Ravachol knew that he had a natural affinity with robots and their programming, but whoever had authored the code on the doctrina wafers that comprised the Kaban machine's systems was an order of magnitude beyond him. He doubted it was Adept Chrom, who, though brilliant in other regards, appeared to have little or no interest in the field of integrated battle wetware.
- 'What did you do?' he said. 'Sweet blessed mother of invention, what did you do?'
-'You said they were going to kill you,' said the machine.
Ravachol picked himself up and took a hesitant step forwards, unwilling to move closer to the blood-drenched portion of the chamber where the Protectors had died. The Kaban machine's weapons settled back down into their scaffold mounts and Ravachol took a deep breath as his racing heartbeat began to slow.
- 'You killed them,' he said, as though still unwilling to believe the evidence of his own senses. 'You killed them all.'
- 'Yes,' agreed the machine. 'They were going to kill my friend and that made them my enemies. I took action to neutralise them.'
- 'Neutralise them,' gasped Ravachol. 'That's a bit of an understatement. You... obliterated them.'
- 'Rendering them neutralised,' pointed out the machine.
Ravachol looked into the glowing sensory blisters of the machine and saw nothing but the cold, incalculable mystery of a brain that had no right to exist and would one day turn on its masters as it was even now turning on him.
'Goodbye, Pallas,' said the machine, aiming its weapons at him.
He closed his eyes and his world ended in fire.