“Not if it’s really an 097. But why hasn’t it identified itself?”
“Stop this, Foord! That’s a real ship with real people. I can prove it to you, I have documented evidence that the Sable joined the cordon and then broke formation and followed you.”
“Not enough. She could have heard all that when She monitored your comms, and decided to appear as the Sable.” Foord knew this was almost inhumanly unreasonable, but it was how Swann would expect him to behave. Perversely, he was enjoying it.
“Commander, please listen to me. The Captain of the Sable has been under strain recently. He broke the cordon because…”
“You’re making my point. I don’t need to know his motives, but if She became aware of them through monitoring your comms, that’s another reason to doubt whether that ship is any ship of yours.”
“Commander, if that’s Her out there and not the Sable, why hasn’t She already attacked you?”
“If She always attacked when people like you expected Her to, I wouldn’t have been sent here.”
It continued. The more desperate Swann’s voice got, the more even Foord’s stayed. The more disshevelled Swann looked, the more poised Foord appeared. They were both acutely aware of the contrast.
“Still no reply to requests for identification,” Thahl said. “Shall I continue sending?”
“Yes, I think so, though it seems pointless…I’m sorry, Director, but it also seems pointless continuing this conversation.”
“Then let us try ordering the Sable to identify itself to you.”
“You mean you haven’t already?”
“Let me try. Personally. I’ll order its Captain to call you now.”
“Not enough. It could still be Her.”
“Then we’ll send out two or three ships of our own to bring it back. On tractor beams if necessary.”
“Not enough. They could be two or three of Her. Anything in Horus system, not in the cordon, I’m at war with.”
Swann played his final card.
“If the Sable doesn’t identify itself, I could send out two or three ships….”
“You already said that.”
“…to destroy it, Commander.”
“Not enough. I can do that myself. Director, I want you to treat us how you want to treat us, like we’re infected. I want you to leave us so alone that we can assume anything else we meet is hostile. If any ship of yours leaves the cordon, it’s hostile.”
“Then you are at war with us.”
“Orders, Director.”
“If I had your orders I would…”
“Have you ever in your life had orders like mine?”
“I’ve never in my life had to deal with anyone like you, Commander. Whatever I thought about your ship coming here, I still offered you courtesy and hospitality and you ignored it. I arranged receptions to welcome you and your crew. I gave your ship’s refit total priority. I gave you assistance to return to your ship. I even made sure that the unspeakable events on your last day here didn’t stop your liftoff. So please, tell me what will stop you destroying the Sable.”
“Nothing, Director. I can’t and won’t stop.”
“Commander!” Joser said. “Scanners have just registered an emergence at Horus 5.”
“Do you have detailed readouts?”
“Yes, Commander. It’s Her.”
5
“Yes, Director,” Foord said, “you did hear me correctly. I said we’ve detected an emergence at Horus 5. I said our first readouts indicate a ship matching the known specification of Faith. And I said I refuse to move.”
“You have orders,” roared Swann, “and I demand you obey them!”
“I have orders to engage Her alone. I’ve now got two unidentified ships, one at Horus 5 and one here in the Gulf.”
“Then fuck off, and engage Her alone, and I’ll see to it that the Sable doesn’t follow you.”
“I can see to that myself. What’s the difference?”
“Ninety lives, if that is the Sable, which you now know it is. Come on, Foord. She’s arrived. She’s here waiting for you, like you always wanted. Somewhere down here we’ve probably picked Her up too, and they’re probably checking and rechecking before they tell me. And then there’s the cordon to complete, which was held up so you could leave Blentport, and the evacuation into the lowlands, and the civil chaos when the news breaks that She’s here, which is something you couldn’t begin to imagine because you don’t spend much time among real people, do you?”
“What’s the point you’re trying to make?” Foord said, adopting a tone of puzzlement. He was beginning to overdo it, he thought.
“A moment, please.” Swann’s face turned to one side, where someone off screen was whispering to him.
Foord too turned away from the screen. “Positions, please,” he asked Joser.
“The Sable, I mean the first intruder, is 11-17-14 and holding. The second intruder is 99-98-96 and holding. Readouts on the second intruder conform to Faith’s known profile; heavily shrouded on all wavelengths.”
“Foord,” Swann resumed, “that was the expected message, and our readouts match yours. So stop talking about unidentified ships. That ship at Horus 5 is Faith, and that ship which shadowed you into the Gulf is a Horus Fleet ship!”
Foord glanced at Joser, who nodded vigorously.
“Then I’m about to order the destruction of a Horus Fleet ship. I will not engage Her until I know for certain that I’m engaging Her alone.”
“When this is over, Foord”—Swann’s voice had lost its desperation; now it was oddly calm—“when this is over I’ll make sure that whatever’s left of the Commonwealth knows what you did, and disowns you.”
“It’s already disowned us.”
“Commander. Please. My last try. Give me two minutes to contact the Captain of the Sable, and I’ll make it go away. Two minutes, Commander.”
“You have as long as it takes me to give the order. But I’ll speak slowly.”
6
The Bridge was silent as they watched the big silver ship on the magnified section of the screen, in an effort to confirm visually what the scanners had already told them. Slowly, gradually, it happened. One by one the weapons nozzles ceased tracking and retracted into their housings; a dull red aura spread from the stern as the ion drive restarted at low intensity; manoeuvre jets flared and fountained in shifting combinations; and then, quite deliberately, and with the same lack of communication which had characterised its first appearance, the Sable turned away.
Not once, thought Foord, did it make any contact with us. Not even now.
On the Bridge, banks of subdued red warning lights continued to glow at every console. Alarms continued to murmur at discreet intervals.
“Position of Sable…” began Joser, then stopped as Foord glanced up at him sharply. “…of first intruder, is still 11-17-14, but the turn will register shortly. And…”