Veteran

24

Okay, this was different. I was in an exceptionally well-rendered pub. It was very old-fashioned. They had proper untreated wooden tables and a bar that wasn’t made out of scrap and driftwood. I was sitting at one of the tables, a whisky in front of me. I tasted it. It wasn’t quite right, but then again it never was whether it was virtual, Irish, Japanese or pre-war Sirian. There was music playing, soothing with a slightly jagged undercurrent to it. I think it was pre-FHC, but it wasn’t jazz so I didn‘t recognise it.

The icon I was wearing was quite a good naturalistic interpretation of me as a natural, unaugmented human – no prosthetics, no plugs. I wondered what colour my eyes were and then realised I couldn’t remember.

I couldn’t be sure whether or not the other person in the bar had been there since I’d opened my eyes or not. I just sort of became aware of him. He sat several tables away and he was a Laughing Boy, a Smiler. One of the nastier gangs, they started off in the reclaimed zones in London and were one of the Smoke’s less pleasant exports. They portrayed themselves as a kill-for-thrills franchise. If you wanted someone done at street level you got one of these little sadists to do it.

I’d had my run-ins with them in the past, before I’d joined up, when I’d lived in Fintry. Rumour had it that in order to join them you had to kill someone for no reason. Their members tended to be the genuinely unbalanced, the wannabe hard and the desperate for attention. I wondered which this one was.

He had on the corpse paint; he had the scar tissue at the corners of his mouth, where it had been cut up into a wider smile, the shades, the mock-crushed-velvet frockcoat, presumably with an armoured lining, the shell suit and running shoes. He looked to be in his mid-teens. He sat there playing with a long scalpel-like knife and drinking a black-coloured pint that was presumably supposed to be real Jamaican Guinness. He wasn’t staring at me, so much as studying me.

He didn’t jit in a place like this. Neither did I. These sorts of places were for people with money – wage slaves or officers on leave – but those were all real-world considerations; I was weighing them up out of habit. I was about to speak to the Smiler when the door opened and a bright-blue light poured in, silhouetting a tall slender female figure as she entered.

I held my hand up, shading my eyes, but the light went when she closed the door. The icon was tall, classically beautiful with pronounced cheekbones. She had pale-blue skin and long black hair that seemed to blow in a non-existent wind. Her dress was ankle-length and looked like it was made of some blue fibrous material with living flowers on it. Her eyes were pools of solid black. As she entered the Smiler took off his shades. His eyes were surrounded by intricate eye make-up that seemed to move of its own accord; his eyes were the same pools of black as the woman’s. Suddenly I felt like the only human in the room.

‘Morag?’ I asked the woman. This icon was different from Annis. I saw the icon sigh with irritation. That was good programming.

‘It’s Annis, or an aspect of Morag said. Of course, I’d ignored netiquette by not using her icon’s name. The Smiler just watched us.

‘What’s going on?’

‘You’re unconscious, again,’ she said neutrally.

‘Some things never change,’ the Smiler said. He had a broad Scots accent that sounded familiar. It was of course obvious when I placed it. Who else would it be?

‘Gregor?’ I asked tentatively, and beneath the make-up and the leering scar I began to make out a teenage version of my friend.

‘Hasn‘t been that long,’ Gregor said and then he smiled, making the scar utterly grotesque. So you used to be a Smiler, I thought. He‘d kept that quiet and even had the scar tissue removed before joining the Regiment.

‘What is this place?’ I asked. It was going to take me a while to formulate a response to yet another unfamiliar incarnation of my old friend.

‘It’s an intuitive program,’ Morag, sorry Annis, the new sweeter-looking Annis, began.

‘You can write intuitive programs?’ I asked. It was pretty high-level stuff. I don’t know why I was surprised.

‘With help, and besides Gregor’s neuralware or biology is very compatible with Ambassador,’ she said. I didn’t like the sound of this.

‘Am I in an alien?’ I asked nervously.

‘Don’t start,’ Morag said testily.

‘Hi, how are you, Gregor? How’ve you been since I last saw you? Oh fine, just kidnapped, held against my will and experimented on. Yourself?’ Gregor said, smiling in a way that made me surprised his face didn’t split.

‘Just give me a moment,’ I said.

‘Because you ‘re the one who needs time to readjust,’ Annis said.

‘The bar?’ I asked.

Annis shrugged. ‘He made it,’ she said.

‘It was a peaceful moment for me. I was waiting for a client who wanted a slice job doing. I was let into the bar. It was the middle of the afternoon, it was peaceful. I guess my subconscious just produced this moment.’

‘You’re dressed like a twat,’ I pointed out. He started laughing.

‘I was young, I was foolish,’ Gregor said. It was him, it was slowly beginning to sink in, it was really him.

‘So what happened to me?’ I asked.

‘You fainted,’ Annis said. There was another grotesque smirk from Gregor. ‘Overexertion and a nasty cocktail of drugs.’ There was something in her voice, coldness, a distance. I looked up at her. I remembered her in tears at the carnage. I remember my contempt, how much I enjoyed doing what I did. I also remembered Morag bleeding from her ears and eyes and not wanting to go back into the net.

‘You okay?’ I asked. She nodded, her icon’s features an impassive mask. ‘Sure?’

‘We all need to talk about it later. Sergeant MacDonald is our main problem at the moment,’ she said.

‘Just Gregor,’ Gregor said.

‘ Where are we at the moment?’ I asked. ‘We made it to the Mountain Princess?’

‘Oh yes.’ Annis sounded a little pissed off.

‘And?’ I asked expectantly.

‘We’re docked at Atlantis,’ she said.

‘What! Why?’ I asked. Had we been captured?

‘Because it makes sound tactical sense. They would never think of looking for us here,’ Morag said, using a tone of voice that suggested she was quoting someone.

‘This was Balor’s idea?’ I asked resignedly, and I supposed it made a degree of psychotic sense. The problem was sooner or later they would put a smart enough program or a smart enough image analyser on their satellite info and they‘d work out what had happened and trace us to the Mountain Princess.

‘No offence, mate, but are you in isolation?’ I asked Gregor. He nodded.

‘Not fit to mix with the other children,’ he said.

‘So it’s you, not the alien?’ I asked.

‘It’s both. We sent me because I would be the best able to communicate with youse.’

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Pretty much what I said. My other half effectively colonised my body. You ‘re looking at the first hybrid between us and Them.’

‘Who’s in control?’ I asked.

‘At the moment neither, but normally both. Look, despite seeing what you ‘re seeing now there’s been some changes. We are fully integrated.’ I didn’t like the sound of this and he must’ve seen it on my face. ‘It’s okay, man. It maybe wasn’t what I’d planned in my life but I would not have survived for you to get me out if it hadn‘t been for my other side.’

‘So are you Gregor?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘But it’d probably be easier if you call me that.’

I took another sip of whisky. A packet of cigarettes had appeared on the table. I took one out and lit it. It was nice to see that Morag understood my coping habits, or at least my putting-off-dealing-with-things habits.

‘So why did you want to integrate with my friend?’ I asked it. I caught Gregor’s icon’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as I spoke. Morag shook her head in disgust. Gregor considered me for a bit before answering.

‘It was trying to communicate with us,’ Gregor said. So Pagan had been right. ‘All They have ever experienced from us is violence, therefore They assumed that our society was based on violence, which to a certain degree it is. They assumed the most violent were the leaders, which was a reasonable assumption to make.’

‘So They went after special forces operators,’ I said, understanding. ‘What do They want?’ I already knew the answer.

‘Peace,’ Gregor said. I gave this some thought as I took a drag on my cigarette. The cherry glowed brighter -1 was impressed despite myself.

‘How do we know you ‘re telling the truth?’ I asked.

‘Trust,’ Annis answered. ‘So we ‘re probably fucked,’ she added bitterly.

‘Yeah, well hands up if you’re a human?’ I said and put my hand up knowing I was acting like a prick.

‘Hands up if you’re an arsehole,’ Annis suggested. I dropped my hand. ‘Look, you ‘re here because I thought you‘d be of more use in helping bring your friend back than Mudge. Instead it’s you who needs all the reassurance,’ Morag said.

‘Are you surprised? I’ve spent most of my adult life with these things trying to kill me. If we’re wrong, if we trust the thing in your head and So-I-Married-An-Alien over here-’ Gregor smirked again ‘-we could hand over this planet to Them and effectively wipe out our own species, have you thought about that?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Really? Because you seem pretty quick to trust the alien, and believe me you wouldn’t if you‘d seen what any of us have seen.’

‘So I don’t get an opinion because I haven’t been to war yet?’ she asked.

Gregor was watching the exchange like a tennis match. I was beginning to find the constant smile infuriating.

‘What did Rolleston want with you?’ I asked him, ignoring Morag’s question.

‘That’s kind of a long story and I’d rather tell it to everyone,’ Gregor said. ‘Besides, I haven’t insulted Mudge in a while; I’ve no doubt you’ve been remiss.’

‘Remiss? The alien bring a vocabulary with him?’ I said, realising that I was treating him like my old friend again. I turned back to Annis, who still looked angry.

‘Why don’t you look like the hag any more?’ I asked.

‘I do, I just thought this would be easier for Gregor,’ she said through gritted teeth. Feeling the cold I turned back to Gregor.

‘So I’m assuming you ‘re still sedated?’ I said. He nodded. ‘And you’ll play nice when you wake up.’ He shook his head. ‘No?’

‘That’s why we’re here,’ Annis said impatiently.

‘When they realised that the facility was under attack they programmed me to attack.’

‘Programmed?’ I asked.

‘Vicar was right: effectively Their physiology is a kind of naturally occurring nanite. Their technology and biology are one,’ Annis said.

‘And the Cabal have developed bioware interfaces,’ Gregor added. ‘Effectively they used primitive bionanites of their own to reprogram my own biology,’ he said. It struck me then that the war was over. All we had to do was release these nanites and programme Them to leave us alone. Except of course that we might be the aggressors.

‘The Cabal?’ I asked.

‘Later,’ Annis told me. ‘We’ve got some of the sedative and between us and Ambassador we ‘re trying to find a way to turn off the kill signal.’

‘Because if not, I’m going to wake up and kill everyone, starting with that big fish-looking bastard,’ Gregor said in a disturbingly matter-of-fact manner.

‘So how come you ‘re here?’ I asked.

‘Because he still has his ports and the alien has wired himself to them to allow input and output,’ Annis answered. ‘You need to go now, we have work to do.’

Gregor winked at me.

‘Cunt,’ I said, meaning Gregor, and waking up. I felt like shit. I mean really bad. I felt weak, really sick and patches of my skin were very sore. I needed some more of Papa Neon’s pills and quickly. The slight but noticeable near-constant moving of the room I was in wasn’t helping me with my nausea.

I was lying on a fold-up cot riveted into the floor. The room had a curved wall on the left-hand side – sorry, port side – that told me we were in a ship, next to the hull and, judging by the sound, beneath the waterline. The walls were undressed steel. I assumed I was in some kind of smuggling hold on the Mountain Princess. Looking around I could see other cots, and there were various bits and pieces of gear scattered about. I could see an opening to a separate area of the hold. Someone had draped a drab grey blanket over the opening but light was creeping around it. I could also hear voices from the other side.

‘I’m not sure this is a good idea,’ I heard Mudge say as I downed some more of Papa Neon’s special pills, some painkillers and a mild upper. Just to get me out of bed. I noticed I had some red lesions on my skin. They bled whenever anything touched or rubbed against them. I saw that they had been dressed as well as circumstances would allow.

‘Morag will not wake him unless it is safe,’ I heard Rannu assuring Mudge as I stumbled towards the blanket curtain. Feeling the familiar tug from the back of my neck, I reached behind me and removed the plug; looking down I saw an extension line that led to the next room. This was the connection that had allowed me to enter Gregor’s safe environment. The almost imperceptible movement of the huge docked ore carrier was making my stomach roll. I tried not to heave and wished I had a cigarette.

‘Rannu, while your faith is a beautiful thing I’m not convinced it’s going to stop me from being torn limb from limb,’ Mudge again.

‘I will avenge you,’ I heard Balor growl with relish.

‘Oh that’s very reassuring,’ Mudge paused. ‘You… you’re looking forward to this, aren’t you?’ I reached the blanket and tried to pull it aside but only succeeded in pulling it down. ‘What are you doing?’ I heard Mudge ask incredulously.

I staggered through into the next compartment. Balor, Rannu and Mudge stood in a semicircle around what looked like a high-tech glass coffin crossed with a stretcher. It was secured to two workbenches. I recognised it as a man-portable intensive care unit. It was similar to those used by Carrion, as we squaddies rather unfairly called battlefield medics because they were under orders to strip cybernetics from the injured and dead. This one had presumably been modified to handle biohazard containment, though I couldn’t see it holding if Gregor got angry somehow. Morag and Pagan were leaning against the bulkhead furthest away from the coffin to my immediate right -sorry, starboard. Both were obviously tranced – I could see wires extending from their neck ports to the portable ICU.

I leant against the doorway fighting for breath. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this weak before. Mudge glanced behind him. He was focused on aiming his AK-47 at the portable ICU. Rannu was doing the same with his gauss carbine and Balor appeared to be slinging his Spectre/grenade launcher combo and extending his spear into a trident configuration.

‘You got a cigarette?’ I asked Mudge.

‘Bit busy right now. Balor, clearly an automatic weapon is more appropriate than a fucking fishing spear.’ Even Rannu was glancing in askance at the eight-foot-tall, heavy-conversion cyborg. Balor was just grinning.

‘Okay, we’re waking him up.’ I heard Morag’s voice. It seemed to be coming from Pagan’s staff, which was lying across his lap.

‘Are you sure he’s ready?’ I was surprised to hear Rannu ask. His answer was the clear top of the ICU sliding down. Rannu and Mudge tensed ever so slightly while Balor looked on in eager expectation. Some smoky chemical gas or other, could’ve been oxygen for all I knew, drifted out of the ICU. I decided that if the-thing-that-was-once-Gregor was going to kill me I was going to have a cigarette and even a drink if I could find one. I decided that I wouldn’t tell Mudge about the TTTWOG acronym; I didn’t think anyone else would thank me if I did. I turned and headed back to my cot.

‘Easy, easy. Easy!’ I heard Mudge from behind me. I wondered if they’d considered that pointing guns and antique poking weapons at him might encourage a fight or flight response. Probably not. I heard much shuffling and shouted commands from next door as I located my cigarettes and was pleased to find Mudge’s hip flask. It probably contained vodka but it would be good vodka, and I’d always felt the Russians and the Scots had a lot in common.

‘Gregor, are you okay?’ Pagan’s voice. I think he was trying to be soothing but instead it sounded patronising. If I were a dangerous human/alien hybrid his tone would upset me.

‘Okay, everybody needs to just calm… Balor? Balor!’ It was Morag’s voice now. I considered grabbing a gun but I seemed to be swaying and decided I would probably be more danger than use. Nausea overwhelmed me. Fortunately I could see a bucket nearby and I managed to reach it before I puked up what looked like bile and blood. There was the sound of rapid movement next door and a low growling noise.

‘No!’ Morag said. It was a voice similar to the one my dad would use when scolding a bad dog. I assumed she was talking to Balor. I spat out the residue of vomit in my mouth and clambered back to my feet. It was as if I could feel myself rotting from the inside. I cleaned my mouth with vodka and spat that into the bucket before taking a tenuous sip of it. I kept it down despite the burn. It didn’t quite get rid of the taste however.

‘Balor, can we not antagonise the potentially dangerous alien life form, please?’ Mudge asked. ‘You did turn off the kill order, didn’t you, dear?’ he added.

‘I think so,’ Morag replied. I didn’t like how unsure of herself she sounded. I lit up a cigarette. The mouthful of smoke was somehow reassuring and making me feel more nauseous at the same time.

Making it back to the entrance to the next compartment, I leant heavily on the hull. Gregor was standing in front of the ICU. He was crouching slightly. It was the stance of a cornered predator. The black pools of his eyes were looking around the room. Going from person to person. Sizing them up. Waiting for them to move. I had more time to study him as he wasn’t moving so quickly and kicking Balor’s arse at the moment. He looked like someone had taken one of Them and tried to squeeze it into a human shell without making any allowances for human physiology. Which in a way was what had happened. Recognising the human bits of him – the familiar, if warped, features of my friend – somehow made him/it (I was still confused by that) seem more alien. He looked at me as I took another drag from the cigarette and fought my nausea. I nodded at him. He seemed to stare at me. I was too ill to be unnerved. He opened his mouth. I was relieved to see healthy-looking human teeth, though they looked more perfect than I remember Gregor’s being. He screamed, sort of. I put my hands over my ears as the noise went right through my skull. Even my dampeners kicking in didn’t seem to do much good. Morag had her hands over her ears. The others were grimacing. I’d heard a similar noise before, when I had dreamed of the alien spires, but this was different, distorted, discordant, angry.

Gregor’s mouth closed with an audible snap of his teeth. Rannu and Mudge were still nervously covering him, Pagan was behind them, Morag was standing just in front of them and Balor was edging round the side trying to flank him.

‘Guys, lower the guns, yeah?’ I suggested.

‘What a great fucking idea,’ Mudge said. ‘If he gets too excitable I can just beat him unconscious with my enormous cock.’

‘Do you want me to go and get that from your bag?’ I asked him. ‘Seriously, all we’re doing is threatening him and then you wonder why he’s not acting calm.’

‘He’s right,’ Morag said and moved directly into Mudge’s line of fire.

‘Shit,’ Mudge raised the barrel of his weapon and began moving for position.

‘Mudge,’ I said softly. He stopped. Somewhat reluctantly I could see Rannu lower his carbine. ‘It’s him,’ I said to Mudge. I wasn’t sure if I believed it. Mudge glanced over at me and then lowered his gun. We all looked over at Balor. Balor sighed deeply, obviously disappointed.

‘Buncha pussies,’ he muttered and glared at Gregor before going and sitting on a heavily reinforced folding chair in the corner.

Morag stepped towards Gregor, who like me was swaying slightly, though I suspect for different reasons. The human/alien hybrid towered over her. He was as tall, possibly taller, than Balor, though he had a much more slender build. Watching him loom over her was the only time I got really nervous. She stretched out her hand to him. He looked at it for a while before finally reaching out with his own bony hand. His fingers were too long and had too many joints in them. I thought he was going to wrap his fingers multiple times around Morag’s small hand.

Morag led Gregor over to another chair, but instead of sitting he just crouched down, almost seeming to fold himself up. There was something insectile about his position. I could not square this thing with the Gregor I had spoken to in the virtual construct. He looked at me and then at Mudge and smiled, and then pointed at Mudge.

‘Fucking what?’ Mudge said. I started laughing.

‘He’s surprised to see someone more alien-looking than he is,’ Morag said, smiling slyly. Rannu and Pagan started laughing; even Balor smiled sulkily. Gregor’s mouth opened and he laughed. That shut all of us up. At first it was like a seal barking, then it seemed to modulate and change until it sounded a bit like Gregor’s easy laugh, though off somehow. We all just stared at him.

‘Seems you being weird-looking is funny no matter what race you are,’ I said, as I stubbed out my cigarette and took another pull of vodka. Mudge gave me the finger but he seemed to have relaxed.

‘Hey, is that my hip flask?’ he demanded.

‘Yep.’ I took another swallow of vodka and then Gregor reached over from what seemed like very far away and took the flask from my hand. We all watched as he drained the rest of the flask.

‘I think he’s working on instinct,’ Pagan said almost apologetically. I found it reassuring that there was that much of a squaddie left in him.

‘Can you speak to us?’ Pagan asked in his irritating, patronising tone. Gregor turned to look at him, his head seeming to swivel too far round. He opened his mouth and there was a squeal of distortion, as though through a microphone. His voice seemed to cycle through tones and possibly frequencies until it found one it liked and he started to sound more like Gregor again.

‘Of… course… I… can… fucking speak to you, I’m… not… fucking stupid.’ His head swivelled round at a disconcerting angle to look at me. ‘Who’s… your mate?’ Mudge and I grinned. Though I think we both knew that this was not the Gregor we had known, that this was something completely different, he was in there somewhere.

I was getting used to oddness. Me, Mudge and Pagan sitting in a circle talking to a sea demon, a teenaged girl and an alien was beginning to feel commonplace. We let Gregor ease back into human communication by telling him a heavily abridged version of what was going on. He mostly stayed quiet, asking the occasional question. He seemed awkward with himself, even after Morag had found him a pair of Balor’s cut-off shorts and he’d tied them round his waist. I realised halfway through Pagan’s description of God, which I couldn’t be bothered to listen to, that he was ashamed of his alien-ness. Somehow that seemed reassuringly human, but I couldn’t think of anything to do that would make him or us feel better about this.

Gibby and Buck had returned about halfway through our brief. I wasn’t sure whether they’d been sent away in case they angered Gregor or had decided to not be around themselves, but when they returned Gregor stood up, or unfolded himself. Both Gibby and Buck had backed away, hands going to holstered antique revolvers at their sides. We’d calmed things down but Gregor still looked like he might eat either of them and they looked like they might bolt at any time.

‘Who’re the Cabal?’ I finally asked him, several hours later, when I was pretty sure that we’d exhausted our version of events.

‘The people who’ve done all this. The people who captured me and experimented on me,’ Gregor said. His voice, almost normal now, was lulling me into believing he was both human and my friend. ‘Basically a group of fat old rich guys. Invisible men, corporate old money, intelligence agency types, military and civil service high-ups.’

‘From where?’ Mudge asked.

‘Most anywhere, but mainly Europe and America, as far as I can tell.’

‘A conspiracy?’ Buck asked scornfully. Gregor swivelled his head round and looked at him with the black pools of his eyes, long enough to make the pilot feel very uncomfortable. Buck was opening his mouth to say something when Gregor answered.

‘I don’t think they see it that way. They don’t see they have anything to conspire for or against. They and people like them have always made the decisions, and that’s the way it is.’

‘A secret government then?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think it’s anything that prosaic. They’re just the doers for our society. Cabal is my word for them. I had to call them something to give them an identity, you know?’ Gregor said. It had to be the alien’s influence that was making this ex-squaddie who’d grown up on the streets of Stirling use words like prosaic.

‘Do we know who any of them are?’ I asked.

‘Rolleston,’ Gregor answered without hesitation. We nodded. ‘He’s the head of their security, handles all their dirty work. The others are somewhat distant. They communicate remotely or through intermediaries. Other than Rolleston, the only other one I’ve seen is a guy called Vincent Cronin. Must be in his late twenties or he looks it anyway, expensive suits, expensive ware, katana…’

‘Which corp?’ Mudge asked. Anyone carrying a katana was normally an executive, a corporate samurai. A good executive had to prove himself in business and then duel for promotion. Rumour had it that for the top jobs the duels were to the death, blood on the conference-room floor. They only wanted people with the nerve to step up. If he was that young and carrying a katana, then he must not only be good, he would’ve had to have gambled big time and had it pay off.

‘I don’t think it’s that simple; he doesn’t appear to have a particular citizenship. He’s some kind of high-level fixer, executive without a portfolio. Rolleston handles all the dirty work and Cronin does all the organisational stuff.’

‘So we can assume this guy’s best of breed?’ Mudge said. Gregor nodded. It didn’t look right, his head seemed to bob elastically.

‘So they started the war?’ I asked.

‘I think so.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What did they want you for?’ Mudge asked.

‘For Their technology,’ Gregor answered. ‘I was a sample, then I was a test bed and finally I was a production facility.’

‘Military applications?’ I asked. Gregor shrugged. That didn’t look right either. I wondered if he still had what we would recognise as a skeleton.

‘I guess, but I think a lot of the Cabal is very old and very ill.’

‘So they want to use Their liquid… biological whatever to help rejuvenate and generally increase their lifespan?’ Mudge said.

‘Possibly,’ Gregor said.

Something horrible occurred to me. ‘Their operators – Rolleston, the Grey Lady and the like – will they be augmented by Themtech?’ Gregor considered this.

‘I don’t know. It’s a possibility. They look normal so if they are augmented they must be a lot more sophisticated than me.’

‘No offence to your friend here, but he ain’t telling us shit,’ Balor said. It was the first time he’d really spoken. He’d spent most of his time staring at Gregor, who now swivelled his head round to look at the one-eyed pirate.

‘I was kind of busy being experimented on,’ Gregor said evenly.

‘And you’ve admitted that they can programme you,’ Buck said. I saw Gibby looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Yeah, it’s slightly less subtle than the way they control everyone else,’ Gregor said. I sat more upright in my chair, somewhat surprised at this insight. I gave it some thought.

‘I’m not fucking programmable,’ Balor said.

Gregor looked Balor right in the eye. ‘You used to serve,’ he said. I guessed he just didn’t understand the whole respect thing that Balor was supposed to command.

‘Did I?’ he asked. ‘That didn’t feel like what I was doing…’

‘Fine, but it was what the rest of us were doing,’ I said. ‘Except Mudge.’

‘That doesn’t mean he’s not still controllable or under their control,’ Balor said.

‘He’s not,’ Morag said. ‘We dealt with that.’

‘Then who is in control, the alien or the man?’ Gibby asked.

‘Both,’ Gregor said. ‘And believe me I have more motivation than the rest of you to stay under my own control and deal with the Cabal.’

‘Besides,’ I added. ‘If he was still working for them, where are they? They’ve got no good reason for leaving us free.’

‘Deal with the Cabal?’ Buck asked. ‘How we supposed to deal with this Cabal if they’re as powerful as you say?’ It was a good point.

‘I don’t know,’ Gregor said. ‘But you will need to deal with them soon because they will want me back and they certainly can’t let knowledge of my existence leak.’

‘So let’s leak it,’ Mudge mused. Pagan looked over at him thoughtfully.

‘We need to release God,’ Morag said suddenly.

Pagan’s thoughtful expression suddenly disappeared. ‘It’s not ready.’

Morag wore a look of irritation on her face that said this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. I took another mouthful of whisky from my tin mug. Mudge had produced a bottle of decent whisky. I think he’d stowed it to celebrate Gregor’s liberation. I’m not sure how celebratory Mudge was feeling about it now. I was mildly drunk, which wasn’t really helping the constant nausea but was giving it a sort of warm glow.

‘It is ready but it might not be perfect,’ Morag said. ‘And you didn’t see it.’ I had been wondering about this but the right time to broach it just never seemed to come up.

‘What happened to you in the facility’s net?’ I asked. All eyes turned to Morag, who shifted uncomfortably, not enjoying being the centre of attention suddenly, but there was something else. She was scared – not the general scared of doing dangerous things but real terror.

‘She overreacted to a very nasty security program,’ Pagan said.

‘Oh bullshit!’ Morag shouted at him.

Pagan sighed. ‘Look, Morag. Nobody’s saying that you haven’t come far and fast in a little time. You’re probably the most gifted hacker of your generation, but the fact is you’ve never been up against serious security with illegal black-attack programming. It cuts through your neural ware’s own defences and goes straight for the biofeedback.’

‘If she said she saw the devil then we should believe her,’ Rannu said. I thought this was creepy somehow.

‘You saw the devil?’ I asked. I knew Morag had been eagerly awaiting her first net-bound religious vision. It seemed unfortunate that it had been the devil.

‘When we entered the system they tried a purge, sent a firestorm program ahead of us. It was good but like any purge there’s always something left. We were sifting through the wreckage trying to get what we could…’ Pagan said.

‘What did you get?’ I asked.

‘We’ll get to that,’ he said. ‘They’d left a particularly nasty security program in there to get us.’

‘It was more than that; it was like God…’ Morag said.

‘Only evil,’ I suggested, smiling. Morag glared at me.

‘It was frightening, there’s no doubt about it,’ Pagan said. ‘It was sophisticated and dangerous.’

‘But you dealt with it?’ I asked. Pagan shook his head, his dreadlocks whipping from side to side.

‘No, it went for Morag first-’

‘Because it knew who the dangerous one was,’ Rannu said. I don’t think he was purposely trying to goad Pagan, but if he was he was doing a good job.

‘So we ejected,’ Pagan said, trying to ignore Rannu. I knew that they hadn’t gone back into the facility’s isolated net.

‘So you can’t be sure it was just a security program?’ I asked.

‘Look. Morag’s never been hit that hard and has become used to thinking that she’s invulnerable in the net. The thing rose out of the obsidian like some enormous bloody worm triggering just about every one of our conditioned fear triggers.’ He sounded exasperated. At the mention of the worm Gregor’s head had spun round to look at Pagan.

‘When you said "bloody worm" did you mean the worm was covered in blood?’ he asked. Pagan nodded. ‘You know the project name?’ Gregor asked.

‘Project Blackworm,’ Pagan said. ‘But I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

‘Can you tell us what you found in there?’ I asked.

‘Broadly speaking it confirms Gregor’s story,’ said Pagan. ‘The overall project is called Project Blackworm, which is presumably why the security looked the way it did. The project’s designed to harvest Their biotechnology for a number of different applications.’

‘Did it mention why they started the war?’ I asked. Pagan shook his head.

‘Did it mention the sub-projects?’ Gregor asked.

‘Yes,’ Pagan said.

‘Which are?’ I probed.

‘Project Crom and Project Demiurge,’ Pagan said.

‘It was Demiurge,’ Morag said.

‘Why would they leave Demiurge in a system they’ve purged and presumably abandoned?’ Pagan demanded irritably.

‘Then it was a fragment of Demiurge,’ Morag insisted.

‘Like you’re a fragment of God?’ Pagan said.

‘Guys?’ I interrupted.

‘Demiurge is the software application of Themtech,’ Pagan explained.

‘So?’ I asked.

‘So it’s as sophisticated as God and potentially as powerful, if not more so because they’ve got a lot more resources to throw at it.’

‘So what happens if Demiurge gets out into the net?’ I asked.

‘Same as if God got out, only presumably less benevolent. I’m guessing it would mean Gregor’s Cabal would control all information. The easy way, I mean,’ said Pagan.

‘How do we know they haven’t already released it and are in control?’ Mudge asked.

‘They haven’t. I’d know,’ Morag assured him.

Pagan glanced irritably over at her. ‘As far as we can tell they haven’t perfected it yet.’

‘Which is why we need to release God into the net as quickly as possible,’ Morag said.

Mudge looked very uncomfortable at this suggestion.

‘What’s Project Crom?’ I asked, forestalling what I suspected would be another argument.

‘As far as I can tell, it’s a viral weapon,’ Pagan said.

‘It’s an application of the control bionanites they used on me,’ Gregor answered.

‘What application?’ Mudge asked.

‘Basically infect, replicate, control,’ Gregor answered.

‘What?’ Mudge asked.

‘Them.’

‘All of Them?’ I asked incredulously. Gregor and Pagan nodded.

‘Are you talking about this Cabal taking total control of an entire alien race?’ Mudge asked.

‘Theoretically, yes,’ Pagan said. I noticed that Buck had a look of extreme concentration on his face.

‘I don’t think that should happen,’ the degenerate cyberbilly said. In many ways I was impressed with his grasp of the situation.

‘Delivery?’ I asked.

‘Don’t know,’ Pagan said. Gregor just shook his head but he still hadn’t quite mastered human body language.

‘So how do we stop it?’ Morag asked.

‘We?’ Buck asked. ‘Why is this our problem?’

‘You said you’d help,’ I reminded him, but I had to admit it seemed that we were dealing with things beyond our capabilities. With the best will in the world I don’t think we had either the skill set or the resources to deal with something like this. Besides, if they were looking hard enough they were going to find us sooner or later.

‘We don’t need to stop it, we just need someone more benevolent to control it,’ Mudge said.

I looked over at him. Everyone was looking at him. I noticed Balor was smiling but Gregor, Pagan and Morag looked appalled.

‘What?’ Mudge demanded. ‘They are a hostile species and want to destroy humanity. We can’t wipe Them out so taking control of Them seems like a good idea to me – in terms of self-preservation, I mean.’

‘We started the war,’ I pointed out.

‘So? I mean don’t get me wrong. I wish we hadn’t but we did, and now we have to deal with the results of that. If that means in order to survive we have to win, then this strikes me as the nicest way to do it. Regardless of who started this mess, They are a hostile race that wipes out humans wherever They find them. You do remember that, don’t you?’ he asked me.

‘Don’t patronise me, Mudge.’

They’re a sentient race in their own right,’ Rannu said.

‘Agreed, and I’m very sorry about it all. It’s a sad fucking mess but if the choice is my species or Theirs then it’s mine, and if we have any responsibility in this at all then it’s to the human race,’ Mudge said.

‘I don’t,’ Gregor said. Everything went quiet. Gregor and Mudge were staring at each other. Mudge looked away first.

‘I guess we’re seeing your true colours,’ Mudge said quietly, not looking at Gregor.

‘I don’t either,’ Morag said. I turned my head sharply to stare at her. I think it was one of the most chilling things I’d ever heard.

Mudge pointed at her. ‘You are a silly little girl. You think this is all cool and interesting, and I’m sure it’s a big change from servicing the great and good in whatever Dundee shit hole you worked in-’

‘Mudge,’ I said warningly.

‘-but what you’re talking about is us being a Them fifth column. You see betraying your whole race as some fucked up post-pubescent game. They aren’t cute, and they certainly aren’t your fucking friends; what they are is dangerous and, and -’

‘Alien,’ Gregor finished for him. ‘And this one used to be your friend.’

To Morag’s credit she seemed to master her anger. When she spoke it was evenly but through gritted teeth. ‘You think this is a game for me? You think I’m not terrified to have this thing in my head? Do you think I like killing people?’ She glanced at me. What was that? I wondered. Then I remembered my Slaughter high. Shit. ‘But I feel this. I talk to it and I know,’ she said simply.

‘But surely you’ve been used before, darling?’ Mudge said nastily. His face became mock-sympathetic. ‘Never been told a lie, duped by someone you trusted? "Oh, but he seemed so nice and I thought I could trust him." And what happened next? He’s getting paid and you’re running a chain up against the toilet wall?’

‘That’s enough,’ Rannu said.

Mudge was on his feet. ‘No, it fucking isn’t enough. I mean don’t get me wrong. I can see the attraction here, but we keep on listening to this little girl because he worships her,’ he spat, stabbing his finger at an increasingly angry-looking Rannu. ‘And he wants to fuck her,’ he said pointing at me.

‘Mudge…’ I started, but Rannu was on his feet.

‘Sit down,’ Balor snapped.

Rannu paused and then glanced at Morag. She shook her head. What the fuck? Rannu sat down, though he was still glaring at Mudge.

‘So,’ Mudge began, ‘who’s for the humans and who’s for the aliens?’

‘That’s fucking ridiculous, and you are bang out of line,’ I said angrily.

‘He’s right,’ Balor said. ‘He has put me in a position I never thought I’d be in.’

‘What’s that?’ Gibby asked.

‘Being for the humans.’

‘This is all hypothetical anyway; we don’t have access to Crom.’

‘Maybe not, but we need to know who’s for humanity and who’s against it. We may need to settle it here and now,’ Balor said. Even Mudge looked shocked. Rannu shifted, so did Gregor.

‘This can be settled with a conversation,’ I said. Where had the impending violence suddenly come from? ‘Right?’

‘Look, Crom aside, the fact is we’ve just heard Morag say she’s for Them and she wants to release what is effectively an alien virus into the net,’ Balor said.

‘How many times do we have to tell you we want peace?’ Gregor said.

‘See? We? He’s one of Them,’ Buck all but shouted.

‘He’s a lot nicer than the other ones we’ve met,’ I pointed out as sarcastically as I could manage.

‘I’m not sure I’m prepared to take that risk, and I’m not sure we can with humanity at stake,’ Mudge said. I shook my head.

‘The alternative is Demiurge,’ Pagan pointed out.

‘Which at least is controlled by humans,’ Mudge said.

‘Now whose side are you on?’ Gregor demanded.

‘You’d let Rolleston and these fucks get away with it?’ I demanded.

‘Not really liking the alternatives!’ Mudge shouted back.

‘Fine, so why don’t you kill me and Gregor and then see if you can find Rolleston to suck his cock. Afterwards you can tell me how much of a whore I was!’ Morag shouted at him.

‘Because he can’t,’ I heard Gregor growl softly. Presumably meaning that Mudge couldn’t kill him.

‘I can,’ Balor said menacingly.

‘This isn’t helping!’ Pagan shouted with sufficient authority that the rest of us went quiet. ‘Look, while you’re all either slavishly obeying our high priestess or damning those who do, let’s remember that God is not an alien virus; the program architecture is human, as is the majority of the programming. All it has is an operating system made from Ambassador. We have mapped and modelled the results of letting God into the net and, although given enough time I’d like to do more of that, I can tell you that it will not hand over humanity to Them. This is not Morag’s brainchild. God was created by a group of very human hackers, the majority of whom are vets.’ When he had finished we were still quiet, looking at him expectantly. ‘Look,’ he began again, more quietly. ‘I am completely for the human side but I have no reservations about releasing God into the net-’ he glanced over at Morag ‘-when it’s ready.’

‘Now,’ she insisted.

‘What exactly does it do?’ I asked, trying to avoid yet another argument.

‘Ah…’ Pagan said.

‘You don’t know!’ Mudge said incredulously and then started laughing.

‘We haven’t decided yet,’ Pagan said. I think all of us were looking at him in askance. ‘Well what do we want God to do?’ he asked.

‘Typical hacker nerds,’ Mudge muttered. ‘Invent the system but can’t think of what to do with it.’

‘Are you just here to piss everyone off?’ Morag demanded.

‘No,’ Mudge snapped. ‘I’m trying to get some of you to think.’

‘So what would you have God do?’ Rannu asked. Mudge was silent.

‘Will your god obey us?’ Balor asked.

‘If we want it to,’ Pagan said.

‘What do you mean "if"?’ Mudge asked.

‘That’s a lot of power to wield,’ Pagan said.

‘So who else do we trust to wield it?’ Mudge demanded.

‘It could be autonomous,’ Pagan said.

‘So we give what is effectively an alien information form autonomy as well as omnipotence in the net?’ Mudge asked.

‘I am against that,’ Balor said simply and forcefully.

‘So back to my original question: who do you trust?’ Pagan asked.

‘Me,’ Mudge said.

‘Brilliant. We’ll just hand total control of the net to an alcoholic junkie with no social skills,’ Pagan suggested.

‘I have social skills and you could do worse.’

‘I wanna see Mudge’s social skills,’ Morag interjected, grinning.

‘It’s not Christmas,’ I told her, also smiling. Some of the tension was beginning to bleed off.

‘Few people are worthy of my social skills,’ Mudge grumbled. ‘So who’s in control? You?’ he asked Pagan.

Pagan shook his head, flailing his dreadlocks around. ‘No, I don’t trust myself, and I wouldn’t trust the circle that made it. I wouldn’t even trust Morag,’ he said. I glanced over at Morag, who didn’t even look slightly offended.

‘Why not?’ Gibby asked. ‘You seem all right, a bit cracked but a nice enough guy,’ he drawled.

‘He helped make God; he probably helped come up with the idea in the first place. Clearly he’s a fucking megalomaniac with a god complex,’ Mudge said.

Pagan glanced at him irritably. ‘I’m not sure that I completely agree with Mudge’s diagnosis but that amount of power would certainly provide temptations that I don’t think I could control,’ he said.

‘Like taking over the security lenses in the changing room for the Austin Firecrackers’ cheerleaders,’ Buck said. He was obviously thinking out loud. We all took a moment to look at him. He raised an eyebrow and nodded sagely.

‘Yes, that would be the extent of my ambitions if I had that degree of power,’ Pagan said.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Balor.

Morag, Pagan and I all said no at once.

‘I’m serious. I have experience of command, and humanity needs a strong leader,’ he said. I think he was serious.

‘Balor, that is not going to happen,’ Pagan said.

Balor turned to fix him with his uncovered eye. Pagan didn’t flinch. ‘Only the strong should lead,’ Balor said. ‘Do you see anyone stronger?’ I couldn’t help glancing at Gregor, who was just watching the exchange, his head cocked at an odd angle.

‘No,’ Morag said.

Balor turned his fearsome head to look at her. ‘Why is that, little girl?’ he asked dangerously. I was really beginning to worry about Balor’s attitude towards all this.

‘I notice I’m just a whore or a little girl whenever the menfolk don’t want to listen to what I have to say, but isn’t the whole point of this to not have people like you in charge? Haven’t we had enough of warriors being in command?’

‘Arguably the problem is we haven’t had enough warriors in command,’ I said.

Morag looked confused.

‘Because if we had warr- soldiers in command then they would be less likely to send people off to die needlessly because they would know what it was like,’ Pagan explained. ‘Though historically it hasn’t always quite worked that way.’ He turned to Balor. ‘The problem is, you’re a good leader, but you would always negotiate from a position of strength and your opinions on people living and dying are a little… unorthodox.’ Though to give Balor credit, at least he wasn’t casual about it.

‘Yeah, but he has a point,’ Mudge said. ‘Humanity needs strong leadership. I mean who here doesn’t believe in an interventionist god?’ I put my hand up. Nobody else did but Buck and Gibby at least looked confused. I was surprised I was the only one.

‘Lot of believers in the room,’ I muttered.

‘Isn’t this where God went wrong?’ Mudge asked. ‘He told us we had to have faith but didn’t help us on the ground in the fight for survival where it would’ve mattered. We can do something about it: we can use the net to take over other systems like the orbitals, put us or God.in control and show people the way…’ he said, petering out towards the end. Presumably he must’ve known how he was sounding.

‘And the way is?’ Pagan asked.

‘Get rid of the Cabal, start delivering food and resources and medical care to the people who need it, stop tyranny, that kind of thing,’ he said, though I don’t think he was even convincing himself.

‘I don’t think you’ve thought this through,’ Pagan said.

‘Well, I wasn’t expecting to have to set the parameters for a new god when I got up this afternoon,’ Mudge snapped back.

‘Surely we would become the new tyrants?’ Gibby surprised me by pointing out.

Mudge considered this. ‘Maybe so, but I’d rather have a benevolent fascist than a greedy one in control. We can’t leave this down to people, we can’t just show them the way. That’s been tried by religions throughout history and people fucked it up and we ended up with the FHC.’

‘We’re only making God, not creating a new religion,’ Pagan said, smiling.

‘Really? Didn’t you want to be high priest? Isn’t that why you’re so jealous of the high priestess over there?’ Mudge asked. I saw Pagan’s face darken. Morag was glancing between the two of them.

‘Besides, if people fuck it up then isn’t that an argument for making it autonomous,’ Gregor said.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Mudge said.

‘Yes, I’d like to get out of this smelly cargo hull and get on with ruling the world, if that’s all right with you,’ Gregor replied sarcastically. If he was anything like the old Gregor then he must be pretty pissed off because he rarely used sarcasm.

‘It’s an argument for a strong leader,’ Balor said.

‘We should protect, not control,’ Rannu said, meeting Balor’s eye and holding it. After several moments of warrior bullshit Balor finally nodded. Mudge shook his head.

‘Whatever. That doesn’t change the fact that if you want something done you have to do it yourself. Not set some vague guidelines and hope that everyone interprets it right. I’m sorry, kids, but humanism and being nice isn’t going to save the day. You want to stop the war, then control the weapons and be prepared to use them because his lot,’ he said, nodding towards Gregor, ‘might not be so quick to down tools as we’ve been led to believe.’

‘Yeah, if we think like you then we’ll want to take control of you first,’ Gregor spat.

‘I’m not convinced that’s not what you’re trying to do at the moment,’ Mudge retorted.

‘We’ve told you that’s not what’s happening,’ Morag said.

‘As far as we know, you’ve been co-opted by one of them. You’ve said you’re on their side. How are we supposed to believe what you say?’ Mudge asked.

‘And me? Am I co-opted?’ Pagan asked.

Mudge considered this. ‘No,’ he said finally, ‘you’re just a deluded old man.’ For just a second I saw the stricken look on Pagan’s face, then he was back to looking angry.

‘I’m sick of being controlled,’ I said.

‘Which is great, but what are the options?’ Mudge asked. ‘Obviously humans trying to sort it out themselves doesn’t work.’

‘How is that obvious?’ I asked. ‘It’s having people like the Cabal in control that doesn’t work – well for us and apparently the majority of people. They would probably consider themselves strong leaders. I know Rolleston would.’

‘So we have to be more benevolent than those arseholes, look out for everyone, not just ourselves,’ Mudge said.

‘Maybe that’s how it would start. Look, we’ve abdicated responsibility to our leaders for too long; we need to take responsibility for ourselves,’ I told him.

‘Which sounds great but is meaningless in terms of implementing it,’ Mudge said.

‘We don’t implement anything,’ I said. ‘We just tell the truth.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ Pagan asked, taking an interest.

‘Starting with the war, we have God reveal every secret there is on the net. Programme it to reveal the objective truth to the best of its abilities. We then have it so it can arrange a system-wide and completely secure referendum-’

‘Tyranny by majority,’ Mudge pointed out.

‘Got a better idea?’ I asked.

‘Take control, murder the Cabal, negotiate peace with Them and then try and make things fairer,’ Mudge said.

‘I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. If you take control of the net the first thing you’ll do is have a crate of vodka and a crate of drugs delivered to you before continuing your quest for the perfect prostitute,’ I pointed out.

‘Shame your mum’s dead,’ Mudge said and grinned. I felt a surge of anger at his attempt at humour but let it pass.

‘Do you really want to rule the world, Mudge?’ Gregor asked gently. I saw Mudge falter.

‘Well… I thought, not me but…’ he said.

‘Who then?’ I asked. ‘We’re it, man. I ain’t doing it, Pagan won’t, you don’t trust Gregor or Morag. Balor’s a psychotic. No offence.’

‘Offence taken,’ Balor said quietly.

‘Rannu?’ I asked.

‘I don’t want to,’ Rannu said.

‘That leaves Buck and Gibby,’ I replied.

‘Hell yeah!’ Buck said. ‘I always knew I’d amount to something.’

‘He’s not serious,’ Gibby said. Buck looked genuinely disappointed.

‘Do you have any idea how dangerous telling people the truth about everything would be?’ Balor asked quietly.

‘He’s right,’ Pagan added. ‘Lies are used for protective purposes as well as to deceive. This could – this will – cause chaos.’

‘It will tear our society apart,’ Balor said and then grinned. ‘I’m warming to this plan.’

‘I don’t care,’ I said and poured myself another drink. ‘You’re right about lies, but we need to grow up sometimes, and as for our society, what we have now’s not good enough.’

‘But-’ Mudge began.

‘We could argue about this from now until the Cabal finds us. If this works it will mean a huge change for everyone. We could never cover every argument and counter-argument. Either we act or we don’t act,’ Rannu said.

‘But we haven’t come to a decision,’ Pagan said.

‘We’ve got two ideas: either we use God to control the net or we programme God to tell everyone the truth about everything,’ Morag said.

‘And destroy society,’ Mudge added.

‘You value tyranny by majority so much, let’s vote on it,’ Balor said, his voice all but a whisper now.

Morag shrugged. ‘All those in favour of ruling the net?’ she asked.

Buck’s hand shot up. After some consideration Gibby’s went up as well, then Balor’s. I watched Mudge struggle but he didn’t put up his hand.

‘All those in favour of telling the truth?’ Morag asked. I put my hand up; so did Morag. Rannu predictably followed her. Gregor put his hand up as well. Pagan was still thinking. Mudge just shook his head. Finally Pagan put his hand up.

‘So whatever happens, it wasn’t your decision?’ Pagan said to Mudge.

‘Damn straight, just abrogating my responsibility again,’ he said, staring at me.

‘What about the Demiurge?’ I asked Pagan.

‘What about it? If they meet, I have no idea what will happen.’

‘We could programme God to resist it?’ Morag suggested.

‘Should we?’ Pagan asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. The others nodded.

‘Do Rolleston and his people know about God?’ Mudge asked.

‘We’ve no reason to believe so, unless he had intelligence resources in New York,’ Pagan answered.

Balor shook his head. ‘Our discussion was clean, unless Rannu reported in before he changed sides,’ he said.

‘No, I always keep stories about my targets trying to create God out of my official reports. It makes me sound less insane,’ Rannu said without a trace of humour.

‘Besides, who’d believe it?’ I asked. ‘So as far as we know, the Cabal has no reason to rush Demiurge into the net?’ Pagan and Gregor nodded. ‘Will they respond with Demiurge?’

‘That may be the only thing capable of destroying the net,’ Morag said. ‘It would be a very destructive fight and they would have little to gain.’

I could see that Pagan wasn’t convinced but he didn’t say anything.

‘So how long to set God’s parameters?’ I asked.

‘Three to maybe four hours’ work,’ Morag said. Pagan nodded in a resigned manner.

‘Then what?’ Mudge asked. ‘You just release it into the net?’

Pagan considered this. ‘That’s one way of doing it, but it would take a while because of its size, and during the initial stages it would be potentially vulnerable. A node of some kind, a place capable of downloading huge amounts of information very quickly, would be ideal, but we’d have to do it at source.’

‘Like a site?’ I asked. Pagan shook his head.

‘Like a media node?’ Mudge asked.

‘Perhaps,’ Pagan said. Mudge grinned.

‘Mudge?’ I said. He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘I don’t want to kill anyone else.’ He nodded.

Morag was staring at me.