Free Dark Intelligence by Neal Asher Page A

kidnapping and murder, and he probably knew those words didn’t sufficiently detail her crimes. But he had no right to judge her—he didn’t know her past. There were prador in the Kingdom who still wanted human slaves and she supplied them. So what? It was a hard universe. She thought about her present acquisitions languishing in one of her warehouses. In another five days, the Spatterjay virus should have toughened them up sufficiently for coring and thralling. Then they would be ready to be sold to the prador. Still focused on this Thorvald Spear, something dark twisted inside her and urged her towards violence, to attack. But, as always, she managed to suppress it. However, she did decide that he would join those due for coring, unless his reason for seeing her turned out to be profitable.
    She pulled out a chair and sat down, wincing as her backside settled on the grainy kelp wood, then again as she attempted to relax back. The bone loss in her spine and the growth of chitin plates over her body hurt.
    “Would you like a drink?” he asked.
    “Just water,” she replied.
    She’d tried self-medicating with alcohol and soon learned that method of relaxation didn’t work well with cybermotor conflicts. It had led to torn muscles and further damage to her weakened spine.
    He held up a finger and a vending tray slid through the air to hover above their table. It looked like a maple leaf, but with a jointed arm extending from the stalk and terminating in a three-fingered prehensile hand.
    “Water for my companion, and another rum for me.” He picked up his glass, drained the dregs and passed it up. The tray plucked it away and held it down on its upper surface as it shot away.
    “Those who require my services usually come to me,” she stated.
    “But I piqued your curiosity?” he suggested.
    She dipped her head in acknowledgement, though his message had first stimulated her avarice and belatedly aroused her curiosity. He was out of the Polity, so probably an easy mark, and he apparently had a profitable venture for her. When he’d added that he could also help her with her “problem,” which was now public knowledge, her inner predator was roused.
    “So you want to charter the Moray Firth?” Isobel enquired.
    “I do.”
    “Expensive.”
    He acknowledged that with a slow nod.
    “So what for?” she asked, wanting to get his first proposal out of the way and move on to her “problem.” It was likely that he was lying, so she could then attack him.
    “I have the probable location of an abandoned Polity destroyer,” he replied. “I wish you to take me to where I can first acquire some … necessities, and then I’d like you to take me to it.”
    She stared at him calculatingly. A Polity destroyer. How likely was that? Being AI-controlled, such ships usually managed to make it home or call for help unless completely trashed. Either he was an idiot with too much time and money on his hands, or he was something else … Isobel opened her sensory cowl again, noted Trent and Gabriel becoming more alert as a result, and once more scanned her surroundings. Bounty hunter seeking her reward? It was possible, but then why the request to meet here, in what was essentially a domain she controlled? Surely he knew her reputation.
    “Both the destroyer and the necessities I mentioned are on the far side of the Graveyard, right on the edge of the Prador Kingdom,” he added.
    She continued to stare at him for a long moment, then said, “The likelihood of anyone finding an abandoned, as opposed to completely trashed, Polity destroyer is slightly remote, don’t you think?”
    The tray returned with the drinks and, while it was putting them on the table, Spear took a small case out of his pocket and placed it in front of him.
    “Well,” he continued as the tray departed, “if it’s not there, I will still pay you the full cost of the job.” He opened the case and slid it across to her.
    She peered down at it,