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The holo screen disappeared. "So what does all that mean?" she asked.

"… Good grief, Ulver," the drone said, giving a fair impression of spluttering. "It's the Heavy Crew! It's the Ghosts!"

"What? The who?" She swivelled in the seat to face the drone.

"Child, there were names appearing there I hadn't seen for five centuries. Some of those Minds are legends!"

"This is the Interesting Times Gang we're talking about, I take it?"

"That's obviously what they call themselves."

"Well, good for them, but I still want to know what all that was about."

"Well, a normal enough but pretty high-power Mind Incident Group gets together to discuss what's going on, then — allowing for signal travel duration — within real-time seconds it's taken over by probably the most respected not to mention enigmatic group of Minds ever assembled together in the same signal sequence since the end of the Idiran War."

"You don't say," Ulver said, yawning a little and putting one black-gloved hand over her mouth.

"Yes; in the case of the Not Invented Here, everybody I know thought the thing had been lost half a millennium ago! Then they dump the boring, pedantic GSV that happened to be on the Incident Coordinating Rota, agree to wait-and-see with the Excession itself while sending investigatory reinforcements, start a localised mobilisation — mobilisation! — and release a half-truth about the Excession when there's some more exciting news breaking."

Ulver frowned. "When did all this happen?"

"Well, if you hadn't turned off the date/time function…" muttered the drone, colouring frosty blue. Ulver rolled her eyes again. "The Excession was discovered and that signal sequence plus comments dates from twelve days ago. The Excession's discovery was announced through the standard channels the day before yesterday."

The human shrugged. "I missed it."

"The headlines concerned the resolution of the Blitteringueh situation."

"Ah-hah. That would do it, I suppose."

Most of the developed galaxy had been following that story for the past hundred days, as the aftermath of the short but bitter Blitteringueh-Deluger War played itself out on the CAM-bomb-mined Blitteringueh home planets and the Deluger fleets fleeing with their precious holy relics and Grand House captives. It had ended with relatively little loss of life, but in high drama, and with continuing, developing repercussions; little wonder anything else announced that day had slipped by almost unnoticed and stayed that way.

"And what was that thing towards the end there, about "Calling our mutual friend"?"

"That'll probably turn out to be something to do with inviting some other Mind onto the group." The drone was silent for a moment. "Though of course it could be some pre-agreed form of words, a secret signal amongst the group."

Seich stared at the drone. "A secret signal?" she said. "In an M32-level transmission?"

"It's possible; no more."

Seich continued to stare at the machine for a moment. "You're saying that these Minds are discussing something… agreeing to something that's so sensitive, so secret they won't even talk about it in Special Circumstances" top-end code, the fucking holy of holies, the unbreakable, inviolable, totally secure M32?"

"No I'm not. I'm just saying it's… semi-possible." The drone's aura field flickered grey with frustration. "In that event, though, I don't think it would be breakability they'd be worried about."

"What then?" Seich's eyes narrowed. "Deniability?"

"If we're thinking in such paranoid terms in the first place, yes, that'd be my guess," the drone said, dipping its front once in a nod and making a noise like a sigh.

"So they're up to something."

"Well, they're up to a lot, by the sound of it. But it's just possible that some part of what they're up to might be, well, risky."

Ulver Seich sat back, staring at the empty square of the projected screen, hanging in the air in front of her and the drone Churt Lyne like a pane of slightly opaque smoked glass. "Risky," she said. She shook her head and felt a strange urge to shiver, which she suppressed. "Shit, don't you hate it when the Gods come out to play?"

"In a word," said the drone, "yes."

"So what am I supposed to do? And why?"

"You're supposed to look like this woman," the drone said, as a bright, still picture flashed on to the smoky screen in front of her.

Ulver studied the face, chin in her hand again. "Hmm," she said. "She's older than me."

"True."

"And not as pretty."

"Fair enough."

"Why do I have to look like her?"

"To draw the attention of a certain man."

She narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute; I'm not expected to fuck this guy, am I?"

"Oh good grief, no," the drone said, its aura field briefly grey again. "All you have to do is look like an old flame of his."

She laughed. "I bet I am expected to fuck him!" She rocked back in the little metal seat. "How quaint! Is this really what SC gets up to?"

"No you're not," hissed the drone, aura fields going deep grey. "You just have to be there."

"I'll bet," she guffawed, and sat back, crossing her arms. "So who is he, anyway?"

"Him," the drone said. Another still face appeared on the screen.

Ulver Seich sat forward again, raising one hand. "Hold on. I take it all back; actually he's pretty enticing…"

The drone made a sighing noise. "Ulver, if you will please try to hold your hormones in check for just a second…"

'What?" she shouted, spreading her arms.

"Will you do this or not?" it asked her.

She closed one eye and wobbled her head from side to side. "Maybe," she slurred.

"It means a trip," the drone said. "Leaving tonight-"

"Pah!" She sat back, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling. "Out of the question. Forget it."

"All right; tomorrow."

She turned to the drone. "After lunch."

"Breakfast."

"Late breakfast."

"Oh," the machine said, aura field briefly grey with frustration. "All right. Late breakfast. But before noon, in any event."

Ulver opened her mouth to protest, then gave a tiny shrug and settled for scowling. "Okay. How long for?"

"You'll be back in a month, if all goes well."

She tipped her head back, narrowed her eyes again and said quite soberly and precisely, "Where?"

The drone said, "Tier."

"Huh," she said, tossing her head.

A sore point; Phage had been heading to Tier specifically for that year's Festival but had been diverted off course to help build an Orbital after the part-evacuation of some stupid planet; it had taken forever. The Festival only lasted a month and was now almost over; the Rock was still heading that way but wouldn't arrive for two hundred days or so.

She frowned. "But that's a couple of months away even on a fast ship."

"Special Circumstances has its own ships and they're faster; ten days to get there on the one they're giving you."

"My own ship?" Ulver asked, eyes flashing.

"All yours; not even any human crew."