He had, and it was only a few years back. The Parthenon had saved three Colonial scientists from paranoid Nativists with a gripe. They ended up keeping the scientists and it had nearly started a war.
‘As long as you’re keeping busy,’ he managed weakly.
*
It seemed weirdly unreal that every news mediotype wasn’t screaming about the return of the Architects. Instead, Huei-Cavor was entirely fixated on the Hegemonic ambassador’s arrival to consecrate the planet. Idris watched the ritual unfold on one of the small screens, grimly aware that the absurdly elaborate process was suddenly a matter of life or death, if only anyone down there knew it. Huei-Cavor was about to move beyond the Architects’ grasp.
The huge barge they’d seen earlier had landed, and a crowd of hundreds of thousands was kneeling for the ceremony. A hatch in the side of the barge had folded into a ramp and the newsfeeds were showing the Always Revered Emnir, the Bastion and the Gilded, process onto the soil of Huei-Cavor. Not that the alien luminary would actually touch the soil. That wasn’t an Essiel thing. First came ranks of human cultists, in bright and impractical robes. Then came a scurrying host of things like segmented metal weasels, with six legs and a mouthful of weapon barrels – some Hegemonic subject race. Finally, the actual Essiel appeared before its new congregation.
‘The Always Revered Emnir, the Bastion and the Gilded’ was the human cultists’ interpretation of its title of course. And the ceremony that followed – all three hours of it – was the cult’s doing too. The Essiel just sat there for it, and occasionally waved some stick-thin limbs from its a-grav platform. This was five metres wide and made of real diamond, worked into intricate, symmetrical arabesques.
Human researchers’ best guess was that the Essiel had evolved from some kind of sedentary exoparasite that attached itself to more mobile animals, and eventually began to manipulate their rides. Physically, they were two-valved shells, some three metres tall when stood upright. Where the shell halves diverged at the top end, a clutch of stalked eyes and articulated limbs projected. The alien overlords of the greatest known polity in the galaxy looked more like barnacles than anything else.
Idris tuned out most of the ceremony, although Barney and Kittering followed every move. Kowtowing to a shellfish seemed a small price for lasting security, given recent circumstances.
At last, the Coffin arrived at Lung-Crow. Factor Luciel Leng met them at the gangplank, looking strained and with a handful of security at her back.
‘Captain Rostand, I commend you on your good work,’ she said, with a smile that looked tissue thin. ‘Obviously not quite what anyone was expecting, but good, very good. You’re after some leave here?’
‘I understand it is the done thing,’ Rollo said, deadpan.
‘Then I will require certain assurances,’ Leng said. She was a short woman, now they saw her in the flesh. Her lenses clicked round, as though hunting out Rollo’s weaknesses. ‘None of your crew are to divulge what you’ve found.’
‘Standard rates for non-disclosure. A contract shall be prepared,’ came the snappy tones of Kittering’s translator.
‘You think you can keep this to yourself?’ Kris asked.
‘For now. While the celebrations continue. For a little while,’ Leng told her. ‘And I don’t want a crew of spacers shooting their mouths off about what they’ve found.’
‘You’re Hegemony now, right?’ Kris pressed. ‘I’d have thought you’d be shouting this from the rooftops. Your new overlords will love the boost it’ll give their recruitment drive.’
‘We are considering how best to . . . broach this matter with the Divine Essiel. How best to . . .’ Exploit it hung in the air, unspoken. A lot of people might be made or ruined in this transition of power, especially mid-level station administrators. ‘So I am holding your ship until I’ve worked out how to manage this news,’ she told them flatly. ‘Go drink and game all you want, but if there’s a riot and people start screaming the Architects are coming, I will not release your payment. You understand me?’
‘Crystally,’ Rollo told her sourly. ‘You just hurry up and decide. More than a day in port, my crew get itchy feet.’
More than a day and most ports are desperate to be rid of us, Idris reflected.
8.
Solace
Solace’s new loyalties only went so far. She might be crew and an honorary Colonial, just like Kittering the Hannilambra. But that didn’t mean she’d forgotten whose vat they’d decanted her from. As soon as she could, she broke from the others and sent a coded missive to Monitor Superior Tact. The Lung-Crow Orbital could play its games, but if the Architects were back, the Parthenon needed to know. In fact, the rest of the galaxy needed the Parthenon to know. Keep it secret, she requested and reckoned that would be in the Parthenon’s interests too, for long enough that she hoped she wasn’t screwing over the Vulture God.