Alastiar Reynolds

done here for now. My guests have seen enough. What is your most recent estimate for when the ships will be flight ready?’
The servitor, which had folded and entwined its appendages into a tight bundle, swivelled its head to address her. ‘Sixty-one days, eight hours and thirteen minutes.’
Thank you. Be sure to do all you can to accelerate that schedule. Clavain won’t want to be detained a moment, will you?‘
Clavain said nothing.
‘Please follow me,’ said the Master of Works, flicking a limb towards the exit. It was anxious to lead them back to the surface.
Clavain made sure he was the first behind it.

He did his best to keep his mind as blank and calm as possible, concentrating purely on the mechanics of the task in hand. The journey back towards the surface of the comet seemed to take much longer than the trip down had. The Master of Works bustled ahead of them, straddling the tunnel bore, picking its way along it with fastidious care. The servitor’s mood was impossible to read, but Clavain had the impression that it was very glad to be done with the three of them. It had been programmed to tend the operations here with zealous protectivity, and Clavain could not help but admire the grudging way it had entertained them. He had dealt with many robots and servitors in his lifetime, and they had been programmed with many superficially convincing personalities. But this was the first one that had seemed genuinely resentful of human company.
Halfway along the throat, Clavain halted suddenly. Wait a moment .
note 189
I don’t know. My suit’s registering a small pressure leak in my glove. Something in the wall may have ripped the fabric.
note 190
Clavain nodded. Then I cut myself on smoke. Or perhaps there was a sharp chip embedded in the wall .
Clavain turned around and held his hand up for inspection. A target-shaped patch on the back of his left gauntlet was flashing pink, indicating the general region of a slow pressure loss.
note 191 Remontoire said.
note 192
My hand feels cold. I’ve lost this hand once already, Skade. I don’t intend to lose it again.
He heard her hiss, an unfiltered sound of pure human impatience. note 193
Clavain nodded and fumbled the spray from his utility belt. He dialled the nozzle to its narrowest setting and pressed the tip against his glove. The sealant emerged like a thin grey worm, instantly hardening and bonding to the fabric. He worked the nozzle sinuously up and down and from side to side, until he had doodled the worm across the gauntlet.
His hand was cold, but it also hurt because he had pushed the blade of the piezo-knife clean through the gauntlet. He had done it without removing the knife from the belt, in one fluid gesture as he moved one hand across the belt and angled the knife with the other. Given the difficulties, he had done well not to escape a more severe injury.
Clavain returned the spray to his belt. There was a regular warning tone in his helmet and his glove continued to pulse pink — he could see the pink glow around the edges of the sealant — but the sense of cold was diminishing. There was a small residual leak, but nothing that would cause him any difficulties.
note 194
I think that’s taken care of it. I’ll take a better look at it when we’re in the corvette.
To Clavain’s relief the incident appeared closed. The servitor bustled on and the three of them followed it. Eventually the tunnel breached the comet’s surface. Clavain had the usual expected moment of vertigo as he stood outside again, for the comet’s weak gravity was barely detectable and it was very easy via a simple flip of the perceptions to imagine himself glued by the soles of his feet to a coal-black ceiling, head down over infinite nothingness. But then the moment passed and he was confident again. The Master of Works packed itself back into the collar and then vanished down the tunnel.
They made quick progress to the waiting corvette, a wedge of pure black tethered against the starscape.
note 195
Yes, Skade?
note 196
You tell me.
note 197
Nothing’s ever been clearer to me. I understand perfectly that we need those weapons.
note 198
Yes, I think so. The things you showed me made it all a lot clearer.
He was ahead of Skade and Remontoire by ten or twelve metres, moving as quickly as he dared. Suddenly — when he had reached the corvette’s nearest grappling line — he stopped and spun around, grasping the line with one hand. The gesture was enough to make Skade and Remontoire stop in their tracks.
note 199
He ripped the piezo-knife from his belt and plunged it into the plastic membrane that wrapped the comet. He had the knife set to maximum sharpness and worked it lengthways, gouging a gash in the membrane. Clavain edged along like a crab, slicing first a metre then a two- metre rift, the knife whistling through the membrane with the barest hint of resistance. He had to keep a firm hold of the grapple, so he was only able to open up a four-metre-wide gash.
Until he had made the cut, he had no way of judging whether it would be sufficiently long. But a sliding sensation in his gut told him that it was enough. The entire patch of membrane under the corvette was being tugged back by the elasticity of the rest of the fabric. The gash was ripping wider and longer without his encouragement: four metres, then six, then ten… unzipping in either direction. Skade and Remontoire, caught on the far side, were tugged away by the same elastic pull.
The whole thing had taken one or two seconds. That, however, was more than enough time for Skade.
Almost as soon as he had plunged the knife in he