Emergency systems override, Piri.

‹Emergency systems overrides can only be facilitated by the appropriate registered senior personnel. Please note that-›

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, she subvocalized, rattling the words together in her panic.

‹I am registering a stage-one intrusion alert.›

Remember me to one who lives there, she continued.

Somewhere inside the Piri, carefully hidden higher-level systems were coming alive as Dakota spoke her own secret code phrases.

‹Second-stage intrusion alert: I am alerting the appropriate registered senior personnel. Further intrusions on higher-level autonomous functions will be severely-›

She once was a true love of mine, Dakota finished in a blur as Moss leaned in towards her ear.

‘Your connection’s cut,’ he said. ‘Now it’s just you and me.’

‹Hello, Dakota.›

Dakota’s heart skipped a beat.

Create a distraction, Piri. Anything.

One of Moss’s fingers stroked her ear, and she winced at the stench of his breath. Then he suddenly stood bolt upright, but kept one hand resting on her shoulder.

‘Sir?’

Dakota twisted around further and saw Moss seemed to be talking to the air, one finger to an earlobe. She guessed he was speaking to Bourdain.

‘I just received an automatic alert, sir. Comms report receiving warning of a terrorist threat through a secure police channel.’

Moss nodded to the empty air. Dakota could almost hear the sound of her heart trying to bludgeon its way through her ribcage, her hands gripping the chair.

‘It’s a secure channel routed through the Consortium Outer System Patrol offices,’ Moss continued, for the benefit of his invisible employer. ‘They’re claiming an unmanned helium dredge has been programmed to alter course and hit the Rock within the hour. No details beyond that, at the moment. And given the number of guests we now have in the Great Hall…’

‹Dakota, I have generated a false police warning and routed it through the Rock’s alert systems.›

Piri, I love you.

‹You’re welcome. Does that mean you would like me to fuck you on your return?›

Please.

Bourdain reappeared a moment later, so clearly he hadn’t gone far.

‘It’s still only an automated alert,’ Bourdain snapped. ‘I need someone human to tell me what’s going on.’ He reached up and tapped his earlobe, looking over Dakota’s shoulder. His eyes gradually unfocused, and she guessed he was seeing and hearing someone on his technical staff as if they were standing next to him.

‘Tell me what’s happening,’ he suddenly demanded of the empty air. His expression got grimmer. After a moment, Bourdain shook his head, clearly unhappy.

He appeared to suddenly notice her, as if he’d forgotten what had only just taken place in his office. ‘This isn’t over,’ he told her, venom in his voice. ‘Hugh, come with me.’

She heard Moss shift away from behind her. ‘Stay here,’ he warned her. ‘Don’t make it any worse for yourself than it already is.’

They left, closing the door as they exited.

She was on her own.

Almost.

The bead-zombies remained standing on either side of her, like frighteningly detailed statues. Dakota realized, with a start, that neither Moss nor Bourdain had yet given them any orders, and without directions they were about as dangerous as a pair of well-muscled vegetables. She sat there frozen for a couple of seconds more, filled with sick fascination at the steady rise and fall of the zombies’ chests as they hovered beside her. As they would wait, for ever, or until instructed to go elsewhere.

Dakota stood up carefully, ready to bolt if either of them so much as twitched a non-sentient muscle in her direction. A wave of nausea swept over her and she leaned against the back of her chair just in time to stop herself from collapsing.

‹Systems indicate,› the Piri Reis informed her, ‹that you might require medical attention.›

The bead-zombies remained as impassive as ever.

Thank you, Piri. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You saved my life.

‹Comment noted.›

Can you please, please get me out of here?

‹It may take several seconds. The local security systems have a high level of encryptions

Somewhere inside Bourdain’s Rock, the Piri’s offensive routines were subordinating the systems that ran the asteroid’s primary computer networks, forcing them to channel erroneous information to Bourdain’s technical staff.

Even so, it wouldn’t take Bourdain long to realize that Dakota was the cause of it all.

She went to the door and tugged at it experimentally, unsurprised to find it locked. Come on, Piri.

‹Please wait. Please wait. Please-›

She rattled the handle for the tenth time in as many seconds, and suddenly the door swung open. She peered out into the corridor beyond, knowing her problems were far from over. All she’d done was find her way out of his office. Now she had to get past Bourdain’s security set-up, and safely off the asteroid itself, and that was going to be an entirely different challenge.

She touched her lips and her hand came away sticky with blood. Dakota closed her eyes and thought hard. If she tried to find her way back to Piri in her present battered state, she’d just be making herself easier for Bourdain’s security to spot.

A frantic search located a bathroom some way along the corridor outside Bourdain’s office, but fresh despair filled her when she saw herself in one of the mirrors. Blood smeared her mouth and chin from having bitten her tongue.

She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and soaked it under a tap, then began cleaning the gore off her face, her hands shaking so badly she kept dropping the tissue, cursing as she bent down to retrieve it. And all the while, she pictured Bourdain or Moss coming back to look for her, while she stood here defenceless.

A few moments of effort and she still looked deathly pale. Not the best image to present, but it would have to do. Fortunately her dark t-shirt made the bloodstains less noticeable.

She edged through the door at the far end of the corridor and found the party was still in full swing. She waited a moment, composing herself, then stepped forward, fresh neurochem flooding into her bloodstream. By a miracle there was no obvious sign of either Bourdain or Moss.