Luc felt his eyes widen, and turned to regard her. ‘He was only there as a data-ghost? He never mentioned that.’
‘No, he certainly didn’t,’ she agreed. ‘That means we need to find out where he really was at the time.’
He sat up, mechants bobbing away from him. ‘What about your security systems? Can’t they tell you?’
She spread a roll of gleaming silver instruments out on a wheeled table next to the slab and selected one, studying it beneath the overhead light. ‘Unfortunately, no, they can’t. My systems appear to have suffered a curiously well-timed and convenient glitch that I failed to notice until I happened to make specific enquiries regarding the Ambassador.’
‘Something like the glitch in Vasili’s home security when he died?’
‘A thought that had indeed crossed my mind, Mr Gabion.’
She adjusted the stool on which she sat, then leaned in towards him. He saw the curve of her neck just centimetres from his nose, the flesh silky and smooth. She pressed fingertips against his skull, and he noticed she was wearing a scent that made him think of flowers.
She murmured something he didn’t catch, and a mechant drifted closer, its multi-tipped blades hovering uncomfortably close to the skin of his neck.
Luc swallowed sour phlegm. ‘Is all this really necessary?’
‘If you want a shot at retaining your core personality, yes,’ she replied, sounding distracted. ‘Now stop talking while I get on with this. Ah!’ she exclaimed a moment later, ‘this is interesting.’
Luc felt a pressure against the side of his skull, followed by the sensation of something warm and liquid running down the back of his head. His hands held tightly onto the sides of the slab, muscles locked rigid.
Something whined mechanically and he felt a similar pressure on the other side of his head. Moments later a barbiturate calm flooded his senses and he relaxed.
‘Your lattice barely responded to the inhibitors I put in place,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. It circumvented every countermeasure, and its growth is barely retarded. I’d almost think . . .’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll just have to try something a little different this time. Try and stay still for now.’
Like I’m going to get up and run around.
‘You need to put the Ambassador under surveillance,’ he said, as de Almeida moved out of direct view. He was finding himself becoming uncomfortably aroused by the smell of her skin, and the visible curve of her breasts beneath the thin tunic she wore.
De Almeida stepped back into view and made a sour face as she tapped at a lit panel on the side of one of the mechants hovering over him. ‘That won’t be easy,’ she said.
‘You can’t do it?’
‘Of course I can do it,’ she snapped. ‘But I have to be careful to avoid detection. Let’s see . . .’ she glanced over at one of the hovering projections of the interior of Luc’s head. ‘You’re not sleeping well, are you?’
‘Not for some time, no,’ he admitted.
She nodded. ‘Your brain is struggling to assimilate information coming from two different sources: your own mind, and Antonov’s instantiation. I can try and retard the rate of growth again, but unless I can figure out some new strategy . . .’
Luc shuddered inwardly. ‘How bad is it?’
‘Impossible to say. Remember, this was fast, sloppy work – Antonov was improvising when he did this.’
‘So it’s not like I’m carrying the whole of his thoughts and memories inside me. He can’t . . . take me over, or anything like that?’ He had to force the words out.
She laughed. ‘Hardly. You can’t just dump a copy of someone’s mind into a living, breathing human body with pre-existing cognitive structures.’
‘But that’s what he did, isn’t it?’
‘True, but the outcome is proving far from beneficial for either party.’
‘The Sandoz Clans do it, don’t they? And you. You’re a Councillor. If you die, you can be reborn in a clone body.’
‘Yes, a clone body, heavily modified with an in situ lattice of its own from the moment of its inception in a growth tank. The clone body must be created from your own DNA as well.’
‘And I don’t have a clone-body ready to jump into.’
‘Precisely. And unless I can find a way to retard this thing’s growth, all you have to look forward to, I’m afraid, is madness followed by death.’
Luc stared at her, a sick feeling building inside him. ‘Isn’t there anyone else in the Council you could talk to in confidence about this? Someone who understands how lattices work?’
‘Well, there’s Rowena Engberg, and also Cutler Suszynski. They developed the lattice technology together. Engberg still runs the clinic that engineers all of the Council’s lattices. Unfortunately, they’re both loyal Eighty-Fivers. They’d hand both our heads to Cheng on a plate in a flat instant if we approached them.’
‘The Ambassador knew I was there, at Vasili’s service. He could see me. He said my lattice is far in advance of anything the Tian Di can make.’
De Almeida nodded distractedly. ‘Yes, you told me already.’
‘So where the hell could Antonov have got this thing inside me from?’
She said nothing, and he guessed she had no more idea than he did.
‘I asked you before for access to Vanaheim’s global security network. I think maybe it’s time you finally gave it to me.’
To Luc’s astonishment, she didn’t even argue or scoff at the request this time. Instead, she held a hand up towards him, palm out, and after a moment he saw a single bright flash of light, centred on her palm.
Suddenly he was aware of things he had never been aware of until that moment, and yet which felt as if they had always been known to him. The feeling was extraordinary – like stumbling across a part of his mind he had never noticed before.
‘Done,’ she said. ‘You now have limited access to Vanaheim’s global security, but that access is funnelled through me. I’ll be aware of everything you do.’
‘Limited in what way?’
‘It’s restricted to the Ambassador’s movements only. You’ll be able to see where he goes, and when. Give it a try.’
‘How?’
‘Picture him. The lattice will pinpoint his location and filter the appropriate A/V data to you.’
Luc closed his eyes and pictured Ambassador Sachs, as he had been on board the Sequoia. Within moments he found himself looking at a low, one-storey building spread across a few acres in the centre of a forest clearing.
‘I can see a building, but not the Ambassador.’
‘You’re seeing through the eyes of one of my micro-mechants currently in his vicinity. Just tell it to move in closer.’
He nodded and tried again.
The view jumped as the tiny machine lifted from its perch and swooped in low towards the building. Luc caught sight of a ground-to-orbit flier in the process of dropping onto a landing area to one side of the building, halfway between it and the trees. The sunlight passing through the craft’s AG field shimmered with rainbow colours.
The Ambassador emerged from the spacecraft as Luc watched, making his way towards a second flier parked at the other end of the landing area. He still wore his mirror mask and hood, even though he was alone – something which made him seem even more otherworldly than he already did.
‘Just how many of these micro-mechants do you have scattered all across Vanaheim?’ asked Luc.
‘A lot,’ de Almeida replied.
The viewpoint shifted again as the tiny mechant buzzed several metres closer. Luc saw the Ambassador board the second flier. It lifted up almost immediately, sending dead leaves spinning into the air as it ascended.
He’s in a hurry, thought Luc. Ambassador Sachs must have departed the Sequoia only shortly after he himself had. And now he was on his way somewhere else.