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the device. “As you said, subroutines in the ship’s running will have become dependent on it. We could get the ship to relocate its temporary files first. If control could be passed back to the ship, that device could be safely disconnected. Can you go into mindlock with it?”
    “There is no ‘we’ involved. You will not be a party to my control.”
    “Ah, but if you were to allow me to assist...”
    “Be silent!” Jed turned her head away from him and watched the opposite wall. “Filth.”
    “I’m as much a passenger as you.”
    Jed spared the bridge, and the navigation console in particular, an uneasy glance. “This Taggart, was he religious? Did he have inflamed political opinions?”
    “He never gave any indication of a political bias, if he did have one. I believe he was a REMainderist.”
    “The beliefs of REMainderism are compatible with Pagan Atheism, and that is the most widespread spiritual philosophy,” Jed puzzled.
    “You are worried that the ship will be used as a missile. I don’t believe Taggart would have done that. He did have a mild religion, but I never got any vibes that he was obsessive about it. And besides, he planned to accompany the ship on this course.”
    “Yes, but he’s dead now.”
    Wolff suddenly laughed. “Unless he saw his own death through some portent of clairvoyance, and wrote the course as a posthumous vengeance mission.”
    “What is an ink cloud virus?” Jed asked at length.
    “An ink cloud.” Wolff cast his gaze toward the ceiling, tipping up his chin, and interlocked his fingers. “There’s a legendary species of aquatic animals, called cephalopods, supposedly from Earth. When they are startled, they release a cloud of ink into the water and jet away so an attacker cannot see which direction they have run in. I wrote a remote program that sends its commands into another computer in order to confuse or mislead it, or cause it to act in an unpredictable manner. It can, for example, blind the navigational systems of a ship to the approach of another ship, or fool airlock and partition doors into conflict lock. Or even screw up on-board surveillance equipment.”
    Jed glared at the man. She hated his cajoling, patronising parlance. How could a low-caste idiot have such a propensity for making her feel stupid? Wolff held eye contact with her, pushing her almost to the limit with his impassive yet somehow threatening stare. Why hadn’t she shot him? Jed felt a strong temptation to go for her weapon and finish the matter there, unsportsman-like or not.
    “Well, then, Jed, that is my story. Got anything to eat on this ship, other than drugs?”
    “The evasive insinuation being that your wish is to eat it?”
    “Well, naturally. What else am I to do with it?”
    “Indirect and excursive speech is evidence of weak resolve.”
    “Then humour yourself with that fact, Archer, if you so wish. I care not of my resolve. However, I hunger and do care about where my next meal is coming from.”
    Jed forced herself to think. Why should she waste rations on this idiot? But food was not expensive, and it was hardly a scarce commodity aboard the Shamrock , and there was no reason to give him greater motive for killing her. “Move,” she ordered. “Recall the way to the upper cargo bay beneath the terminus? Go there.”
    She followed the man through the corridors. Jed felt the cold of the unheated storage chamber. Before with the fortification of adrenaline and conurin it hadn’t been so apparent. She folded her arms across her chest. The low temperature didn’t seem to bother Wolff.
    They passed the crate behind which he had hidden. He lowered himself first. Jed watched him step away from the rungs and look up with an eyebrow raised in a sardonic fashion she didn’t much care for.
    “Now back away from the ladder.”
    Wolff took two steps backward and was lost from her vision beneath the floor. Without hesitation she stepped over the edge, breaking her impact with