Barrier; I have to report my failure and deliver a female Culture agent

to the Fleet Inquisitor. I’m going to report you for exceeding your orders in

killing those Changers; not that I expect it’ll

do any good."

“Your story bores me, little one." The Idiran looked away and strained once more at the press of twisted metal covering him,

but to no avail.

“Kill me now; you do smell so, and your speech grates. Ours is not a tongue for animals."

“What’s your name." Horza said. The saddle-head turned to him again; the eyes blinked slowly.

“Xoxarle, human. Now you’ll sully it by trying to pronounce it, no doubt."

“Well, you just rest there, Xoxarle. Like I said, we’ll take you with us. First I want to check on the Mind you destroyed.

A thought has just

occurred to me." Horza got to his feet. His head hurt abominably where the helmet had slammed into it,

but he ignored the pounding in his skull

and started back down the ramp, limping a little.

“Your soul is shit," the Idiran called Xoxarle boomed after him. “Your mother should have been strangled the moment she came

on heat. We

were going to eat the Changers we killed; but they smelled like filth!"

“Save your breath, Xoxarle," Horza said, not looking at the Idiran. “I’m not going to shoot you."

Horza met Yalson at the bottom of the ramp. The drone had agreed to look after Neisin. Horza looked to the far end of the

station. “I want to

see where the Mind was."

“What do you think happened to it." Yalson asked, falling into step beside him. He shrugged. Yalson went on, “Maybe it did

the trick it did

earlier; went into hyperspace again. Maybe it reappeared somewhere else in the tunnels."

“Maybe," Horza said. He stopped by Wubslin, taking the man’s elbow and turning him round from Dorolow’s body. The engineer

had been

crying. “Wubslin," Horza said, “guard that bastard. He might try and get you to shoot him, but don’t. That’s what

he wants. I’m going to take the

son of a bitch back to the fleet so they can court-martial him. Dirtying his name is a punishment;

killing him would be doing him a favor;

understand."

Wubslin nodded. Still rubbing the bruised side of his head, Horza went off down the platform with Yalson.

They came to where the Mind had been. Horza turned the lights on his suit up and looked over the floor. He picked up a small,

burned-

looking thing near the mouth of the foot tunnel leading to station seven.

“What’s that." Yalson said, turning away from the body of the Idiran on the other access gantry.

“I

think,

" Horza said, turning the still warm machine over in his hand, “it’s a remote drone."

“The Mind left it behind." Yalson came over to look at it. It was just a blackened slab of material, some tubes and filaments

showing through

the lumpy, irregular surface where it had been hit by plasma fire.

“It’s the Mind’s, all right," Horza said. He looked at Yalson. “What

exactly

happened when they shot the Mind."

“When he eventually hit it, it vanished. It had started to move, but it couldn’t have accelerated that fast; I’d have felt

the shock wave. It just

vanished."

“It was like somebody turning off a projection." Horza said.

Yalson nodded. “Yes. And there was a bit of smoke. Not much. Do you mean to—"

“He got it

eventually;

what do you mean."

“I

mean,

" Yalson said, putting one hand on her hip and looking at Horza with an impatient expression on her face, “that it took three

or four

shots. The first few went straight through it. Are you saying it

was

a projection."

Horza nodded and held up the machine in his hand. “It was this: a remote drone producing a hologram of the Mind. Must have

had a weak

force field as well so that it could be touched and pushed as though it was a solid object, but all there was inside

was this." He smiled faintly at

the wrecked machine. “No wonder the damn thing didn’t show up on our mass sensors."

“So the Mind’s still around somewhere." Yalson said, looking at the drone in Horza’s hand. The Changer nodded.

Balveda watched Horza and Yalson walk into the darkness at the far end of the station. She went over to where the drone floated

above Neisin,

monitoring his vital functions and sorting out some vials of medicine in the medkit. Wubslin kept his gun pointed

at the trapped Idiran, but

watched Balveda from the corner of his eye at the same time; the Culture woman sat down cross-legged

near the stretcher.

“Before you ask," the drone said, “no, there’s nothing you can do."

“I had guessed that, Unaha-Closp," Balveda said.

“Hmm. Then you have ghoulish tendencies."

“No, I wanted to talk to you."

“Really." The drone continued to sort the medicines.

“Yes…" She sat forward, elbow on her knee, chin cupped in her hand. She lowered her voice a little. “Are you biding your time,

or what."

The drone turned its front to her; an unnecessary gesture, they both knew, but one it was used to making. “Biding my time."

“You’ve let him use you so far. I just wondered: how much longer." The drone turned away again, hovering over the dying man.

“Perhaps you

hadn’t noticed, Ms. Balveda, but my choices in this matter are almost as limited as yours."

“I’ve only got arms and legs, and I’m locked away at night, trussed up. You’re not."

“I have to keep watch. He has a movement sensor which he leaves switched on, anyway, so he would know if I tried to escape.

And

besides, where would I go."

“The ship," Balveda suggested, smiling. She looked back up the dark station, where the lights on their suits showed Yalson

and the

Changer picking something up from the ground.

“I would need his ring. Do

you

want to take it from him."

“You must have an effector. Couldn’t you fool the ship’s circuits. Or even just that motion sensor."

“Ms. Balveda—"

“Call me Perosteck."

“Perosteck, I am a general-purpose drone, a civilian. I have light fields; the equivalent of many fingers, but not major limbs.

I can produce a

cutting field, but only a few centimeters in depth, and not capable of taking on armor. I can interface with

other electronic systems, but I cannot

interfere with the hardened circuits of military equipment. I possess an internal force

field which lets me float, regardless of gravity, but apart

from using my own mass as a weapon, that is not really of much

use, either. In fact, I am not particularly strong; when I needed to be, for my job,

there were attachments available for

my use. Unfortunately, I was not employing them when I was abducted. Had I been, I probably wouldn’t be

here now."

“Damn," Balveda said into the shadows. “No aces up your sleeve."

“No sleeves, Perosteck."

Balveda took in a deep breath and stared glumly at the dark floor. “Oh dear," she said.

“Our leader approaches," Unaha-Closp said, affecting weariness in its voice. It turned and nodded its front toward Yalson

and Horza,

returning from the far end of the cavern. The Changer was smiling. Balveda rose smoothly to her feet as Horza beckoned

to her.