Consider Phlebas Part 1

Consider Phlebas.

by Iain M. Banks.

Prologue

The s.h.i.+p didn't even have a name. It had no human crew because the factory craft which constructed it had been evacuated long ago. It had no life-support or accommodation units for the same reason. It had no cla.s.s number or fleet designation because it was a mongrel made from bits and pieces of different types of warcraft; and it didn't have a name because the factory craft had no time left for such niceties. The dockyard threw the s.h.i.+p together as best it could from its depleted stock of components, even though most of the weapon, power and sensory systems were either faulty, superseded or due for overhaul. The factory vessel knew that its own destruction was inevitable, but there was just a chance that its last creation might have the speed and the luck to escape. The dockyard threw the s.h.i.+p together as best it could from its depleted stock of components, even though most of the weapon, power and sensory systems were either faulty, superseded or due for overhaul. The factory vessel knew that its own destruction was inevitable, but there was just a chance that its last creation might have the speed and the luck to escape. The one perfect, priceless component the factory craft did have was the vastly powerful-though still raw and untrained-Mind around which it had constructed the rest of the s.h.i.+p. If it could get the Mind to safety, the factory vessel thought it would have done well. Nevertheless, there was another reason-the real reason-the dockyard mother didn't give its wars.h.i.+p child a name; it thought there was something else it lacked: hope. The one perfect, priceless component the factory craft did have was the vastly powerful-though still raw and untrained-Mind around which it had constructed the rest of the s.h.i.+p. If it could get the Mind to safety, the factory vessel thought it would have done well. Nevertheless, there was another reason-the real reason-the dockyard mother didn't give its wars.h.i.+p child a name; it thought there was something else it lacked: hope. The s.h.i.+p left the construction bay of the factory craft with most of its fitting-out still to be done. Accelerating hard, its course a four-dimensional spiral through a blizzard of stars where it knew that only danger waited, it powered into hypers.p.a.ce on spent engines from an overhauled craft of one cla.s.s, watched its birthplace disappear astern with battle-damaged sensors from a second, and tested outdated weapon units cannibalised from yet another. Inside its wars.h.i.+p body, in narrow, unlit, unheated, hard-vacuum s.p.a.ces, constructor drones struggled to install or complete sensors, displacers, field generators, s.h.i.+eld disruptors, laserfields, plasma chambers, warhead magazines, manoeuvring units, repair systems and the thousands of other major and minor components required to make a functional wars.h.i.+p. Gradually, as it swept through the vast open reaches between the star systems, the vessel's internal structure changed, and it became less chaotic, more ordered, as the factory drones completed their tasks. The s.h.i.+p left the construction bay of the factory craft with most of its fitting-out still to be done. Accelerating hard, its course a four-dimensional spiral through a blizzard of stars where it knew that only danger waited, it powered into hypers.p.a.ce on spent engines from an overhauled craft of one cla.s.s, watched its birthplace disappear astern with battle-damaged sensors from a second, and tested outdated weapon units cannibalised from yet another. Inside its wars.h.i.+p body, in narrow, unlit, unheated, hard-vacuum s.p.a.ces, constructor drones struggled to install or complete sensors, displacers, field generators, s.h.i.+eld disruptors, laserfields, plasma chambers, warhead magazines, manoeuvring units, repair systems and the thousands of other major and minor components required to make a functional wars.h.i.+p. Gradually, as it swept through the vast open reaches between the star systems, the vessel's internal structure changed, and it became less chaotic, more ordered, as the factory drones completed their tasks. Several tens of hours out on its first journey, while it was testing its track scanner by focusing back along the route it had taken, the s.h.i.+p registered a single ma.s.sive annihilation explosion deep behind it, where the factory craft had been. It watched the blossoming sh.e.l.l of radiation expand for a while, then switched the scanner field to dead ahead and pushed yet more power through its already overloaded engines. Several tens of hours out on its first journey, while it was testing its track scanner by focusing back along the route it had taken, the s.h.i.+p registered a single ma.s.sive annihilation explosion deep behind it, where the factory craft had been. It watched the blossoming sh.e.l.l of radiation expand for a while, then switched the scanner field to dead ahead and pushed yet more power through its already overloaded engines. The s.h.i.+p did all it could to avoid combat; it kept well away from the routes enemy craft would probably use; it treated every hint of any craft as a confirmed hostile sighting. At the same time, as it zigzagged and ducked and weaved and rose and fell, it was corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g as fast as it could, as directly as it dared, down and across the strand of the galactic arm in which it had been born, heading for the edge of that great isthmus and the comparatively empty s.p.a.ce beyond. On the far side, on the edge of the next limb, it might find safety. The s.h.i.+p did all it could to avoid combat; it kept well away from the routes enemy craft would probably use; it treated every hint of any craft as a confirmed hostile sighting. At the same time, as it zigzagged and ducked and weaved and rose and fell, it was corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g as fast as it could, as directly as it dared, down and across the strand of the galactic arm in which it had been born, heading for the edge of that great isthmus and the comparatively empty s.p.a.ce beyond. On the far side, on the edge of the next limb, it might find safety. Just as it arrived at that first border, where the stars rose like a glittering cliff alongside emptiness, it was caught. Just as it arrived at that first border, where the stars rose like a glittering cliff alongside emptiness, it was caught. A fleet of hostile craft, whose course by chance came close enough to that of the fleeing s.h.i.+p, detected its ragged, noisy emission sh.e.l.l, and intercepted it. The s.h.i.+p ran straight into their attack and was overwhelmed. Out-armed, slow, vulnerable, it knew almost instantly that it had no chance even of inflicting any damage on the opposing fleet. A fleet of hostile craft, whose course by chance came close enough to that of the fleeing s.h.i.+p, detected its ragged, noisy emission sh.e.l.l, and intercepted it. The s.h.i.+p ran straight into their attack and was overwhelmed. Out-armed, slow, vulnerable, it knew almost instantly that it had no chance even of inflicting any damage on the opposing fleet. So it destroyed itself, detonating the stock of warheads it carried in a sudden release of energy which for a second, in hypers.p.a.ce alone, outshone the yellow dwarf star of a nearby system. So it destroyed itself, detonating the stock of warheads it carried in a sudden release of energy which for a second, in hypers.p.a.ce alone, outshone the yellow dwarf star of a nearby system. Scattered in a pattern around it, an instant before the s.h.i.+p itself was blown into plasma, most of the thousands of exploding warheads formed an outrus.h.i.+ng sphere of radiation through which any escape seemed impossible. In the fraction of a second the entire engagement lasted, there were at the end some millionths when the battle-computers of the enemy fleet briefly a.n.a.lysed the four-dimensional maze of expanding radiation and saw that there was one bewilderingly complicated and unlikely way out of the concentric sh.e.l.ls of erupting energies now opening like the petals of some immense flower between the star systems. It was not, however, a route the Mind of a small, archaic wars.h.i.+p could plan for, create and follow. Scattered in a pattern around it, an instant before the s.h.i.+p itself was blown into plasma, most of the thousands of exploding warheads formed an outrus.h.i.+ng sphere of radiation through which any escape seemed impossible. In the fraction of a second the entire engagement lasted, there were at the end some millionths when the battle-computers of the enemy fleet briefly a.n.a.lysed the four-dimensional maze of expanding radiation and saw that there was one bewilderingly complicated and unlikely way out of the concentric sh.e.l.ls of erupting energies now opening like the petals of some immense flower between the star systems. It was not, however, a route the Mind of a small, archaic wars.h.i.+p could plan for, create and follow. By the time it was noticed that the s.h.i.+p's Mind had taken exactly that path through its screen of annihilation, it was too late to stop it from falling away through hypers.p.a.ce towards the small, cold planet fourth out from the single yellow sun of the nearby system. By the time it was noticed that the s.h.i.+p's Mind had taken exactly that path through its screen of annihilation, it was too late to stop it from falling away through hypers.p.a.ce towards the small, cold planet fourth out from the single yellow sun of the nearby system. It was also too late to do anything about the light from the s.h.i.+p's exploding warheads, which had been arranged in a crude code, describing the vessel's fate and the escaped Mind's status and position, and legible to anybody catching the unreal light as it sped through the galaxy. Perhaps worst of all-and had their design permitted such a thing, those electronic brains would now have felt dismay-the planet the Mind had made for through its s.h.i.+eld of explosions was not one they could simply attack, destroy or even land on; it was Schar's World, near the region of barren s.p.a.ce between two galactic strands called the Sullen Gulf, and it was one of the forbidden Planets of the Dead. It was also too late to do anything about the light from the s.h.i.+p's exploding warheads, which had been arranged in a crude code, describing the vessel's fate and the escaped Mind's status and position, and legible to anybody catching the unreal light as it sped through the galaxy. Perhaps worst of all-and had their design permitted such a thing, those electronic brains would now have felt dismay-the planet the Mind had made for through its s.h.i.+eld of explosions was not one they could simply attack, destroy or even land on; it was Schar's World, near the region of barren s.p.a.ce between two galactic strands called the Sullen Gulf, and it was one of the forbidden Planets of the Dead.

1. Sorpen

The level was at his top lip now. Even with his head pressed hard back against the stones of the cell wall his nose was only just above the surface. He wasn't going to get his hands free in time; he was going to drown. In the darkness of the cell, in its stink and warmth, while the sweat ran over his brows and tightly closed eyes and his trance went on and on, one part of his mind tried to accustom him to the idea of his own death. But, like an unseen insect buzzing in a quiet room, there was something else, something that would not go away, was of no use, and only annoyed. It was a sentence, irrelevant and pointless and so old he'd forgotten where he had heard or read it, and it went round and round the inside of his head like a marble spun round the inside of a jug: In the darkness of the cell, in its stink and warmth, while the sweat ran over his brows and tightly closed eyes and his trance went on and on, one part of his mind tried to accustom him to the idea of his own death. But, like an unseen insect buzzing in a quiet room, there was something else, something that would not go away, was of no use, and only annoyed. It was a sentence, irrelevant and pointless and so old he'd forgotten where he had heard or read it, and it went round and round the inside of his head like a marble spun round the inside of a jug:The Jinmoti of Bozlen Two kill the hereditary ritual a.s.sa.s.sins of the new Yearking's immediate family by drowning them in the tears of the Continental Empathaur in its Sadness Season. At one point, shortly after his ordeal had begun and he was only part-way into his trance, he had wondered what would happen if he threw up. It had been when the palace kitchens-about fifteen or sixteen floors above, if his calculations were correct-had sent their waste down the sinuous network of plumbing that led to the sewercell. The gurgling, watery mess had dislodged some rotten food from the last time some poor wretch had drowned in filth and garbage, and that was when he felt he might vomit. It had been almost comforting to work out that it would make no difference to the time of his death. At one point, shortly after his ordeal had begun and he was only part-way into his trance, he had wondered what would happen if he threw up. It had been when the palace kitchens-about fifteen or sixteen floors above, if his calculations were correct-had sent their waste down the sinuous network of plumbing that led to the sewercell. The gurgling, watery mess had dislodged some rotten food from the last time some poor wretch had drowned in filth and garbage, and that was when he felt he might vomit. It had been almost comforting to work out that it would make no difference to the time of his death. Then he had wondered-in that state of nervous frivolity which sometimes afflicts those who can do nothing but wait in a situation of mortal threat-whether crying would speed his death. In theory it would, though in practical terms it was irrelevant; but that was when the sentence started to roll round in his head. Then he had wondered-in that state of nervous frivolity which sometimes afflicts those who can do nothing but wait in a situation of mortal threat-whether crying would speed his death. In theory it would, though in practical terms it was irrelevant; but that was when the sentence started to roll round in his head.The Jinmoti of Bozlen Two kill the hereditary ritual... The liquid, which he could hear and feel and smell all too clearly-and could probably have seen with his far from ordinary eyes had they been open-washed briefly up to touch the bottom of his nose. He felt it block his nostrils, filling them with a stench that made his stomach heave. But he shook his head, tried to force his skull even further back against the stones, and the foul broth fell away. He blew down and could breathe again. The liquid, which he could hear and feel and smell all too clearly-and could probably have seen with his far from ordinary eyes had they been open-washed briefly up to touch the bottom of his nose. He felt it block his nostrils, filling them with a stench that made his stomach heave. But he shook his head, tried to force his skull even further back against the stones, and the foul broth fell away. He blew down and could breathe again. There wasn't long now. He checked his wrists again, but it was no good. It would take another hour or more, and he had only minutes, if he was lucky. There wasn't long now. He checked his wrists again, but it was no good. It would take another hour or more, and he had only minutes, if he was lucky. The trance was breaking anyway. He was returning to almost total consciousness, as though his brain wanted fully to appreciate his own death, its own extinction. He tried to think of something profound, or to see his life flash in front of him, or suddenly to remember some old love, a long-forgotten prophecy or premonition, but there was nothing, just an empty sentence, and the sensations of drowning in other people's dirt and waste. The trance was breaking anyway. He was returning to almost total consciousness, as though his brain wanted fully to appreciate his own death, its own extinction. He tried to think of something profound, or to see his life flash in front of him, or suddenly to remember some old love, a long-forgotten prophecy or premonition, but there was nothing, just an empty sentence, and the sensations of drowning in other people's dirt and waste.You old b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, he thought. One of their few strokes of humour or originality had been devising an elegant, ironic way of death. How fitting it must feel to them, dragging their decrepit frames to the banquet-hall privies, literally to defecate all over their enemies, and thereby kill them. The air pressure built up, and a distant, groaning rumble of liquid signalled another flus.h.i.+ng from above. The air pressure built up, and a distant, groaning rumble of liquid signalled another flus.h.i.+ng from above. You old b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Well, I hope at least you kept your promise, Balveda. You old b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Well, I hope at least you kept your promise, Balveda.The Jinmoti of Bozlen Two kill the hereditary ritual... thought one part of his brain, as the pipes in the ceiling spluttered and the waste splashed into the warm ma.s.s of liquid which almost filled the cell. The wave pa.s.sed over his face, then fell back to leave his nose free for a second and give him time to gulp a lungful of air. Then the liquid rose gently to touch the bottom of his nose again, and stayed there. He held his breath. He held his breath.

It had hurt at first, when they had hung him up. His hands, tied inside tight leather pouches, were directly above his head, manacled inside thick loops of iron bolted to the cell walls, which took all his weight. His feet were tied together and left to dangle inside an iron tube, also attached to the wall, which stopped him from taking any weight on his feet and knees and at the same time prevented him from moving his legs more than a hand's breadth out from the wall or to either side. The tube ended just above his knees; above it there was only a thin and dirty loincloth to hide his ancient and grubby nakedness. He had shut off the pain from his wrists and shoulders even while the four burly guards, two of them perched on ladders, had secured him in place. Even so he could feel that niggling sensation at the back of his skull which told him that he He had shut off the pain from his wrists and shoulders even while the four burly guards, two of them perched on ladders, had secured him in place. Even so he could feel that niggling sensation at the back of his skull which told him that he ought ought to be hurting. That had lessened gradually as the level of waste in the small sewercell had risen and buoyed up his body. to be hurting. That had lessened gradually as the level of waste in the small sewercell had risen and buoyed up his body. He had started to go into a trance then, as soon as the guards left, though he knew it was probably hopeless. It hadn't lasted long; the cell door opened again within minutes, a metal walkway was lowered by a guard onto the damp flagstones of the cell floor, and light from the corridor washed into the darkness. He had stopped the Changing trance and craned his neck to see who his visitor might be. He had started to go into a trance then, as soon as the guards left, though he knew it was probably hopeless. It hadn't lasted long; the cell door opened again within minutes, a metal walkway was lowered by a guard onto the damp flagstones of the cell floor, and light from the corridor washed into the darkness. He had stopped the Changing trance and craned his neck to see who his visitor might be. Into the cell, holding a short staff glowing cool blue, stepped the stooped, grizzled figure of Amahain-Frolk, security minister for the Gerontocracy of Sorpen. The old man smiled at him and nodded approvingly, then turned to the corridor and, with a thin, discoloured hand, beckoned somebody standing outside the cell to step onto the short walkway and enter. He guessed it would be the Culture agent Balveda, and it was. She came lightly onto the metal boarding, looked round slowly, and fastened her gaze on him. He smiled and tried to nod in greeting, his ears rubbing on his naked arms. Into the cell, holding a short staff glowing cool blue, stepped the stooped, grizzled figure of Amahain-Frolk, security minister for the Gerontocracy of Sorpen. The old man smiled at him and nodded approvingly, then turned to the corridor and, with a thin, discoloured hand, beckoned somebody standing outside the cell to step onto the short walkway and enter. He guessed it would be the Culture agent Balveda, and it was. She came lightly onto the metal boarding, looked round slowly, and fastened her gaze on him. He smiled and tried to nod in greeting, his ears rubbing on his naked arms. 'Balveda! I thought I might see you again. Come to see the host of the party?' He forced a grin. Officially it was his banquet; he was the host. Another of the Gerontocracy's little jokes. He hoped his voice had shown no signs of fear. 'Balveda! I thought I might see you again. Come to see the host of the party?' He forced a grin. Officially it was his banquet; he was the host. Another of the Gerontocracy's little jokes. He hoped his voice had shown no signs of fear. Perosteck Balveda, agent of the Culture, a full head taller than the old man by her side and still strikingly handsome even in the pallid glow of the blue torch, shook her thin, finely made head slowly. Her short, black hair lay like a shadow on her skull. Perosteck Balveda, agent of the Culture, a full head taller than the old man by her side and still strikingly handsome even in the pallid glow of the blue torch, shook her thin, finely made head slowly. Her short, black hair lay like a shadow on her skull. 'No,' she said, 'I didn't want to see you, or say goodbye.' 'No,' she said, 'I didn't want to see you, or say goodbye.' 'You put me here, Balveda,' he said quietly. 'You put me here, Balveda,' he said quietly. 'Yes, and there you belong,' Amahain-Frolk said, stepping as far forward on the platform as he could without overbalancing and having to step onto the damp floor. 'I wanted you tortured first, but Miss Balveda here'-the minister's high, scratchy voice echoed in the cell as he turned his head back to the woman?'pleaded for you, though G.o.d knows why. But that's where you belong all right; murderer.' He shook the staff at the almost naked man hanging on the dirty wall of the cell. 'Yes, and there you belong,' Amahain-Frolk said, stepping as far forward on the platform as he could without overbalancing and having to step onto the damp floor. 'I wanted you tortured first, but Miss Balveda here'-the minister's high, scratchy voice echoed in the cell as he turned his head back to the woman?'pleaded for you, though G.o.d knows why. But that's where you belong all right; murderer.' He shook the staff at the almost naked man hanging on the dirty wall of the cell. Balveda looked at her feet, just visible under the hem of the long, plain grey gown she wore. A circular pendant on a chain around her neck glinted in the light from the corridor outside. Amahain-Frolk had stepped back beside her, holding the s.h.i.+ning staff up and squinting at the captive. Balveda looked at her feet, just visible under the hem of the long, plain grey gown she wore. A circular pendant on a chain around her neck glinted in the light from the corridor outside. Amahain-Frolk had stepped back beside her, holding the s.h.i.+ning staff up and squinting at the captive. 'You know, even now I could almost swear that was Egratin hanging there. I can...' He shook his gaunt, bony head. '... I can hardly believe it isn't, not until he opens his mouth, anyway. My G.o.d, these Changers are dangerous frightening things!' He turned to Balveda. She smoothed her hair at the nape of her neck and looked down at the old man. 'You know, even now I could almost swear that was Egratin hanging there. I can...' He shook his gaunt, bony head. '... I can hardly believe it isn't, not until he opens his mouth, anyway. My G.o.d, these Changers are dangerous frightening things!' He turned to Balveda. She smoothed her hair at the nape of her neck and looked down at the old man. 'They are also an ancient and proud people, Minister, and there are very few of them left. May I ask you one more time? Please? Let him live. He might be?' 'They are also an ancient and proud people, Minister, and there are very few of them left. May I ask you one more time? Please? Let him live. He might be?' The Gerontocrat waved a thin and twisted hand at her, his face distorting in a grimace. 'No! You would do well, Miss Balveda, not to keep asking for this... this a.s.sa.s.sin, this murderous, treacherous... The Gerontocrat waved a thin and twisted hand at her, his face distorting in a grimace. 'No! You would do well, Miss Balveda, not to keep asking for this... this a.s.sa.s.sin, this murderous, treacherous... spy spy, to be spared. Do you think we take the cowardly murder and impersonation of one of our Outworld ministers lightly? What damage this... thing thing could have caused! Why, when we arrested it two of our guards died just from being could have caused! Why, when we arrested it two of our guards died just from being scratched scratched! Another is blind for life after this monster spat in his eye! However,' Amahain-Frolk sneered at the man chained to the wall, 'we took those teeth out. And his hands are tied so that he can't even scratch himself.' He turned to Balveda again. 'You say they are few? I say good; there will soon be one less.' The old man narrowed his eyes as he looked at the woman. 'We are grateful to you and your people for exposing this fraud and murderer, but do not think that gives you the right to tell us what to do. There are some in the Gerontocracy who want nothing to do with any any outside influence, and their voices grow in volume by the day as the war comes closer. You would do well not to antagonise those of us who do support your cause.' outside influence, and their voices grow in volume by the day as the war comes closer. You would do well not to antagonise those of us who do support your cause.' Balveda pursed her lips and looked down at her feet again, clasping her slender hands behind her back. Amahain-Frolk had turned back to the man hanging on the wall, wagging the staff in his direction as he spoke. 'You will soon be dead, impostor, and with you die your masters' plans for the domination of our peaceful system! The same fate awaits them if they try to invade us. We and the Culture are?' Balveda pursed her lips and looked down at her feet again, clasping her slender hands behind her back. Amahain-Frolk had turned back to the man hanging on the wall, wagging the staff in his direction as he spoke. 'You will soon be dead, impostor, and with you die your masters' plans for the domination of our peaceful system! The same fate awaits them if they try to invade us. We and the Culture are?' He shook his head as best he could and roared back, 'Frolk, you're an idiot!' The old man shrank away as though hit. The Changer went on, 'Can't you see you're going to be taken over anyway? Probably by the Idirans, but if not by them then by the Culture. You don't control your own destinies any more; the war's stopped all that. Soon this whole sector will be part of the front, unless you He shook his head as best he could and roared back, 'Frolk, you're an idiot!' The old man shrank away as though hit. The Changer went on, 'Can't you see you're going to be taken over anyway? Probably by the Idirans, but if not by them then by the Culture. You don't control your own destinies any more; the war's stopped all that. Soon this whole sector will be part of the front, unless you make make it part of the Idiran sphere. I was only sent in to tell you what you should have known anyway-not to cheat you into something you'd regret later. For G.o.d's sake, man, the Idirans won't it part of the Idiran sphere. I was only sent in to tell you what you should have known anyway-not to cheat you into something you'd regret later. For G.o.d's sake, man, the Idirans won't eat eat you?' you?' 'Ha! They look as though they could! Monsters with three feet; invaders, killers, infidels... You want us to link with them? With three-strides tall-monsters? To be ground under their 'Ha! They look as though they could! Monsters with three feet; invaders, killers, infidels... You want us to link with them? With three-strides tall-monsters? To be ground under their hooves hooves? To have to wors.h.i.+p their false G.o.ds?' 'At least they have a G.o.d, Frolk. The Culture doesn't.' The ache in his arms was coming back as he concentrated on talking. He s.h.i.+fted as best he could and looked down at the minister. 'They at least think the same way you do. The Culture doesn't.' 'At least they have a G.o.d, Frolk. The Culture doesn't.' The ache in his arms was coming back as he concentrated on talking. He s.h.i.+fted as best he could and looked down at the minister. 'They at least think the same way you do. The Culture doesn't.' 'Oh no, my friend, oh no.' Amahain-Frolk held one hand up flat to him and shook his head. 'You won't sow seeds of discord like that.' 'Oh no, my friend, oh no.' Amahain-Frolk held one hand up flat to him and shook his head. 'You won't sow seeds of discord like that.' 'My G.o.d, you stupid old man,' he laughed. 'You want to know who the real representative of the Culture is on this planet? It's not her,' he nodded at the woman, 'it's that powered flesh-slicer she has following her everywhere, her knife missile. She might make the decisions, it might do what she tells it, but it's the real emissary. That's what the Culture's about: machines. You think because Balveda's got two legs and soft skin you should be on her side, but it's the Idirans who are on the side of life in this war?' 'My G.o.d, you stupid old man,' he laughed. 'You want to know who the real representative of the Culture is on this planet? It's not her,' he nodded at the woman, 'it's that powered flesh-slicer she has following her everywhere, her knife missile. She might make the decisions, it might do what she tells it, but it's the real emissary. That's what the Culture's about: machines. You think because Balveda's got two legs and soft skin you should be on her side, but it's the Idirans who are on the side of life in this war?' 'Well, you will shortly be on the other side of 'Well, you will shortly be on the other side of that that.' The Gerontocrat snorted and glanced at Balveda, who was looking from under lowered brows at the man chained to the wall. 'Let us go, Miss Balveda,' Amahain-Frolk said as he turned and took the woman's arm to guide her from the cell. 'This... thing's thing's presence smells more than the cell.' presence smells more than the cell.' Balveda looked up at him then, ignoring the dwarfed minister as he tried to pull her to the door. She gazed right at the prisoner with her clear, black-irised eyes and held her hands out from her sides. 'I'm sorry,' she said to him. Balveda looked up at him then, ignoring the dwarfed minister as he tried to pull her to the door. She gazed right at the prisoner with her clear, black-irised eyes and held her hands out from her sides. 'I'm sorry,' she said to him. 'Believe it or not, that's rather how I feel,' he replied, nodding. 'Just promise me you'll eat and drink very little tonight, Balveda. I'd like to think there was one person up there on my side, and it might as well be my worst enemy.' He had meant it to be defiant and funny, but it sounded only bitter; he looked away from the woman's face. 'Believe it or not, that's rather how I feel,' he replied, nodding. 'Just promise me you'll eat and drink very little tonight, Balveda. I'd like to think there was one person up there on my side, and it might as well be my worst enemy.' He had meant it to be defiant and funny, but it sounded only bitter; he looked away from the woman's face. 'I promise,' Balveda said. She let herself be led to the door, and the blue light waned in the dank cell. She stopped right at the door. By sticking his head painfully far out he could just see her. The knife missile was there, too, he noticed, just inside the room; probably there all the time, but he hadn't noticed its sleek, sharp little body hovering there in the darkness. He looked into Balveda's dark eyes as the knife missile moved. 'I promise,' Balveda said. She let herself be led to the door, and the blue light waned in the dank cell. She stopped right at the door. By sticking his head painfully far out he could just see her. The knife missile was there, too, he noticed, just inside the room; probably there all the time, but he hadn't noticed its sleek, sharp little body hovering there in the darkness. He looked into Balveda's dark eyes as the knife missile moved. For a second he thought Balveda had instructed the tiny machine to kill him now-quietly and quickly while she blocked Amahain-Frolk's view-and his heart thudded. But the small device simply floated past Balveda's face and out into the corridor. Balveda raised one hand in a gesture of farewell. For a second he thought Balveda had instructed the tiny machine to kill him now-quietly and quickly while she blocked Amahain-Frolk's view-and his heart thudded. But the small device simply floated past Balveda's face and out into the corridor. Balveda raised one hand in a gesture of farewell. 'Bora Horza Gobuchul,' she said, 'goodbye.' She turned quickly, stepped from the platform and out of the cell. The walkway was hoisted out and the door slammed, sc.r.a.ping rubber f.l.a.n.g.es over the grimy floor and hissing once as the internal seals made it watertight. He hung there, looking down at an invisible floor for a moment before going back into the trance that would Change his wrists, thin them down so that he could escape. But something about the solemn, final way Balveda had spoken his name had crushed him inside, and he knew then, if not before, that there was no escape. 'Bora Horza Gobuchul,' she said, 'goodbye.' She turned quickly, stepped from the platform and out of the cell. The walkway was hoisted out and the door slammed, sc.r.a.ping rubber f.l.a.n.g.es over the grimy floor and hissing once as the internal seals made it watertight. He hung there, looking down at an invisible floor for a moment before going back into the trance that would Change his wrists, thin them down so that he could escape. But something about the solemn, final way Balveda had spoken his name had crushed him inside, and he knew then, if not before, that there was no escape.

... by drowning them in the tears by drowning them in the tears... His lungs were bursting! His mouth quivered, his throat was gagging, the filth was in his ears but he could hear a great roaring, see lights though it was black dark. His stomach muscles started to go in and out, and he had to clamp his jaw to stop his mouth opening for air that wasn't there. Now. No... His lungs were bursting! His mouth quivered, his throat was gagging, the filth was in his ears but he could hear a great roaring, see lights though it was black dark. His stomach muscles started to go in and out, and he had to clamp his jaw to stop his mouth opening for air that wasn't there. Now. No... now now he had to give in. Not yet... surely now. Now, now, now, any second; surrender to this awful black vacuum inside him... he had to breathe... he had to give in. Not yet... surely now. Now, now, now, any second; surrender to this awful black vacuum inside him... he had to breathe... now now! Before he had time to open his mouth he was smashed against the wall-punched against the stones as though some immense iron fist had slammed into him. He blew out the stale air from his lungs in one convulsive breath. His body was suddenly cold, and every part of it next to the wall throbbed with pain. Death, it seemed, was weight, pain, cold... and too much light... Before he had time to open his mouth he was smashed against the wall-punched against the stones as though some immense iron fist had slammed into him. He blew out the stale air from his lungs in one convulsive breath. His body was suddenly cold, and every part of it next to the wall throbbed with pain. Death, it seemed, was weight, pain, cold... and too much light... He brought his head up. He moaned at the light. He tried to see, tried to hear. What was happening? Why was he breathing? Why was he so d.a.m.n He brought his head up. He moaned at the light. He tried to see, tried to hear. What was happening? Why was he breathing? Why was he so d.a.m.n heavy heavy again? His body was tearing his arms from their sockets; his wrists were cut almost to the bone. Who had again? His body was tearing his arms from their sockets; his wrists were cut almost to the bone. Who had done done this to him? this to him? Where the wall had been facing him there was a very large and ragged hole which extended beneath the level of the cell floor. All the ordure and garbage had burst out of that. The last few trickles hissed against the hot sides of the breach, producing steam which curled around the figure standing blocking most of the brilliant light from outside, in the open air of Sorpen. The figure was three metres tall and looked vaguely like a small armoured s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p sitting on a tripod of thick legs. Its helmet looked big enough to contain three human heads, side by side. Held almost casually in one gigantic hand was a plasma cannon which Horza would have needed both arms just to lift; the creature's other fist gripped a slightly larger gun. Behind it, nosing in towards the hole, came an Idiran gun-platform, lit vividly by the light of explosions which Horza could now feel through the iron and stones he was attached to. He raised his head to the giant standing in the breach and tried to smile. Where the wall had been facing him there was a very large and ragged hole which extended beneath the level of the cell floor. All the ordure and garbage had burst out of that. The last few trickles hissed against the hot sides of the breach, producing steam which curled around the figure standing blocking most of the brilliant light from outside, in the open air of Sorpen. The figure was three metres tall and looked vaguely like a small armoured s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p sitting on a tripod of thick legs. Its helmet looked big enough to contain three human heads, side by side. Held almost casually in one gigantic hand was a plasma cannon which Horza would have needed both arms just to lift; the creature's other fist gripped a slightly larger gun. Behind it, nosing in towards the hole, came an Idiran gun-platform, lit vividly by the light of explosions which Horza could now feel through the iron and stones he was attached to. He raised his head to the giant standing in the breach and tried to smile. 'Well,' he croaked, then spluttered and spat, 'you lot certainly took your time.' 'Well,' he croaked, then spluttered and spat, 'you lot certainly took your time.'

2. The Hand of G.o.d 137

Outside the palace, in the sharp cold of a winter's afternoon, the clear sky was full of what looked like glittering snow. Horza paused on the warshuttle's ramp and looked up and around. The sheer walls and slim towers of the prison-palace echoed and reflected with the booms and flashes of continuing fire-fights, while Idiran gun-platforms cruised back and forth, firing occasionally. Around them on the stiffening breeze blew great clouds of chaff from anti-laser mortars on the palace roof. A gust sent some of the fluttering, flickering foil towards the stationary shuttle, and Horza found one side of his wet and sticky body suddenly coated with reflecting plumage. Horza paused on the warshuttle's ramp and looked up and around. The sheer walls and slim towers of the prison-palace echoed and reflected with the booms and flashes of continuing fire-fights, while Idiran gun-platforms cruised back and forth, firing occasionally. Around them on the stiffening breeze blew great clouds of chaff from anti-laser mortars on the palace roof. A gust sent some of the fluttering, flickering foil towards the stationary shuttle, and Horza found one side of his wet and sticky body suddenly coated with reflecting plumage. 'Please. The battle is not over yet,' thundered the Idiran soldier behind him, in what was probably meant to be a quiet whisper. Horza turned round to the armoured bulk and stared up at the visor of the giant's helmet, where he could see his own, old man's face reflected. He breathed deeply, then nodded, turned and walked, slightly shakily, into the shuttle. A flash of light threw his shadow diagonally in front of him, and the craft bucked in the shock wave of a big explosion somewhere inside the palace as the ramp closed. 'Please. The battle is not over yet,' thundered the Idiran soldier behind him, in what was probably meant to be a quiet whisper. Horza turned round to the armoured bulk and stared up at the visor of the giant's helmet, where he could see his own, old man's face reflected. He breathed deeply, then nodded, turned and walked, slightly shakily, into the shuttle. A flash of light threw his shadow diagonally in front of him, and the craft bucked in the shock wave of a big explosion somewhere inside the palace as the ramp closed.

By their names you could know them, Horza thought as he showered. The Culture's General Contact Units, which until now had borne the brunt of the first four years of the war in s.p.a.ce, had always chosen jokey, facetious names. Even the new wars.h.i.+ps they were starting to produce, as their factory craft completed gearing up their war production, favoured either jocular, sombre or downright unpleasant names, as though the Culture could not take entirely seriously the vast conflict in which it had embroiled itself. The Idirans looked at things differently. To them a s.h.i.+p name ought to reflect the serious nature of its purpose, duties and resolute use. In the huge Idiran navy there were hundreds of craft named after the same heroes, planets, battles, religious concepts and impressive adjectives. The light cruiser which had rescued Horza was the 137th vessel to be called The Idirans looked at things differently. To them a s.h.i.+p name ought to reflect the serious nature of its purpose, duties and resolute use. In the huge Idiran navy there were hundreds of craft named after the same heroes, planets, battles, religious concepts and impressive adjectives. The light cruiser which had rescued Horza was the 137th vessel to be called The Hand of G.o.d The Hand of G.o.d, and it existed concurrently with over a hundred other craft in the navy using the same t.i.tle, so its full name was The Hand of G.o.d 137 The Hand of G.o.d 137. Horza dried in the airstream with some difficulty. Like everything else in the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p it was built on a monumental scale befitting the size of the Idirans, and the hurricane of air it produced nearly blew him out of the shower cabinet. Horza dried in the airstream with some difficulty. Like everything else in the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p it was built on a monumental scale befitting the size of the Idirans, and the hurricane of air it produced nearly blew him out of the shower cabinet.

The Querl Xoralundra, spy-father and warrior priest of the Four Souls tributory sect of Farn-Idir, clasped two hands on the surface of the table. It looked to Horza rather like a pair of continental plates colliding. 'So, Bora Horza,' boomed the old Idiran, 'you are recovered.' 'So, Bora Horza,' boomed the old Idiran, 'you are recovered.' 'Just about,' nodded Horza, rubbing his wrists. He sat in Xoralundra's cabin in 'Just about,' nodded Horza, rubbing his wrists. He sat in Xoralundra's cabin in The Hand of G.o.d 137 The Hand of G.o.d 137, clothed in a bulky but comfortable s.p.a.ce suit apparently brought along just for him. Xoralundra, who was also suited up, had insisted the man wear it because the wars.h.i.+p was still at battle stations as it swept a fast and low-powered orbit around the planet of Sorpen. A Culture GCU of the Mountain cla.s.s had been confirmed in the system by Naval Intelligence; the Hand Hand was in on its own, and they couldn't find any trace of the Culture s.h.i.+p, so they had to be careful. was in on its own, and they couldn't find any trace of the Culture s.h.i.+p, so they had to be careful. Xoralundra leaned towards Horza, casting a shadow over the table. His huge head, saddle-shaped when seen from directly in front, with the two front eyes clear and unblinking near the edges, loomed over the Changer. 'You were lucky, Horza. We did not come in to rescue you out of compa.s.sion. Failure is its own reward.' Xoralundra leaned towards Horza, casting a shadow over the table. His huge head, saddle-shaped when seen from directly in front, with the two front eyes clear and unblinking near the edges, loomed over the Changer. 'You were lucky, Horza. We did not come in to rescue you out of compa.s.sion. Failure is its own reward.' 'Thank you, Xora. That's actually the nicest thing anybody's said to me all day.' Horza sat back in his seat and put one of his old-looking hands through his thin, yellowing hair. It would take a few days for the aged appearance he had a.s.sumed to disappear, though already he could feel it starting to slip away from him. In a Changer's mind there was a self-image constantly held and reviewed on a semi-subconscious level, keeping the body in the appearance willed. Horza's need to look like a Gerontocrat was gone now, so the mental picture of the minister he had impersonated for the Idirans was fragmenting and dissolving, and his body was going back to its normal, neutral state. 'Thank you, Xora. That's actually the nicest thing anybody's said to me all day.' Horza sat back in his seat and put one of his old-looking hands through his thin, yellowing hair. It would take a few days for the aged appearance he had a.s.sumed to disappear, though already he could feel it starting to slip away from him. In a Changer's mind there was a self-image constantly held and reviewed on a semi-subconscious level, keeping the body in the appearance willed. Horza's need to look like a Gerontocrat was gone now, so the mental picture of the minister he had impersonated for the Idirans was fragmenting and dissolving, and his body was going back to its normal, neutral state. Xoralundra's head went slowly from side to side between the edges of the suit collar. It was a gesture Horza had never fully translated, although he had worked for the Idirans and known Xoralundra well since before the war. Xoralundra's head went slowly from side to side between the edges of the suit collar. It was a gesture Horza had never fully translated, although he had worked for the Idirans and known Xoralundra well since before the war. 'Anyway. You are alive,' Xoralundra said. Horza nodded and drummed his fingers on the table to show he agreed. He wished the Idiran chair he was perched on didn't make him feel so much like a child; his feet weren't even touching the deck. 'Anyway. You are alive,' Xoralundra said. Horza nodded and drummed his fingers on the table to show he agreed. He wished the Idiran chair he was perched on didn't make him feel so much like a child; his feet weren't even touching the deck. 'Just. Thanks, anyway. I'm sorry I dragged you all the way in here to rescue a failure.' 'Just. Thanks, anyway. I'm sorry I dragged you all the way in here to rescue a failure.' 'Orders are orders. I personally am glad we were able to. Now I must tell you why we received those orders.' 'Orders are orders. I personally am glad we were able to. Now I must tell you why we received those orders.' Horza smiled and looked away from the old Idiran, who had just given him something of a compliment; a rare thing. He looked back and watched the other being's wide mouth-big enough, thought Horza, to bite off both your hands at once-as it boomed out the precise, short words of the Idiran language. Horza smiled and looked away from the old Idiran, who had just given him something of a compliment; a rare thing. He looked back and watched the other being's wide mouth-big enough, thought Horza, to bite off both your hands at once-as it boomed out the precise, short words of the Idiran language. 'You were once with a caretaker mission on Schar's World, one of the Dra'Azon Planets of the Dead,' Xoralundra stated. Horza nodded. 'We need you to go back there.' 'You were once with a caretaker mission on Schar's World, one of the Dra'Azon Planets of the Dead,' Xoralundra stated. Horza nodded. 'We need you to go back there.' 'Now?' Horza said to the broad, dark face of the Idiran. 'There are only Changers there. I've told you I won't impersonate another Changer. I certainly won't kill one.' 'Now?' Horza said to the broad, dark face of the Idiran. 'There are only Changers there. I've told you I won't impersonate another Changer. I certainly won't kill one.' 'We are not asking you to do that. Listen while I explain.' Xoralundra leant on his back-rest in a way almost any vertebrate-or even anything like a vertebrate-would have called tired. 'Four standard days ago,' the Idiran began-then his suit helmet, which was lying on the floor near his feet, let out a piercing whine. He picked up the helmet and set it on the table. ' 'We are not asking you to do that. Listen while I explain.' Xoralundra leant on his back-rest in a way almost any vertebrate-or even anything like a vertebrate-would have called tired. 'Four standard days ago,' the Idiran began-then his suit helmet, which was lying on the floor near his feet, let out a piercing whine. He picked up the helmet and set it on the table. ' Yes Yes?' he said, and Horza knew enough about the Idiran voice to realise that whoever was bothering the Querl had better have a good reason for doing so. 'We have the Culture female,' a voice said from the helmet. 'We have the Culture female,' a voice said from the helmet. 'Ahh...' Xoralundra said quietly, sitting back. The Idiran equivalent of a smile-mouth pursing, eyes narrowing-pa.s.sed over his features. 'Good, Captain. Is she aboard yet?' 'Ahh...' Xoralundra said quietly, sitting back. The Idiran equivalent of a smile-mouth pursing, eyes narrowing-pa.s.sed over his features. 'Good, Captain. Is she aboard yet?' 'No, Querl. The shuttle is a couple of minutes out. I'm withdrawing the gun-platforms. We are ready to leave the system as soon as they are all on board.' 'No, Querl. The shuttle is a couple of minutes out. I'm withdrawing the gun-platforms. We are ready to leave the system as soon as they are all on board.' Xoralundra bent closer to the helmet. Horza inspected the aged skin on the back of his hands. 'What of the Culture s.h.i.+p?' the Idiran asked. Xoralundra bent closer to the helmet. Horza inspected the aged skin on the back of his hands. 'What of the Culture s.h.i.+p?' the Idiran asked. 'Still nothing, Querl. It cannot be anywhere in the system. Our computer suggests it is outside, possibly between us and the fleet. Before long it must realise we are in here by ourselves.' 'Still nothing, Querl. It cannot be anywhere in the system. Our computer suggests it is outside, possibly between us and the fleet. Before long it must realise we are in here by ourselves.' 'You will set off to rejoin the fleet the instant the female Culture agent is aboard, without waiting for the platforms. Is that understood, Captain?' Xoralundra looked at Horza as the human glanced at him. 'Is that understood, Captain?' the Querl repeated, still looking at the human. 'You will set off to rejoin the fleet the instant the female Culture agent is aboard, without waiting for the platforms. Is that understood, Captain?' Xoralundra looked at Horza as the human glanced at him. 'Is that understood, Captain?' the Querl repeated, still looking at the human. 'Yes, Querl,' came the answer. Horza could hear the icy tone, even through the small helmet speaker. 'Yes, Querl,' came the answer. Horza could hear the icy tone, even through the small helmet speaker. 'Good. Use your own initiative to decide the best route back to the fleet. In the meantime you will destroy the cities of De'aychanbie, Vinch, Easna-Yowon, Izilere and Ylbar with fusion bombs, as per the Admiralty's orders.' 'Good. Use your own initiative to decide the best route back to the fleet. In the meantime you will destroy the cities of De'aychanbie, Vinch, Easna-Yowon, Izilere and Ylbar with fusion bombs, as per the Admiralty's orders.' 'Yes, Qu?' Xoralundra stabbed a switch in the helmet, and it fell silent. 'Yes, Qu?' Xoralundra stabbed a switch in the helmet, and it fell silent. 'You got Balveda?' Horza asked, surprised. 'You got Balveda?' Horza asked, surprised. 'We have the Culture agent, yes. I regard her capture, or destruction, as of comparatively little consequence. But only by our a.s.suring the Admiralty we would attempt to take her would they contemplate such a hazardous mission ahead of the main fleet to rescue you.' 'We have the Culture agent, yes. I regard her capture, or destruction, as of comparatively little consequence. But only by our a.s.suring the Admiralty we would attempt to take her would they contemplate such a hazardous mission ahead of the main fleet to rescue you.' 'Hmm. Bet you didn't get Balveda's knife missile.' Horza snorted, looking again at the wrinkles on his hands. 'Hmm. Bet you didn't get Balveda's knife missile.' Horza snorted, looking again at the wrinkles on his hands. 'It destructed while you were being put aboard the shuttle which brought you up to the s.h.i.+p.' Xoralundra waved one hand, sending a draught of Idiran-scented air across the table. 'But enough of that. I must explain why we risked a light cruiser to rescue you.' 'It destructed while you were being put aboard the shuttle which brought you up to the s.h.i.+p.' Xoralundra waved one hand, sending a draught of Idiran-scented air across the table. 'But enough of that. I must explain why we risked a light cruiser to rescue you.' 'By all means,' Horza said, and turned to face the Idiran. 'By all means,' Horza said, and turned to face the Idiran. 'Four standard days ago,' the Querl said, 'a group of our s.h.i.+ps intercepted a single Culture craft of conventional outward appearance but rather odd internal construction, judging by its emission signature. The s.h.i.+p was destroyed easily enough, but its Mind escaped. There was a planetary system near by. The Mind appears to have transcended real s.p.a.ce to within the planetary surface of the globe it chose, thus indicating a level of hyperspatial field management we had thought-hoped-was still beyond the Culture. Certainly such s.p.a.ciobatics are beyond us for the moment. We have reason to believe, due to that and other indications, that the Mind involved is one from a new cla.s.s of General Systems Vehicles the Culture is developing. The Mind's capture would be an intelligence coup of the first order.' 'Four standard days ago,' the Querl said, 'a group of our s.h.i.+ps intercepted a single Culture craft of conventional outward appearance but rather odd internal construction, judging by its emission signature. The s.h.i.+p was destroyed easily enough, but its Mind escaped. There was a planetary system near by. The Mind appears to have transcended real s.p.a.ce to within the planetary surface of the globe it chose, thus indicating a level of hyperspatial field management we had thought-hoped-was still beyond the Culture. Certainly such s.p.a.ciobatics are beyond us for the moment. We have reason to believe, due to that and other indications, that the Mind involved is one from a new cla.s.s of General Systems Vehicles the Culture is developing. The Mind's capture would be an intelligence coup of the first order.' The Querl paused there. Horza took the opportunity to ask, 'Is this thing on Schar's World?' The Querl paused there. Horza took the opportunity to ask, 'Is this thing on Schar's World?' 'Yes. According to its last message it intended to shelter in the tunnels of the Command System.' 'Yes. According to its last message it intended to shelter in the tunnels of the Command System.' 'And you can't do anything about it?' Horza smiled. 'And you can't do anything about it?' Horza smiled. 'We came to get you. That is doing something about it, Bora Horza.' The Querl paused. 'The shape of your mouth tells me you see something amusing in this situation. What would that be?' 'We came to get you. That is doing something about it, Bora Horza.' The Querl paused. 'The shape of your mouth tells me you see something amusing in this situation. What would that be?' 'I was just thinking... lots of things: that that Mind was either pretty smart or very lucky; that 'I was just thinking... lots of things: that that Mind was either pretty smart or very lucky; that you you were very lucky you had me close by; also that the Culture isn't likely to sit back and do nothing.' were very lucky you had me close by; also that the Culture isn't likely to sit back and do nothing.' 'To deal with your points in order,' Xoralundra said sharply, 'the Culture Mind was both lucky and smart; we were fortunate; the Culture can do little because they do not, as far as we know, have any Changers in their employ, and certainly not one who has served on Schar's World. I would also add, Bora Horza,' the Idiran said, putting both huge hands on the table and dipping his great head towards the human, 'that 'To deal with your points in order,' Xoralundra said sharply, 'the Culture Mind was both lucky and smart; we were fortunate; the Culture can do little because they do not, as far as we know, have any Changers in their employ, and certainly not one who has served on Schar's World. I would also add, Bora Horza,' the Idiran said, putting both huge hands on the table and dipping his great head towards the human, 'that you you were more than a little lucky yourself.' were more than a little lucky yourself.' 'Ah yes, but the difference is that I believe in it.' Horza grinned. 'Ah yes, but the difference is that I believe in it.' Horza grinned. 'Hmm. It does you little credit,' observed the Querl. Horza shrugged. 'Hmm. It does you little credit,' observed the Querl. Horza shrugged. 'So you want me to put down on Schar's World and get the Mind?' 'So you want me to put down on Schar's World and get the Mind?' 'If possible. It may be damaged. It may be liable to destruct, but it is a prize worth fighting for. We shall give you all the equipment you need, but your presence alone would give us a toe-hold.' 'If possible. It may be damaged. It may be liable to destruct, but it is a prize worth fighting for. We shall give you all the equipment you need, but your presence alone would give us a toe-hold.' 'What about the people already there? The Changers on caretaker duty?' 'What about the people already there? The Changers on caretaker duty?' 'Nothing has been heard from them. They were probably unaware of the Mind's arrival. Their next routine transmission is due in a few days, but, given the current disruption in communications due to the war, they may not be able to send.' 'Nothing has been heard from them. They were probably unaware of the Mind's arrival. Their next routine transmission is due in a few days, but, given the current disruption in communications due to the war, they may not be able to send.' 'What...' Horza said slowly, one finger describing a circular pattern on the table surface which he was looking at, '... do you know about the personnel in the base?' 'What...' Horza said slowly, one finger describing a circular pattern on the table surface which he was looking at, '... do you know about the personnel in the base?' 'The two senior members have been replaced by younger Changers,' the Idiran said. 'The two junior sentinels became seniors, remaining there.' 'The two senior members have been replaced by younger Changers,' the Idiran said. 'The two junior sentinels became seniors, remaining there.' 'They wouldn't be in any danger, would they?' Horza asked. 'They wouldn't be in any danger, would they?' Horza asked. 'On the contrary. Inside a Dra'Azon Quiet Barrier, on a Planet of the Dead, must rank as one of the safest places to be during the current hostilities. Neither we nor the Culture can risk causing the Dra'Azon any offence. That is why they cannot do anything, and we can only use you.' 'On the contrary. Inside a Dra'Azon Quiet Barrier, on a Planet of the Dead, must rank as one of the safest places to be during the current hostilities. Neither we nor the Culture can risk causing the Dra'Azon any offence. That is why they cannot do anything, and we can only use you.' 'If,' Horza said carefully, sitting forward and dropping his voice slightly, 'I can get this metaphysical computer for you?' 'If,' Horza said carefully, sitting forward and dropping his voice slightly, 'I can get this metaphysical computer for you?' 'Something in your voice tells me we approach the question of remuneration,' Xoralundra said. 'Something in your voice tells me we approach the question of remuneration,' Xoralundra said. 'We do indeed. I've risked my neck for you lot long enough, Xoralundra. I want out. There's a good friend of mine on that Schar's World base, and if she's agreeable I want to take her and me out of the whole war. That's what I'm asking for.' 'We do indeed. I've risked my neck for you lot long enough, Xoralundra. I want out. There's a good friend of mine on that Schar's World base, and if she's agreeable I want to take her and me out of the whole war. That's what I'm asking for.' 'I can promise nothing. I shall request this. Your long and devoted service will be taken into account.' 'I can promise nothing. I shall request this. Your long and devoted service will be taken into account.' Horza sat back and frowned. He wasn't sure if Xoralundra was being ironic or not. Six years probably didn't seem like very long at all to a species that was virtually immortal; but the Querl Xoralundra knew how often his frail human charge had risked all in the service of his alien masters, without real reward, so perhaps he was being serious. Before Horza could continue with the bargaining, the helmet shrilled once more. Horza winced. All the noises on the Idiran s.h.i.+p seemed to be deafening. The voices were thunder; ordinary buzzers and bleepers left his ears ringing long after they stopped; and announcements over the PA made him put both hands to his head. Horza just hoped there wasn't a full-scale alarm while he was on board. The Idiran s.h.i.+p alarm could cause damage to unprotected human ears. Horza sat back and frowned. He wasn't sure if Xoralundra was being ironic or not. Six years probably didn't seem like very long at all to a species that was virtually immortal; but the Querl Xoralundra knew how often his frail human charge had risked all in the service of his alien masters, without real reward, so perhaps he was being serious. Before Horza could continue with the bargaining, the helmet shrilled once more. Horza winced. All the noises on the Idiran s.h.i.+p seemed to be deafening. The voices were thunder; ordinary buzzers and bleepers left his ears ringing long after they stopped; and announcements over the PA made him put both hands to his head. Horza just hoped there wasn't a full-scale alarm while he was on board. The Idiran s.h.i.+p alarm could cause damage to unprotected human ears. 'What is it?' Xoralundra asked the helmet. 'What is it?' Xoralundra asked the helmet. 'The female is on board. I shall need only eight more minutes to get the gun?' 'The female is on board. I shall need only eight more minutes to get the gun?' 'Have the cities been destroyed?' 'Have the cities been destroyed?' '... They have, Querl.' '... They have, Querl.' 'Break out of orbit at once and make full speed for the fleet.' 'Break out of orbit at once and make full speed for the fleet.' 'Querl, I must point out?' said the small, steady voice from the helmet on the table. 'Querl, I must point out?' said the small, steady voice from the helmet on the table. 'Captain,' Xoralundra said briskly, 'in this war there have to date been fourteen single-duel engagements between Type 5 light cruisers and Mountain cla.s.s General Contact Units. All have ended in victory for the enemy. Have you ever seen what is left of a light cruiser after a GCU has finished with it?' 'Captain,' Xoralundra said briskly, 'in this war there have to date been fourteen single-duel engagements between Type 5 light cruisers and Mountain cla.s.s General Contact Units. All have ended in victory for the enemy. Have you ever seen what is left of a light cruiser after a GCU has finished with it?' 'No, Querl.' 'No, Querl.' 'Neither have I, and I have no intention of seeing it for the first time from the inside. Proceed at once.' Xoralundra hit the helmet b.u.t.ton again. He fastened his gaze on Horza. 'I shall do what I can to secure your release from the service with sufficient funds, if you succeed. Now, once we have made contact with the main body of the fleet you will go by fast picket to Schar's World. You will be given a shuttle there, just beyond the Quiet Barrier. It will be unarmed, although it will have the equipment we think you may need, including some close-range hypers.p.a.ce spectographic a.n.a.lysers, should the Mind conduct a limited destruct.' 'Neither have I, and I have no intention of seeing it for the first time from the inside. Proceed at once.' Xoralundra hit the helmet b.u.t.ton again. He fastened his gaze on Horza. 'I shall do what I