Excession

11. Regarding Gravious

I

Genar-Hofoen and the avatar Amorphia appeared in the doorway at the head of the winding stair. 'Excuse me,' Ulver said, putting down the comb and patting Dajeil on the shoulder. She walked towards the door.

'No; please stay,' Dajeil said behind her.

Ulver turned to the older woman. 'You sure?'

Dajeil nodded. Ulver looked at Genar-Hofoen, whose gaze was fastened on Dajeil. He seemed to shake himself out of his fixation and looked, then smiled at Ulver. 'Hi,' he said. 'Yes; stay; whatever.' He crossed to Dajeil, who stood. They both looked awkward for a moment, then they embraced; that was awkward too, over the bulge of Dajeil's belly. Ulver and the avatar exchanged looks.

'Please; let's all sit down, shall we?' Dajeil said. 'Byr, are you hungry?'

'Not really,' he said, drawing up a chair. 'I could use a drink…' The four of them sat round the table.

There was some small talk, mostly between Genar-Hofoen and Dajeil, with a few comments from Ulver. The avatar remained silent. It frowned once and glanced at the screens, which showed a perfectly banal view of empty space.

II

The Sleeper Service was a few hours out from the Excession now. It was tracking the MSV Not Invented Here and another two large Culture craft, each a dark jewel set within a cluster of smaller ships; warships, plus some GCUs and superlifters extemporised into combat service. The GCU Different Tan was also supposed to be in the volume, but it was not making itself obvious. The Not Invented Here was thirty light years out from Esperi, patrolling the spherical limit of the uniquely worrying engine-field effect that the GCU Fate Amenable To Change had reported days earlier. The Sleeper Service had briefly considered asking that the smaller craft copy its results to it, but hadn't bothered; the request would probably be refused and it suspected whatever data the smaller craft was gathering weren't telling anybody very much anyway.

The other two craft — the GSVs What Is The Answer And Why? and Use Psychology — were manoeuvring a half a day and a full day further out respectively. A faint layered smudge in the distance, about three quarters of the way round an imaginary sphere drawn around the Excession, was almost certainly the approaching Affronter war fleet. Around the Excession itself, no sign whatsoever of the vanished Stargazer fleet of the Zetetic Elench.

The Sleeper Service readied itself for the fray. Maybe, in a sense, two frays. There was every chance that its own engines would fail the same way the Fate Amenable To Change's had when it had moved towards the Excession, but given the speed the Sleeper Service was travelling at it could coast in towards the thing; it wouldn't have any directional control, it wouldn't be able to maintain its present speed, or brake, but it could get there.

If it ought to.

Ought it? It checked its signal log, as if it might have missed an incoming message.

Still nothing from those who had sent it here. The Interesting Times Gang seemed to have been observing comm silence for days. Just the usual daily plea from the LSV Serious Callers Only; the equivalent of an unopened letter and just the latest in a series.

The Sleeper watched events on the Jaundiced Outlook, even as it prepared itself for the coming encounter near Esperi, like a military commander drawing up war plans and issuing hundreds of preparatory orders who cannot keep his or her attention from flicking to a microscopic drama being played out amongst a group of insects clinging to the wall above the table. The ship felt foolish, voyeuristic, and yet fascinated.

Its thoughts were interrupted by the Grey Area, sending from its Mainbay in the nose of the GSV.

— I'll be on my way then, if you don't need me any more.

— I'd rather you stuck around, the Sleeper Service replied.

— Not when you're heading for that thing, and the Affronters.

— You might be surprised.

— I'm sure. However, I want to leave.

— Farewell, then, the GSV sent, opening the bay door.

— I suppose this means another Displace.

— If you don't mind.

— And if I do?

— There is an alternative, but I'd rather not use it.

— Well, if there is one, I want to use it!

— The Jaundiced Outlook declined, and it had humans aboard.

— Bugger the humans, and bugger the Jaundiced Outlook, too. What's the alternative? Have you got superlifters capable of this sort of speed?

— No.

— What then…?

— Just get to the rear of my field envelope.

— Whatever you say.

The GCU quit its berth, easing out into the confined space between the GSVs hull and the craft's innermost field layer. It took a few minutes for it to manoeuvre itself down the side of the giant ship and round the corner to the flat rear of the craft. When it got there it found three other ships waiting for it.

— Who the hell are they? the GCU asked the larger ship. ~ In fact, what the hell are they?

It was something of a rhetorical question. The three craft were unambiguously warships; slightly longer and fatter than the Grey Area itself but tapering at either end to points surmounted with large spheres. Spheres which could logically only contain weaponry. Quite a lot of weaponry, judging by the size of the globes.

— My own design. Their names are T3OUs 4, 118 and 736.

— Oh, witty.

— You won't find them terribly good company; AI cores only, semi-slaved to me. But they can operate together as a super lifter to get you down to manageable speeds.

The GCU was silent for a moment. It moved in to take up position in the centre of the triangle the three ships had formed. ~ T3OUs? it asked. Type Three Offensive Units, by any chance?

— Correct.

— Many more like these hidden away?

— Enough.

— You have been busy all these years.

— Yes I have. I trust I can rely on your absolute discretion, for the next few hours at any rate.

— You certainly have that.

— Good. Farewell. Thank you for your help.

— Glad to be of the small amount of service I was. Best of luck. I suppose I'll find out soon enough how things pan out.

— I imagine so.