Mika leant forwards. ‘There is no simple answer to that. The inactive nodes are easy to destroy—just drop them straight into a sun—but active Jain technology, especially when it has sequestered an intelligent mind . . .’ She stared at Cormac, looking grim. ‘You heard Chaline. It seemed as if the only successes the Makers had in destroying it were by planetary sterilization. And if it gets out of control within the Polity . . . well, there’s an old saying, something about killing the patient to cure the disease.’
There seemed little more to say after that. Cormac listened in half-attentively as the other two discussed recent research. His attention kept drifting to the spider-drone which periodically reared up against the panoramic window and rattled the tips of its legs there in an annoyingly grating manner. Finally D’nissan, then, shortly afterwards, Mika, departed. Cormac finished his brandy, stood, and began heading for the door.
Subliminally he observed the drone drop away from the window and head towards him. As he turned towards it and gazed at an array of red eyes and gleaming chrome pincers, the fact that such drones were not noted for their stability occurred to him, and he abruptly wished he had a weapon to hand.
Halting before him the drone said, ‘Hi, I’m Arach—I’ve been assigned to you.’
Cormac eyed it suspiciously, then made a query through his link: ‘Jerusalem, apparently a drone called Arach has been assigned to me!
‘He’s lying,’ Jerusalem replied. ‘He is very bored and feels you are his best bet for some action. I will send him elsewhere if you require.’
‘An ex-war drone that served in the Prador War? Perhaps I would be foolish to refuse?’ Cormac commented.
‘Perhaps you would,’ Jerusalem agreed.
To the drone, Cormac said, ‘I’ll summon you when I need you, Arach. Just make sure you are ready for . . . any eventualities.’
The drone did a little tappity dance on the carpet.
Cormac departed frowning.