The Naked God

I acknowledge your integrity.

I have a final question, Ione said. Where is Jay Hilton? She was taken from Tranquillity at the same time as your researchers. Why?

Armira's thoughts softened, shading as close to embarrassment as Ione had ever known a Kiint to come. That was an error, the ambassador said. And I apologise unreservedly for it. However, you should know the error was made in good faith. A young Kiint included Jay Hilton in the emergency exodus against parental guidance. She was simply trying to save her friend.

Haile! Ione laughed delightedly. You wicked girl.

I believe she has been severely reprimanded for the incident.

I hope not, Ione said indignantly. She's only a baby.

Quite.

Well, you can bring Jay back now; Tranquillity isn't as vulnerable as you thought.

I apologise again, but Jay Hilton cannot be returned to you at this time.

Why not?

In effect, she has seen too much. I assure you that she is perfectly safe, and we will of course return her to you immediately your current situation is resolved.

The walls of the prison cell were made from some kind of dull-grey composite, not quite cool enough to be metal, but just as hard. Louise had touched them once before sinking down onto the single cot and hugging her legs, knees tucked up under her chin. The gravity was about half that of Norfolk, better than Phobos, at least; though the air was cooler than it had been on the Jamrana. She spent some time wondering about Endron, the old systems specialist from the Far Realm, thinking he might have betrayed them and alerted High York's authorities, then decided it really didn't matter. Her one worry now was that she'd been separated from Gen; her sister would be very frightened by what was happening.

And I got her into this mess. Mother will kill me.

Except mother was in no position to do anything. Louise hugged herself tighter, fighting the way her lips kept trembling.

The door slid open, and two female police officers stepped in. Louise assumed they were police, they wore pale blue uniforms with Govcentral's bronze emblem on their shoulders, depicting a world where continents shaped as hands gripped together.

"Okay, Kavanagh," said the one with sergeant stripes. "Let's go."

Louise straightened her legs, looking cautiously from one to the other. "Where?"

"Interview."

"I'd just shove you out the bloody airlock, it's up to me," said the other. "Trying to sneak one of those bastards in here. Bitch."

"Leave it," the sergeant ordered.

"I wasn't . . ." Louise started. She pursed her lips helplessly. It was so complicated, and heaven only knew how many laws she'd broken on the way to High York.

They marched her down a short corridor and into another room. It made her think of hospitals. White walls, everything clean, a table in the middle that was more like a laboratory bench, cheap waiting room chairs, various processor blocks in a tall rack in one corner, more lying on the table. Brent Roi was sitting behind the table; he'd taken off the customs uniform he'd worn to greet the Jamrana, now he was in the same blue suit as the officers escorting her. He waved her into the chair facing him.

Louise sat, hunching her shoulders exactly the way she was always scolding Gen for doing. She waited for a minute with downcast eyes, then glanced up. Brent Roi was giving her a level stare.

"You're not a possessed," he said. "The tests prove that."

Louise pulled nervously at the black one-piece overall she'd been given, the memory of those tests vivid in her mind. Seven armed guards had been pointing their machine guns at her as the technicians ordered her to strip. They'd put her inside sensor loops, pressed hand held scanners against her, taken samples. It was a million times worse than any medical examination. Afterwards, the only thing she'd been allowed to keep was the medical nanonic package round her wrist.

"That's good," she said in a tiny voice.

"So how did he blackmail you?"

"Who?"

"The possessed guy calling himself Fletcher Christian."

"Um. He didn't blackmail me, he was looking after us."

"So you rolled over and let him fuck you in return for protection against the other possessed?"

"No."

Brent Roi shrugged. "He preferred your little sister?"

"No! Fletcher is a decent man. You shouldn't say such things."

"Then what the hell are you doing here, Louise? Why did you try and infiltrate a possessed into the O'Neill Halo?"

"I wasn't. It's not like that. We came here to warn you."

"Warn who?"

"Earth. Govcentral. There's somebody coming here. Somebody terrible."

"Yeah?" Brent Roi raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Who's that then?"

"He's called Quinn Dexter. I've met him, he's worse than any normal possessed. Much worse."

"In what way?"

"More powerful. And he's full of hate. Fletcher says there's something wrong about him, he's different somehow."

"Ah, the expert on possession. Well, if anyone is going to know, it'll be him."

Louise frowned, unsure why the official was being so difficult. "We came here to warn you," she insisted. "Dexter said he was coming to Earth. He wants revenge on someone called Banneth. You have to guard all the spaceports, and make sure he doesn't get down to the surface. It would be a disaster. He'll start the possession down there."

"And why do you care?"

"I told you. I've met him. I know what he's like."

"Worse than ordinary possessed; yet you seemed to have survived. How did you manage that, Louise?"

"We were helped."

"By Fletcher?"

"No . . . I don't know who it was."