"Fondue three days in a row strikes me as excessive," Laura said. "And we have quiche already. Set out something for us to drink."
"Okay." But Julian was not to be distracted, asking: "What about eggs? Are eggs a problem?"
"Not usually."
"And it was vat-cultured egg, anyway," Laura murmured. Much of the Muinan settlements' food supply was artificially grown, since the new farms were not established enough to provide for millions.
Laura heated and cut slices of quiche while Julian, apparently unaffected by Event Horizons, set out glasses and continued to pepper their guest with questions about the impact of Place Sight on food. Gidds responded with unimpeded calm, even to speculation about the emotions of bacteria.
Would he have answered in the same manner, if she weren’t a factor? Laura wasn’t certain, but she liked him for his patience. And it was a real pleasure to see Julian’s natural effervescence at full flow. He’d faced his own challenges following Cass' disappearance—not least of which had been the week Laura had almost entirely shut down, when the Police had started winding back their investigation. That and several years of bullying had meant unexpected walls had gone up around the chatty, gregarious child Julian had been, but Muina was undoubtedly a dream come true for him. He was flourishing.
And helpfully moving on to questions Laura was thinking of asking herself, such as: "Did you come up with the idea of the Setari?"
Gidds shook his head. "It would be more correct to say I was one of the first Setari. I was recruited into KOTIS by Isten Notra, who found drones inadequate for experiments that required entering the Ena. That was a very controversial program, since we only risked travel through deep space at the time, and had lost almost all knowledge of the other aspects of the Ena, which were considered too dangerous for living personnel. But the need to learn more had become a priority."
"When it became clear the number of tears into real-space were increasing?" Laura asked, hoping he wouldn’t find the continued interrogation annoying.
"When it no longer became possible to deny," Gidds said. "There had been a great deal of opposition to official recognition of the problem. And, then, all in a month, Isten Notra’s proposals for direct action were authorised, and an Ena exploration team assembled."
"Were you Captain?" Julian asked, between quick mouthfuls of quiche.
Gidds sustained a wry smile for several seconds, and Laura realised that rather than resenting the inquisition, he found Julian’s enthusiasm amusing.
"I was forty-seven—in Taren years," he said, "and my presence barely tolerated."
"Why so young?" Laura asked, startled. There were three Taren years for each Earth year, so forty-seven meant he’d been not quite sixteen. Younger even than the Setari, who hadn’t been permitted to participate in missions until full adulthood at fifty.
"Because I was the strongest known Combat Sight talent at the time. That, along with my Place and Sight Sight, made it worth the risk of bringing me on expeditions."
"Strongest on the whole planet?" Julian asked, gleeful. "Are you from, like, a super-powerful family or something?"
"Strong enough. But I had simply trained myself to a higher pitch at a time when talent training was not encouraged in pre-teens. Developing the elemental talents at a young age was regarded as highly dangerous. Pushing development of Sights considered simply cruel. But we have now learned that without early training, it is far more difficult to increase the strength of our talents—and that early training for Sights means more control to combat their difficulties."
"Why were you trained young?" Laura asked.
"I spent most of my childhood attempting to achieve Precognition," Gidds said, and though his voice was as unruffled as ever, Laura immediately remembered Sue’s tragic backstory comment, and regretted her question.
Gidds made a small gesture with his left hand, something Laura read as a combination of comprehension and absolution. Sight Sight again, and she did not know whether to feel uncomfortable or relieved that, to this man, people were often transparent.
"When I was very young, and Ionoth had started to come through tears into the Ena and kill widely, it seemed to me that the only way to prevent this was to know beforehand where a tear was about to open."
"But it didn’t work?" Julian asked, having entirely missed any by-play. "I didn’t even know Precognition was a real talent."
"It has never been confirmed, but is unofficially regarded as a seventh Sight. Although there are also theories that it is Sight Sight at a strength not achieved since the days the Lantar ruled Muina, or even that it is gained through all six Sights operating together. If it exists, I did not achieve it."
"So you gave up?" Julian asked, pecking the crumbs of his demolished slice of quiche from the plate.
After the most minute of hesitations Gidds said: "I am still training my strength. But when Isten Notra made her proposal—that I join the scientific expeditions into the Ena, and also train KOTIS members—I began to see an alternate path, one where professionals cleared the ionoth in the Ena near-space immediately adjacent to our cities, rather than unprepared citizens dealing with them in their homes."
"I haven’t heard anything about pre-Setari Ena exploration," Laura said, as Julian went to fetch slices of nut pie. "Was it successful?"
"In that we made progress, and did not all die, yes."
Over dessert he described the early days of KOTIS. Soldiers walking through invisible dimensional tears and learning the rules of the Ena. Dealing with attacks from an endless array of monsters. Mapping pocket dimensions, and discovering how unreliable the geography of the Ena could be. Carrying out experiments while refining strategies that would one day become Setari daily routine.
Laura watched him, and did not drop her gaze when he met her eyes. His were steady as he kept to a factual and unemotional recounting of what had almost certainly been a grim and difficult time. KOTIS personnel had died, in far higher numbers than the powerful and extremely skilled Setari.
"And after all that you got stuck being a teacher?" Julian concluded.
"I am still assigned Ena missions," Gidds said, with another transitory smile. "And will join Kaoren in the site investigations here, once I’ve been permitted to relocate."
"Can you beat Kaoren in a fight?"
"Sometimes," Gidds replied. "But on the whole he has surpassed me."
"Do—?"
"I suspect that’s enough interrogation for one day, Julian."
"But I’ve barely started," Julian said, and added to Gidds: "I was only going to ask if you played Home or Five Ends or any of the other big online games."
"I vet them occasionally," Gidds said, as unperturbed by this question as any other. "In order to decide whether they are permitted for the Kalrani. Virtual experience games sometimes trigger Sights in odd ways. For the most part I do not have the time—and would be unlikely to enjoy playing a game that involves fighting Ionoth."
"Ha." Julian grinned. "I bet Kaoren’s playing Home just because Cass likes it." He bounced up to avoid Laura’s eye. "I’ll do the washing up, Mum. See you Mister—ah, Tsur Selkie."
Grin widening, he took their plates to the cleaning unit, then bounded back upstairs, and all of a sudden, Laura was alone with Gidds, with every scrap of her relaxed acceptance somehow vanished.
What was she thinking of doing? This was not like the time Bet had set her up with Darvash from Accounting, nor the odd dates she’d gone on with Sue’s vast circle of acquaintance. This was a man of considerable influence, one who made decisions about Cass' life, and Laura simply didn’t know enough about him to be sure that he would take a lack of follow-through, or a waning of interest, gracefully.