"Well, if he doesn't he's a fool," Ulver said, wondering why she was being so diplomatic.
"Ha," Dajeil said. She wiped her cheeks with her fingers once more and dragged her fingers through her hair. She reached into her dress and pulled out a comb. She offered it to Ulver. "Would you…?"
Ulver stood. "Only if you say you'll see him," she said, smiling.
Dajeil shrugged. "I suppose so."
Ulver stood behind Dajeil, and began to comb her long dark hair.
— Ship?
— Ms Seich. The Jaundiced Outlook here.
— I take it you've been listening. Want to contact the GSV?
— I was listening. I have already contacted the Sleeper Service. Mr Genar-Hofoen and the avatar Amorphia are aboard and on their way here.
— Fast work, Ulver told it, and continued to gently comb Dajeil's hair. "They're on their way," she told her. "Byr and the avatar."
Dajeil said nothing.
A couple of decks further down in the accommodation section, Amorphia turned to Genar-Hofoen as they walked down a corridor. "And it might be best not to mention that we were Displaced aboard at the same time as Ulver," it told the man.
"I'll try not to let it slip," he said sourly. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"
"Definitely the right attitude," muttered the avatar, stepping into a lift. They ascended to the impersonation of the tower.
XV
Snug, encapsulated in a cobbled-together nest-capsule deep inside the accommodation section of the ex-Culture ship Heavy Messing, Captain Greydawn Latesetting X of the Farsight tribe watched the blip which represented the crippled hulk of the Attitude Adjuster fall astern on the holo display, the screams of his uncle Risingmoon and the other Affronters on the stricken vessel still ringing in his mind. A hazy cloud hung around the blip of the tumbling wreck, indicating where the ship's sensors estimated the Culture warship — which the Heavy Messing still thought was a Deluger vessel — now was.
With his uncle dead, the fleet was now under Greydawn's command. The urge to swing the whole assemblage about and bear down on the single Culture ship was almost irresistible. But there would be no point; it was faster than any of their craft; the Heavy Messing's Mind thought that the Culture ship might have damaged its engines during its run-in to the attack, but even so it could probably still outstrip any of the ships in the fleet, and so all such a course would accomplish would be to draw them away from their intended destination, without even the realistic prospect of revenge. They had to continue. Greydawn signalled to the six other craft which were crewed.
— Fellow warriors. No one feels the loss of our comrades more than I. However, our mission remains the same. Let our victory be our first revenge. The power we gain for our kind as a result of it will purchase the ability to punish all such crimes against us a million-fold!
— The attacker's duplication of a Culture vessel's emission signature spectrum and field was astonishingly authentic, the Heavy Messing wrote on one of the screens in front of Greydawn.
— Their abilities have grown while you were asleep, ally, Greydawn told the ship. He felt his gas sac tense and contract as he spoke-wrote the words, ever conscious that anything he said might help give away the huge trick being played on the Culture ships. ~ You see the severity of the threat they now present.
— Indeed, the ship replied. ~ I find it hateful that the Deluger craft killed the Attitude Adjuster the way it appeared to.
— They will be chastised when we are in control of the entity at Esperi, never fear!
11. Regarding Gravious
I
Genar-Hofoen and the avatar Amorphia appeared in the doorway at the head of the winding stair. "Excuse me," Ulver said, putting down the comb and patting Dajeil on the shoulder. She walked towards the door.
"No; please stay," Dajeil said behind her.
Ulver turned to the older woman. "You sure?"
Dajeil nodded. Ulver looked at Genar-Hofoen, whose gaze was fastened on Dajeil. He seemed to shake himself out of his fixation and looked, then smiled at Ulver. "Hi," he said. "Yes; stay; whatever." He crossed to Dajeil, who stood. They both looked awkward for a moment, then they embraced; that was awkward too, over the bulge of Dajeil's belly. Ulver and the avatar exchanged looks.
"Please; let's all sit down, shall we?" Dajeil said. "Byr, are you hungry?"
"Not really," he said, drawing up a chair. "I could use a drink…" The four of them sat round the table.
There was some small talk, mostly between Genar-Hofoen and Dajeil, with a few comments from Ulver. The avatar remained silent. It frowned once and glanced at the screens, which showed a perfectly banal view of empty space.
II
The Sleeper Service was a few hours out from the Excession now. It was tracking the MSV Not Invented Here and another two large Culture craft, each a dark jewel set within a cluster of smaller ships; warships, plus some GCUs and superlifters extemporised into combat service. The GCU Different Tan was also supposed to be in the volume, but it was not making itself obvious. The Not Invented Here was thirty light years out from Esperi, patrolling the spherical limit of the uniquely worrying engine-field effect that the GCU Fate Amenable To Change had reported days earlier. The Sleeper Service had briefly considered asking that the smaller craft copy its results to it, but hadn't bothered; the request would probably be refused and it suspected whatever data the smaller craft was gathering weren't telling anybody very much anyway.
The other two craft — the GSVs What Is The Answer And Why? and Use Psychology — were manoeuvring a half a day and a full day further out respectively. A faint layered smudge in the distance, about three quarters of the way round an imaginary sphere drawn around the Excession, was almost certainly the approaching Affronter war fleet. Around the Excession itself, no sign whatsoever of the vanished Stargazer fleet of the Zetetic Elench.
The Sleeper Service readied itself for the fray. Maybe, in a sense, two frays. There was every chance that its own engines would fail the same way the Fate Amenable To Change's had when it had moved towards the Excession, but given the speed the Sleeper Service was travelling at it could coast in towards the thing; it wouldn't have any directional control, it wouldn't be able to maintain its present speed, or brake, but it could get there.
If it ought to.
Ought it? It checked its signal log, as if it might have missed an incoming message.
Still nothing from those who had sent it here. The Interesting Times Gang seemed to have been observing comm silence for days. Just the usual daily plea from the LSV Serious Callers Only; the equivalent of an unopened letter and just the latest in a series.
The Sleeper watched events on the Jaundiced Outlook, even as it prepared itself for the coming encounter near Esperi, like a military commander drawing up war plans and issuing hundreds of preparatory orders who cannot keep his or her attention from flicking to a microscopic drama being played out amongst a group of insects clinging to the wall above the table. The ship felt foolish, voyeuristic, and yet fascinated.
Its thoughts were interrupted by the Grey Area, sending from its Mainbay in the nose of the GSV.