~Marshal, Colonel, the Churkun’s captain sent. ~Further on the current situation. We intercepted and re-disloc’d a relatively massive Displace by the Culture vessel and captured what is probably its principal auxiliary craft; however, it was unoccupied and unarmed and probably constituted a diversion. A number of further Displaces occurred almost immediately thereafter, centred on the volume immediately around the airship, but we were unable to intercept or disrupt them. Neither are we able to pin down their destinations further. We are confident they are not actually inside the ship due to the four-dimensional aspect of its construction. It is, effectively, shielded against disloc. This means that the other side must achieve entry to the airship by conventional means. As we have had sensors watching the craft for some time, and discerned no suspicious activity, we are confident that this has not thus far been achieved. Further, the full force of all four of this ships’ marine platoons are now available for disloc at instant notice on the colonel’s order.
~I see, Captain, Agansu sent. He might have said more, but there would be time later for pinning down the responsibility for the Churkun being unable to do more regarding the Culture ship’s Displaces. Now was not the time for that. ~So, our adversaries are here, but we don’t know where?
~Indeed, Colonel.
~In that case I suggest that you bring in all the marine arbite platoons immediately. Place some ahead of the ship, some behind — say half a platoon in each position — but most in a couple of concentric shells of arbites entirely surrounding the vessel, keeping within tens out to a hundred metres of it but distributed within the structure, with only a squad-level force stationed on the outside of the Girdlecity. Order all of them to keep pace with the airship. Have them stealthed as far as possible, or camo’d to resemble camera drones or other civilian devices.
At that moment, a woman danced out of the crowd of people around him and started trying to get him to dance with her. He shook his head and drew back his hands as she tried to grab them. She persisted, trying to again get hold of his hands, so he turned quickly and walked off, towards the wire parapet at the edge of the roadway, pushing between a couple of people, apologising as he went.
~Suggest we stagger their arrival, Colonel, the Churkun’s captain sent, ~or it’ll be kind of obvious, popping in that many; you’re liable to hear them as well as maybe see them. A second or two between each arrival ought to be okay.
~If you think so, Captain, Agansu replied as another flicker of mortar fire presaged yet more smokey, low-explosive detonations in the tunnel ahead of the airship.
~Captain, Marshal Chekwri sent, ~might I suggest you time more intense disloc bursts to coincide with barrages of fireworks?
~Good idea, ma’am.
Seconds later, Agansu heard a series of additional, dulled crackles sounding all around him, just as the next fusillade of fireworks detonated. He looked around and saw a couple more of what looked like media-cam platforms than had been there before. A few hazy disturbances in the air high over and ahead of the airship — easily missable by the normal human eye — were probably the marine arbites too, camouflaged.
He called up confirmation. Immediately, a picture began to build up inside his mind: a schematic of the Girdlecity around him, showing the tube that the airship Equatorial 353 moved through at its centre and all the structure around it, along with the positions of all the arbite marines popping into existence.
All that was missing from the picture was any sign of where his adversaries might be.
~Okay, Marshal Chekwri sent, ~I’m at a reception, with stuff that needs to be done. I’ll check in later. But let me know if anything dramatic happens, Captain, Colonel.
“You are fucking joking me. We’re where?”
“We’re in the stern ventral waste disposal semi-solids holding tank,” Berdle said through the suit. His voice in her ears sounded perfectly unconcerned. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything, basically, or touch anything solid.
Cossont was aware of floating in something thick and warm, in complete darkness at normal wavelengths. Her augmented eyes, working in unison with the combat suit’s sensors, were happy to relay the fact that the stuff she was surrounded by and floating within was just a little beneath normal Gzilt body core temperature.
“You have literally landed us in the fucking shit?” she said, trying not to sound panicked. Not being able to touch, see or really sense anything very much was, she told herself, worse than knowing what she was submerged within.
“It’s ideal,” Berdle told her. “This bit of the airship’s not shielded with 4D because, I imagine, it gets emptied rather than recycled. Very old-fashioned. Anyway, it means we were able to blat right in. Of course, it’s well sensored-up to look out for this sort of intrusion, but the clever bit was Displacing out an exactly similar volume just before dropping us in. Don’t think we troubled the header tank or the relief valves at all… or caused any blow-back anywhere for that matter. That might have been really messy.”
“Thank goodness for that. But, in other business, how the fuck do we get out?”
“Very easily.”
“Back to that later, but here’s another one; how the fuck do we get clean?”
“Also very easily. I’m switching you to sonar. Follow me. Swim.”
Cossont suddenly had a view to look at. It was like a drawing rather than a proper picture — everything was white, with fuzzy blue lines delineating edges and a sort of background green wash indicating surfaces.
She could, thankfully, see nothing of what actually surrounded her, but she could see a suited, streamlined version of Berdle a couple of metres away, turning away from her to swim towards the top of the large, cylindrical tank they were in. Beneath and to the side there were hints of tapered supports holding the tank, with further structure sketched in above and below showing where the decks were; these vanished into the distance. Cossont twisted, began to swim after Berdle.
She could feel her hands and limbs contacting semi-solids as she swam. It was like swimming through thick soup. She tried not to think about it. She was doing okay until she remembered the last time she and Berdle had been here on the airship, when they had been met by the strange person with the bowl-of-soup face.
Suddenly, she nearly threw up. Would have thrown up, but something inside her seemed to intervene at the last moment.
“Hey; calm,” Berdle said easily as he arrived at the top of the tank. “You’re triggering the suit’s medical unit.” He reached out to something on the under-surface that formed the ceiling.
“You be calm,” she told the avatar. “I’m swimming through shit here. You’re a fucking android, but this stuff is personal to us biologicals.”
“Fair enough. But… out in a trice,” Berdle said, both hands on a circular structure that Cossont sincerely hoped was a hatch. “One more sensor to fool… done. And a couple of little expander spheres to emplace, to take up our volume when we get out… There.” His arms twirled. The circular object swung up and away, hinging. She reached a surface she’d not even been aware was there, her top set of arms and her head suddenly in air. Or at least gas.