Even the servants didn’t seem to be normal. Most of them were meek-looking human women, who smoothly stepped aside and bowed as we passed. But they all seemed suspiciously athletic to me, with subtle sensor baffling that made it hard to be sure what mods they had. The traditional maid uniforms they wore would be easy to fight in, and offered plenty of ways to hide small weapons or tools.
Not that I was going to be fighting anyone in a formal kimono, anyway. The skirt came down almost to my ankles, and it was tight enough that I had to take small steps. It was silk, too, and while the butterfly pattern I’d chosen might be pretty the outfit was worthless as armor. Emla was better off in that respect, since her skinsuit was designed to double as both a uniform and light combat armor. But I had no illusions that her pistol and smoke dispensers would be enough to handle the kind of trouble we could run into here.
I had to keep this friendly, no matter what.
Our guide led us to an antechamber that looked like a lounge, where eight inugami waited for their master. Only one of them stood by the door, while the others were spread about the couches and overstuffed chairs that filled the room. Just what I’d expected, and Emla took up her position in the empty spot by the door smoothly.
Little touches like that were important, if I was going to pull this off.
My eyes met hers for a moment as I passed, and I sent her a burst of encouragement. The garden was sealed against all forms of communication, so we’d be separated for as long as I was in there. I knew that would be hard for her, but she replied with a wordless burst of confident determination.
Good. The other guards would probably push her some, to see if they could get her to show weakness or do something ‘inappropriate’. But I’d briefed her pretty well, and compiled the results of my research on Masu-kai etiquette into a skill pack for her so she wouldn’t forget anything. She’d be fine. Now I just had to hold up my end of things.
I’d feel more confident about that if I didn’t keep surprising myself. I hadn’t even known I could make skill packs until the need had come up. I hadn’t known I had a personal livery, either. But when Azalea had asked about the color scheme and insignia for Emla’s snazzy new uniform, somehow I’d known exactly what I wanted. Black uniform, silver trim, with little draconic skulls on the lapels and a geometric splash of red on the right shoulder that sort of reminded me of a flower. Very military, and she looked really sharp in it.
There was probably a clue about my origins in there, but a datanet search had turned up more than half a million matches. Supposedly there was some famous Old Earth army that had dressed sort of like that back in the 20th century, and lots of people imitated the look. I’d have to sort through them sometime when I didn’t have my hands full with more urgent problems.
The entrance to the Hungry Garden was a long hallway with sliding doors every couple of meters, which automatically opened as I got close and slid shut again behind me. Each of them was made of armor a couple of cems thick, and the whole hall had sensors like a security checkpoint. But the main purpose of the setup was probably decontamination. The air was swarming with microbots, and so was every exposed surface. I was pretty sure they were all working together with the air purifiers in the walls to keep any stray nanotech or bioweapons from being tracked out of the garden.
I stepped through the last door into the bright yellow light of a G2 star, a perfect imitation of mankind’s lost home.
The garden was huge. Easily a couple of hectares, all of it covered with artful arrangements of exotic plants. Little wooden walkways snaked through the greenery, elevated a few inches above the soil and kept immaculately clean. Here and there I saw bridges arching over narrow brooks, and pools filled with brightly colored fish. Overhead was an amazingly convincing illusion of a clear blue sky, with a few tufts of white cloud here and there.
“Welcome to the Garden of Repose, Honored Guest. Lord Akio awaits you at the Delicate Spring Pavilion. Shall I lead the way?”
“Yes, please.”
It was a good thing Freesia had warned me about the servants here, or I would have stared. The maid who’d greeted me had by far the most extreme morph job I’d ever seen. She was a naga, with the body of a giant snake from the waist down. A really big snake. She had six arms, too, and a forked tongue in a mouth full of serrated teeth that reminded me of a shark.
She and the rest of her tribe were part of the garden. They lived in here, tending the plants and catering to visitors, but they were as much a trap as the rest of it. Everything about them was dangerous, from their poisoned fangs and claws to the long lines of retractable spikes that extended along their snake half. Their predatory instincts were overwhelmingly powerful, and keyed into the garden’s IFF system just like all the plants. To the Hoshida family they were as loyal as puppies, but any intruder who lost their scent badge would be attacked in an instant.
Freesia had confided that the first of the naga were survivors from some group of rivals that Lord Hoshida had wanted to make an example of. But that was decades ago, and they’d been brainwashed and rebuilt so extensively even they didn’t remember the details anymore. The younger ones had been born here in the garden. Or maybe hatched. I wasn’t sure how that worked for them, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask.
I followed my guide through a maze of plants whose names I didn’t know. Some of them might not even have names, if this was the only place they existed. A lot of the flowers seemed perfectly harmless, although I was sure they’d turn out to be poisonous or hypnotic or something if I put it to the test. Other hazards were easier to spot. Trees with limbs that could animate, and creeper vines that would drop off of overhead branches to entangle me. Grass that could cut like a vibroblade, or secrete corrosive chemicals. Bushes that could launch volleys of sharp thorns, or acted as nests for swarms of flying insects.
Underlying the perfume of the flowers was a faint hint of other things. A few stray molecules of exotic poisons and airborne drugs, and dozens of kinds of ‘pollen’ that was actually made of micromachines loaded up with nanotech threats. The scents were interesting, though. There was a rich blend of aromatic chemicals too subtle for a human nose to pick out, that constantly varied like some kind of invisible music. My badge generated its own signature too. Not a simple echo or challenge-response scheme, but something more complicated. There was a give and take to it that reminded me of dancing with Kavin.
I wasn’t about to mess with that, but it made an interesting accompaniment to the tour of the garden that my guide was giving me. She had her own scent signature, and so did each of the plants, but they were all different. Idly, I worked at cataloguing the whole symphony as I walked.
Eventually we came around a bend, and arrived at a wooden platform overlooking a large pond. Sakura trees in full bloom shaded most of the polished wood surface, and the flowering bushes that surrounded them gave the place a secluded feel. Akio sat at a low table on the far side, gazing into the pond.