Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [112]
The lab-rat made a high-pitched sound. ‘I’ve ‘casted for station sec. Your arse is about to be dragged out of here.’
Tekton did not quaver. ‘You may have noticed my security float. Not even the OLOSS elite forces would interfere with a gentleman wearing the Heedless Shadow.’
The lab-rat’s whiskers quivered. ‘That’s a Shadow?’
‘Indeed. Would you like another display, or is it safe to assume that your job as a wretched laboratory hack is not worth the risk of a mishap?’
‘Mishap?’
Tekton instructed the pistol to shoot the leg off Manruben’s chair.
The craftsman crashed heavily to the ground, rolling into the middle of the room. ‘Oi! Oi!’ he cried. ‘You be trying to kill a man with fright?’
‘If necessary,’ said Tekton. He was enjoying himself immensely. More so, even, than during his blackmailing of Labile Connit.
The lab-rat had crouched down behind the counter. Tekton could hear him gnawing the catoplasma.
‘Stand and speak,’ he ordered. ‘Or...’
‘Steady, steady,’ the ‘rat said. It popped its head around the corner. ‘You said it. I’m the hack. I just gun the couriers with their payload and go home. Don’t get involved past that.’
Tekton told The Shadow to target the middle of the counter.
The lab-rat spied the pistol realigning and a few moments later Tekton smelled the pungent aroma of urine.
‘I jus’ know the disease targets the orbitofrontal cortex,’ it squeaked.
‘To what purpose?’ Tekton could barely keep the shrill excitement out of his voice.
The lab-rat peeped up and gave him a deprecating look. ‘To affect decision-making, of course. There are some subtleties to it that I don’t get. Haven’t seen it at work yet. Clever, though.’
‘Why would she want to affect decision-making on Scolar?’ mused Tekton aloud.
Thales reached a hand out to the wall to steady himself. His face had drained of all colour. ‘I think I know. But you said “she”. Who is “she”?’
The lab-rat, Thales and Manruben all stared expectantly at Tekton.
TRIN
He should have been relieved, even pleased, that Jilda was alive. Yet each evening as they boarded the flat-yachts to sail to the next island Trin’s irritation grew. At first he had tolerated her joy, was even able to endure her obsessive embraces and fondling. But within days her prattle and her moaning and her needs became the burden they had always been.
She wept too long at the news that Franco was dead.
‘He gave you neither respect nor love and yet you grieve for him?’ Trin dug angrily into the sand, preparing a daytime hollow for them both. This island was larger than previous ones and had a shadowy spread of stunted bushes. Under Semantic’s indifferent glow he had chosen his shade bush furthest from the others. They were curious about his reunion with the Principessa. Too quick to listen and talk among themselves.
‘It would be the same if you had died, mio figlio. You have not always treated me respectfully but a woman loves with her heart, not her mind. Franco was a strong man, Trinder.’
‘And I am not?’
Jilda clasped his hand and patted it in a way that made his stomach churn. ‘You have saved these people. You are destined to be like your father—a leader. But it was hard for you to become that in the shadow of his greatness. It was the right decision to send you to Loisa. He would be proud of you.’
‘Franco would never have been proud of me, madre. I am your child.’
His barb stung her to silence and she huddled disconsolately in the grey dark, a frail, unkempt woman in the tatters of a grand fellalo.
Trin continued to scoop out sand. Dawn was close now and Djeserit still hadn’t returned to the shallows. He had seen little of her during the past few days, as if she was hesitant to come near him since rescuing Jilda.
It was Jilda and her Galiotto servant who recounted their escape from the Palazzo Island. They told Trin how they had been hiding in a backhouse since the Saqr had landed at the Palazzo, living on sea vegetables and molluscs that the Galiotto collected from the tide line under the cover of dark.
When they were alone the Galiotto