Free Memory Seed by Stephen Palmer Page B

almost supernatural feat of intuition but, peculiarly, she felt no surprise. She waited, then heard footsteps. Her pulse quickened and she repressed a grin of satisfaction as Zinina appeared. She was just like Oquayan’s pyuter image, but she seemed reserved in manner, arrogant even. Distrust permeated her features.
    Arrahaquen said, ‘I think you’d better invite me in.’
    ‘Hoy, you rescued me up the Mercantiles?’
    Perplexed at this response, Arrahaquen replied, ‘No.’
    ‘Then why should I invite you in?’
    Arrahaquen had to laugh. ‘You will be answering some questions.’
    Zinina, plainly confused but trying to conceal her emotions, paused, looked back at the aamlon, then said, ‘Just who are you? And how d’you know I padded here?’
    ‘I asked. Now are you going to let me in out of the rain? I’m unarmed.’
    ‘We are armed,’ the aamlon said. ‘Come in.’
    Arrahaquen entered the house, shaking her plastic cloak in the green zone, placing her boots in a shallow tray of disinfectant, then removing her hood.
    ‘Arrahaquen!’ Zinina breathed.
    Arrahaquen sprayed mild verticide on her exposed skin then inflated a pair of slippers. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. The house was warm, and Arrahaquen noticed, looking through doors and internal windows, that the aamlon followed her culture’s tradition of pyuter excellence.
    ‘Cup of bilberry tea?’ the aamlon asked.
    Arrahaquen smiled, taking a seat. ‘Thank you.’
    Zinina sat opposite her. Clearly the jannitta could not believe that Arrahaquen’s appearance was a coincidence.
    ‘What’s all this about?’ Zinina asked.
    ‘Your friend...?’ Arrahaquen asked.
    Zinina waved her hands in an irritated gesture. ‘Graaff-lin. What do you want from me?’
    Arrahaquen sat back, trying to seem relaxed. ‘You and I have much in common.’
    ‘You’re full of the Portreeve’s crap,’ Zinina retorted. ‘Why’ve you followed me here?’
    ‘To ask you several questions–’
    ‘Graaff-lin!’ Zinina called. ‘Check this red bitch for pyuter dots.’
    ‘She’s free,’ came the reply. ‘And for the Dodspaats’ sake, do not be so rude. She’s my guest.’
    Zinina glowered at Arrahaquen. ‘Well?’
    ‘So we’re both guests here?’ Arrahaquen said. No response. ‘I’m not here to ask you why you’ve not been in the Citadel this last week. I expect you’ve deserted, like many others. That’s of no concern to me. I’m here on my own account, because you and I have a common interest.’
    ‘I doubt that.’
    Arrahaquen shrugged. ‘We’re both growing ficus illuminatus. ’
    Zinina said, ‘This is a trap. I’m not stupid. Get out.’
    Graaff-lin entered the room with a tray. ‘If you are here to interrogate us, Arrahaquen, please do leave.’
    ‘I’m not. And to prove it–’
    Zinina interrupted, ‘You’re here for Rien Zir, ain’t you? I heard about you and your Rien Zir worship.’
    ‘I am here solely on my account,’ Arrahaquen stated. ‘The heuristic devices that grow from ficus illuminatus seeds are used for deep-probing of pyuter networks. Allow me a guess. We both wish to access the Citadel’s data strata and learn the Portreeve’s plan.’
    Neither woman made a reply.
    Taking a perspex globe from her kit, Arrahaquen continued, ‘This is the seedling that germinated in my home. I can’t risk leaving it there unattended. I’ll leave it here, with yours–’
    ‘Ours isn’t here,’ Zinina interrupted.
    ‘What seed?’ Graaff-lin asked Zinina.
    Arrahaquen saw from Zinina’s face that she had revealed a secret. Graaff-lin repeated her question.
    ‘It’s what was in my kit,’ Zinina muttered. ‘I was going to tell you.’
    ‘That’s not important now,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘Have you a flowerpot with some sterile earth, Graaff-lin? Pop this in and keep it for me, please.’
    Frowning at Zinina, Graaff-lin took the precious globe and studied the tiny seedling inside; but by accident she dropped it. Luckily the seedling