War Factory: Transformations Book Two Read Online Free PDF

caution. ”
    “ Sure, ” I continued, “ his kind of firepower would be handy to have around when we finally catch up with Penny Royal, but he was the Warden of Masada .”
    “ And would only accompany us to look out for Polity interests? ”
    “ You nailed it. ”
    “ You don’t know Amistad’s history. ”
    “You needn’t concern yourself, Thorvald Spear,” Amistad interrupted. “I intend to remain here.”
    “So what is it about the word ‘private’ that escapes you, Amistad?” I asked.
    “Old habits.” The big scorpion drone waved a dismissive claw. “Anyway, I may no longer be the Warden of Masada but it could be that my older skills will be required here. Look.”
    Another data packet arrived in my aug, this time from Amistad. I treated this with more caution, then wondered why I trusted stuff sent by Riss so much more. I opened the packet and found another audiovisual file.
    “There was no data from inside the building until I could once again utilize my resources,” Amistad stated.
    I was seeing the inside of that tubular flute-grass building from multiple viewpoints—a confusion of perspectives I was only able to encompass using my aug. The massive albino hooder, the Technician, lay stretched out within and, as I watched, the Weaver moved ponderously inside and loped down the length of it to halt beside its spoon-shaped head. Next in came the smaller hooder that had been Isobel Satomi. It swarmed into the building then up onto the Technician’s back. About halfway along it halted, spreading out its legs to clamp itself to its larger brethren. Nothing appeared to happen for a while, then I spotted “Isobel’s” legs melding in place and a smoky meniscus spreading out from this connection. It spread to wrap around both the Technician and the smaller hooder—a cocoon.
    “At this point,” said Amistad, “we have this.”
    A sub-packet, which annoyingly I had missed, opened. It was neither audio nor visual—just hard AI data—and difficult for my aug to interpret for my soft human brain. After a moment, I got it. I was seeing energy readings, data handshaking and molecular activity ramping up inside the Technician.
    “I have to stay here and monitor the situation,” Amistad concluded as the file closed and then began to erase itself.
    I was fascinated, but it was a distant thing. Interesting and doubtless important events were occurring here, but they weren’t for me. These were merely the results of Penny Royal’s actions, but the AI itself was no longer here. And that AI was my focus—my reason for being.
    “Observe,” said Amistad, pointing a claw to the scene beyond.
    I turned to see the smaller hooder heading away from the Weaver, who was now standing just beyond the building. Even as this was happening, something chopped from side to side within that structure, tearing out the walls at one end. Having given itself some space, the Technician, repaired and resurrected by its smaller kin, flowed out into the Masadan morning.
    “I have to stay,” Amistad repeated with more emphasis.
    “Yes, I suppose you do,” I replied, turning away.
    My business was with Penny Royal.
    FATHER-CAPTAIN SVERL
    Perhaps the excitement some months ago had stimulated it, or perhaps it was responding to the ensuing months of waiting and watching, interspersed by frantic moments of action whenever Cvorn fired something into the Rock Pool system—or the tension of awaiting another such attack, which was long overdue. More likely it was just the result of some internal prador biological timer, but whatever the impetus, Father-Captain Sverl knew that he was about to experience another growth surge. His cysts of body fat had been growing rapidly over the last few weeks, and now he was shivering, feeling tight and gravid. He could feel pressure rises inside and, deep scanning his body, he could see hot spots, odd chemical reactions and growing dead areas.
    Next, gazing through the deep scanner at his tail,