“Probably not, but I haven’t ruled her out yet.”

“You can’t arrest her. Didn’t the Artificial tell you this?”

“How am I supposed to fix this case if she won’t cooperate?”

Malaika exhales, long-suffering. “Luckily for me, I don’t care, because it’s not my job. It’s your job, therefore you are the one who needs to know. Negotiate, cajole, beg, but fulfil your mission. Understand, Fin, we don’t want to become another Nightshade. The Ragtime cargo has experts in many fields and a boost to genetic diversity that we are keen to integrate into Bloodroot.”

Fin misses hunting aliens. “I hate working with humans.”

“The way I heard it, humans hate working with you, Fin. Get it done. Mission Control out.”

At least he’s had a lot of practice apologising.

Salvo and Campion have not moved. She is doing that thing with her fingers again.

“I’m sorry, Captain Campion,” says Fin. “I really am. Can we start over?”

For a moment she does not react, then she nods. “Ragtime, cool temperature five degrees C.”

“What do we do about this?” Fin points to the blood seeping out from under the lab door.

“You two will go in and count the heads, as planned. It’ll be messy work, especially without the bots, which will need individual debugging.”

“Why were you asleep, Captain? We’re in the middle of a crisis,” says Fin.

“Because if I don’t rest, I’ll make a mistake and Ragtime will crash into Bloodroot. You investigate. I’ll try and keep us alive, otherwise it won’t matter.” She softens her tone and Fin supposes that is as conciliatory as it gets with her.

When they’re finished, both Salvo and Fin are covered in blood again. Fin’s muscles hum with fatigue and the two of them sit together on the floor, backs to the wall, admiring their handiwork. The bodies are no longer a jumble of parts. They have order, although it still looks like a wild chainsaw ripped through a lawn party.

“Well, that’s not right,” says Fin. They checked three times, recounting.

“Maybe the bots left some parts elsewhere?” says Salvo. Fin talks to the sphere. “Campion.”

Campion’s voice is tinny. “Campion here. Go ahead.”

“We don’t have enough bodies.”

Chapter Eight

Ragtime: Shell