Varok wasn’t afraid of ending up in the arena, nor looking forward to seeing his rival torn apart by those beasts. No, he was planning to avenge the poor souls who’d already met a terrible death down there on the sands. ‘Planning’ might be a strong word for what he’s doing,my inner voice said in a tone I’d never expected from her. For once, she wasn’t criticizing.
“Oh, what the fuck?” I whispered under my breath. I’dneverheard my subconscious be horny for someone. To be fair, she’dbeen right about every man I’d gone for. There hadn’t been many, and I wish there’d been fewer.
“I missed speaking with you during the feast, blessed friend. I am surprised to meet a human so far from Earth.” The smarmy, too-sweet tones wrenched me from my thoughts, and I scrambled to pull my cover identity back around myself before turning to answer.
Driin Attrobi stood there, looking smugger than ever. The Bauran wore fine dark robes, intricate patterns woven through them to draw the eye and suggest a more attractive shape. He’d started out stocky, like most of his species, but he’d grown heavier with age and didn’t wear it well.
His vanity was half-amusing, half-depressing. How could he worry about his physical appearance when he was about to leave his body and become part of the Hive? I’d have felt sorry for him if he hadn’t been the bloody butcher of Paris, who’d destroyed as much valuable art as he’d stolen in his raids.
“It’s a pity the Hive didn’t seat us closer together,” I said, aware that the silence had dragged on too long. “It’s tough with so many interesting people here.”
“Oh, I understand,” he said. “It must be overwhelming, so many people to interview. But I have little time left, and my affection for your homeworld runs deep. I don’t want to leave you humans behind without taking this chance to say goodbye.”
Affection?I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or smash his obnoxious face in. Back home, we remembered him as a bloody butcher, a looter, and a murderer. He wasn’t the worst villain of the Uplink War, but his attacks had left Paris a smoking wreck and dotted the map of Europe with atrocities.
Did he honestly believe humans had fond memories of him? As unlikely as it was, the Bauran seemed sincere.
Doesn’t matter. He’s going into the dark between the stars, and I’m going to dump everything I record here before I reach Earth. If Attrobi wants to speak, let him waste his words.
My smile felt forced and fake. Itwasforced and fake. If the Bauran noticed, he gave no sign. Debbie circled us, filming the interview.
“General Attrobi, are you enjoying the celebrations in your honor? The arena demonstration was…spectacular.”
“Ah yes, the biological art. It is a passion of several members of the Hive, one that I have merely dabbled in. Reshaping life is both beautiful and useful, don’t you agree?”
“Beautiful, perhaps,” I said, choosing my words with care. My problem with creating a deadly murder-lizard wasn’t aesthetic, after all. “How useful are they, though? In this age of drones and scanners, what practical value do they have?”
Some part of me wanted to pick a fight. The rest, more sensible, wanted information. Combined, I wanted an answer to that question. Why take these animals, as beautiful as they were, and cage them rather than let them roam free?
He didn’t rise to the bait. “That is the beauty of art, blessed Ms. Halford. It’s not about the practical. This is where we came from, all species who hunt—we breed companion animals, we learn to kill them. Drones are more cost-effective, true, but where is thepoetry?Creating life connects us with our past.”
That’s a load of pretentious nonsense,I thought, but kept a professional smile on my face and nodded along as he continued. His voice faded into background noise as I tuned him out—if I paid attention to his words, there’d be no hiding my anger.
Oblivious, Driin chattered away. To him, I wasn’t any more important than Debbie, just a handy tool to broadcast his triumph to the galaxy at large.
And it was a triumph, I’d admit that, though one he’d stolen. Having a fine enough art collection to be brought into a Collector Hive was the closest thing to immortality I knew of, aside from fanciful tales from beyond the edges of known space. Okay, so he’d have his mind extracted from his body, his brain taken apart and consciousness reconstructed in a Collector’s crystal shell, but after that, he’d last as long as the Hive did.
If I were a proper journalist, perhaps I’d have interviewed other Collectors and found out how many of them were like Driin. Had they all gathered their collections through war and terror? Did they approve of, or even care, how the art they treasure came into their possession?
It doesn’t matter,I told myself.I’m going to take one of their treasures away.
And then the greatest obstacle to my triumph stepped into view, giving Driin a hearty embrace.
“General!” Varok exclaimed. “I must steal you away. Lord Brans and I have a question about your Pahlvan campaign.”
For a moment, Driin looked like he might argue, but Varok’s insistence carried him away. “We shall finish this later,” he promised me, and I nodded with enthusiasm. An opportunity to sneak off unnoticed? Yes, please.
But when I turned to go, I found myself face-to-face with a snake-like alien noble, smiling what she probably intended to be a friendly smile.About as friendly as a cat saying hello to a mouse.
“Pennyhalford. I have heard such interesting things about your work, and you doubtless have questions about my own artistic displays. Why don’t we talk?”
Her sibilant voice had a hard undertone, and I knew she wasn’t about to let me walk away. A quick glance around showed other guests watching us, waiting for their chance. Their pretended lack of interest would have been more convincing ifthey’d stopped glaring daggers at the snake’s back, jealous she’d gotten to me first.
I shot another look in Varok’s direction, and he gave a cheerful wave.Yep, he did this. Somehow, he’s convinced all these people that they need my attention. I took a deep breath.Fine. He’s not getting one over on me.My heart raced and my cheeks burned as I watched the arrogant silver bastard walk away with the Collector-Candidate. I wanted to throw him to the wolves oh-so-badly. All it needed was a quick word, an announcement that Varok was a fake. Even without the mysterious file on his datachip, a close inspection of his ‘art’ would reveal his lies.
And dump him in the arena, to his certain death. I refused to do that, and the insufferable prickknewI wouldn’t. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could play games.
8
