oEccentric Shoot Them Later
Not a pleasant way to go. Your friend the Killing Time deserves congratulations, and probably merits therapy. However, as I’m sure it would point out, it is a warship. This implicates the Steely Glint; the Attitude Adjuster was its daughter and was demilitarised (supposedly) by it seventy years ago. I trust your friend will treat the SG’s subsequent operational suggestions with a degree of caution.
oo
Indeed. But then as it seems quite enthusiastically intent upon achieving a glorious death at the earliest possible opportunity anyway, it is hard to see what more the Steely Glint can do to place it in further jeopardy. Whatever; we must leave that machine to its own fate. My concern now is that the evidence for the conspiracy is starting to look pretty damning, even if it is still circumstantial. I suggest we go public.
oo
Implicating the Steely Glint while it is in charge of the military developments around the Excession will only make us look like the guilty parties. We must ask ourselves what we have to gain. The war fleet from Pittance is under way and must arrive there in any event; exposing the conspiracy will do nothing to challenge it. The best we might hope for would be the worst for the chances of resisting the Affront’s purpose; that is, the removal from influence and general disgrace of the Steely Glint and its co-conspirators. It pains me to say it, but I still think we must let this sub-sequence of events run its course before we can consider broadcasting our suspicions. Hold for now, and gather what more weight of evidence we might, the better to tip the scales with our accusations when the time does come.
oo
Frankly, I was hoping you would say that. My own instinct (if I may slur my intellect with such an archaic term) was to keep quiet but I suspected I was merely being timorous and so wanted to make the suggestion we publicise with a positive skew, so that you could not be infected by any undue reticence on my part. What of the volume around the E itself? Heard any more?
oo
Imbecile.
Last I heard regarding the Esperi thing itself there was no more news of the ZE’s Stargazers and the FATC was still recovering from the effects of its unexpected trip. Everybody else seems to have taken the hint and is hanging back. Well, except for the Affronter’s borrowed fleet and our old chum of course.
How are things in the realm of our three-legged friends?
Speaking personally, Screce Orbital is as pleasant as could be, and as devoutly un-militarised as one might wish a Peace faction world to be.
oo
No more news then.
Glad to hear Screce is so fair.
The Homomda are most accommodating and gracious hosts. I think I may have lost a couple of my Idiran crew members to the local pleasure-dens for the duration, but otherwise I have no complaints.
Stay safe. And peace, like they say, be with you.
XIV
The briefest of introductions completed, they stood facing each other in the circular room under the translucent dome. ‘So,’ Dajeil said, inspecting the other woman from toe to crown. ‘You’re his latest, are you?’
Ulver frowned. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘He’s mine.’
Dajeil looked as though she wasn’t sure how to answer that.
‘Ms Seich, welcome aboard the Jaundiced Outlook,” said a disembodied voice. ‘I’m sorry this is all so precipitate, but I have just received instructions from the Sleeper Service that you are to be evacuated aboard myself forthwith.’
‘Thank you,’ Ulver said, gazing round the room. ‘What about Churt Lyne?’
‘It has expressed a desire to stay aboard the Grey Area,’ the Jaundiced Outlook told her.
‘I thought those two were getting on suspiciously well,’ the girl muttered.
Dajeil looked like she wanted to ask something, but in the end said nothing. After a moment she stood up, putting her hand to the small of her back as she did so with a tiny grimace. She indicated the table to one side. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I was about to have dinner. Will you join me?’
‘I was about to have breakfast,’ Ulver said, and nodded. ‘Certainly.’
They sat at the table. Ulver held up the small book she’d been reading and which she still held in one hand. ‘I don’t want to be rude, but would you mind if I just finish this Chapter?’ she asked.
Dajeil smiled. ‘Not at all,’ she murmured. Ulver gave a winning smile and stuck her nose back in the slim volume.
‘Excuse me,’ said a small hoarse voice from the doorway. ‘What the fuck’s going on then?’
Dajeil looked over at the black bird Gravious. ‘We’re being evacuated,’ she told it. ‘You can live in the cellar. Now go away.’
‘Well thanks for your hospitality,’ the bird spluttered, turning and hopping down the winding stairs.
‘That yours?’ Ulver asked Dajeil.
‘Supposed to be a companion,’ the older woman said, shrugging. ‘Actually just a pain.’
Ulver nodded sympathetically and returned to her book.
Dajeil ordered food for two; a slave tray appeared with plates, bowls, jugs and goblets. A couple of floor-running servitors appeared and started clearing up the debris left by Ulver’s sudden Displacement from the Grey Area to the Jaundiced Outlook; the feather-light stuffing from the pillows proved a particular problem. The serving tray started arranging the place settings on the table and distributing the bowls of food; Dajeil watched this graceful, efficient display in silence. Ulver Seich gazed intently at the book and turned a page. Then a ship-slaved drone appeared. It floated by Dajeil’s shoulder. ‘Yes?’ she said.
‘We are now leaving the bay,’ the Jaundiced Outlook told her. ‘The journey to the GSV’s external envelope will take two and a half minutes.’
‘Oh. Right. Thank you,’ Dajeil said.
Ulver Seich looked up. ‘Would you ask the Grey Area to transfer my stuff here?’
‘That has already been accomplished,’ the drone said, already moving towards the stairs.
Ulver nodded again, put the book’s marker-ribbon into place, closed the volume and placed it by the side of her plate.
‘Well, Ms Gelian,’ she said, clasping her hands on the table. ‘It would appear we are to be travelling companions.’
‘Yes,’ Dajeil said. She started to serve herself some food. ‘Have you been with Byr long, Ms… Seich, wasn’t it?’ she asked.
Ulver nodded. ‘Only met him a few days ago. I was sent to try and stop him getting here. Didn’t work out. I ended up stuck on a tiny little module thing with him. Just us and a drone. For days. It was awful.’
Dajeil passed a couple of bowls over to Ulver. ‘Still,’ she said, smiling thinly, ‘I’m sure romance blossomed.’
‘Like hell,’ Ulver said, levering a few sunbread pieces from a bowl into her plate. ‘Couldn’t stand the man. Only slept with him the last couple of nights. Partially boredom, I suppose. All the same, he’s quite handsome. Bit of a charmer, really. I can see what you saw in him. So, what went wrong between you two?’
Dajeil stopped, a spoon poised on the way to her mouth. Ulver smiled disarmingly at her over jaws munching a mouthful of fruit.
Dajeil ate, drank a little wine and dabbed at her lips with a napkin before replying. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know the whole story.’
‘Who ever knows the whole story?’ Ulver said airily, waving her arms about. She put her elbows on the table. ‘I bet even you two don’t know the whole story,’ she said, more quietly.
Again, Dajeil took her time before replying. ‘Perhaps the whole story isn’t worth knowing,’ she said.
‘The ship appears to think it is,’ Ulver replied. She tried some fermented fruit juice, rolling it round her palate before swallowing it and saying, ‘Seems to have gone to an awful lot of trouble to arrange a meeting between you two.’
‘Yes, well, it is an eccentric, isn’t it?’
Ulver thought about this. ‘Very intelligent eccentric,’ she said. ‘I’d imagine that something it thought worth pursuing like that might be… you know; worthy of concern. No?’ she asked with a self-deprecating grimace.
Dajeil shrugged. ‘Ships can be wrong, too,’ she said.
‘What, so none of it matters a damn?’ Ulver said casually, choosing a small roll from a basket.
‘No,’ Dajeil said. She looked down, smoothing her dress over belly. ‘But…’ She stopped. Her head went down, and she silent for a while. Ulver looked over, concerned.
Dajeil’s shoulders shook once. Ulver, wiping her lips, threw down the napkin and went over to the other woman, squatting by her and tentatively putting out one arm round her shoulders. Dajeil moved slowly towards her, eventually resting her head on the crook of Ulver’s neck.
The ship drone entered from the winding stair; Ulver shooed it away.
A couple of screens on the far wall lit up, showing what Ulver guessed was the hull of the Sleeper Service, gradually drawing further away. Another couple of screens showed an approaching wall of gridded grey. She guessed the two minutes the drone had mentioned earlier had passed.