“I am fine, Fassin,” he told the human. “And you? You have lost your colonel friend, I heard.”

Fassin had a sudden reprise of his last image of Hatherence, that dark manta shape twisting in the air — to a Dweller she would have looked like one of their young — firing a hand weapon at the craft that had ripped her out of her esuit, then dying in the returning splash of fire. “I’m getting used to anybody who gets close to me dying violently,” he said.

“Hmm. I consider myself warned,” Valseir said.

“She was my superior, Valseir,” Fassin told him. “She was my bodyguard but she was also my guard in another sense. I’d be surprised if she hadn’t been given orders to kill me if the relevant circumstances arose.”

“Do you think she would have carried out those orders?”

Fassin hesitated, suddenly feeling bad about what he’d just said, even though he still thought it was the truth. It was as though he’d insulted Hatherence’s memory. He looked away and said, “Well, we’ll never know now, will we?”

A door in the centre of the ceiling swung back. They all looked up. Two Dwellers entered. Fassin recognised one of them as Setstyin, the self-confessed influence pedlar he’d talked to by phone the evening he’d slipped away from Y’sul’s house in Hauskip city. The other Dweller looked very old indeed, dark and small — barely five metres in diameter — and dressed in high-coverage clothes that probably concealed only a few remaining natural limbs and perhaps some prosthetics.

“Seer Fassin Taak,” Setstyin said, roll-nodding towards him. Then he greeted Y’sul and lastly Valseir — as the most senior of the three Valseir came last and got an even more respectful bow. “Y’sul, Valseir: allow me to introduce the Sage-cuspian-chospe Drunisine, Executive Commander of this craft, the Planetary Protector (Deniable) Isaut.”

“A pleasure,” said the dark Dweller in a crisp, dry-sounding voice.

“And for us an honour,” Y’sul said, brushing Fassin out of the way to present himself to the fore and execute an extravagantly complete bow. “If I may say so.”

“Our pleasure, pre-child,” Valseir half-agreed, also roll-bowing, less completely but with more dignity.

“Good to see you, Setstyin,” Fassin said. “And pleased to meet you, sir,” he told the older Dweller.

Drunisine was by far the oldest and most senior Dweller Fassin had ever encountered. As a Dweller — surviving the perils of childhood first, obviously — rose through Adolescence, Youth and Adulthood to attain the life stages called Prime and then Cuspian and then Sage, what they were eventually aiming for — destined for, if they lived that long — was to reach Childhood, the state of utter done-everythingness that was the absolute zenith of all Dweller existence. The stage immediately before this culmination was the one which Drunisine had reached: chospe - pre-child. There was every chance that Drunisine was over two billion years old.

“My name is Setstyin,” the other Dweller said, coming to rest near the centre of the spherical room with the Sage and looking round at the others. “I am a friend of Seer Taak’s here. You are all sufficiently recovered and-or rested, I hope. Because we need to talk.”

They agreed they were capable of talk. Setstyin waved and hammock seats descended from a ring round the ceiling door, which then closed. They settled in.

“Seer Taak,” the ancient Dweller said. “We will need to ensure that all record of the battle just finished is wiped from the memories of that little craft you inhabit.”

“I understand,” Fassin said. He thought about that “(Deniable)’. He called up everything he’d recorded of the battle in the storm’s eye and full-deleted it. He called up a lot of other stored memories and got rid of those too. “It’s done,” he said.

“We will need to check,” Setstyin told him, sounding apologetic.

“Feel free,” Fassin said. “I take it we’re not supposed to say anything about what happened out there. Or about this thing.”

“Say what you like, young sir,” Drunisine told him. “Our concern is with hard evidence.”

“All surviving non-Dweller surveillance systems around Nasqueron have been removed,” Setstyin said, talking to Fassin. “All the transgressing ships which had line-of-sight to the proceedings have already been destroyed. The remains of the Mercatorial fleet are being pursued and dispatched.”

“They are being hunted down like dogs, Seer Taak,” Drunisine said, looking straight at him and using the Anglish word. “Harried, systems jammed, comms disrupted, fates sealed, all so that no direct evidence of this craft or its capabilities, even that garnered second-hand, can escape. I might add that your own summary annihilation was contemplated.”

“I am grateful to have been made an exception,” Fassin said. “Are none of the ships which were above Nasqueron to be allowed to escape?”

“None,” the ancient Dweller said.

“Those who start wars have to accept the consequences,” Y’sul said, rumbling sententiously.

“And after that?” Fassin asked.

“Specify, please.”

“Is this the start of a war with the Mercatoria, at least the part within Ulubis?”

“I don’t imagine so,” Drunisine said, sounding as though this was the first time the thought had occurred. “Not unless they choose to invade us again. Do you think they will, Fassin Taak?”

Fassin had the awful feeling that, given the Dwellers’ irredeemably dismissive approach to intelligence, what he said next might well constitute the single most germane piece of information on the matter that the Dwellers would have to work with and base their decisions on.

“No, I don’t. I think they’ll be sufficiently horrified at the extent of their losses today to think twice about risking any further craft, certainly as long as they have the prospect of invasion to look forward to. If the invasion fails, or the system is finally recaptured, then there might be some attempt to find out what happened and no doubt some people will argue that there should be some form of reprisal. Though, in the shorter term, from what little I’ve heard of the Epiphany 5 Disconnect, there’s a chance they might want to, ah, transgress, too.” He looked at Drunisine and Setstyin, who remained silent. “Though I’m sure you’ll be ready for them.” More silence. “In fact, if the Ulubis Mercatoria work out what’s happened here and realise you don’t regard this as the start of a war, they might even want to suggest that you and they unite to resist the Epiphany 5 Disconnect forces.”

“Why would we wish to do that?” Drunisine asked flatly.

It felt like it had been a long and tiring day. Fassin didn’t really have the energy to start trying to explain. From a creature as old and experienced as Drunisine, the question was probably rhetorical anyway.

“Never mind,” Fassin said. “Act as though nothing’s happened. Signal ’glantine and make some helpful suggestions regarding the re-establishment of a new Seer Shared Facility”

“That’s more or less what we were going to do anyway,” Setstyin said, sounding amused.

Fassin signalled polite mirth in return. He was still struggling to work out what this enormous, fleets-destroyed-in-an-eyeblink craft really meant. Who was responsible for this colossal machine? What sort of previously unknown societal structures and prodigious manufacturing capacity within Dweller civilisation could conjure up something this awesome? Was it a one-off? Was it unique to Nasqueron? Dear grief, was it part of a fleet? Did this mean that all the Dweller claims about secret ships and hyper-weapons were true? Could the Nasqueron Dwellers just swat the E-5 Discon out of the sky if they so desired, saving Ulubis from invasion? Could they feasibly take on the Mercatoria if they could be bothered? Did any of this mean that the Dweller List was now more likely to be genuine rather than some monstrous waste of time or just a joke? How he’d have liked to have had some time alone with Setstyin before this meeting, to find out what had happened since they’d talked last. He’d have to ask some of these questions anyway, given half a chance.