The Mind Pool

separate sealed compartments. When all the pursuit team members were present, Mondrian went again to the control panel. He pressed a new command sequence.

“Destroying the landing capsule,” he said casually — but he was looking straight at Chan. “In strict accordance with Security quarantine regulations, of course. Your team is here, and we don’t want to risk some dangerous life-form taking a free ride up from Travancore. Do we?”

Chan shook his head. He kept his face impassive as the capsule on the screen flared to blue incandescence. The possibility of that act had been considered by Nimrod and Almas when they were still on Travancore, but no good counter-action had been devised.

The situation was clear. Either Nimrod had already found some way to move from the capsule to the interior of the Q-ship, or Leah and the others were dead. The mentality was supposed to disassemble once the capsule had docked, and each of its four members would then make its way into the Q-ship interior. It had seemed simple enough when Nimrod and Almas proposed it. Now it sounded impossible. Chan wished that he had Angel’s inborn ability to assess odds.

“I have one additional question,” went on Mondrian, “before you lead us down to collect the Construct, and we talk of celebration. I am curious to learn if in your efforts on Travancore you were troubled by illusions, or a distorted perception of reality.”

It was the crucial moment. Mondrian must know of Chan’s first and incomplete meeting with Nimrod, because Chan had reported seeing Leah, and that would be in the data files. But what was the right answer? Was it better to admit that there had been a later meeting? Or should he say that they had fired on and destroyed something in the deep forest, assuming that it was created by the Morgan Construct?

Any answer was dangerous. Chan hesitated, and as he did so Brachis raised his gun and took a step toward the door of the compartment that held Chan. “Damn it, Esro, he’s taking too long. Can’t you see he’s stalling?”

“Keep calm, Luther. We are all nervous. But I need that Construct, even if you don’t. And we must know exactly what happened on Travancore before we can risk going down there.”

Behind Mondrian, another door was slowly opening. A female figure stood on the threshold. Chan held his breath and tried not to look that way as she stepped from darkness into the bright-lit quarantine chamber.

Leah?

And then Chan relaxed, disappointed. The newcomer was Godiva Lomberd. She was dressed in a modest, calf-length white dress with long sleeves, and she had a bewildered look on her face.

Luther Brachis had not heard her coming until the last moment. He swung around, weapon raised and finger tight on the trigger. As he saw Godiva he exhaled hard and lowered his gun.

“Goddy, don’t ever come in like that again. I told you to stay in our quarters until I got back. I could have shot you!”

“I have to talk to you, Luther.” Her voice was far-off and dreamy. “I have to. It’s important.”

“Later. Can’t you see we’re busy? You’ll have to go back to our room, I just can’t talk to you now.”

“It has to be now.” Godiva took two dragging steps forward. “Please, Luther. For your own sake.

“Go with her.” It was Angel, speaking through the computer communicator. “Godiva is right, Luther Brachis. You must go with her.”

“What the hell is all this?” Brachis was swinging to face Angel, but the alien was safe behind the chamber’s glassite wall.

“It’s what I feared.” Mondrian went hurrying across to the control board. ” It’s on board. God knows how, and God knows where. But it’s here, Luther — and it has taken over Godiva. Just look at her face.”

“Godiva!” Brachis turned back to her.

“No, Luther.” She walked forward to stand in front of him. “Esro is wrong. There is someone new on board, and I did talk to it. But don’t worry, I can’t be taken over — ever.” She smiled up into his face. “Luther, Nimrod didn’t take me and change me. But it can help you and Esro. You can get rid of all the violence, all the hatred. Please come with me now, both of you. You’ll be quite safe. I love you, Luther. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.” Behind Godiva, the door to the quarantine chamber was opening wider. Mondrian and Brachis had a first clear view of the corridor outside. Both men took a step backward.

Nimrod was there, moving into the doorway. For the first time Chan had a clear view of a mentality without being a part of it. Even to him, it was a terrifying sight. The forms of Leah, S’glya, and the Angel stirred feebly within the swarming, smothering mass of Ishmael’s components. Long purple-black tentacles of Tinker elements writhed away from the main body. They extended into the room, reaching out toward the locks of the closed chambers. As Chan watched, the whole mass gave a jerk and moved closer. The door holding Chan a prisoner slid silently open.

“Out of the way, Godiva!” Brachis had his gun raised, sighting for a clear shot past the woman standing in front of him.

“It would be foolish to shoot.” The voice of Leah Rainbow spoke from the depths of the vibrating mass. “Godiva is right, Luther Brachis. We can help you. And we did not enter her mind — because we could not. May we tell him?”

Godiva was nodding, still staring up raptly into Brachis’s face. “Tell him now. He is my love, and it is time.”

“We could not bring Godiva Lomberd to union, Luther Brachis, although we tried. Because Godiva is not human.”

“Godiva. Move!” Brachis did not seem to have heard the mentality, but the hand holding his gun was trembling. “Out of the way, let me get a shot at it.”

Godiva edged in closer, reaching up to place her hands on his shoulders. “Before Nimrod spoke with me, I could not tell you. My prime coding did not permit it, and I wondered if you would ever know. But they are right. I am not human. Luther, let them help you.’

“Don’t touch him!” Mondrian was staring at Godiva with sudden comprehension. “Don’t touch him any more — and don’t say what you are.”

“I must. Before I could not, but now I must.” Godiva’s arms went around Brachis’s neck. “Luther, you are my love. And I am an Artefact.”

Brachis tried to pull away. “Godiva, don’t say that. Don’t ever say anything like that.”

“I must.” She clung to him, moving as he moved. “I am an Artefact. And the Margrave of Fujitsu was my maker.”

“You can’t be. You helped to save me.” The hand holding the gun was white- knuckled and trembling. “When the Artefacts were attacking me, you didn’t help them, you helped me.”

“Of course I tried to save you. I could never kill anything. Fujitsu created me, in the vats of his Needler lab. But I was made for love, not death. I love you, Luther.”

She tried to reach up and kiss him. Brachis was pulling his face away out of reach.

“Feel pity, Luther Brachis, not anger.” It was Leah’s voice again, emerging from the middle of the Tinker swarm. “She became Fujitsu’s instrument, but not from choice. When the Margrave was alive, her only program was to watch you, and stay with you, and love you. When he died, that program was not cancelled. But his death also triggered her programing as a source of information for other Artefacts. They were able to follow you, to know your actions. But feel Godiva’s misery, as we are able to feel it. She loves you, yet she could not help providing information that might harm you. When you came to Travancore, she rejoiced — because she knew that no other Artefacts could follow you here.”

Tears were trickling down the flawless skin of Godiva’s cheeks. “It is true, Luther. Forgive me. I could not tell you what I was doing, no matter how much I loved you.”

“Love. Making money for Fujitsu, was that your idea of love?” Luther Brachis averted his face from Godiva, as again she tried to kiss him. He stared out over her shoulder. “Damn your soul, Fujitsu, wherever you are.” His voice was quiet, apparently unemotional. “You wanted your dues, and you took them. You win, Fujitsu. You win.”

He pushed the muzzle of his gun into Godiva’s soft belly and pulled the trigger. The explosion was muffled to a soft, harmless-sounding thump. But the shaped projectile blew a fist-sized hole right through Godiva’s opulent