The official stared at a screen that was invisible to Jack. With every answer, his fingers moved through the air, taking notes on a virtual keyboard. Then there was a pause. He looked straight at Jack, challenging him.
‘When did you defect?’
‘I didn’t defect. I surrendered.’
‘I have the date of your defection here. Please confirm it.’
‘No.’
[Aren’t you taking this rather seriously, Jack?]
[ The Pantheon betrayed me. I didn’t betray them. I just stopped doing their dirty work.]
‘I can’t proceed without your co-operation. And if I can’t complete this interview I can’t admit you to Station.’
‘Sandal’s watching, isn’t he? You’re not normally such sticklers.’
[Oh, come on Jack. We don’t want to go back to Callisto. Totality prisoner-of-war life is so boring.]
‘You’re a dangerous man, Forster, and you have an improper attitude to the Pantheon. I don’t need to be in their sight to do my duty. When did you defect?’
‘I did not defect.’
[Oh fucking hell, Jack, when I take your body I don’t want to be stuck in some out-system backwater. And what about Andrea? You’re going to let pride stop you from finding her?]
Fist’s words cut through Jack’s anger. But before he could reply, the room’s door slid open. The official turned towards it, surprised. ‘Forster’s right,’ announced the woman who came into the room.
She was short and broad and middle-aged, and she moved with the unfussy precision of machinery. Dark grey combat pants and a baggy black T-shirt hung off her stocky frame. Her face had the lived-in look of an old sleeping bag. There was a blue tinge to her skin. She’d dyed her hair to match it.
‘You people don’t normally care about this sort of thing. Anyone would think you were looking for an excuse not to admit him. Which would be illegal.’
The official turned pale. ‘Who are you?’ he snapped, not quite regaining his authority. ‘Where’s the guard?’
‘I dismissed him. And I’m an observer. Look.’
The official’s eyes refocused. Jack assumed that identity information was flickering a couple of feet in front of his face. ‘I see,’ he stammered. ‘An honour.’
‘Good,’ the woman said, enjoying the official’s discomfort. ‘Now, finish the questions. And – Forster’s reply is accurate. He did surrender.’ She turned to Jack. ‘Not that cowardice is really any better than treason, but still. Attention to detail.’
‘I’m not a coward,’ Jack snapped back without thinking.
[ Fuck’s sake,] groaned Fist.
‘No, you just gave yourself up to the enemy,’ said the woman. ‘Without firing a shot. But we’ll skip over that.’
Her accusation stung. Jack thought of Andrea and forced himself to swallow his anger. The questions continued. To his relief, none were contentious. Most were designed to assess how well he’d adjusted to life offweave. Even though his answers were blandly reassuring, the official was still nervous. He kept glancing over at the woman. She’d reclined on one of the plastic seats, with her feet up on another.
[ Who can she be?] Fist wondered. [ InSec? You should let me take a proper look.]
[ Too risky.]
The pauses between questions grew longer and longer, then at last became a silence. The official stared determinedly down, his fingers skittering across his invisible keyboard. His hands shook. ‘Oh, for gods’ sake,’ the woman snapped. ‘Stop putting it off. This is the interesting bit.’
‘I’m just getting the details right.’
‘Sandal gave you weaveware to protect you. Don’t you trust your patron?’
The official swallowed and stood up. He was quite short. ‘I need to see the puppet.’
When Fist shimmered into being the official took a step back and swore. The puppet was surrounded by cageware that manifested as a virtual set of spinning silver rings, revealing then hiding fragments of his body. There were little black polished shoes, a scarlet cummerbund, bright red painted lips, a black bow-tie, dangling, unarticulated hands and varnished shining eyes.
‘I don’t know why you’re so scared of me.’ Fist’s thin high voice had a singsong quality to it. Wooden teeth clacked as he spoke, punctuating his words with sharp percussive bangs. ‘You can hardly even see me. And I’m all locked up. Poor little Hugo Fist, all locked up.’ He glared at Jack. ‘It’s the story of my life.’
The official didn’t reply. He wouldn’t even let himself look directly at Fist. He moved round the cageware, ticking off each ring as he found it fully operational.
[ Imagine if I reached out and touched him, Jack. Just tapped him on the shoulder. I think I could. How he’d jump!]
[ Hush, Fist.]
The official picked up an MRI wand and moved over to Jack. ‘Stand up,’ he ordered. ‘Keep your back straight.’ He held the wand close in to Jack’s back and waved it up and down, scanning his spine and skull for the embedded hardware that was Fist’s physical self. Jack felt a light tingling. ‘Oo! Tickles!’ giggled the puppet.
The woman moved closer to Fist’s cage, bending over to peer at him. ‘Well, here you are,’ she said, fascinated. ‘The last of the puppets, still embedded in your puppeteer.’
‘Just you wait,’ Fist tittered. ‘He may be the boss now, but I’ll be pulling all the strings soon.’
‘So you really are going to take full ownership of his mind and body?’ she said. ‘Fuck yes,’ replied Fist. She turned to Jack. ‘And how do you feel about that?’ she asked, needling him. ‘This little creature, wiping your mind? Killing you?’
‘I’ve had a year to get used to the idea,’ said Jack wearily. ‘It’s old news.’ He felt a sharp combination of rage and grief start up in him, before the acceptance he’d worked so hard to feel choked them off.
‘He doesn’t have any choice!’ chirped Fist. ‘And I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. He’s just got to say a couple of goodbyes, then it’s party time for new flesh me!’
The woman turned back to him. ‘You really are a poisonous little fellow, aren’t you?’ Her tone was almost admiring.
‘As the gods made me.’
‘Half a metre of wooden viciousness, all dressed up for an elegant night out! Our masters have quite the imagination.’
She rapped the cageware with her knuckles. The official winced. There was a soft crackling sound. A couple of the rings shimmered, then reasserted themselves.
‘I don’t think you’ll make it to any balls, though.’
‘We’ll see, missy.’
She laughed, delighted.
‘I look forward to it.’
The official finished his checks and put the wand down. ‘All done,’ he told Jack. Then he stood silently, staring at the woman and waiting for his cue.
‘The puppet’s contained?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Fully.’
Fist snickered in Jack’s mind.
[Quiet!] hissed Jack.
‘Then I suppose we have to let him out, don’t we?’
‘That’s what the peace treaty says.’
A barely perceptible movement and the woman was standing in front of Jack.
[Oo, snappy!] Fist’s voice was full of admiration. [ Not such a used-up old hag after all.]
She placed her hand on Jack’s cheek. It was colder than a hand should be. ‘I’ve done my bit. Seen all I need. So I’m going.’ Her touch frosted Jack’s skin. Her face came close to his. There was a soft purple light in her eyes. ‘I know people who are terrified of you two,’ she whispered, her voice rich with threat. ‘Give me one tiny chance and I’ll show them you’re nothing to be scared of.’
The door slammed shut behind her. The official gaped, astonished at her inhuman speed. [ Now she’s just showing off,] commented Fist as he disappeared too.
‘I’m free to go?’ asked Jack.
The official started, as if he’d forgotten his prisoner was there. ‘Yes.’ He went to his desk and reached into a drawer. ‘Here’s your cash card. InSec have charged it up with all the money you’ll need.’