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There is another reason for travelling alone, sir. If I might remind you, the
Chelgrian we are being sent to meet is a Denier.
Oh, yeah, this Ziller guy. Some spoiled, fur-rending liberal brat who thinks
it s his God-given duty to do the whining for those who can t be bothered
whining for themselves. Best thing you can do with these people is kick them
out. These shits don t understand the first thing about responsibility or
duty. You can t renounce your caste any more than you can renounce your
species.
And we re indulging this arse-leaf?
-~ He is a great composer, sir. And we didn t chuck him out; Ziller left Chel
to go into self-
exile in the Culture. He renounced his Given status and took Oh, let me
guess. He declared himself an Invisible.
Yes, sir.
Pity he didn t go the whole way and make himself a Spayed.
At any rate, he is not well disposed to Chelgrian society. The idea was that
by going without an entourage I might make myself less intimidating and more
acceptable to him.
We should not be the ones having to make ourselves acceptable to him, Major.
We are in a position where we have no choice, sir. It has been decided at
cabinet level that we must try to persuade him to return. I have accepted that
mission, as indeed you have yourself. We
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cannot force him to return, so we must appeal to him.
-~ Is he likely to listen?
I really have no idea, sir. I knew him when we were both children, I have
followed his career and
I have enjoyed his music. I have even studied it. However that is all I have
to offer. I imagine people closer to him by family or conviction might have
been asked to do what I am doing, but it would seem that none of them were
prepared to take on the task. I have to accept that while I may not be the
ideal candidate, I must be the best of those available for the job, and just
get on with it.
This all sounds a little forlorn, Major. I worry about your morale.
My spirits are at something of a low ebb, sir, for personal reasons; however
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my morale and sense of purpose are more robust and, when all s said and done,
orders are orders.
Yes, aren t they just, Major?
The Nuisance Value carried a human crew of twenty and a handful of small
drones. Two of the humans greeted Quilan in the cramped shuttle hangar and
showed him to his quarters, which comprised a single cabin with a low ceiling.
His meagre baggage and belongings were already there, transferred from the
Navy frigate that had taken him to the hulk of the Winter Storm.
Something like a Navy officer s cabin had been created for him. One of the
drones had been assigned to him; it explained that the cabin s interior could
deform to create something closer to his desires. He told the drone he was
content with the present arrangements and was happy to unpack and remove the
rest of his vacuum suit by himself.
Was that drone trying to be our servant?
-~ I doubt it, sir. It may do as we ask if we do so nicely.
 Huh!
So far they all seem quite diffident and determined to be helpful, sir.
Right. Suspicious as hell.
Quilan was attended to by the drone, which to his surprise did indeed act as
an almost silent and very efficient servant, cleaning his clothes, sorting his
kit and advising him on the minimal 
almost nonexistent  etiquette that applied on board the Culture vessel.
There was what passed for a formal dinner on the first evening.
They still don t have uniforms? This is a whole society run by fucking
dissidents. No wonder I
hate it.
The crew treated Quilan with fastidious civility. He learned almost nothing
from them or about them. They seemed to spend a great deal of time in
simulations and had little time for him. He wondered if they just wanted to
avoid him, but didn t care if they did. He was happy to have the time to
himself. He studied their archives through the ship s own library.
Hadesh Huyler did his own studying, finally absorbing the historical and
briefing files that had been loaded along with his own personality into the
Soulkeeper device within Quilan s skull.
They agreed a schedule that would allow Quilan some privacy; if nothing
important was taking place then for the hour before sleep and the hour after
waking, Huyler would detach from Quilan s senses.
Huyler s reactions to the detailed history of the Caste War, which against
Quilan s advice he turned to first, went through amazement, incredulity,
outrage, anger and finally  when the
Culture s part became clear  sudden fury followed by icy calm. Quilan
experienced these varying emotions from the other being inside his head over
the course of an afternoon. It was surprisingly wearing.
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Only afterwards did the old soldier go back to the beginning and study in
chronological sequence all the things that had happened since his body-death
and personality storage.
Like all revived constructs, Huyler s personality still needed to sleep and
dream to remain stable, though this coma-like state could be achieved in a
sort of fast-forward time which meant that instead of sleeping all night
Huyler could get by on less than an hour s rest. The first night he slept in
the same real-time as Quilan; the second night he studied rather than slept
and partook of just that brief period of unconsciousness. The following
morning, when Quilan re-
established contact after his hour s grace, the voice in his head said,  ~
Major.
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Sir.
You lost your wife. I m sorry. I didn t know.
It s not something I talk about much, sir.
Was that the other soul you were looking for on the ship where you found me?
Yes, sir.
She was Army too. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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