“What's different this year?”
“There's been more Concordance activity in orbit around the planet. It's normal enough for a few Void Walker attack craft to arrive in-system from time to time, but I'm seeing at least two extra Cathedral ships in orbit.”
That sent a chill trickling though her. Were they planning to do to Migdala what they'd done to her own planet? “They're constructing another shroud?”
“That's unclear. My data is obviously out of date. Something is happening there. You could slip into the system and take a look, pick up the latest nanosensor recordings. I have good predictions on the locations and arrival points of their ships; you could go without being seen easily enough.”
He was trying to get rid of her so he could concentrate on his research. Or, more generously, he didn't want her to be kicking her heels, waiting to do something. Right then, activity was psychologically good for her; it gave her an outlet, a purpose. Maybe he got that.
“I'll go down to the planet,” she said, “find out what's taking place on the ground.”
He hadn't meant for her to go that far. He shook his head. “The risks are too great. You know what they would do if you were identified, and your appearance is hardly going to let you blend in.”
“You said they all wear masks.”
“Many taking part in the celebrations do, but by no means everyone. In any case, there's still the rest of you: a mask might cover up your face, but not your arms, your torso, your legs. You'd be spotted immediately. You know Concordance laws against biomechanical enhancement are enforced rigorously.”
“I'm an abomination, yeah.”
His distaste at the term passed across his features. “As they would see it. It doesn't matter that they're clearly wrong, it matters that you survive. From what I know of the system, it would be impossible to know whom you could trust. Concordance has embedded itself thoroughly in Migdalan culture. Parasitized it.”
She ignored his objections. A part of her wanted to go to the planet as she was: half-biological, half-artificial. A mongrel, an atrocity. Flaunt herself in their faces. This was what they'd done to her, this was what their rule meant. She had done nothing wrong, she'd simply survived, by whatever means were necessary. She wanted their outrage, their horror, their fear to follow her down the street. Except, she clearly wouldn't survive for long like that, and then she wouldn't be able to defeat them. If she wanted to go to the planet, she'd have to play their game for a time – repellent as the idea was.
“You can give me artificial flesh, cover up the substrate?”
“You want me to do that?”
“Temporarily, so I can go under cover. When I return, I go back to this. Patchwork Selene, piebald Selene. You can do it? It doesn't need to be real skin grown for the purpose, right? An artificial analogue will do for a few days.”
“It's too dangerous. If anyone sees what you really are, they'll come for you. One abrasion to your artificial skin, and it will be obvious. Cut you and you won't bleed. And then there is your left eye. Skin I can do, but concealing the extra tech in your eyeball would mean transplanting a more natural looking prosthetic.”
“I can wear goggles or sunglasses to cover my eyes.”
“Inside? At night?”
“I'll cope. I'll be careful. You can do it; I know you can.”
He was reluctant: afraid, perhaps, that she was too hell-bent on revenge to assess risks properly. It was possible he had a point. She burned to strike back at the enemy. She had to watch that.
“I could give you the skin,” he said, “but I won't. This is too risky.”
“You said you saved me so I could live my life. You have no right to deny me.”
“I won't facilitate your efforts to get yourself killed.”
“Now you sound like Concordance, telling me what's best for me. I'll go anyway, as I am, take my chances.”
She had his full attention now. He studied her for long moments, competing thoughts flashing across his features. He was torn in two.
Finally, he relented, looked away. “What you ask – I can do it, yes. It will take a few days. But promise me you're not going to get yourself killed. As well as you, I'm thinking of myself and everything here. If they take you, they'll be able to rip out your knowledge of how to find the Refuge.”
“Then zap those memories, encrypt them, and have the Dragon recreate them if and when I return safely. I'll take my chances.”
He shook his head. “I could do that if your brain was all artificial, but memory stored in biological cells isn't that simple. Memories have echoes, they're dynamic.”
“Then we'll have to take the risk. It's either that or I never venture near an inhabited world again. It was you that suggested I live a normal life, find a safe planet somewhere to build a new identity. There'd be the danger then that I'd reveal the truth about you.”
He'd clearly considered the possibility. “Yes. That is true.”
“We're agreed?”
He relented with a sigh. “Agreed. Go if you must.”
That evening he began the process. She stood naked, legs apart, left arm held high, unmoving, while electronically controlled micronozzles sprayed up and down her limbs and torso, swarming around her like a cloud of hummingbirds. They worked systematically, constantly returning to their base to refill with the required chemicals and biomechanical components. Bit by bit, they laid down her artificial skin. Ondo monitored the process remotely to protect her modesty. They'd come a long way since her rebuilding process, the
