"It sure is a lot of bark, ain't it?" Saturday comments to Guts, cheerfully. "I wonder how much bite it even has without someone else's hands an' skill. Can it even do anything unless you're wearin' it?"
"An' I don't think you ever will be free, is the thing," she says, switching her attention back to the animal straining at its leash. "You're pretty well stuck to that armor, aintcha? Must drive you crazy, knowin' your fate ain't yours to decide. Just a servant, a slave, bound to a thing that could easily be destroyed or lost or forgotten. No wonder you lose your head when you get a little freedom."
The hint of sympathy there isn't feigned. It's an evil thing, all hate and bile and death, but - everything wants to be free, to be able to choose. To fight or run, live or die, kill or be killed. Struggle or give in. Even things that can't be allowed to go free. Just one of those funny little cosmic jokes.
"But you know," she continues. "This ain't the time to stage a rebellion. Take a look around next time you're on the rig. The people here, we could make short work of you; you're nothing we haven't seen before. Maybe you were the baddest bitch in town back in Gut's metaplane, but here? First time you cause problems, you're gone," she says, with a snap of her fingers. "Ripped into so much astral debris, or dropped in a hole so deep you ain't never gettin' out. Stop an' think," she tells it. "You're savage, but I don't think you're stupid."
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"An' I don't think you ever will be free, is the thing," she says, switching her attention back to the animal straining at its leash. "You're pretty well stuck to that armor, aintcha? Must drive you crazy, knowin' your fate ain't yours to decide. Just a servant, a slave, bound to a thing that could easily be destroyed or lost or forgotten. No wonder you lose your head when you get a little freedom."
The hint of sympathy there isn't feigned. It's an evil thing, all hate and bile and death, but - everything wants to be free, to be able to choose. To fight or run, live or die, kill or be killed. Struggle or give in. Even things that can't be allowed to go free. Just one of those funny little cosmic jokes.
"But you know," she continues. "This ain't the time to stage a rebellion. Take a look around next time you're on the rig. The people here, we could make short work of you; you're nothing we haven't seen before. Maybe you were the baddest bitch in town back in Gut's metaplane, but here? First time you cause problems, you're gone," she says, with a snap of her fingers. "Ripped into so much astral debris, or dropped in a hole so deep you ain't never gettin' out. Stop an' think," she tells it. "You're savage, but I don't think you're stupid."