Chapter 14
Hulder came to my door one hundred and five years after the flight of the MSVMyrmida, almost seven years to the day after the binary star system Lhonoja went supernova. Qe came with the Major, unscheduled, which was the first sign of something amiss. The Major’s face was tight, drawn, her darkly greying curls pressed beneath her hat against the choppy morning breeze, no weapon on her hip but a shimmer of something about her right wrist that I suspected of being more than just an ornament.
“Maw,” she grunted as they crunched up the beach to where Rencki and I waited. “Rencki. You’re doing well.”
Not a question – a command. Major Phrawon did not have time for us to be doing anything other than well today, thank you very much.
Hadja was gone, replaced by Rencki – a far more pleasant companion. At my feet, qi didn’t reply, qis amber-yellow eyes fixed on the stranger stepping off the boat at the Major’s back, qis tails twitching. Like most quans, both Rencki and Hulder had clearly decided when speccing their physical forms that it would be easier to work with organics, if those same organics found something familiar in their appearance. Thus, Rencki had chosen, rather than the efficient box-and-repulsor design common among qis mainframe, to take the form of a three-tailed fox, complete withsoft russet fur that stood on end in bright sunshine, crackling a little with static as qe recharged. When not charging, qis fur softened into a warm coat that people could stroke with a cry of “oooh lovely” and “coooey-goo-goo-gah” – an attribute that qe admitted in moments of candour was far more useful for social engagement with organics than even qe had been primed to predict.
“You like it when the creatures you talk to have eyes and ears and noses and mouths like yourselves. Your imaginations do not yet fully extend to other kinds of sentience as being of equal value, when they do not resemble you. It is an intellectual limitation of organics, albeit one honestly come by in evolutionary terms. You evolved to see each other as safety; anything else as threat. It takes energy to overcome your basic prejudice, and humans are very reluctant to burn glucose in this regard.”
I couldn’t argue with Rencki’s logic, and had on cold winter nights come to appreciate the warmth qis processors gave off when qe snuggled next to me while the wind howled against the walls of the cottage. I pretended it was just the heat I enjoyed; I knew it was something closer to sentiment, and so did qe. I wondered if qe too enjoyed my company, or what enjoyment might even mean.
If Rencki had chosen a construction designed to lure organics into seeing qim as a soft, furry friend, rather than noting the offensive capabilities of qis three tails, Hulder had gone a step further. Were it not for the snowy whiteness and slight shine of qis skin, I would have mistaken qim for a strikingly handsome organic of Xihana’s “they” gender, of an age that implied qe had lived a long and storied life, and had plenty life more left to give. Qe had no hair, but wore a black suit of a style most commonly associated with middling bureaucrats giving a public address, complete with a pin of crystallised flower in the lapel of qis jacket. I couldn’t tell whether this affectation carried any meaning for Hulder, or whether it was simply there to express to any organic observers:Look. Look at me. I care about such things just like you. We are alike, are we not?
I had almost never seen a quan strive so mightily to look unthreatening, an uncanny, fascinating affectation, and Rencki, perhaps sensing my curiosity, curled around my legs, trilled a little warning. The Major saw it too, and for a moment her face darkened, that flicker of concern deepening as she tried to read the dull flatness of my features.
Hulder, if qe noted either my expression or those of the others on the beach, marched forward, oblivious, touching the fingers of qis left hand to qis lips in greeting. “Mawukana-of-the-Isles,” qe declared. “I am Hulder, of the Caden mainframe. I have come seeking your help.”
We sat inside, as the rising wind was beginning to bend the thorny branches of the highest trees and rattle the singing shells suspended outside my door. I made ihol for the Major – it had taken many years to find a drink she actually enjoyed; invited Hulder to hardwire into any charge points – qe politely declined, said qe was perfectly well resourced at this time – laid out cups on the low wooden table in the centre of the floor, puffed up the sitting cushions and sat cross-legged before them.
Rencki curled into a bundle by my side, tails over torso, head tucked into qis front paws. Qe did not need a pillow to lie on, but it had become a habit, an expression of goodwill to lay one out for qim, and qis communication protocols were sophisticated enough to value such gestures for what they meant, rather than what they were.
“I want you to know,” the Major blurted, not even touching her cup, “that I think this is a dreadful idea. However, I cannot stop it, merely offer my advice.” Her eyes were anywhere but on me, as she grunted: “Hulder will explain.”
“Mawukana-of-the-Isles.” Hulder’s voice was perfectly pitched to the dialect of the peninsula, soft “kas” and gentle “nas” instead of the harder “kes” and “nes” of the spiral cities. “We wish to engage your services on Adjumir.”
“We? Who is we?” And then another thought: “Adjumir.”
“We are the Caden mainframe, as I said, though we are operating in cooperation with a number of interested parties within the Accord.”
Accent and voice – there was something of Yulin in qis cadence too – copied from the local elders, precisely tuned. I wondered what qe sounded like when qe went inland, if qis tones rose and fell with the accents of the mountains and wide tundra plains. What processes had qe sacrificed, what functions had qe removed from qis operating system in order to have capacity to so perfectly match qis manners to the ones qe addressed, to blend so perfectly into any social situation?
Fascinating – again. Everything about this was fascinating.
Rencki twitched at my feet, one ear turning towards me, the other still directed towards Hulder and the Major. I wondered what qe was listening to, whether qe was communicating with Hulder; felt the soft warmth of qis body, a little hotter, perhaps, than usual, processors churning in busy silence beneath qis carapace.
“Adjumir,” I repeated. “You want me to go back to Adjumir.”
“Indeed.”
A quick pause to do maths; I could see Hulder waiting while I did so. “Adjumir is right on the Edge,” I breathed. “Seven years since Lhonoja… seven light years from the blast. Adjumir is a dead world, or will be very soon.”
“You are correct. It is already experiencing the first shock waves of radiation from the death of Lhonoja; in twenty-seven days, any organic life remaining on the surface of the planet will enter terminal decline from thermal and radiation damage. Within fifty days, the seas will start to boil. Within one hundred, the atmosphere will be burned away. Hence the urgency of this assignment.”
“Why? Why Adjumir? Why are you asking me?”
“You have been requested.”
“Requested? By whom?”
“Gebre Nethyu Chatithimska Bajwahra.”
The Major’s hand above her right wrist, the hair standing up on Rencki’s tails. Both of them think there is a threat here; both of them are ready to strike, then run. They are mistaken. I am at my most dangerous when I am unregulated, when things are too much, too loud, too bright, too confusing, too curious. I heard Gebre’s name, and my soul was the ice of the night side of Hasha-to, frozen in my chest.
“You know ter, I believe?” hummed Hulder.
“We were… yes, I knew ter. A long time ago. Although also… not so long. Te is still alive?”
