormac was about to ask where from, but the smoke revealed the red beams stabbing from beyond the carrier. He had miscalculated. Someone had come in at the back, using what litde cover there was there. Abruptly Thorn replied to that fire. A purple line cut from the slab and there was a white detonation beyond it. The firing immediately halted. Cormac was out of his hole, reaching for his shuriken, as the android turned to him. He saw a face of polished brass. He threw. The shuriken thrummed through the air with vicious confidence. A brass hand smashed it to the ground.

The android came at Cormac.

'Hit it! Hit it!' Cormac heard the sergeant yell. Then Aiden came flashing in from the side and hit Crane with the force of an out-of-control AGC. Both of them hit the ground and slid about three metres. But even as they slid, they exchanged blows with frenetic speed. The sound of combat was like that of a log-chipping machine. Suddenly they were on their feet, apart, then slammed together again. Shreds of clothing and syn-theflesh fell as they hit at each other. Cormac turned to movement at his left. Cento came from the trees at an erratic run. The syntheflesh was burnt from the upper half of his body to expose blackened metal. One of his arms was missing. He seemed to be blind and navigating on hearing alone. In a moment he leapt into the fight. Cormac saw him wrap his legs around the android and his remaining arm around its neck. Aiden proceeded to take it apart.

'As far as you go, Agent!'

Cormac turned. Pelter stepped out from behind a tree, and raised a Devcon assault rifle. Cormac reached for his thin-gun as the rifle fired. A whirring, as a steel hornet shot towards him. Slower than a normal bullet, but fast enough for Cormac to know he was dead. But in that moment, that fraction of fatal seconds, there came another whirring. An explosion rattled fragments of metal against Cormac's helmet. The seeker bullet was gone.

Shuriken hung in the air before him, flexing its chain-glass blades.

'Fuck you, Cormac!'

Pelter fired the remainder of the clip from the Devcon. Shuriken blurred through the air and took out those five seeker bullets in a chain of explosions. Pulse-fire hit the trees, but Pelter was gone, the Devcon abandoned on the smoking ground. Cormac stood where he was for a moment, too stunned yet to take in what had happened. He stared at the ground and wondered how the hell a small rubber dog came to be lying there. Then he shook himself and looked round. Cento and Aiden stood over the dismembered android. Cormac turned back to shuriken and hit the recall on its holster. Shuriken continued to brisde its chipped blades in the air for a moment, before returning to its home with a fractured hum.

'Thank you, Tenkian,' Cormac said, and headed for the trees.

Ultraviolet. A huge burst of ultraviolet. There was only one sort of weapon that kicked out that much, and Jarv-ellis had last seen one in the hold of the Lyric. If John was still alive, he would be there. If John was dead, then Pelter would be there. She tilted the ion engines of the shuttle and put her foot down. It leapt from its recent approach vector and arced towards the distant lights.

'Lunatic shuttle pilot. I suppose I would be wasting my breath in telling you that you're heading for an area that has recently become restricted to all air traffic'

You don't have breath, Jarvellis thought, then ignored everything else the runcible AI had to say. She flicked the side screen to infrared, and saw she was getting quite a picture from that as well. Had to be them.

In the foxhole, with its only other occupant a survival suit filled with crash foam, Mika wrapped her arms across her chest and waited with grim patience. When this was all over she would have to clear up the human wreckage. There was one she knew she would be doing nothing for. The two suited killers, who had opened up with laser carbines from a spread of low scrub just beyond her, had not reckoned on Thorn being on that slab. Mika closed her eyes on the vision of one of them crouched with his carbine at his shoulder, then silhouetted in the white flash, and flying apart. His companion had let out a horrible moaning scream. He must have found some sort of cover, because Thorn did not fire again. Soon, soon it would be over. A close hissing crackle made her open her eyes. The stuffed man was smoking, a hole burnt through his back. Someone dropped into the foxhole beside her.

'Hello, pussy,' said Mennecken, resting his carbine next to the edge of the hole.

Mika did not pause for conversation. The study and saving of life was not all she had been taught on Circe. She pushed herself up with her elbows, turned, and kicked. Her foot slammed up under the mercenary's chin. Mennecken staggered back, then reached up and rubbed at his jaw. He smiled.

'Want to play?'

When he came at her he came straight into the blow Mika hammered at his sternum. She gasped - body-armour. She chopped with her other hand at his neck, but he tilted his head and the blow caught him across the ear to seemingly no effect. His hand closed on her shirt and with casual contempt he threw her against the edge of the foxhole. She tried to come back at him, but the slap he delivered just knocked her to the ground. Next thing he was astride her and drawing a chainglass knife.

'They killed my brother, and I'll kill them,' said the mercenary. 'But there's always time to play, little pussy'

'Playtime's over, old chap,' said another voice.

Mennecken turned his head to look, and his head disappeared in a wet detonation. Making horrible bubbling sounds the corpse dropped to one side. Mika pushed at it almost in panic and struggled away. She looked up at Thorn as he holstered his pulse-gun. The front of the Sparkind's uniform was soaked with blood.

'You injured?' he asked.

Mika shook her head.

'Very good. I'm… not so good,' Thorn said.

Mika climbed from the foxhole and supported him as he swayed. She looked back once at the headless corpse draining its blood into the stony earth, and then helped Thorn return to the camp.

Through the shattered window Stanton had been presented with a perfect view of the action, albeit an uncomfortable one. His wrists were still tied by the bunk - only the bunk was now above his head. He looked around inside the carrier for some way of freeing himself. Pelter was getting away! That just must not happen.

The gunner would be no help. The turret had taken full weight as the carrier had come down and the man was now folded in a tangle of metal and seat padding. The sergeant was unconscious. Stanton looked outside again. The more badly damaged of the two Golem had taken something from what remained of Mr Crane. It held that something up, before tossing it on the ground. Stanton recognized the long lozenge shape of a Golem's mind. The other drew a pulse-gun and fired. The mind shattered and the two Golem moved off. Now, that had been something Stanton was glad not to miss. He focused his attention on the scattered brassy remains and couldn't help but wonder where the suitcase was. It then occurred to him that amongst those remains lay the solution to his dilemma.

Stanton nicked the ring on his finger and twisted his right hand round so it was out and open. What was left of Crane's coat jerked into the air, and the Tenkian dagger through and away. It hit the shattered window and went straight through, turned in midair and slapped its handle into Stanton's hand. Stanton turned it and began sawing through his bonds.

'Cormac'

Cormac turned and put his back against a tree. His comunit was still on.

'What is it, Aiden?'

'What are you doing?'

'I'm after Pelter.'

'I will be with you shortly'

'No, you won't. You'll secure the camp and sort out the mess there. I can handle this.' There was a moment of silence before Aiden replied.

'Very well. As you order, Agent. You had best be aware then that the shuttle Viridian informed us about has landed a quarter of a kilometre in on the course you were following. It may be that this is how they intended to escape.'

'Thank you. I'll be back with you soon.'

Cormac turned the unit off, then set out again. Within minutes he found the AGC transporter, with burns all across its hull, and what remained of Dusache clinging to the wrecked missile launcher. The ground was smoking and the air acrid. Cormac approached cautiously, then crouched when he saw movement beyond the platform. A shadow flitted through the trees and the smoke ahead of him. He fired once with his thin-gun. There was a yell, and pulse-gun fire returned with startling accuracy. Cormac hit the ground and tasted leaf-mould and lichen. His sleeve was smouldering. He rolled to the side, behind an oak, as the leaf-mould and lichen caught fire. Still rolling, he fired past the other side of the tree. There was a scream, the sound of someone stumbling, then falling. A smell similar to that of roast pork wafted on the smoky breeze.

Cormac rose to his feet with his gun still pointed where he had last fired it. To one side there was a tree. From behind it he could hear someone gasping raggedly. He approached.

The man lay with his back against another tree, his pulse-gun in his hand. His body was burned from neck to groin. Cormac had hit him once through the shoulder, but the wound from that was a neatly cauterized hole. These other burns were from the flare off high-energy turret-gun hits on the transport. Cormac moved in slowly and quietly. When he was less than a metre away, the man turned and attempted to bring his gun to bear. Cormac kicked it from his hand.

'Svent,' he said, 'where's Pelter?'

'Stupid… stupid,' said Svent.

Cormac just watched him and waited. Svent looked up.

'Should have got out. Could see that… when it was off.'

'What?'

'Aug…'

'What aug?'

'Scaly, I'll ask again. Where's Pelter?'

'Ain't tellin' you that… Why should I tell you that?'

'Because if you don't, I'll kill you,' Cormac suggested.

Svent glared at him, then his glare turned into a nasty smile.

'Don't turn,' said Pelter. 'You don't know where I am, and you won't be able to turn faster than I can pull this trigger.'

It had never been Cormac's way to think too long about such situations, nor to throw himself on the mercy of any enemy. If Pelter had seen how it had been for Angelina, he would have known this and immediately shot him in the back when he had the chance. Cormac dropped to one side taking one snap shot from under his left armpit as he went. Something slammed his left biceps and he smelt burning as he rolled, then dived, snapshooting at a half-seen figure. He heard Svent scream as he reached cover behind the tree. Pelter had hit the little mercenary with his wild shooting at Cormac.

Behind the tree, Cormac inspected the burn on his arm. It was not serious, but that arm would soon be useless. Nevertheless he would wait. He stood up with his back against the tree, holding his thin-gun up beside his face. Any moment now…

Pelter could not believe it; you stood still when someone with a gun was demanding it. You did not run for cover in the hope they would miss. He backed up, firing single shots off at the tree while his mouth seemed to turn ceramic. The ache in his head, since Mr Crane's destruction, was growing in intensity, as if striving to fill the void left by the android's absence.

No Mr Crane now. No one left at his back. Nothing now between him and that thin-gun.

'Fucking die!' he shouted and blasted at the tree again.

Three times. Three times he'd had the agent in his sights, and three times he had failed to kill him. Maybe they had been right at the start… maybe Ian Cormac was some kind of android.

Pelter stopped firing and continued to back away. He kept his weapon directed towards the side of the tree where Cormac had disappeared. When the agent stepped from its other side, he stepped straight into Pelter's nightmare - straight into that vision ever imprinted on his missing eye.

The barrel of the thin-gun seemed attached to Pelter's forehead by some invisible rod, and he seemed to feel the searing extension of that rod through his forehead and out the back of his skull. He pressed down on the trigger of his weapon and tracked fire sideways. But the time it took him to redirect his aim was not time enough. Silver light flickered in the barrel of the weapon the agent held.

Pelter saw only blackness.

With a puzzled frown, Cormac walked over and looked down to examine Pelter. Apart from the hole burnt cleanly through the Separatist's forehead, the man was already a mess: not only was the link suppurating in his head, but his clothing was ragged and filthy, and he stank. This was not the Pelter Cormac had known; this was a man ravaged by some daemon. What else could account for such lack of self-regard? Cormac wondered just what had driven Pelter to become this thing that lay before him.

He was also puzzled by the terror he had heard in the man's voice. Death was always a distinct possibility for one of Pelter's tendencies, and always somedüng to fear. But terror? Cormac glanced down at his thin-gun, pocketed it and walked away. He guessed he would never know the answer.