JUST BEFORE SUNDOWN, the seven Nomuns left the tent and stepped warily away from the killmech, which did not move. “Perhaps it has malfunctioned,” said False Nomun hopefully. Jade Nomun laughed carefully. “You’re the greatest fool of us all, clone.” Jade Nomun wore an improvised binding around his ribs, tom from the full sleeves of his shirt. “You’ll die soon, and we will no longer have to look at your quivering face.”
Of them all, only Pump Nomun seemed calm. He stood a little apart from the others, close to the water, watching the breathboats come ghosting in. His eyes were dreamy; he caressed the keyboard of his pump with languid fingers. “Beautiful,” he said softly. He turned to the others. “Isn’t this lovely? Look around. I marvel. The perfect darkness of the sea, the fading lavender of the sky, the sand that shimmers. The boats, like dreams. Even that thing.” He pointed to Dead Nomun. “Its color the perfect counterpoint to this world, its purpose in perfect resonance with our lives.” He shook his head. “Have you killed as often as I have, brothers?” His thin face twisted with transitory pain. “My pump is nearly dry. I’d meant to top it up, just before I was taken. Had I done so, this adventure might have ended differently for me.”
“Rothead nonsense,” said Scar Nomun.
“Yes, yes, you’re right. Wonderful nonsense,” said Pump Nomun, smiling. “But my chemicals...they insulated me from what Nomun must do, all these centuries, so that I could act– and not be corrupted by the terrible terrible things Nomun must do, if he is to be Nomun. It saved me from becoming a mindless brute like you.” Pump Nomun looked at Jade Nomun. “And from your hungry nothingness.” He looked at False Nomun. “From your fear.” At Blue Nomun. “Nor did I give up my humanity to a machine. The pump was my armor.”
Then Pump Nomun’s face grew sad. “But it wasn’t the perfect solution. It has taken my strength.”
The breathboats anchored off the beach, closer than they had been the first night. The pale-haired captain came down from her pulpit and stood at the rail, apart from the passengers. Her shadowed face held some strong emotion. Sorrow? Concern? Despair? Nomun could not tell.
“Vultures,” said Scar Nomun, and spat into the water.
The killmech moved, and the Nomuns retreated toward the second node, all but Pump Nomun.
“You must leave the beach now,” Dead Nomun said, and gestured at the next node.
Pump Nomun turned to look out over the water. “Lovely,” he whispered, and triggered his pump. His eyes rolled back, and he stood there for a moment, shuddering, before he fell face down on the sand. A last tremor shook him; then he was still.
The killmech bounded forward. It turned the body over. Pump Nomun’s face had become a red ruin. As they watched, more of Pump Nomun’s head deliquesced and ran through the killmech’s hands into the sand. Dead Nomun emitted a terrible wordless grinding sound and slashed off the remnant, but by the time it had clipped the bag to its chest clamp, the bag held nothing but the chempump, floating in gray-pink slime.
The corpse was gone, melted into the beach, leaving behind only a pile of empty clothing.
“Clever,” said Blue Nomun. “He cheated our captor of his trophy. A hyper-efficient enzyme, no doubt.” The cyborg seemed envious. “I wonder did he always carry it, hidden in the pump?” “What does it matter?” said Scar Nomun, and went into the jungle. Jade Nomun followed, still moving with painful care.
Then False Nomun slipped away, making a small whimpering sound deep in his throat.
“Well,” said Blue Nomun. “Just us.” He watched Nomun with too-bright eyes. “I side with the frightened one. It is you, old one, is it not?”
Nomun shrugged helplessly. He felt a strong desire to tell the cyborg of his memory loss, but held back, afraid to admit to any weakness.
“You will not say? I’m not surprised. What I cannot understand is this: why have you chosen to expose yourself to the same dangers your victims face? Madness does not run strongly in the Nomun flesh. None of us seem truly psychotic, with the possible exception of the fop.” Blue Nomun rubbed his metal hands delicately across his human face. “Well, no matter,” he said, and walked into the jungle.
Young Nomun’s eyes were large. “Is it true? Are you the one?”
‘The cyborg is losing function,” Nomun said, and after he said it, he saw that it was true. “He won’t last much longer; the situation is too novel.”
The sun was almost gone, and Dead Nomun stirred threateningly. “Go or die,” it said.
“I prefer to go,” said Young Nomun. He looked at the killmech with a trembling smile.
“Go, then,” said Nomun. “I’ll follow at a hundred paces. Call out if you need me. Loudly.”
THE SECOND NODE rose more steeply than the first, and the crystal growths grew more massively from the memwort’s back. However, Nomun moved with greater ease, as he grew used to the terrain. He could hear Young Nomun ahead, crunching through the ground frost.