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Nancy picked herself up hurriedly, staggering past a shoulder-high boulder. She was almost at the yacht.
she yelled over the comms.
You were right. We should have checked things out more thoroughly.
Nancy? Dakota dropped from the hatch to the ground, and darted over to where the other woman had collapsed. Gravel pattered down all around them, falling slowly in the low gravity. The dust was so thick it made it nearly impossible to see more than a couple of metres in any direction. Dakota finally stumbled across her where she was crouching on her hands and knees, her breathing sounding ragged over the comms link. Dakota hooked one arm around the woman's shoulder and pulled her upright, hearing her moan in pain. Together they managed to stumble back to the yacht, where Nancy almost collapsed again once Dakota let go of her. C'mon Nancy, need to get you inside. She hoisted Nancy on top of one of the spiders, then climbed on behind to get a secure hold of her under both arms. Grab hold of the lip of the hatch, and then I can help heave you up. Just get inside so I can take a look at you. With a groan, Nancy reached out with both hands and grabbed the rim of the hatch. She started to pull herself up, as Dakota pushed her by grabbing her hips. Fortunately, the low gravity made things a lot easier, but Dakota still had to command one of the spiders already inside the hatch to grab hold of Nancy and help her up. Dakota pulled herself in next, feeling the subtle transition from low to zero gee as she entered the ship. We're all on board. Let's get out of here, Trader. The Shoal-member didn't reply, but the hatch spiralled shut behind them, sealing out the dust. Dakota pulled the other woman's helmet off and found Nancy had pa.s.sed out. Her skin was looking horribly red and blistered. Finally Dakota answered a priority signal from the Mjollnir, Mjollnir, that had been hovering at the back of her attention for the past minute or so. that had been hovering at the back of her attention for the past minute or so. She opened up a visual link to let Lamoureaux see what she herself was seeing. She could sense his horror when he saw just how bad a state Schiller was in. A lot of this is radiation damage, Dakota sent. Dakota sent. If you haven't already, you need to get If you haven't already, you need to get Mjollnir Mjollnir prepped for an emergency jump. I don't know just how well the Meridian drones are going to hold up against a couple of hundred Emissary scouts, but if those scouts reach the frigate, we're in serious s.h.i.t. prepped for an emergency jump. I don't know just how well the Meridian drones are going to hold up against a couple of hundred Emissary scouts, but if those scouts reach the frigate, we're in serious s.h.i.t. Then, for the first time, the ship rocked gently around her, sending fresh beads of moisture caroming through the air. Trader? She felt one of the Meridian drones die; they were a superior technology, but the Emissary scouts had the advantage of sheer numbers. Dakota concentrated on protecting the yacht, keeping her eyes tightly closed and letting her limbs float out around her, her fingers jerking spasmodically as she directed her side of the battle raging outside. Trader's yacht looked tiny and fragile compared with the bristling black ma.s.s of the pursuing scouts. Yet more of the Emissary scouts were pouring out from the mouth of the cache, their skins flickering with multiple bright energies as they repelled tightly focused bursts of energy directed towards them. The hulls of the machines on both sides of the battle crackled as their outer layers were burned off, while the complex nanomolecular circuitry within attempted to repair the constant damage. It says she's absorbed more than fifty grey of radiation, Dakota sent in reply. She was far from sure whether even the wonders of modern medical technology could combat such a huge dose of ionizing radiation. Dakota sent in reply. She was far from sure whether even the wonders of modern medical technology could combat such a huge dose of ionizing radiation. Nancy coughed, and Dakota studied the other woman's face. Her lips moved soundlessly, and her eyes had rolled halfway up into her head. Understatement of the f.u.c.king century. Dakota slowed her time frame until the seconds stretched out. She ran an a.n.a.lysis of the course of the battle so far, and noticed how just a dozen scouts kept themselves close to the cache, while all the rest pushed the attack aggressively. She watched as one of them dived towards a Meridian drone, detonating at the point of closest proximity, overwhelming the drone's wrapping of protective fields and annihilating the machinery within in an enormous blast of heat and radiation. It was time, she decided, to stop running and go on the offensive. As she drove the drones straight at the cache, several were annihilated instantly, but instead of breaking away again, as they had been programmed to do, she kept the rest driving relentlessly towards the cache and the cl.u.s.ter of controlling scouts sheltering there. Lamoureaux didn't reply, but she could sense his tension and concern as if it were her own. Dakota pulled back into the real world, and she looked down again at Nancy. Her skin had reddened even more, and her lips trembled faintly. Perhaps it was better she wasn't aware of what was happening. Dakota described the new plan to Trader. By now more than half the drones recovered from around the mouth of the cache had been destroyed. She switched her attention back to the cache. The scouts had rallied, throwing the last of their antimatter-equipped clones at the remaining Meridian drones with devastating effect. Dakota opened her eyes and again checked on Nancy, thinking that, if she was lucky, she might live long enough to appreciate the irony of trying to save the life of a woman who'd like nothing better than to see her dead. Time to go, Trader. 'That's it,' said Lamoureaux, leaning forward in the interface chair as he reached back both hands to ma.s.sage his neck muscles. 'Twelve light-years, and just half an AU off-target.' Corso nodded, looking up at the simulation of the system they had landed in as it floated beneath the ceiling. Each of the simulation's planets became gradually more detailed as additional data arrived from the hull's sensor arrays. Martinez stepped away from the console he had been manning and slumped next to Perez on one of the couches. 'I guess all we can do now is wait and see if they make it, too.' The next several minutes slid by at a glacial pace. Corso glanced around the bridge, at displays of intercepted tach-net feeds originating from the Perseus Arm: most of it indecipherable gibberish. Thirteen minutes after they had jumped, an alert sounded. 'They made it,' Lamoureaux exclaimed, his gaze fixed on some faraway point. 'I'm picking them up now.' Martinez clapped his hands a couple of times, and Corso found himself grinning as the tension suddenly lifted away. 'They're a couple of light-minutes away,' Lamoureaux added. 'That means a couple of hours before we can rendezvous.' 'Is the med-bay prepped for Nancy?' asked Martinez. Corso didn't miss Lamoureaux's hesitation when he answered. 'I've unlocked the seals and reactivated the medboxes.' Martinez merely nodded, as if satisfied with this answer, yet Corso knew they were all maintaining a fiction: there was likely very little they could do for Nancy Schiller. Even if by some miracle she was still alive by the time Trader's yacht docked with the frigate, it would almost certainly be far too late to save her. Lamoureaux stepped down from the interface chair and approached Corso. 'Have you had any more thoughts about what we found back by the reactors?' he asked him quietly. Corso glanced towards Perez and Martinez, but they had stepped over to a console on the far side of the bridge, and were deep in a discussion over astrogational data. 'I think we're going to have to let Dakota see it,' he replied. 'If we're right about Whitecloud, she should be the first to know.' 'You realize that means telling her who he really is?' 'Yes . . . yes, I suppose I do,' Corso replied. 'Not that I'm looking forward to it.' 'Rather you than me,' Lamoureaux said softly. 'Rather you than me, any day of any year.' Chapter Thirty-one. Whitecloud sat staring at a screen and nursing a bulb of coffee as Corso entered the lab a short time later. 'Found anything new?' Corso asked him, shooting a glance at the Mos Hadroch still wedged inside the enormous machine and surrounded by probes. Whitecloud went on staring at the screen like he wasn't even aware of the man standing next to him. 'Ty?' Corso asked again, this time in a substantially lower voice. Whitecloud finally turned to face him. n.o.body home, n.o.body home, thought Corso, chilled by the empty expression on the other man's face. thought Corso, chilled by the empty expression on the other man's face. Whitecloud seemed to come back to life a moment later, and jerked backwards, clearly surprised to find Corso standing in front of him. The bulb of coffee went spinning out of his hand, but Corso reached out and caught it, then handed it back. His lingering doubts about Whitecloud being under some form of control had now vanished completely. 'I was wondering if you had anything new to report,' Corso started again, keeping his voice level even while his heart hammered inside his chest. It was important not to let Whitecloud suspect anything was amiss. 'You were supposed to file an update this morning, but I didn't receive anything from you.' In truth, Whitecloud's reports rarely made for good reading. Rather than containing actual information or providing any insights, they tended more to be a list of tests, or variations of tests, that had been run on the artefact, all producing the same dismal results. The only time the derelict had shown any sign of being anything other than a dumb inanimate object had been that first time Corso had laid eyes on it. Whitecloud blinked and pulled himself out of his chair, grabbing a rung in the low ceiling for support. 'New?' He scratched his head, staring around him as if he had been asleep for a long time. 'Yes. Yes there is, actually. Take a look at this.' Whitecloud pushed past Corso and headed for a tabletop imager. He activated it first by pa.s.sing his hand over its plate, then quickly sped through a series of holographic menus until he found what he was looking for. A few moments later Corso found himself looking at the image of a translucent upright cylinder hovering above the plate, with thousands of hair-thin pa.s.sageways extending outwards from it horizontally. 'That's a cache, isn't it?' remarked Corso. 'It is,' Whitecloud agreed. 'The one at Tierra, to be precise. I only got a chance to take a look at this for the first time the other night. The main reason I didn't get round to filing your report was because I wanted to check more of the correspondences before discussing it with you. But since you're here . . .' Whitecloud reached up towards the floating cylinder and nudged it to one side with an expert flick of his fingers, then he quickly navigated through another menu. A second cylinder appeared, similar to the first except that, rather than having a single primary shaft, this one had two shafts that merged in the middle, forming a cross. Corso started. 'That's . . .' 'The interior of the asteroid where we found the Mos Hadroch,' Whitecloud finished for him. 'But they look identical!' Corso exclaimed, coming forward and putting both hands on the rim of the imager's flat plate. 'Well, no, not identical, but . . .' 'But strikingly similar, wouldn't you say?' 'Yes.' Corso nodded. 'And you only just picked up on this?' 'You'll recall I was working outside on the hull during the briefing about the cache we just visited. A summary was forwarded to me, but I didn't get round to studying it until now. Still, I don't know how I missed it before,' he admitted, a touch of wonder in his voice. 'When I saw this for the first time yesterday, I was thunderstruck. The relationship was immediately obvious. Anyone with enough knowledge of the Atn could have made the connection, but there are so few of us left, really, and with the chaos of the last few years . . .' Corso studied the two images and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the lab. 'Just to be clear, you're saying there's obviously some kind of relationship between the Atn and the machine-swarm that created the caches?' 'You sound surprised, but think about it for a moment. They're both widely distributed, self-reproducing machine species. It's certainly not beyond the bounds of possibility that they share some common point of origin. Perhaps what we're seeing here is a case of some kind of genuine machine evolution.' Whitecloud paused to think for a moment. 'Or more likely one was created from the other.' 'And the swarm was hunting down and destroying Atn clades.' Corso, too, thought for a moment. 'Can knowing this help us in any way?' 'I don't know,' Whitecloud admitted. 'Just about the first thing I did, once I realized this, was to try and crack the Mos Hadroch with the Atn's own machine-protocols. I got nowhere, though that's not to say there aren't other commonalities between the species that might give us the key we need to understanding how the artefact actually works.' 'We're running out of time, Ty. A few more days and we'll be reaching our destination.'