Ansah once had a relationship with Foord. Given their two natures it worked well, with only occasional violence on either side. Foord, despite all his obsessions and compulsions, had given her something she still valued: a quiet friendship of equals. Ansah had heard that he didn’t do relationships anymore; apparently his affections were now directed elsewhere. A shame: she could have done with some of his quiet friendship now.
The pilot leaned out of the flier and gestured to her to return. She nodded. None of them—pilot, Sakhran, or Ansah—had said a word to each other.
Second Voice resumed.
“Commander, you were telling us your ship was assigned to a task force of four heavy cruisers and the battleship Thomas Cromwell. The Thomas Cromwell was destroyed, as we’ve heard. What happened to the others?”
“They made it back, but they were all damaged and suffered casualties.”
“Would you say heavy casualties, Commander?”
“Compared to what?” The moment she said it, she realised where she’d been led.
“Why, compared to your ship, Commander! But then, your ship was hardly an active participant in the events, was it?”
Ansah did not reply, and Second Voice went on.
“Let’s go back to those orders from the Department, Commander. They placed your ship specifically under the command of Isis Fleet, didn’t they?”
“Yes. They were quite specific.”
“And they said that if the unidentified ship was detected entering Isis system, the task force was to move out and engage it, directed and led by the Thomas Cromwell. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“So what happened when the unidentified ship was detected entering Isis system?”
“The task force moved out and engaged it, directed and led by the Thomas Cromwell. Four hours later Faith had completed Her attack, and five Isis ships were destroyed or damaged.”
“And what of your ship? The Sirhan?”
“It returned undamaged, and with no casualties, after taking survivors off the Thomas Cromwell.”
“It returned after it took survivors off, because after it took survivors off you ordered it to leave the scene of battle. You deserted, Commander! You ran away! That’s correct, isn’t it?”
“Everything except Deserted and Ran Away.”
“And how would you characterise what you did?”
“I can only answer that by going back to my orders. I’d like to say something about my orders.”
“In good time, Commander. Let’s not leave what you actually did, not just yet. I want to be clear about this. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”
“A moment, please” said the Chairman, to Second Voice. “We can come back to that. Let’s hear her first. Commander, you wanted to say something about your orders?”
She paused before answering.
“The Department made a stupid decision. Those orders cost you most of your Fleet. All Outsiders fight best alone.” She noted the stirrings and mutterings among the silhouetted figures, and added for good measure, “We’re like Sakhrans. We don’t work in teams.”
“Commander, if it was so stupid…”
“Which it was. I bet it won’t be repeated at Horus.”
“…If it was so stupid, why was the Department so insistent that you should be under Isis Fleet’s command?”
“I don’t know. Maybe your leading citizens used their political connections.”
Second Voice resumed.
“You’re the one who’s on trial here, Commander. For your life. Let’s return to the issue. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”
“I was protecting my ship. And giving the next Outsider, when it faces Her, a better chance than I had.”
“Commander—”
“No, let her go on,” the Chairman said. “I want this, for the record.”
“During the engagement I realised that She can never be stopped by conventional people in conventional ships. She can only be stopped when an Outsider engages Her alone, without any constraints like those on me. I don’t know who She is, where She comes from, or why She’s doing this, but I know that nothing except an Outsider, alone, will be good enough to stop Her.”
She paused, almost embarrassed: it was one of her longer speeches to the Court, and it sounded like it was turning into a defense, which she hadn’t intended.
In front of her, Isis was starting to set. Shadows of dusky pink and dark red were settling over De Vere; evening light slanted through the great curving bay window, enriching the dark reds of the furniture. That, and the lengthening silence of those in front of her, broken only by a couple of murmurs, reminded her of the Bridge of the Sirhan.
“We’ll return to these matters in detail tomorrow, Commander,” the Chairman said eventually. “We have much we need to ask you about the engagement.”
“And,” Ansah said, “about what She did after the engagement.”
The Chairman glanced up at her sharply. “That too,” he snapped. “Court is adjourned.”
•
The following morning statements were taken from some of the surviving officers and crew of the Thomas Cromwell and the four cruisers. They gave detailed accounts of how the engagement had been fought, and how the Sirhan left them. They generally tallied, and Ansah placed on record her agreement that in all material respects they were accurate. The Court asked her if she wished to reserve her position in respect of any discrepancies, but she declined.
“And that is it, is it, Commander?” This was Fourth Voice.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, genuinely confused by the grammar. “What is what?”
“That’s what you want to tell us about the events of the engagement, is it?”
“Oh, I see….Well, I’ve acknowledged that those statements are substantially correct, and there’s what I said at the end of yesterday’s session. Did you want me to add something?”
“How about, you know, something along the lines of a defense?”
“Just questions, please,” the Chairman reminded Fourth Voice, “and not rhetoric.”
“So you’ve agreed with the survivors’ accounts, and you’ve referred us to what you said yesterday. What you said yesterday boils down to this: your orders tied you to our ships and stopped you fighting Her properly. Is that it? You think that’s enough from you?”
“Yes.”
“Well it isn’t, Commander. Frankly it stinks.”
“You’ve recently acquired knowledge of things that stink.”
There was a silence.
“Perhaps,” the Chairman said, “you should have thought before you said that, Commander.”
“No, Mr. Chairman,” Fourth Voice said. “That’s all right. Let her have that one, on us.”
After the engagement with the five Isis ships, which She had won so brilliantly and shockingly, and with the Sirhan having left the scene of battle to pick up survivors, there was nothing to stop Her turning towards De Vere. She did so.
It was a matter of record that She never attacked undefended civilian targets. This time, however, She did attack a civilian target, but in a most unexpected way.
She went first to one of the city’s poorer southern suburbs, consisting mainly of Sakhran ghettoes, where She hovered mysteriously over one area for a few minutes, then turned and set off towards the city centre. Later it became apparent that She had scooped up some faecal waste—both human and Sakhran—from a sewage treatment plant, synthesised it in large quantities, carried it stored under high pressure back to De Vere, and released it as a spray above the city. Then She left, and passed out of the system.