The broad man was their captain, Rostand. The Hannilambra was the factor. And the skinny youngster was their pilot, Telemmier, the Int. It set Havaer’s teeth on edge to think of such a valuable asset rusting at the fringes of Colonial space, rather than serving Hugh.
Rostand glowered up at him as he arrived. ‘Are you Pilchern?’
From the man’s expression, this Pilchern was going to have a bad day when he did turn up. For a moment Havaer considered saying yes and just winging it, but there were too many unknowns. ‘Captain Rostand, I’d like a moment of your time.’
‘You and every other fucker,’ Rostand growled. He was well on the way to drunkenness, Havaer decided: red eyes and a reddening face. Though there was likely grief involved, for his lost crew.
‘I’m not rag,’ Havaer replied, which he hoped was still spacer slang for newsmongers. He’d decided to ditch his mediotype persona, as the crew hadn’t given any interviews so far. He pulled out his Hugh Intervention Board ID, the real one, and triggered its authenticator with his thumb. The little square of plastic confirmed his biometrics and bona fides.
Rostand stared belligerently at it, then shrugged. ‘You’re out of your jurisdiction. Or haven’t you been keeping up with current affairs around here?’ Spacers were notoriously prickly about Hugh interference, mostly because they were usually doing something illegal.
Havaer hooked over an empty box and sat down, smiling. ‘Captain, I’ve no official power here, no backup, just a man investigating. You can imagine what.’
‘Word gets to Mordant House quickly these days,’ said Telemmier, not looking at Havaer. He’d pulled into himself when the ID came out, and Havaer could understand that. Under other circumstances, the man would be the focus of any Mordant operation here.
‘We heard you brought something in,’ Havaer said frankly. ‘Then I arrive to find it’s been taken from you.’
‘Along with a lot else,’ Rostand spat. ‘What do you want from us, Menheer Spook? Confirmation that we found what they say we found? Yes. Verification that any proof disappeared with my damn ship? Yes again. So there we have it. That’s all there is, see right?’
‘You’re Colonial citizens, you two.’ Havaer looked to Rostand and the Int, ignoring the Hanni for now.
‘Doesn’t mean we do what you say,’ rejoined the truculent Rostand. ‘’Specially not here.’
‘I’m just hoping you have some loyalty to the Council of Human Interests, being human,’ Havaer went on patiently. ‘I’m not trying to be Nativist, just concerned. If what you found really . . .’
Telemmier broke in. ‘It did happen. And it was recent. I expect you’ve seen the Oumaru’s departure logs. Something pulled her off course into the deep void and did . . . that to her.’
Havaer tried to meet the man’s gaze, but the Int’s eyes just kept sliding away as though fixed on a distant horizon. Standard for Intermediaries, though. You couldn’t see what they saw without developing the ‘abyssal gaze’。 ‘Menheer Telemmier, would you be willing to—’
‘No.’
‘I haven’t—’
‘No, I will not come and answer your questions about what I might have sensed or not sensed, felt or not felt . . . in unspace or real space or in the reaches of my imagination,’ Telemmier told him flatly. ‘I don’t do government work anymore. I’ve served. I’ve earned the right to be left alone.’
Havaer hadn’t quite believed the file on Idris Telemmier. Crossed wires, surely; couldn’t be the same man. Not enough years on the face for a start. Must be some escapee from a leash contract, so technically still the property of the state . . . Except Havaer could look into those too-young features and see the extra decades lurking beneath the surface like a rot.
‘I can promise you—’
‘I’m not going back,’ Telemmier said and Havaer prepared to push the matter. He only caught the iron behind the words in retrospect, as Telemmier burst out again, ‘I’m not going back!’ He stood so suddenly that he kicked over his crate, fists balled abruptly. The Int was the least imposing physical specimen Havaer had ever seen, a true child of the Polyaspora, but the air about him seemed to flex, and one of the gutted shuttles above creaked warningly. A coincidence, it had to be just coincidence. But Telemmier was one of the oldest Ints out there, junior only to Saint Xavienne herself. Who knew what they might become, in time?