“Oh, only secondhand, Commander. I had a massive crush on a boy who was really into shuttles,” she said, and added wistfully, “He had a great body. A dancer. Loved shuttles … didn’t look at me twice, so I fell head over heels. Story of my life.”
The bodyguard said, “What happened? You eat him?”
Crown said, “A boy like that? Not all at once.”
“You’re foul,” said the bodyguard.
“Yes. Good. The intel, I mean, not anybody’s romantic history, which I abhor,” said We Suffer. “Let me change my numbers. Lower our estimate to seven to eight metres—yes?—of troop room. That is even better.”
But the bodyguard said urgently, （ZZT!） “Seven metres. Six metres. It doesn’t matter, Commander. It would take five trained zombies to blow a hole in us. The city’s only just starting to get over the fear of having their bones come out. If that confidence gets hit again, we’re pushed months back on the barracks, and they’ll regroup. Let me talk to the antinegotiation faction, you know I’ve got pull.”
“Have you forgotten Varun the Eater all of a sudden?” asked We Suffer mildly. “Have you forgotten hive exposure and blue madness, for the sake of your argument?”
“Who says they haven’t come up with a cure for that? Who says they haven’t figured out magic, or a pill or whatever, that stops them throwing up and screaming? Have you forgotten Assume the worst, ignore the best?”
For some reason, Pyrrha smiled a little, like she was thinking of something. The bodyguard’s head had inclined briefly to the portrait hanging behind We Suffer.
We Suffer said: “Have you forgotten: do not catastrophise? I heard that often from her own lips. I have no time for worst-case scenarios. We must play with the cards we have been dealt.”
Pyrrha said suddenly, “Crown. How’s the fuel consumption on a Ziz-class ship?”
“Thirsty,” said Crown, brightening up at being asked. “Its cell would be totally drained after a day in subluminary. It only takes the powerful stuff too—thalergy-enriched, not just hydrogen blend. Hydrogen blend stuffs up the engine.”
“Back to point of origin. Either this shuttle’s derelict, or—it dropped through the River,” said Camilla.
The bodyguard said, “What River?” but We Suffer interrupted: “That is above your security clearance. Ignore.”
“Then I should have that bloody security cl—”
Pyrrha said, “Then who exactly is the negotiator?”
“That is what we would all dearly love to know,” said We Suffer. “This has delighted many factions, Unjust Hope’s included … they are saying, ah, we have the power, John Gaius is taking us and the matter very seriously.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” said Camilla. “You’re selling him back the Sixth House.”
There was a buzzing intake of breath as though Two-Thigh-Machetes was going to say something, but Pyrrha cut in swiftly: “John Gaius has always taken you seriously. Commander, what does this mean about the due date?”
We Suffer said, “The Hopers are asking for a progress report.”
Her goggles, buried so deeply beneath her hood, were angled toward Nona. Everyone in the room suddenly remembered Nona existed, and looked at her too; she felt exposed, and regretted everything until Camilla gave her that tiny expression—that smile so minute it could slip underneath a doorway—and she felt better.
Crown said, “But we’ve got months and months. She’s come along wonderfully … Point out we’ve got other ways and means.”
“I point out things to the others continually,” said We Suffer. “Unfortunately, everyone agrees that we have exhausted the ways and are very, very low on the means. I agree on her magnificent progress. But she is not yet what we hoped for, and I include myself here.”
Camilla said, “Tell them collaring Lyctors hasn’t gone so well for you.”
We Suffer pressed her gloved fingertips together. “Well, no, that is not so true,” she said meditatively. “Ctesiphon’s interactions with Source Joyeuse and Source Piotra got us many things. Accurate fleet schematics for the first time in a hundred years. Goodness, that was a day. I was only a young soldier then, but that was exciting. And the location of the Mithraeum … very useful. Not to mention a genuine attempt on the life of John Gaius. I know it did not take, but that in itself was important information. We would know nothing about Resurrection Beasts without Commander Wake”—here she and the bodyguard saluted the portrait on the wall, and Pyrrha’s mouth did something strange）—“and her Source Aegis … leading to contact with a House, twenty years ago. A terrible mission failure, we thought. Until the posthumous contact a year ago. No, interacting with Lyctors has not been so bad. Of course, our greatest ally was Source Chrysaor, who taught us all about the obelisks and steles, and who defeated ten high-ranking House personnel and one necromantic monster.”