“Though I was informed,” the avatar said, “that arriving with all my weapon systems fully primed and readied might be advisable.”
“Uh-huh,” Cossont said.
“Now,” the avatar continued, “I know that you know something of the Culture, having been with us as a student in the past, so perhaps you understand that being ‘asked’ as I was by some fellow ships — senior fellow ships of considerable repute and responsibility in matters of inter-civilisational dealings — is tantamount to an order, and that being requested to make my way here as quickly as I was required to meant that my engines suffered a small, temporary but still significant degree of damage — an action/outcome I take no more lightly than any Culture vessel. Then, when I get here, I find I’m four hours or so too late to prevent a hi-tech-level attack on one of our Gzilt hosts’ most important military installations, an attack that might — according to certain details indicative of the weapons apparently used — have been carried out by another part of the Gzilt military.” The avatar spread its hands. “So now you know, to all intents and purposes, as much as I do, Ms Cossont. And a little more, of course, as you — I assume — know what this mission of yours is, while I don’t. Frankly, I’m still waiting on further instructions here, but knowing your part in this might, I’d hazard, be quite helpful, pretty much regardless.”
“Right,” Cossont swallowed. “You guys,” she said. The avatar didn’t have eyebrows as such, just little sloped creases above each eye. It raised those. She stumbled on. “You don’t, I mean… you’re not allowed to torture people are you?”
The avatar closed its eyes briefly before letting them flutter open again. “I believe the consensus is it remains one of the few temptations we don’t indulge,” it said. It could see she was still uncertain. Berdle sighed. “You are under no obligation to tell me what you don’t want to tell me, Ms Cossont, nor are you being threatened. You are also free to go as soon as I can find somewhere safe for you to go to. At the moment there is a state of some confusion reigning within the Izenion system, with a lot of trigger-happy minor ships of the Fourteenth milling around looking for something to shoot at, and at least the chance that the craft that destroyed Fzan-Juym is or are still in the volume.”
Cossont came to a decision. “I was told to report to General Reikl, or the next most senior officer in the regiment,” she said.
“The High Command are probably all dead,” the avatar told her. “The next most senior person could be some distance down the ranks. Locally, for all we know, you are the most senior ranking officer. Given the outbreak of hostilities, and according to my reading of the Gzilt military code, your reserve status has already automatically been rescinded; even if you weren’t before, you were effectively called up again as soon as the first particle beam hit the Fzan-Juym regimental HQ.”
Cossont swallowed once more. Her throat was still tingling. She could remember the breath whistling through her, being torn out of her lungs, like throwing up air.
“I need to get to… a place,” she said.
Berdle assumed a studiedly neutral expression. “You may need to be a trifle more specific.”
“I know, I know, but will you take me there, if I tell you where I need to go?”
The avatar smiled tolerantly. “You mean you want me to commit myself to taking you somewhere—”
“No, no,” Cossont said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “That’s not going to — I can see… you’re a… I’m just — I’m sorry, I’m not…”
While the human was screwing up her eyes and wittering, a signal arrived.
∞
xMSV Pressure Drop
oUe Mistake Not…
Tripped a pop-flag on this one, com: specs on your guests included the live bio’s name (rLC Vyr Cossont). Data from one interested party assertively idents a certain individuaclass="underline" C. cit. (congen) QiRia, Ngaroe (no further nom. detail avail.). If not fraud, semi-mythic figure. Vyr Cossont met him 20 years ago (cert. ≥99%). Link likely germane.
You were right; contents/passengers you rescued from craft/Eshri surface not random.
Ms Cossont may be our best lead.
Sound out. Stick with.
∞
The avatar smiled wearily but warmly. “Let’s suppose, for the sake of brevity if nothing else,” it said, “that our interests lie parallel. Why don’t you tell me where you want to go?”
Cossont had a think about this, and couldn’t see a way round it.
“Centralised Dataversities,” she said. “Ospin.”
The avatar made every show of thinking about this save actually stroking its chin. “Hmm,” it said at last. “Do-able. But the other ships I’m talking to will want to know why I’m going there; they’ll probably have their own good reasons for sending me somewhere else. I need to give them something if I’m to go charging off on the whim of a shipwrecked human I just picked up.”
“I’m looking for something,” Cossont said.
Pyan stuck one corner up, into Cossont’s face. Two circles like extemporised eyes popped into existence on its folded fabric. “Are you? What?” it asked.
Cossont put one hand over the familiar’s impromptu face and pushed it back down. “Something I gave to one of the orders there,” she told Berdle, “for safe keeping.”
The avatar looked interested but still sceptical.
“Something to do with one of your own people,” Cossont told it.
“One of our people?”
“A Culture person.” She held all four hands up. This had proved to be a useful gesture when used in front of humans — stopped them in their tracks, normally — though she had no idea how it would work on a machine. “Can’t say more for now.”
The avatar’s eyes narrowed. “Okay,” it said. “So, to be clear: you’re happy that we head there directly, I make no mention of picking you up to anybody in your own regiment, and I can leave Ar Parinherm deactivated until we get there?”
Cossont nodded. “That all sounds fine to me.”
∞
oUe Mistake Not…
xMSV Pressure Drop
So there we are.
∞
Indeed. Ospin. Home of the Centralised Dataversities and the conglomerate of associated hangers-on. Something QiRia gave her? Too precious or too dangerous?
∞
Or something she made, perhaps, or recorded, which she’d thought to leave to posterity.
∞
If it’s a Culture artefact it might have some processing or ident tech embedded. Useful to have that pinned.
∞
Point.
∞
One way to find out. Try and get her to be more specific, though you are already the nearest asset we know of, so no way apparent of getting somebody there before you arrive.
∞
The avatar bowed. “We are now on our way to the Ospin System.”
“Brilliant.”
“And may I dispose of the trooper’s body?”
“Yes. Wait; how?”
“I thought I’d just leave it floating in space with the suit’s comms broadcasting a weak signal; that ought to attract a Gzilt ship before too long. Then he can be disposed of as you would normally think fit.”
Cossont nodded. “Fair enough. Also, do you have any food? I am fucking famished.”
“Septame, I am a mild-mannered man, I am known for my forbearance and general good humour, my tolerance and my indefatigable desire to give the other person the benefit of the doubt in all matters and at all times, but in all my wide and valuable experience in matters of inter-species diplomacy I have to say that even I, sir, even I am shocked to find my clients and — yes, my friends, my valued friends, for so they have become, and I am absolutely not ashamed to say it, no; in fact I am proud to, proud to say it, I am — the Liseiden legation being so roundly deceived and so ill-used is as appalling as it is shocking. Their good nature, their instinctive trust, their admiration for a species they have long looked up to and desired, why, to… to praise, to honour, indeed, by their emulation; all have been taken advantage of, in a most shameful and unbefitting way.”