“Will you try to stop me,” Ferbin asked, sounding bitter, “should I take aim at tyl Loesp?”
Djan Seriy patted his hand. “Only verbally,” she said. “But I’ll start now; do not use the death of this man to make you feel better. Use his fate, whatever it may be, to make your kingdom better.”
“I never wanted it to be my kingdom,” Ferbin said, and looked away, taking a deep breath.
Anaplian watched him, studying the set of his body and what she could still see of his expression, and thought how much and how little he had changed. He was, of course, much more mature than he had been fifteen years ago, but he had changed in ways that she might not have expected, and probably had changed quite recently, just due to all the things that had happened since their father had been killed. He seemed more serious, less self-obsessed and much less selfish in his pleasures and aims now. She got the impression, especially after a few brief conversations with Choubris himself, that Holse would never have followed the old Ferbin so far or so faithfully. What had not changed was his lack of desire to be king.
She wondered how much he thought she had changed, but knew there was almost no comparison. She still had all her memories of childhood and early adolescence, she appeared vaguely similar to how she’d looked when she’d left and she could contrive to sound much like her old self, but in every other regard she was another person altogether.
She used her neural lace to listen in to the Liveware Problem’s systems talking to each other, quickly took in a compensated view of the gulf of space ahead of the rushing ship, updated herself on any news from Sursamen and then from elsewhere, shared a casual handshake with Turminder Xuss, quiescent in her cabin, and then monitored her brother closely, listening to his heartbeat, sensing his skin conductivity, his blood pressure, implied core temperature and temperature distribution as well as the state of his slightly tense, tautened muscles. He was grinding his teeth, though he probably wasn’t aware of it himself.
She felt she ought to jolly Ferbin out of what might be a dark mood, but was not sure she herself was in the mood to do so. She glanded sperk, and soon was.
“Is Director General Shoum still on Sursamen?” Anaplian asked.
“No,” Hippinse said. “Left forty-plus days ago. Continuing her tour of Morthanveld possessions and protectorates in the Lesser Spine.”
“But she is contactable once we’re down there?”
“Definitely. At the moment she’s here, in transit between Asulious IV and Grahy on the Cat.4 CleaveHull “On First Seeing Jhiriit”. Due to arrive Grahy fourteen hours after we make Sursamen. Without the crash-stop,” Hippinse added archly. The avatoid had changed further just in the last day and was now positively muscular. He still looked burly compared to the two Sarl men, but he appeared far fitter and athletic than he had when they’d first met him a few days earlier. Even his blond hair was cropped and businesslike, similar to Djan Seriy’s.
The central holo-display they were seated around spun to show where Shoum’s ship was now, then rotated smoothly back to where it had been (Holse remembered the display of the dreadful planet Bulthmaas, and Xide Hyrlis’ face, lit from below). The display was false-coloured; all the stars were white. Sursamen was a gently blinking red dot hard by its star, Meseriphine. The Liveware Problem was an even tinier strobing blue point trailing a fading aquamarine wake. The positions of other major ships, where known, were also shown, colour-coded; Morthanveld craft were green. The Oct colour was blue; their possible presence was implied by a faint tinge all around Sursamen.
Djan Seriy looked at Ferbin. “You think Shoum will facilitate our travel to the Eighth if we have any problems with the Nariscene or the Oct?”
“She took some considerable interest in our plight,” Ferbin said. “It was she who arranged our conveyance to Xide Hyrlis, for all that that proved a futile expedition.” Ferbin did not try to suppress a sneer. “She found my quest for justice ‘romantic’, I recall.” He looked at his sister and shook his head. “She might be termed sympathetic; however, it could be just a passing sympathy. I cannot say.”
Djan Seriy shrugged. “Still, this is worth keeping in mind, I think,” she said.
“Shouldn’t be an issue,” Hippinse said. “With luck the Oct systems will be breezeable and the Nariscene won’t be alerted. I should be able to drop you straight into a lift. Maybe even a scendship.”
“That, as you say, is with luck,” Anaplian said. “I am thinking about if luck is not with us.” She looked quizzically at Hippinse. “Oramen is still at the Falls, is that correct?”
“Last we heard, yes,” the ship said through its avatoid. “Though the information is eight days old at least. The Oct/Aultridia tussling between levels is making communications unreliable.”
“How bad is this so-called ‘tussling’?” Anaplian asked.
“About as bad as it can get before the Nariscene would be obliged to step in.” The avatoid paused. “I’m a little surprised they haven’t already.”
Anaplian frowned. “Do they shoot at each other?”
“No,” Hippinse said. “They’re not supposed to within the Towers or near any secondary structure. Mostly the dispute involves taking over Towers using blocking scendships and remote reconfiguring of door-control fidelities.”
“Is this going to help or hinder us?”
“Could go either way. Multiplier rather than a valuer.”
Djan Seriy sat back. “Very well,” she said. “This is what will happen: we four descend together to Sursamen Surface. We have to try and get down through the levels before anybody works out we shouldn’t have got to the Meseriphine system so quickly and starts asking what ship brought us.” She nodded at Hippinse. “The Liveware Problem believes it can get us down and inserted into the Nariscene travel-admin system without anybody noticing, but short of trying to take over the whole Nariscene AI matrix on Sursamen — arguably an act of war in itself — it cannot stop us getting spotted as anomalous eventually. So; we attain the level of the Hyeng-zhar, expeditiously. We find Oramen; at the Falls, hopefully. We tell him he is in danger if he does not know already. We also get a message to him while we’re on our way, if possible. We do what we can to make him safe, or at least safer, if necessary, then we deal with tyl Loesp.”
“‘Deal with’?” the ship asked, through Hippinse.
Anaplian looked levelly at the avatoid. “Deal with as in apprehend. Capture. Hold, or ensure is held until a properly formulated court can decide his fate.”
“I would not anticipate a royal pardon,” Ferbin said icily.
“Meanwhile,” Djan Seriy continued, “the ship will be attempting to find out what the Oct are up to by seeing if all these missing ships really are turning up around Sursamen. Though of course by then the Morthanveld and Nariscene will have been informed of our suspicions regarding the Oct ship concentration and will doubtless be formulating their own responses. We can but hope these will complement the Liveware Problem’s, though it is not impossible they will be antagonistic.” Anaplian looked at Ferbin and Holse. “If the Oct are there in force then both Hippinse and I may have to leave you alone on minimal notice. I’m sorry, brother, but that is how it has to be. We must all hope it doesn’t come to that but if it does we’ll leave you with what advantage we can.”