It was the seventh and final box, where identification in the Deep Vault had been the poorest, that would linger forever in Luther’s memory. The casket held a young girl in her early teens. Naked, clear-skinned, and fair of face, she was barely past puberty. Her countenance still had the purity and innocence of a child, but when those young breasts and slender hips matured into womanhood she would be like a younger Godiva Lomberd.
The container gave her complete identification, along with her DNA sequence. It differed from the Fujitsu line in every significant detail. She was the oldest daughter of a deposed royal, from a bend sinister line that was now long extinct. Whoever had committed her to the Deep Vault of Hyperion had purchased, for whatever reason, a perpetual endowment of the highest quality. For four hundred and forty years she had Iain in frozen silence, dreaming of whatever phantom shadows might flee through a brain held at the temperature of liquid helium. Left now on the surface, she would die — or, worse yet, waken and die — on the barren, airless wilderness of Hyperion.
Brachis had made no contingent plans for his purchases from the Deep Vault. Even if he were desperate to do so, it was impossible to save her. He groaned, cursed, and stared around him at the black-shadowed plain. It taunted him, with its emptiness and uselessness. At last he shuddered in his suit, breathed deep, and raised the fusion torch. Subnuclear fire reached out to caress the pale young body. As it consumed her bare breast, Brachis fancied that she sighed, opened dark-blue eyes, and stared up at his face …
“Luther!” Mondrian was leaning over him, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Come on, pull out of that. I think we have to let the medics take a look at you, even if you don’t want it. Just how much blood did you lose in there? The water could have sluiced a couple of liters down the drain and we’d never know it.”
“I’ll be all right.” Brachis struggled to a sitting position. “But I’m wondering where we go from here. Just think what would have happened if Godiva had come with me into the study, instead of heading for the bathroom. She doesn’t have any of our training in survival. I don’t think I could have saved her. But I know I would have tried, and that would have been the end of both of us.”
“Want to send her back to Earth for a while, until we’re sure the Fujitsu Artefacts have been taken care of once and for all?’
“She won’t go. We’ve been through all that, half a dozen times. Anyway, I’m not sure that Earth would be safe. If our contract is known there, they could go through her to get to me.” Brachis rubbed at the thickened synthetic skin on the back of his right hand. That hand was still regrowing, and the delicate real skin was beginning to itch furiously as the chemical bond of the newly applied synthetic became complete. “It’s an impossible problem. She won’t leave me, and I can’t protect her. The next hit could come from anywhere. Poisoned food, assassins, sabotaged transport equipment, faulty airlocks, anything.”
“As you said once before, Luther, you found yourself a genius. Fujitsu has been two steps ahead all the way. But I have a suggestion for you.”
“No hidden agendas, Esro.” Brachis spoke wearily, as Godiva appeared from the bathroom. I’m not up to them at the moment. Just tell me how we are going to make her safe.”
Godiva had dried her blond hair and restyled it to an ancient form, so that it hung over her forehead and partly hid one eye. She drifted across to Brachis, inspected his wounds, and nodded in satisfaction. She sat down at his side without a word. Her short tunic left arms and legs bare, and her skin glowed from a vigorous toweling.
Mondrian studied the two of them closely. He was sure that he was missing something about their relationship, but in spite of all his efforts he could not begin to guess what.
“We all have hidden agendas, Luther. But this time I think that you and I have common interests.”
“Persuade me.”
Mondrian nodded in acknowledgement. It was one of his own favorite lines. “I’ll try. Let’s start with a question: What would be the safest place in the universe for you and Godiva? Not just the safest place in the solar system, but the safest place within the entire Perimeter.”
“I don’t know. Not here, that’s for sure, no matter how much protection we pile on for us.”
“And certainly not down on Earth, for either one of you. I agree with you, if Fujitsu’s Artefacts are there they might try next for Godiva. But there’s one place that even the Margrave won’t be able to get to: the Q-ship, in orbit around Travancore. The Link coordinates to that are known only to three people in the universe: you, me, and Kubo Flammarion.”
“It should be safe enough, I’ll buy that.” Brachis was visibly weakening, while Godiva was frowning at Mondrian. “But we’ve got the blockade in position, which means once you go there you can’t come back. It would mean a one-way trip until a pursuit team finishes off the Construct. Suppose that takes years? Go to Travancore, and you could be stuck on the Q-ship until you die of boredom.”
“There are worse fates.” Mondrian surveyed the other man’s battered body. “Stay here, and it’s certainly not boredom you’ll be dying of. In any case, I don’t think the action on Travancore will take long, otherwise I wouldn’t be going out there myself. My original plan was to take Captain Flammarion with me, while you stayed in charge at Anabasis Headquarters. But after what just happened here, it makes sense to switch that, and leave Kubo on Ceres. I assume you trust him?”
“He’s your man, and that won’t change. Other than that, he’s a rock. But I’m a devil of a lot better in a crisis.”
“Which we certainly have at Travancore. But Kubo can stay here, give information to nobody, and send us anything that we need through the Link.
“What about Godiva?”
“Whatever you like. With you out of the way, I don’t really think she’ll be in danger anywhere.”
“It makes no difference. Godiva spoke for the first time since her return. “Where Luther goes, I go.”
“And I won’t go without you.” Brachis tried to smile, and produced only a pained grimace as the artificial skin on his face stretched in unfamiliar directions. “All right, so we both go. And the sooner the better. I’m tired of being chipped away, bit by bit.”
“Very good.” Mondrian stood up. “I will notify Captain Flammarion. We’ll leave as soon as you are physically able to do so.”
“I’m able now. I was planning another trip out to the Sargasso Dump, but that can wait awhile. We’ll be ready tomorrow morning.”
“I won’t approve that. You will not be sufficiently recovered.”
“Esro, you don’t need to approve. You seem to forget, you don’t outrank me any more in the Anabasis.”
“Don’t think I am unaware of that. Sometime you must tell me what you promised Lotos, to work that deal. But for the moment” — Mondrian stared at Brachis, and saw new pallor around his eyes — “Godiva, he needs a doctor even if he doesn’t want one. Luther, if you tried to stand up you would fall over.”
“Would I? Just watch me, then.” Brachis swayed to his feet, shaking his head when Godiva tried to help him. “No doctors.” He hobbled away to the bathroom. “Tomorrow morning, Esro. We’ll be ready.”
Godiva sighed, and sat down again opposite Mondrian “Stubborn! But what happened to you, Esro? You look nearly as bad as Luther. “I’m fine.”
“You are not.” She leaned close and peered into his eyes. “Are you taking Tatty with you to Travancore?”
“No.’’ Then Mondrian’s own control failed, and he had to ask the question. “Godiva, what made you suddenly ask about Tatty? I didn’t even mention her name.”