“Hello again, Mr. Wren,” Number One said.

CHAPTER EIGHTY:

Number One

It was just as unsettling as I remembered, being the subject of her indifferent predator gaze. I smiled up at her as brightly as I could. “Long time no see.”

“You have something you want,” One said. “Speak.”

God bless the patience of an immortal. A human would’ve probably killed me by now. “Well, I had a long thought while I was taking a walk through this ship,” I said. “You know, thinking about life, the universe, surviving, all that. And what I realized, especially after seeing you guys in the other room—really impressive, by the way, are any of you even hurt?—what I realized was that if I want to survive this ship, I need to be on your side.”

She just looked at me, patient, unspeaking.

Okay, I was going to have to hold her hand as I brought her to my point. “I want to help you find the Philosopher Stone,” I said. “I’ve read Mara Zhu’s notes; I understand why you need it. And I’ve read Mara Zhu’s notes, so I know where it is and how to get to it. Keep me alive, and I’ll help you.”

I smiled up at her while she gazed down at me, ultraviolet and silent.

Then she descended, swooping down to crouch before me on the ground, and the cold strong fingers of one hand closed around my chin claw-like. I was held, inescapable, for her intent perusal of my face.

She said, “You’ve changed.”

I was uneasily certain that she could see the Dreamer-bots crawling around beneath my skin, gathering in the corner of my eyes like tears. I tried to smile again but found her nails in the way. “I’ve learned that lesson you told me about,” I said, and prayed she did not see through me. “I’m alone. I need to look after myself first.”

“You’ve only learned half the lesson,” One said, and released my face. She stood up again, and she was not tall, but with me on the floor she towered. “You think you are cleverer than you are, Mr. Wren. I believe you have some mad plan now.”

I wasn’t going to have the rest of this conversation on the floor. I shifted to stand, and beneath the thick layer of dust my knuckles brushed something solid. I glanced over to see what I had touched and found myself frozen.

Eye sockets black, head-dome colored sunset-orange by the nearness of the Orange Minister to my right, there was a skull on the floor.

It was not the only bone on the floor: fading into invisibility beneath the dust, outside of the light of the Ministers’ collars, I saw the color-stained arcs of other bones still lying in the same order they’d been in when their bearer had died. There had been nothing alive in Lab 17 to disturb their order, after all.

When I looked around I saw other bodies, skulls grinning and ribs curving, lying on the ground beneath the shroud of dust, lined up in neat rows as far back into the room as I could see. It was a somber room, doors at all four walls, and empty except for the bones. So this was where the other scientists had died. When I’d run into this room and Green had caught me, she’d thrown me to the floor between the bodies.