The killmech took a step toward the jungle and stopped. “Listen, all,” it said, in an amplified voice that shook the jungle and set the crystal to chiming. “Listen, all. You are required to transit this node before daylight. Food and water will be waiting at the internode beach. This device,” the killmech pointed to itself with a huge thumb, “will not molest you unless you attempt to return to the terminal beach, or fail to emerge on the internode before the sun clears the horizon.” The killmech paused, and the skull moved slowly from side to side. Nomun had the sudden notion that the killmech could see each of them, and when the dead eyes rested on him, he shuddered.
It spoke again. “All who remain on this node at daylight will die.”
“Why?” The voice came from Nomun’s left. Nomun recognized the resonant tones of Handsome Nomun.
The killmech swiveled to face the speaker, but it made no response.
Nomun heard a tiny sound, close behind his hiding place. He whirled, to see Scar Nomun holding a heavy shard of crystal, his good eye glittering in the blue light. Nomun crouched, his body falling effortlessly into a defensive posture. Pleasurable remembrance swept through him. Yes, this was true, this was right. Nomun felt a humorless smile tighten his face, and Scar Nomun backed away warily, giving him back exactly the same smile.
“So, you claim to be dangerous after all, old one,” Scar Nomun said.
Nomun said nothing. He watched Scar Nomun alertly until the other turned and disappeared into the jungle. Nomun listened to the fading sound of Scar Nomun’s boots, crushing the delicate crystals that frosted the ground.
After a moment Blue Nomun’s mechanical voice boomed out. “A conference,” he called, from a considerable distance. “A truce. Let us confer. Danger exists. One blundering fool could kill us all.” After a pause, Blue Nomun repeated his message, word for word, using the same passionless inflections. Nomun followed the voice through the jungle, stepping carefully around the crystal growths, guided by the faint cold light they emitted.
THE JUNGLE WAS a webwork of inter-connected forms, a tangle of shining tubes. The individual growths varied from faceted cylinders the size of a man’s leg, to great pylons a meter or more in cross-section. There were no true curves in the crystal shapes, but the planar surfaces shifted direction frequently enough that in the distance the jungle seemed full of muscularly sinuous shapes. Nomun had to pick his way carefully; sometimes he had to crawl through tiny openings. The groundcover punctured his hands and knees, and he considered climbing into the upper story, where progress might be easier, but then he remembered Blue Nomun’s warnings. As he penetrated deeper into the jungle, the light grew stronger, the crystal less weathered, and he detected a faint hum. He thought of machinery buried deep.
He saw darkness ahead. He moved forward more cautiously, until he reached the edge of a clearing. Inside, the crystal had decayed into glittering black gravel, with a few lightless twisted stumps rising here and there. Blue Nomun stood in the dimness at the center, motionless, still calling out in an amplified voice.
Nomun waited. Minutes passed, and Nomun heard the others moving through the concealment of the jungle.
Abruptly, Blue Nomun fell silent. He turned slowly, as if searching the edge of the clearing. Nomun surmised that Blue Nomun’s vision was augmented into the infrared range. He wondered how many of the others owned dangerous bodymods, and then it occurred to him to wonder about his own body. He looked down at his killer’s hands. Did he feel anything? Frustration? Fear? Anger? His hands knotted. Nothing. He still had nothing but his name. And the conviction that it was his.
Blue Nomun spoke. “Good. We are all here. I called to you not because I was concerned about your counterfeit lives, but because I wish to preserve my own valuable self.”
A piece of crystal sailed out of the jungle and shattered against Blue Nomun’s chestplate. His face showed no reaction. “Childish,” he said. “Listen carefully, if you wish to live. The memwort supports a large population of parasitic organisms. For example: small but dangerous predators hunt the ganglian symbiotes. Avoid open areas such as this.” Blue Nomun swept his arm to indicate the clearing. “After moonrise they become killing grounds. The predators are not formidable individually, but in large numbers they can easily bring down a man. Though of course they would be poisoned by such a meal. This posthumous revenge would be small consolation to
“The ganglia are dangerous, as I have already stated, and they will become much more so shortly, when the Blood Moon rises. The ganglia will enter the active mode then, and a misstep by one of us may cost all of us our lives.”