Strata

of red glows around him suited his vision. He saw a shape a few metres away, eclipsing a constellation on the floor.
    ‘The bear thing is here. She is breathing.’
    ‘Marco,’ said the air. ‘I don’t know how good I am at this thing. You’ll have to help. Don’t move.’
    The air stirred in front of the kung, and there was a knife. Three of Marco’s hands caught it before it hit the ground. In the red light, he stared dully at the jewel-encrusted handle.
    ‘Don’t waste time,’ said the ape voice. ‘I want you to cut a piece out of Silver. Don’t be too enthusiastic. Hide will do, but the flesh would be better.’
    Memories were dripping into Marco’s mind. He looked at the knife, then thought about Silver.
    ‘Not on your life,’ he said flatly.
    ‘Do it. The next knife will arrive at speed if you don’t, and you’d better believe me.’
    With a roar of rage and frustration Marco bounded forward and slashed at Silver’s arm. The big body may have quivered slightly.
    ‘That’ll do. The blood on the knife will do. Let go the knife, Marco. Let go of the knife. Let-go-of-the-knife.’
    Marco was thirsty. He hadn’t eaten in memory. His skin itched in the warm dry air. He was damned if he’d let go of a weapon. If he thought about it at all, that was what he thought.
    ‘Okay. We’ll do it the hard way.’
    There was just something about the voice that made Marco loose his grip on the handle.Thus it was that, when the knife popped out of existence, it merely stripped the flesh of his palm instead of taking his hand off at the wrist.
    Methodically he gripped his wrist to stop the blood flow, and let the pain batter outside his brain. He was still staring at the wound when a rush of air and a thump made him look up.
    Something long and bloody was lying on the floor beside Silver. And the shand’s arm was moving slowly. It fumbled around the meat, gripped it, pulled it dreamily to a mouth strung with saliva.
    Silver ate.
    ‘Where are we?’ said Marco at last.
    Kin’s voice said, ‘I’m not entirely sure. Are you okay?’
    ‘I should like a drink. And some food. You had me slice the shand to get a protein sample?’
    ‘Yes. Don’t move.’
    Something like a squashy bulb of water appeared beside Marco, and bounced limply on the floor. He picked it up and bit into it with shameful haste.
    ‘Food now,’ said Kin. Another bulb, filled with red sludge, rolled obscenely across the floor. Marco tried it. It tasted like solid boredom.
    ‘It’s the best I can manage,’ said Kin. ‘About the only damage you did was upset the disc master’s dumbwaiter circuits. I’ve got robots repairing them, but until then the menu can just about manage to be unexciting.’
    ‘Silver has fared better,’ said Marco indistinctly.
    ‘I told you I hadn’t got time for niceties,’ said Kin. ‘She’s eating shand, cultured from her own cells. Don’t ask me how it was done in seconds, I only gave the order. It might be an idea not to tell her, though.’
    ‘Yes. You are in a position of influence?’
    ‘You could say that.’
    ‘Good.
Get me out of here!
’
    There was a pause. Then he heard Kin say, ‘I’ve been giving a lot of thought to that.’
    ‘
You’ve been giving a lot of thought to it?
’
    ‘Yes. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to it. You’re in a sort of hold-for-study chamber. There’s no way in or out except by teleportation, and if you knew what I know about that you’d rather stay in there and starve. I daren’t cut in in case you’re harmed. So, all things considered …’
    A long shape exploded into being a metre from Marco, and landed heavily. He picked it up and looked at it suspiciously.
    ‘It looks like an industrial molecule stripper,’ he said.
    ‘It is. I suggest you use it with caution.’
    Marco grimaced in the hellish light and pointed the thing.
    A section of chamber wall became a fine fog. He switched off hastily, and looked round for Silver.
    The shand was kneeling, holding her head.
    ‘How do you feel?’ said Marco, in a concerned tone. He held the stripper lightly, not quite pointing it at Silver. The shand squinted at him vaguely.
    ‘Odd things been happening …’ she began.
    Marco helped her to her feet, a more or less token gesture since she weighed ten times his weight – and he needed one hand to keep the stripper not quite pointing at her.
    ‘Right now, can you walk?’
    She could stagger. Marco peered out of the chamber, into a dimly-lit