Grail - Elizabeth Bear [67]
Tristen said, “Nova, are you receiving this?”
“Your feed only,” the Angel said. “I’ll have to propagate into this space. A moment, please.”
Tristen felt nothing as the Angel reclaimed AE deck, colonies moving into the vacated areas. The Angel’s presence was as imperceptible to him as her absence had been to her own senses. He heard the chime in his head when she had accomplished it, though, and her soft voice saying, “There are no survivors in this area. The bulk of AE deck appears unaffected, but this cluster of anchores has been sterilized.”
“Except the bird.”
“Except the bird,” Nova confirmed.
“Cynric could conceal this area from Nova’s senses,” Mallory said, playing devil’s advocate. “If she wanted a private preserve in which to foment revolution and conquer the world.”
“Who knows why Cynric does anything?” Tristen said. He would set no manner of ruthlessness beyond her, but the carelessness still seemed out of character to him. “If she wanted to read the Bible, though, all she had to do was ask Perceval.”
He moved past Mallory, back into the corridor where they had entered. Storage lockers were keyed to other hand and voice prints, but Nova was in them now, and Tristen was her First Mate. They opened to his glance, not even so much as his command.
They contained the sorts of things you would expect from storage cubbies near an air lock. Emergency gear, rescue equipment, recyclables awaiting attention—and three rows of suits of armor standing arrayed in the deepest cabinet. The first rank of these were personalized—bright colors, varied sizes, the kinds of modifications and attachments that armor grew when partnered with one worker for a long period of time. But the suits behind those were disused, grayed-out, awaiting reawakening.
And two of them carried bright scars, as if from a deflected needle or a hard contact with some sharp stationary object. “These suits of armor,” Tristen said. “They have not repaired themselves.”
“Their colonies are not awake and autonomous,” Nova said. “And as I was locked out of this area, I could not oversee repairs.”
“Check them for DNA residue,” Tristen said. “In fact, check all the suits in here. There were three incursionists who got away. So either there’s a suit missing, along with the paper Bible and an unblade—or the third person took absolutely no damage at all.”
“In any case,” Nova said, “if there’s DNA in these suits of armor that does not belong to any of the dead, it may lead us to identify survivors.”
“Indeed,” Tristen said. “It’s possible none of the killers died here, and all this death is to cover up their escape.”
“That’s worthy of your father,” Mallory said over the comm.
Tristen frowned, both stung and grateful that Mallory could not see his response. “That I can recognize the possibility does not mean that I advocate the act.”
The necromancer made a rough sound of constrained laughter. “Indeed. Tristen, come see this?”
Tristen left the storage cubby open and returned to the charnel house of the hydroponics lab. As he walked, he heard Jordan’s voice in his helm, relayed by Nova.
“Hello, Tristen.” Strange to have his former apprentice treating with him as an equal now. Strange, and satisfying. After his return greeting, she continued, “It looks as if the colony-entity that invaded this space disguised itself as pieces of Nova, broadcasting the usual surface signals—and totally bogus data. Nova didn’t know a parasite was masquerading as a portion of her own body. When it retracted, it simply withdrew its presence and wiped its program from the infected units and left them vacant. There is not even a line of physical retreat to follow.”
“That also explains how it kept her out of the Bridge access,” Tristen said. “That suggests a crafty and experienced angel or djinn.”
“It suggests somebody in particular to me,” Nova said, “but I ate him. Also, if there was DNA residue in the suits, it’s been consumed. Somebody’s colony was careful.”
“Well, crap.” Tristen opened the hatch and stepped back into the Decker farm.