~Just eighty-six years? I expected more, somehow. So, Major, why have I been resurrected?
~ Frankly, sir, I do not entirely know myself.
~ Then, frankly, Major, I think you’d better rapidly put me in touch with somebody who does know.
~ There has been a war, sir.
~ A war? Who with?
~ With ourselves, sir; a civil war.
~ This some sort of caste thing?
~ Yes, sir.
~ I suppose it was always coming. So, am I being conscripted? Are the dead being used as the reserves?
~ No, sir. The war is over. We are at peace again, though there will be changes. There was an attempt to rescue you and the other stored personalities from the substrate in the Military Institute during the war—an attempt I was involved in—but it was only partially successful. Until a few days ago we thought it had been completely unsuccessful.
~ So; am I being brought back to life to appreciate the manifest glories of the new order? To be re-educated? Tried for past incorrectness? What?
~ Our superiors think that you may be able to help with a mission that lies before both of us.
~ Before both of us? Uh-huh. And what exactly would that mission be, Major?
~ I can’t tell you that at the moment, sir.
~ You seem worryingly ignorant to be the one who’s pulling all the strings here, Major.
~ I’m sorry, sir. I believe that my current lack of knowledge may be a safety procedure. But I would guess that your expertise regarding the Culture could be of some help.
~ My thoughts on the Culture proved politically unpopular when I was alive, Major; that’s one of the reasons I took the offer of being put into storage on Aorme, rather than either die and go to heaven or keep banging my head against a wall in Combined Forces Intelligence. Are you telling me the top brass have come round to my point of view?
~ Perhaps, sir. Perhaps just your knowledge of the Culture would prove useful.
~ Even if it’s eight-and-a-half decades old?
Quilan paused, then expressed something he’d been preparing for some days, since they’d rediscovered the substrate.
~ Sir, considerable thought and great effort went into both retrieving you and preparing me for my mission. I would hope that no part of that thought or effort was either wasted or without point.
Huyler was silent for a moment. ~ There were about five hundred others besides me in that machine in the Institute. Did they all get out, too?
~ The final figure for those stored was nearer a thousand, but yes, sir, they all appear to have come through, though only you’ve been revived so far.
~ All right then, soldier, perhaps you should start by telling me what you do know about this mission.
~ I know only what you might call our cover story, sir. I’ve been induced to forget the real mission goal for the time being.
~ What?
~ It’s a security measure, sir. You’ll be briefed with the full mission details and you won’t forget them. I ought to remember gradually what my mission is anyway, but in the event that something goes wrong, you’ll be the back-up.
~ They frightened somebody might read your mind, Major?
~ I imagine so, sir.
~ Though, of course, the Culture doesn’t do that.
~ So we’re told.
~ Extra precaution, eh? Must be an important mission. But if you can still remember that you have a secret mission in the first place…
~ I am reliably informed that in a day or two I’ll even forget that as well.
~ Well, all very interesting. So, what would that cover story be?
~ I will be on a cultural diplomatic mission to a world of the Culture.
~ A Cultural cultural mission?
~ In a sense, sir.
~ Just an old soldier’s lame joke, son. Relax that frozen sphincter a bit, won’t you?
~ I’m sorry, sir. I need to have your agreement both to undertake the mission and to be transferred into another substrate within myself. That process may take a little time.
~ Did you say another machine inside you?
~ Yes, sir. There is a device inside my skull, designed to look like an ordinary Soulkeeper, but able to accommodate your personality as well.
~ You don’t look that much of a fat-head, Major.
~ The device is no larger than a small finger, sir.
~ And what about your Soulkeeper?
~ The same device functions as my Soulkeeper too, sir.
~ They can make something that clever that small?
~ Yes, sir, they can. There probably isn’t time to go into all the technical details.
~ Well I beg your pardon, Major, but take it from an old soldier that war in general, and limited personnel missions in particular, are often all about the technical details. Plus, you’re rushing me, son. You have the advantage of being at the controls here. I’ve got eighty-six years of catching up to do. I don’t even know that you’re telling me the truth about any of this. It all sounds suspicious as hell so far. And about this being transferred inside you. You trying to tell me I don’t even get my own god-damned body?
~ I’m sorry there wasn’t more time to brief you, sir. We thought we had lost you. Twice, in a sense. When we discovered that your substrate had survived, my mission had already been decided on. And yes, your consciousness would be transferred entirely into the substrate within my body; you would have access to all my senses and we would be able to communicate, though you would not be able to control my body unless I became deeply unconscious or suffered brain death. The only technical detail I know is that the device is a crystalline nanofoam matrix with links to my brain.
~ So I’d just be along for the ride? What son of itch-shit mission profile is that? Who’s putting you up to this, Major?
~ It would be a novel experience for both of us, sir, and one that I would consider a privilege. It is believed that your presence and advice would increase the likelihood of the mission’s success. As to who put me up to it, I was trained and briefed by a team under the command of Estodien Visquile.
~ Visquile? Is that old horror still alive? And made it to Estodien, too. I’ll be damned.
~ He sends his regards, sir. I carry a personal and private communication from him addressed to you.
~ Let me hear it, Major.
~ Sir, we thought you might like a little more time to-
~ Major Quilan, I’m mightily suspicious that I’m being shovelled into something pretty damn dubious here. I’ll be honest with you, youngster; it’s not very likely that I’m going to agree to take part in your unknown mission even after I’ve heard Visquile’s message, but I’m sure as shit not going willingly through your ears, up your ass, or anywhere else unless I do hear what that old whoreboy’s got to say, and
