For a difficult moment she thought Tact was about to pass judgement on her. Something about unsoldierly sentiment. The danger of attachments outside your sorority. The general perfidy of Colonials as a class and male Colonials in particular.
But Tact simply said: ‘Very well. You have yourself a new mission,’ and she regarded Solace with a faint smile. Perhaps in her youth, she had even watched the same kind of mediotypes.
‘Call the Vulture God and say we’re on,’ Tact continued. ‘And tell them to get that little Hannilambra factor over here to talk terms. Don’t let them think they can simply name a price, either. If it’s a contract they want, it’s a contract they’ll get.’
‘Yes, Mother!’ And Solace turned smartly on her heel and marched out. There was a future out there, and it was a terrible one. It included war and whole planets dying in the shadow of Architects. They were living in a fractured galaxy and it must come together, or it would fall into darkness one star at a time. Yet just then, her own personal star seemed bright. And she was smiling to herself as she went to hail the Vulture.