Bloc’s armed Kladites were everywhere, and that worried her. Yes, this was a ferocious world, but they were aboard a large ship protected by automated laser turrets dotting the hull. Nothing nasty was going to get aboard, so perhaps it was the case that the nasty thing was already here. She looked around, noting a few other reifs strolling about out on deck, experiencing what they could of their surroundings in their own limited way. The prospect of actually returning to life, like Sable Keech, had brought her here—to actually be able to feel again: wind against skin, movement through the inner ear, the roughness of this metal rail against her palm…

‘How are you enjoying the ocean life?’

Santen turned and saw that the reif John Styx had stepped up beside her. Studying him, Santen wondered what had killed him, since there was no visible damage to his body, and for a reif he moved with a surprising smoothness. Prior to their earlier encounter aboard this ship, she had witnessed him, when the hooder had attacked, taking up a Batian weapon and firing on the creature while other reifs, herself included, merely took cover.

‘It is becoming somewhat boring,’ she replied.

‘After just eight days?’

‘Yes, after just eight days.’

‘Never mind, I’m sure that will soon change.’

‘What do you mean?’

Styx shrugged—which was not an easy thing for a reif to do. ‘Have you received Bloc’s summons?’

‘Yes.’ Santen checked her internal clock. The meeting was due in only half an hour in a hall down in the bilge, immediately above the rudder. Santen wondered where the intervening time had gone. ‘He’s probably going to lay down the law for us. And I somewhat doubt he’s going to be making any concessions, perhaps rightly so.’

‘Will he have us standing in ranks practising our salutes?’ Styx asked.

‘Let’s hope not. I already left the Cult of Anubis Arisen, and have no intention of joining its bastard offspring.’

Styx nodded. ‘Apparently he’s been delivering some lecture to us all a hundred at a time. At least this is what I’ve been told, though those already called in are rather close-mouthed about what went on. His own people, of course, don’t need any instructions.’

‘It’s Cult shit, I guarantee. Even if he and his followers are technically not supposed to be cultists.’

Styx remained silent.

‘You know,’ Santen went on, ‘I find it difficult now to understand how I swallowed all that garbage for as long is I did: The Cult is to give us identity; the Cult empowers each individual with the strength of all… and the rest. It took me far too long to realize the Cult is just a way of making its leaders wealthy and powerful.’

‘Like a religion,’ suggested Styx.

‘Like a religion,’ Santen agreed. ‘And this is no different. Shall we go down and see what our tour guide has to say? It might at least be amusing.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ murmured Styx.

They began making their way along the deck.

‘At least the Hoopers don’t have to put up with this crap,’ remarked Santen, eyeing one man who was cleaning some organic mess from the visible section of one of the massive bow anchor chains.

They reached the jigger mast stairwell and Styx went down ahead of Santen. She noted again how easily he moved, not checking his handholds on the banister, nor watching where he put his feet. Probably he was a later reification than herself, therefore running on more advanced hardware and software. Soon they exited on the maintenance deck and walked along to another short stair leading down to the meeting hall itself, joining others heading for the same destination. They entered a room in which were crowded the reifs summoned this time around, talking in low voices to each other. Santen observed Bloc standing at one end facing them, Aesop and Bones on either side of him, and a squad of Kladites arrayed behind. Studying the room itself she noted the floor was polished wood, and that there was a line of cupboards along one entire wall. The door to one of them stood open, revealing stacks of folding chairs. Doubtless this hall was intended for conferences, but Bloc had not thought to put out the seating.

‘Please close the door,’ he said to the last reifs entering. When this was done Bloc continued, ‘Welcome, fellow searchers.’

Ellanc Strone, who had positioned himself near the front, interrupted. ‘Ah, it now seems I’m not supposed to be here.’ He turned to go.

‘Please wait. What I have to say is important, and concerns you all.’

‘It better be good,’ said Strone, turning back.

‘Oh it is,’ said Bloc, his spectacle irrigators misting moisture all around his face. ‘It concerns discipline aboard this ship, and the establishment of an efficient regime. This is not a pleasure cruise; it is my ship and I do expect obedience.’

‘That’s interesting,’ replied Strone.

‘Yes,’ Bloc nodded, ‘it is. Now you all received notification of the ship regulations, through your cabin screens, when we set out, but it seems some of you require a reminder. You have all been allotted specific times when you can come up on deck, you have all been clearly informed of those areas where you cannot trespass, but many of you persist in ignoring such simple instructions. May I remind you that this is not a Polity world, and so Polity law does not protect you.’

‘You see,’ muttered Styx.

‘What’s it to be then? A flogging? Walking the plank?’ someone said.

Bloc eyed the reif who had spoken. ‘The former will obviously have no effect though the latter is a possibility.’

At this many of the crowd protested, perhaps remembering Aesop’s implied threat earlier.

Ignoring the hubbub, Bloc continued loudly, ‘I am personally affronted by the attitude shown by many of you.’ Bloc eyed Strone in particular. ‘Without me and without this ship, you would not be here at all and would not have this chance of Arising.’

‘The bite of a leech is not so hard to find on this planet,’ retorted Strone.

‘Yes,’ said Bloc. ‘But what about the expertise of Erlin Taser Three Indomial here onboard, what about the tanks I have provided, the presence of Janer Cord Anders, the opportunity to more precisely follow the path Sable Keech himself walked?’

‘I don’t recollect anything about him coming right out here,’ sneered Strone.

‘I will bring you to the Little Flint,’ continued Bloc, ignoring him. ‘And what do I get—nothing but complaints about matters that are almost ephemeral?’

‘You’re cashing in on us. You and that fucking Lineworld,’ said Strone.

‘I am not,’ Bloc protested. ‘If it was not for me, Batian mercenaries would now be running this ship, and then…’

In the pause John Styx muttered, ‘Now that’s very interesting.’

The protests and interruptions started up again. Every time Bloc tried to say something, he was shouted down.

‘What is?’ asked Santen.

‘Well, the bulk of those mercenaries were killed by a creature supposedly shipped to this world by Lineworld Developments, so you would think it hardly due to Bloc that they are not currently running this ship.’

Santen felt a horrible disquiet as she returned her attention to Ellanc Strone, speaking again on behalf of all the complainers.

‘So this is better, is it?’ Strone pointed to the Kladites gathered behind Bloc. ‘You cheat us, expect our obedience, and now you’re prepared to enforce it.’

Bloc bowed his head as the verbal assault continued, then he held up his hands. ‘Quiet! Please, quiet!’ When the noise had dropped to a mutter, he continued, ‘Obviously we are getting nowhere here today. I shall have to look into the matter of compensation, for which I will need to contact Lineworld. When I have done that, I will meet with you again, and we will sort all this out.’

He stepped forwards, the crowd parting before him. The Kladites fell in behind him as he left the room.