Basq concentrated on keeping his face smooth and devoid of emotion while he racked his brains trying to remember the etiquette for greeting the Witness one had been assigned. Before he had to resign himself to making his first remembered action a public display of ignorance, the Witness moved. With more grace than even a Contractor, she glided toward him. As she neared, Basq realized she was an Amputant, but a much more devout one than even Contractor Kelat. She raised a flexible, silicate hand toward him in greeting.
Why should I be surprised? Most Witnesses are fanatics. That would be especially true for any Witness Uary agreed to. Basq tried not to frown. / will have to find a way to remind Caril how careful we must be.
“Ambassador Basq, with your permission I will present you my name.” Her voice was deep and had an oddly musical quality about it. “I am Formal Witness Winema Avin-Dae Uratae. Do you accept that I am the Witness contracted to you by the Reclamation Advisory Committee or do you require verification?”
The words triggered the memory of a lesson from his graded schooling. To ask for proof was to impugn the Witness. Impugning the Witness might skew the observation. So, Basq said, “I accept that you are my contracted Witness.”
“Then accept that my memory carries you. On the memory of my own self I swear I will remember accurately.” Winema said the words with such fervor it might have been her first time uttering them. Basq doubted that was the case. Uary would not let a novice be assigned to him.
Now came the difficult part. He had acknowledged and accepted the Witness. With the formalities observed, he had to ignore her completely. Supposedly, that would become easier with time, but for now maintaining that attitude was going to be a fight. Basq pivoted and started for the docking corridor that connected the shuttle to the core. Winema fell into step behind him, as silent as his shadow. He climbed aboard the shuttle and took a seat near the front. He heard the slight creak as the Witness sat behind him. He imagined he could feel the point on the back of his head where her camera was directed. His scalp began to itch.
It won’t always be like this. I’ll be free during my off-shift time. She’s just contracted to watch me while I work.
Which means she’s contracted to watch the dataflow on my terminal. I will have to keep that always in mind. The itch intensified.
Witnesses are necessary, Basq reminded himself. Especially now that we are dealing with artifacts again. The artifacts defeated the ancestors because they were able to rob them of the information needed to quell the rebellion. They will not be able to do that to us. They will not be able to win that way even if they retain any knowledge of their rebellion and the Flight. In each of the three thousand cores there were sequestered twenty-four Witnesses with eidetic memory. They held all the vital knowledge of the Rhudolant Vitae. When her contract was completed, Winema would not only transfer her camera’s record into one of the datastores, she would recite her memory of Basq to one of the Witnesses in the Hundredth Core. If the artifacts wanted to wipe out all the history and learning of the Vitae again, they would have to murder all the Eidetic Witnesses.
But ruining the Ancestor’s datastores was not all they did to defeat the Ancestors, was it? Under the gaze of the Witness, Basq felt the shackles of responsibility take hold. They have obviously retained their abilities. If they have retained any portion of their memory, any portion of the Flight, how are we going to find a way to stop them from moving the Home Ground out of reach again?
With an effort of will, Basq shoved the doubts aside. We will find the knowledge. I will find the knowledge.
Basq knew it was an arrogant idea, but he did not hesitate to admit to himself that it was also a pleasant one.
Planning his strategies made the trip back to the Grand Errand bearable. The itch on the back of his scalp never quite went away, but he was able to cover his awareness of it with lists of things he needed to accomplish in the next seventy-two hours.
Caril was waiting for him when he and Winema emerged from the shuttle into the Grand Errand’s gold-and-mauve receiving area.
“Welcome home, Husband,” she said as she made her obeisance, bending over the small stack of holosheets she carried.
“Wherever you stand to welcome me is home, Wife.” The cliche was a little informal, considering the circumstances, but well within the bounds of propriety.
“These are the contracts which arrived in your absence.”
She handed him the sheets. “I have verified their origins and reviewed them for completeness.”
Excellent, thought Basq, as he shuffled through the stack of sheets. This will demonstrate her efficiency and my trust in her. The heat from his hands and the patterns of his fingerprints activated the displays on each sheet as he touched it. The stack held the contract from Avir and Kelat, as well as the subcontract labeling him Beholden to Ivale. Basq felt warm breath upon his cheek and almost jumped out of his skin. Winema was reading over his shoulder.
I will get used to this, I will get used to this. He waited until his hands stopped shaking to give the sheets back to Caril. “Thank you. You should record my acknowledgment of receipt as soon as we return to our quarters.”
“I will make this my work,” she said. Caril took her place beside him and they left the receiving hall for the corridor to the lifts. Winema followed without a sound.
The Grand Errand was of much newer construction than the Hundredth Core. The support girders and network fibers were hidden by sheaths of crystalline optical matter rather than panels of plastics or ceramics. Although the optical matter was much more flexible than the traditional solids and it had a certain dignity, being one of the private technologies, Basq thought that the solids had a special grandeur. Nothing could be changed aboard the older ships without planning and cooperation. Here, a single technician tapped a pattern to clear a spot in the wall. Under her hand, a square of grey-white wall turned orange and cleared to reveal a web of yellowish fibers. A few meters away from her, a man wearing the grey-and-tan armbands of the support services section pressed a holosheet and flat keypad in the wall and began tapping whatever information flowed through the fibers in that particular section. Doubtless they all had orders and contracts to fulfill, but it was all so…solitary and so easy. Almost improperly so. Even the Imperialists could make changes. The public parks had their treaties written across the walls. A swift gesture with his hand had wiped them clear, but the fact that they had been there at all left a bitter sensation in his mind. Basq wondered if he might apply to move himself and Caril to the Hundredth
Core to be closer to the Advisory Committee. It was worth considering.
The lift to their residence section was nearly full. Like all the ships, the Grand Errand kept its living quarters in its heart, where they could best be sheltered from accidents and everyday occurrences, like the hard radiation that never stopped bombarding the ship. The crowd parted respectfully to make room for Basq and his entourage. Caril tapped the code for their home level on the wall. Her fingerprints were her authorization and the lift added their destination to the list displayed about the translucent doors as they closed.
“Ambassador Basq?”
Basq turned and looked up slightly. A thin man with a greying, braided beard and a red-and-gold badge that marked him as administrative support for communications stood beside him.