“It is very important you tell me what happened in Triton,” said Pearce, wiping his brow with a pale handkerchief.

The cool, collected individual of the previous day had disappeared, replaced by a man sweating with anxiety and the flash of suppressed panic in his eyes. He was pacing back and forth across the table from where she sat, clenching and unclenching his fists. Keri had never felt such a threat of immediate violence before.

Beneath that, however, and beneath the fear that came with it, she realised that she felt pleased. Triumphant. The space of a day had not been good to the man: he wore the same pitch-black suit as before, only now it was crumpled, creased, collar loose as if he hadn't slept for the entire time. She was sure it was only the perfect darkness of the suit that hid sweat patches. His evident distress caused her to smile inwardly.

“Triton?” she said, feigning incomprehension. “What on earth is Triton? I'm sorry, I don't know what you’re talking about.”

She barely tried to hide the smirk from her face as the man grew angrier.

“We know you went there,” he snarled.

“Oh, really?” asked Keri in her most infuriating tone. “So you do have us on the cams, then?”

Pearce’s glare grew hot enough to melt glass.

“No, we do not,” he growled. “But we have other ways of finding a person, even if they can manipulate the security feeds. All it took was a little old-fashioned… police work.”

“But you're not police, are you?” said Keri, tongue rolling not over the unusual word. “You're more like… mall cops.”

She enjoyed the man's look, annoyance giving way to puzzlement, and smiled when he was forced to bring up his corps to check the reference.

Cassandra had been teaching her about law enforcement back in the pre-Butcher era. Well, about a lot of things in the pre-Butcher era, law enforcement being one of them. The descriptions of a time of what amounted to rampant criminality, the lack of any decent surveillance, the crudeness of the global network that would one day give birth to the spheres, Cassandra’s descriptions evoked a time Keri could hardly imagine.

Keri had been amazed to see the change in the woman’s face when she talked about this period; this was her area of interest, and one well-studied. Keri had listened intently, caught up in the enthusiasm Cassandra showed. She learned a lot as well, captivated by Cassandra’s conviction that many of the seeds of the current era had been planted then, before the Butchers.

It also explained the archaic yet admittedly effective bad language Cassandra used.

“Aha, yes, very funny,” said Pearce in dry tones, deactivating his corps and looking at her with a cold expression. “You realise, of course, that your very absence from any security footage means your presence here has also gone unrecorded? In other words, nobody knows you are here.”

A single eyebrow arched as he spoke this thinly-veiled threat, and she spotted his irritation when she did not show the slightest trace of fear.

“Now, Ms. Deven, it really would go better for you if you would just cooperate. You want to get out of here, don't you? It can't be fun, stuck down there with a bunch of analogues. Just tell us what happened in Triton, and we'll let you go.”

“With the data sphere?” she asked.

Again, a flash of impatience across his face.

“I really don't have time for this. Now, tell me what I want to hear or I swear you will regret it.”

Pearce slammed two fists onto the table, making it shake.

“Where is the man you know as Kilgore?”

Keri was actually surprised by this, for a moment.

“Oh, you know him? Is that why you want to know about Triton? What could you possibly need from him?”

Pearce said nothing, not taking his gaze from hers.

“Unless… you can't open the data sphere, can you?” She laughed. “Ha! You don't know how to access it!”

“What happened down there?” Pearce demanded, ignoring her. “What could possibly smash that huge machine to pieces and crack an airlock?”

“Oh, it cracked an airlock open?” said Keri. “Really? It is strong.”

Pearce glared at her.

“What's strong?” he hissed.

“You really should be getting ready,” she said, not hiding her amusement now. “It'll be here soon.”

Pearce sighed in exasperation, turning away for a moment and closing his eyes as he muttered something under his breath.

“What will be here soon?” he said, smacking the table once more. He brought his face close to hers.

“The Butcher,” she said. “The same Butcher that has come for the sphere three times now. I wouldn't get in its way, if I were you.”

Pearce drew back.

“A Butcher? Don't be ridiculous!”

He sighed, smoothing his suit down and recomposing himself.

“Very well, maybe a day or so in our ‘special’[1] holding cell will…”

Keri looked up towards the ceiling at the same time as he did, towards the source of the noise that was now drowning out any hope of continuing the conversation. The surface pulsed, pushing out waves of blaring sound, repetitive and jarring.

“Oh,” said Keri. “Is that the alarm? Probably best you start running.”

[1] The way he said it, you could hear the quotation marks.