‘They need a lot of toasters in the Hegemony?’ Kris asked, intentionally trying to keep things light now the funeral was done.
‘Means if you take it apart, the gubbins just splats out the bottom of the box and you’ve got nothing. Even with top-flight lab equipment, nobody’s been able to learn much from Hegemony tech. And you can bet they protect this particular golden nugget with a lot of failsafes.’
‘Question,’ from Kit, and his screens flashed up. ‘Aklu’s equivalence to Hegemony.’
‘I guess its not officially Hegemony.’ Idris shrugged. ‘But . . . what do the Essiel think about one of their own going renegade for a life of crime? Same as for anything. Nobody knows.’
‘We can’t just sit on this,’ said Solace. It was her first contribution since the funeral.
‘Sure you’ve got a load of suggestions,’ Olli growled.
‘If these are real, we have the tools to save a planet,’ Solace said. Idris glanced at her warily, sensing a slight distance that hadn’t been there before.
‘Query as to which planet,’ Kit chirped.
‘You don’t understand. We have the tools to save any planet. If we can ship it out in time, the next planet an Architect shows up at can be saved – just by getting this box groundside,’ Solace went on implacably. ‘Assuming these relics are genuine, which they may not be.’
‘Assuming the field holding them lasts indefinitely, which it may not,’ Kris added. ‘Aklu might have been desperate to get them back because it’s about to run out of battery.’
‘Even so,’ Solace said, ‘we have a duty—’
‘Let me guess,’ Olli broke in loudly. ‘This comes down to giving it over to the Parthenon. Slice it thin as you want, that’s what this is about, no?’
‘You want to give it to Hugh?’ Solace wasn’t backing down this time, meeting Olli’s angry stare. ‘Or maybe the Hegemony? Some Magdan Boyar with deep pockets? Kittering, you’ve a buyer lined up?’
The Hanni’s screens displayed bafflement, not following the subtext.
‘We will sell the damn thing back to the Essiel before it goes to your lot,’ Olli said flatly.
‘Now wait—’ Kris started, but Olli sent her such a murderous glower that she bit the words back.
Solace, face absolutely calm, gave that a moment to hang in the air before saying, ‘I know that in the Colonies they say a lot of things about my people. I’ve seen the Hugh propaganda too. We’re warmongers, we’re man-haters, we’re unnatural, born in a lab, indoctrinated, Programmed like machines. All that, I’ve heard. And nobody remembers we died for the Colonies, above a hundred worlds, during the war. We were the line.’ And the softer edges of her voice were ablating off, revealing only steel beneath. Kris belatedly remembered this wasn’t just third-generation ancestral pride; Solace had been there. She had fought in the war, faced the Architects.
‘We were the shield and sword of the Colonies,’ the Partheni went on. ‘And then, when the war was over, you started asking why we had to keep on being different to you. Why couldn’t we just come back and be your wives and daughters again? You really think we quit Hugh because we had some designs on your planets? Because we wanted to line all your menfolk up against a wall, and make everyone else like us? We left because you hated us and would have used your laws to break us if we’d stayed.’ She stood, jabbing a finger at Olli. ‘All we ever did was put our lives on the line for you. And you still hate us for it.’
‘That,’ Olli spat back, ‘is not why I hate your bloody kind.’ And Kris blinked, because she’d noted the friction between the two, the scowls and frowns from Olli. She’d taken it for a clash of personalities, the rigid soldier against the prickly spacer.
‘Look at me, Myrmidon Executor Solace.’ Olli twisted in the capsule of her walking frame, stump arms and stump leg shifting. ‘Your precious eugenics wouldn’t ever have made me, would it? You see a thing like me growing in your vats, you’d flush the contents out into space. Not fit for your perfect society, am I?’
Kris saw anger twist Solace’s face, rage there for a moment like a trapped beast, then just . . . go, leaving a hollow expression on her face. The Partheni sat down abruptly.
‘I . . . what do you think we’d . . .? Well, no, but . . .’ Solace’s eyes were fixed on Olli, and everyone else was silent. Eventually she said, in quite a small voice, ‘I don’t know what to say. I mean . . . you’re probably right. It would be before you were you, but . . . with the fleet’s resources we could . . . I mean . . .’