Including Chen and Saavedra. He found them sitting together in the far corner of the room, at the very end of a row of tables, a long way from any other prefects. They were facing each other, leaning together in a worried, conspiratorial manner that left Dreyfus in no doubt that he was looking at two elements of Firebrand. The other prefects were concerned, no doubt about it, but they were also animated and enthused by the exigencies of the crisis. It was giving them a chance to prove themselves, to compete for promotional favours. But Chen and Saavedra just looked scared, like a pair of illicit lovers convinced they were about to be found out.
Dreyfus moved through the room to the nearest vacant serving slot. The aproned human orderly behind the slot was a deliberate touch. People came to the refectory because they had some profound psychological need not to eat alone or be served by a machine. The food might have been created using the same quickmatter processes utilised elsewhere, but at least it was handed over on a warm china plate, by a living person.
But Dreyfus just asked for an apple and a glass of water. As he strolled away from the slot, he polished the apple against the fabric of his trousers. He ambled between the tables, acknowledging those prefects who looked up or spoke to him, but offering nothing more than a distracted nod in return.
Chen and Saavedra still hadn’t noticed his approach. What had looked like a lovers’ tiff from a distance revealed itself to be a full-blown, heated argument as he neared. They were conducting the argument in whispers, but their expressions and the tension in their gestures gave them away. At first he wondered why they’d chosen to meet in the refectory rather than in the seclusion of their rooms. But if they’d been called upon to explain their meeting, at least the refectory allowed the possibility of an accidental encounter.
He rounded the end of one of the tables. Now he was closer to the two than anyone else in the room. He raised his apple and took a crunching bite through the emerald-green skin of the perfectly spherical fruit. Chen looked up, registering less surprise than mild affront that Dreyfus should dare to invade their privacy. Lansing Chen was still a youthful man with a broad, high-cheekboned face and thick black hair that he wore carefully parted.
‘Prefect,’ he said, friendly enough, but not in such a way as to sound as if he was inviting Dreyfus to sit down with them.
‘Lansing,’ Dreyfus said, taking another bite from the apple. ‘Mind if I join you?’
The woman, Paula Saavedra, flashed unmasked animosity in Dreyfus’s direction. She was thin and bony, like the articulated wooden dolls artists used instead of human models. Everything about her was pale, washed out, as if she’d spent too long under very bright lights. Even her eyes were colourless, as if the ink in them had faded from whatever colour it had once been.
‘Actually, Prefect—’ she began.
That was when Dreyfus heard footsteps behind him and felt a hand land on his shoulder. ‘Tom,’ he heard a voice say. ‘I’m glad I found you. Had to invoke Pangolin. I almost didn’t believe it when it said you were in the refectory. This was about the last place I expected you to be.’
Dreyfus snapped around, prepared to be angered until he saw that the man who had spoken was the lantern-jawed Demikhov. ‘Doctor,’ he said quietly. ‘Actually, would you mind… I’m in the middle of something right now.’
Demikhov nodded understandingly. ‘So are we all, Tom. But you and I need to talk right now. Trust me on this, okay?’
Dreyfus studied the doctor’s fatigue-mapped face. He’d never once known Demikhov overstate the seriousness of an issue. Whatever the man wanted to discuss, it was clearly urgent.
‘What’s it about?’ Dreyfus asked, still keeping his voice low.
‘Have a guess, Tom.’
‘Jane?’
‘There’s been a development. Not a good one. We have to make a very difficult decision and I need your input. Immediately, Tom. Can you come down to the Sleep Lab?’
‘It’s okay, Prefect,’ Lansing Chen said, standing up from the table with a scrape of chair against floor. ‘Paula and I were just leaving anyway.’
‘I’d like to see you back here in an hour,’ Dreyfus said, tapping his bracelet.
‘Is something the matter, Field Prefect Dreyfus?’ Chen asked innocently, but obviously reminding Dreyfus that they shared exactly the same rank.
‘Yeah. Something’s the matter. And in sixty minutes we’re going to have a chat about it.’ He turned his attention to the woman. ‘You too, Field Prefect Saavedra.’ He watched them flounce out of the refectory, leaving their trays and food on the table.
‘I’m sorry to have interrupted you,’ Demikhov said, while Dreyfus swigged down the water and threw the remains of the apple onto Chen’s dinner tray. ‘But please believe me — I wouldn’t have disturbed you were it not regarding an issue of the utmost concern.’
In the Sleep Lab Demikhov said, ‘How was Jane the last time you spoke to her?’
Dreyfus rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘Compared to what?’
‘The time before. Or how she was last week.’
‘She wasn’t too happy. Understandably, since she’d been removed from power.’ He raised a reassuring hand. ‘Don’t worry, Doctor. I don’t hold you responsible for that. You were just doing your job, looking after Jane’s ultimate health. I can guess how manipulative Gaffney must have been.’
‘It wasn’t just Gaffney. It was Crissel and Baudry, too.’
‘Well, Crissel got to make amends. And while I might not approve of the decisions Baudry says we have to make, I can see that she’s just trying to discharge her obligations.’
‘Back to Jane — did you notice anything else? Did she appear to be under a higher degree of stress than usual?’
‘Well, let’s review the situation. We’ve now lost control of six habitats, four of which have weevil-manufacturing capacity. The agency that now has control of them is poised to grab another four habitats inside the next twenty-six hours, maybe sooner. We’ll soon be in double figures, and then it won’t be long before we hit triple figures. We’re running a mass-evacuation programme to clear a fire break around the infected habitats so that we can nuke the very structures we’re supposed to protect. There are probably still going to be people inside those structures when we push the button. Meanwhile, we’re losing agents and machines faster than we can think. So — all told — yeah, I’d say Jane’s under a bit more stress than usual.’
Demikhov batted aside Dreyfus’s sarcasm like a man shooing a fly. ‘I think the time has come to intervene.’
‘Not now. Not until we’re done with Aurora.’
‘There’s been another change in the scarab. Did Jane tell you?’
‘No,’ Dreyfus said warily.
‘It’s pushed one of its prongs deeper into her neck. It’s applying pressure to her spinal cord. She can feel it.’