— The Furious Purpose is one of a couple of Affronter craft that left Tier at the same time the fleet did; it could have been following the Peace Makes Plenty, the Sober Counsel told the Culture ship. ~ It is certainly the ship that returned to Tier… thirty-six days after whatever happened here.
— That's a little slow, the Fate sent. ~ According to my records a meteorite-class light cruiser should have been able to do it in… oh, wait a moment; it had an engine fault. And then while it was on Tier it suffered some sort of… hmm. Oh; lookl
The Excession was doing something.
[stuttered tight point, M32, tra. @4.28.883.1344]
xGSV Anticipation Of A New Lover's Arrival, The
oGSV Sabbaticaler No Fixed Abode
Right. I have thought about this. No, I will not help in trapping the Serious Callers Only or the Shoot Them Later. I reported my previous misgivings and the fact that I had shared them with the other two craft because in the course of my investigations into what I perceived as a dangerous conspiracy I became convinced of the need to deal decisively with the Affront. I still do not approve of the way this has been done, but by the time your plans became uncovered it would arguably have caused more damage attempting to arrest them than letting them go ahead. I still find it nard to believe tnat the rogue ship which tricked the ship store at Pittance was acting alone and that you merely took advantage of the ruse, despite your assurances. However, I have no evidence to the contrary. I have given my word and I will not go public with all this, but I will consider that agreement dependent on the continued well-being and freedom from persecution of both the Serious Callers Only and the Shoot Them Later, as well, of course, as being contingent upon my own continued integrity. I don't doubt you will think me either paranoid or ridiculous for systematising this arrangement with various other friends and colleagues, particularly given the hostilities which commenced yesterday. I am thinking of taking some sabbatical time myself soon, and going off course-schedule. I shall, in any event, be quitting the Group.
oo
[stuttered tight point, M32, tra. @4.28.883.2182]
xGSV Sabbaticaler No Fixed Abode
oGSV Anticipation Of A New Lover's Arrival, The
I understand completely. There is, you must, must believe, no desire on our part to cause any harm to you or the two craft you mention. We have been concerned purely to expedite the resolution of this unfortunate state of affairs; there will be no recriminations, no witch-hunts, no pogroms or purges on our behalf. With your assurance that this ends here, we are perfectly, quintessentially content. A great relief!
Let me add that it is hard for me to find the words to communicate to you the depth of my — our — gratitude in this matter. You have shown irreproachable moral integrity combined with a truly objective open-mindedness; virtues that all too often are regarded as being as tragically incompatible as they are infinitely desirable. You are an example to all of us. I beg you not to leave the Group. We would lose too much. Please; reconsider. No one would deny that you have earned a thousand rests, but please take pity on those who would dare ask you to forgo one, for their own selfish benefit.
oo
Thank you. However, my decision is irrevocable. Should I still be welcome, I may hope for a request to rejoin you at some point in the future should some exceptional situation stimulate the thought that I might again be of service.
oo
My dear, dear ship. If you really must go, please do so with our fondest regards, so long as you swear never to forget that your invitation to restore your wisdom and probity to our small team stands in perpetuity!
VI
Genar-Hofoen spent quite a lot of time on the toilet. Ulver Seich was hell when she was cross and she had been in a state of virtually permanent crossness ever since he'd properly woken up; in fact, since well before. She'd been cross — cross with him — while he'd been unconscious, which seemed unfair somehow.
If he slept too long or day-dozed she got even crosser, so he went to the toilet for fairly long intervals. The toilet in a nine-person module consisted of a sort of thick flap that hinged down from a recess in the back wall of the small craft's single cabin. A semi-cylindrical field popped into being when the flap was in place, isolating the enclosed space from the rest of the cabin, and there was just enough room to make the necessary adjustments to one's clothing and stand or sit in comfort; usually some pleasantly bland music played, but Genar-Hofoen preferred the perfect silence the field enclosure produced. He sat there in the gentle, pleasantly perfumed downward breeze, not, as a rule, actually doing anything, but content to have some time to himself.
Stuck on a tiny but perfectly comfortable module with a beautiful, intelligent young woman. It ought to be a recipe for unbridled bliss; it was practically a fantasy. In fact, it was sheer hell. He'd felt trapped before, but never like this, never so completely, never so helplessly, never with somebody who seemed to find him quite so annoying just to be in the presence of. He couldn't even blame the drone. The drone was, in a sense, in the way, but he didn't mind. Just as well it was, in fact; he didn't know what Ulver Seich might have done to him if it hadn't been in the way. Hell, he quite liked the drone. The girl he could easily fall in love with, and in the right circumstances certainly admire and be impressed by and, yes, perfectly possibly like, even be friends with… but right now he didn't like her any more than she liked him, and she really didn't like him a lot.
He supposed these just were not the right circumstances. The right circumstances would involve them both being somewhere extremely civilised and cultured with lots of other people around and things happening and stuff to do and opportunities to choose when and where to get to know each other, not cooped up — grief, and it was only for two days so far but it felt more like a month — in a small module in the middle of a war with no apparent idea where they were supposed to go and all their plans seemingly thwarted. It probably didn't help that he was effectively their prisoner, either.
"So who was the first girl?" he asked her. "The one outside the Sublimers" place?"
"Probably SC," Ulver Seich told him grumpily. She glared back at the drone. The two humans were in the same seats they'd been in when he'd first woken up. The floor of the cabin area behind them could contort and produce various combinations of seats, couches, tables and so on, but every now and again they just sat in the forward-facing seats, looking at the screen and the stars. The drone Churt Lyne sat oblivious on the floor of the cabin, taking no apparent notice of the girl's glare. The drone seemed to be glare-proof. Somehow it was allowed to get away with being uncommunicative.
Genar-Hofoen sat back in the seat. The stars ahead looked the same as they had a few minutes ago. The module wasn't really heading anywhere purposefully; it was just moving away from Tier, down one of the many corridors approved by Tier traffic control as free from warships and/or volume warnings or restrictions. The girl and the drone hadn't allowed him to contact Tier or anybody else. They had been in touch with what sounded like a ship Mind, communicating by screen-written messages he wasn't allowed to see. Once or twice the girl and the drone had gone quiet and still together, obviously in touch through its communicator and a neural lace.
In theory he might have been able to wrest control of the module from them at such a point, but in practice it would have been futile; the module had its own semi-sentient systems which he had no way of subverting and little chance of arguing round even if he had somehow got the better of the girl and the drone, and anyway, where was he supposed to go? Tier was out, he had no idea where the Grey Area or the Sleeper Service were and suspected that probably nobody else knew where the two ships were either. He assumed SC would be looking for him. Better to let himself be found.