-~ That depends on what you try to do. If you try to warn them, you drop down dead, or become paralysed, or undergo a fit, or start babbling nonsense, or become catatonic. The choice is mine; whatever might arouse the least suspicion in the circumstances.
My. Can you do all that?
I’m afraid so, son. All just part of the instruction set. I know what you’re going to say before you say it, Quil. Literally. It’s only just before, but that’s enough; I think pretty quickly in here. But Quil, I wouldn’t take pleasure in doing any of that. And I don’t think I’m going to have to. You’re not telling me you just thought of all this?
-~ No. No, I thought of it a long time ago. I just wanted to wait until now to ask you, in case it spoiled our close relationship, Huyler.
-~ You are going to do it, aren’t you? I won’t have to take over, will I?
I haven’t really had those hours of grace at the beginning and end of each day at all, have I? You’ve been watching all the time to make sure I didn’t give any sign to them, just in case I had already changed my mind.
-~ Would you believe me if I told you that you did have that time without me watching?
No.
Well, it doesn’t really matter anyway. But, as you might imagine, I will be listening in from now on, until the end. Quilan, again; you are going to do it, aren’t you? I won’t have to take over, will I? Yes, I’m going to do it. No, you won’t have to take over.
Well done, son. It is truly hateful, but it does have to be done. And it will all be over soon, for both of us.
And many more besides. All right then. Here we go.
He had made six successful Displacements in a row within the mock-up of the Hub which had been constructed within the station orbiting the sun-moon of the airsphere. Six successes out of six attempts. He could do it. He would do it.
They stood within the mock-up of the observation gallery, faces lit by the image of an image. Visquile explained the thinking behind his mission.
‘We understand that in a few months’ time the Hub Mind of Masaq’ Orbital will mark the passing of the light from the two exploding stars that gave the Twin Novae Battle of the Idiran War its name.
Visquile stood very close to Quilan. The broad band of light – a simulation of the image that he would see when he really stood in the viewing gallery of Masaq’ Orbital Hub – seemed to pass in one of the Estodien’s ears and out the other. Quilan fought the urge to laugh, and concentrated on listening intently to what the older male was saying.
‘The Mind that is now that of Masaq’ Hub was once embodied within a warship which played a major part in the Idiran War. It had to destroy three Culture Orbitals during the same battle to prevent them falling into enemy hands. It will commemorate the battle, and the two stellar explosions in particular, when the light of first one and then the other passes through the system Masaq’ lies within.
‘You must gain access to the Hub and make the Displacement before the second nova. Do you understand, Major Quilan?’
‘I do, Estodien.’
‘The destruction of the Hub will be timed to coincide with the real-space light from the second nova arriving at Masaq’. It will therefore appear that the Hub Mind destroyed itself in a fit of contrition due to its guilty conscience over the actions it was responsible for during the Idiran War. The death of the Hub Mind and the humans will look like a tragedy, not an outrage. The souls of those Chelgrians held in limbo by the dictates of honour and piety will be released into heaven. The Culture will suffer a blow that will affect every Hub, every Mind, every human. We will have our numerical revenge and no more, but we will have that extra satisfaction that costs no more lives, only the additional discomfiture of our enemies, the people who, in effect, carried out an unprovoked surprise attack on us. Do you see, Quilan?’
‘I see, Estodien.’
‘Watch, Major Quilan.’
‘I’m watching, Estodien.’
They had quit the orbiting space station. He and Visquile were in the two-person runabout. The two alien drones were in a slightly larger cone-shaped black-body craft alongside.
One of the ancient space station’s pressurised containment
vessels had suffered a carefully contrived blowout which looked
exactly like a chance catastrophe due to long-term neglect. It started to fall away on an altered orbit, its new heading taking it quickly towards the vast outpouring of energies erupting from the airsphere-facing side of the sun-moon.
They watched for a while. The station curved closer and closer to the edge of the invisible light column. The little runabout’s head-up display printed a line across the canopy for each of them, showing where that edge was. Just before the station encountered the column’s perimeter, Visquile said, ‘That last warhead was not a dummy, Major. It was the real thing. The other end of the wormhole is located possibly inside the sun-moon itself, or pos- sibly inside something very like it, a long way away. The energies involved will be very similar to what will happen to Masaq’ Hub. That is why we are here rather than anywhere else.’
The station never quite hit the edge of the light column. An instant before it would have, its slowly spinning, erratically configured shape was replaced with a shockingly, blindingly bright blast of light which caused the runabout’s canopy to black out over half its area. Quilan’s eyes closed instinctively. The after-image burned behind his eyelids, yellow and orange. He heard Visquile grunt. Around them, the small runabout hummed and clicked and whined.
When he opened his eyes only the after-image was still there, glowing orange against the anonymous black of space and jumping ahead of his gaze every time he shifted it about, trying, in vain, to see what might be left of the stricken, tumbling space station.
There.
That looked good to me. I think you’ve done it. Well done, Quil.
‘There,’ Tersono said, placing a ring of red light onto the screen, over a group of lakes in one continent. ‘That is where the Stullien Bowl is. The venue for tomorrow’s concert.’ The drone turned to the avatar. ‘Is everything ready for the concert, Hub?’
The avatar shrugged. ‘Everything except the composer.’
‘Oh! I’m sure he is just teasing us,’ Tersono said quickly. Its aura field positively shone with ruby light. ‘Of course Cr Ziller will be there. How could he not be? He’ll be there. I’m quite certain.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Kabe rumbled.
‘No, he will! I’m quite positive.’
Kabe turned to the Chelgrian. ‘You will be taking up your invitation, won’t you, Major Quilan? … Major?’
‘What? Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Of course.’
‘Well,’ Kabe said, nodding massively, ‘they’ll find somebody else to conduct, I dare say.’
The major seemed distracted, Kabe thought. Then he seemed to pull himself together. ‘Well, no,’ he said, looking to each of them in turn. ‘If my presence is really going to prevent Mahrai Ziller from attending his own first night then of course I’ll stay away.
‘Oh no!’ Tersono said, aura flushing briefly blue. ‘There’s no need for that. No, not at all; I’m sure that Cr Ziller has every intention of being there. He may leave it until the last moment before he sets off, but set off he will, I’m quite positive. Please, Major Quilan, you must be there for the concert. Ziller’s first symphony in eleven years, the first ever premi~re outside Chel, you, coming all this way, you two the only Chelgrians for millennia … You must be there. It will be the experience of a lifetime!’
Quilan looked steadily at the drone for a moment. ‘I think Mahrai Ziller’s presence at the concert is of more importance than mine. To go knowing that I would be keeping him away would be a selfish, impolite and even dishonourable act, don’t you think? But please, let’s talk no more of it.’
He left the airsphere the next day. Visquile saw him off from the little landing stage behind the giant hollowed-out husk which had provided their quarters.
Quilan thought the older male seemed distracted. ‘Is everything all right, Estodien?’ he asked.
Visquile looked at him. ‘No,’ he said, after what looked like a little thought. ‘No, we had an intelligence update this morning and our wizards of counter-espionage have come up with two pieces of worrying news rather than the more common single bombshell; it appears that not only do we have a spy amongst our number, but also there may be a Culture citizen here somewhere in the airsphere.’ The Estodien rubbed the top of his silver stave, frowning at his distorted reflection there. ‘One might have hoped they could have told us these things earlier, but I suppose later is better than never.’ Visquile smiled. ‘Don’t look so worried, Major, I’m sure everything is still under control. Or soon will be.’