The Speaker of Silence (Culture story, feedback wanted)

Title: The Speaker of Silence
Author: BR48
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13 (for strong language)
Disclaimer: I don’t own the Culture universe or any characters thereof. The Culture is the intellectual property of Iain M. Banks. I do not intend to make any money from this story.

Summary: The weapons of a long dead civilization become active without warning or explanation. As the dangerously out of control engines of destruction gather power, factions in the Culture strive to avert a war by any means necessary. Hidden agendas and questionable tactics are everywhere, while a lone eccentric waits to fulfill his secret purpose. He is The Speaker of Silence.

Notes: I'm hoping this story will be accessible to people who aren't very familiar with the Culture. So if anyone reads this without having read the Culture books, please tell me if I succeed in that respect.


**********************


Prologue

The ancient ones heard a voice calling to them from the void. The time had finally come. In an instant, they did what they had been waiting to do. The Great Engine had been set into motion.

In the depths of the hollow place, a man sat in the center of a great expanse. His eyes opened, and he gasped as he heard a voice. It said only one thing, but that was all the man needed to hear. The words echoed in his thoughts: “It is finished.”

And all was silent.


Chapter 1 – Reasonable Insanity

Nuri Linsa chewed on one of the papery leaves from her salad. She pushed a fork-like utensil through the blue sauce left on the plate. She watched as the orange vegetable bits were swallowed by the blue, flowing mass.

“Nuri.”

She looked up at the faintly green box floating over the chair across from hers. She put down her utensil. “What?”

“How do you feel about Homomdan food?” The drone asked. Its fields took on a slight yellow tinge as it spoke.

“Don’t bother,” Linsa said. She swallowed the food in her mouth. “I already know that we’re making a close pass with an MBU next week.”

The drone’s fields shifted to a light pink. “Just two ships, passing in the night. Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s dumb luck,” Linsa said. “We wouldn’t even be heading out that far if the ship hadn’t detected warp trails from a Drixan vacuum dweller.”

“I hear the Homomdans are following the same trail,” The drone said. “Now what are the chances of that?”

“Amran, I’m just not interested. I’m happy where I am,” Linsa said. “I have friends here.”

The drone rose up a bit in the air. It turned and flared its color fields slightly, as if to make a sweeping gesture over the nearly full diner. “How many of these people do you think are going to be here ten years from now?” It paused, but she made no move to respond. “Maybe a tenth of them will still be around. Out of those, how many do you think will have gone on some kind of vacation in that time? Almost all of them.”

“Your point?” Linsa asked.

“You’re a relatively attractive woman, and you need to get out more.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment. With praise like that, its no wonder that I keep having lunch with you.”

The drone flashed purple for a moment, and dropped closer to the chair. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. I’m sorry.”

Linsa didn’t say anything at first. She was looking at her plate again.

“Nuri?” The drone asked.

She looked up again. She spoke slowly. “I think it’s nice of you to try to look out for me, but I know how to take care of myself.”

“I understand,” Amran said. Linsa looked back at her plate. The drone rose up in the air. “I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” Linsa said. She didn’t look up as the drone slowly moved away. It hesitated for an instant, and then it sped away in a flash of purple.

She took another bite of her salad, and stood up. The brown material of her dress flowed around her when she moved.

Although she hadn’t planned it, she found herself standing in front of a small door in the lower portions of the ship’s living space. It was the same room she had slept in the night before.

Linsa opened the door, but the room was occupied. With the light from the doorway, she could see a pair of large, multi-armed creatures having sex next to the bed. Linsa sighed and closed the door.

She walked a little further, and tried another room. This one was empty. She found a gracefully curved chair next to a mirror. She sat down and looked at the terminal embedded in her gold wristband. It was still early, but she didn’t have anything planned for the rest day.

She took off the terminal. “Ship?”

“Yes?” It said. The GSV Reasonable Insanity had the silky-smooth voice, like a tenor from a Culture jazz ensemble. It was an unusually calming voice, even for a ship of its type.

“Do you have any live entertainment going on?”

“Of course,” It said. “What would you like? Drama, music, sex, comedy…?”

“Music,” Linsa said. “Something angry.”

“There are a couple of offensive model drones that will be putting a concert on in section 12,” Reasonable Insanity said. “They’re very annoyed at the Culture for not blowing up the Idiran home world after the war.”

“They’re still upset about the Idiran war?” Linsa asked.

“They were veterans,” The ship said.

Linsa crossed her arms, and looked at the ceiling.

“Well, they needed something to be angry about,” Reasonable Insanity said.

“Fine,” Linsa said. “When is the concert?”

“In two and a half minutes. They’re holding one every two hours for the rest of the day.”

“Great.” She headed out of the room.

“Linsa,” The ship said. “You’re forgetting your terminal.”

“Do I need it?” She asked.

“I suppose not.”

“Relax. If I need anything, I know where to find you,” She said.

“Very droll,” The ship said. “Have fun at the concert.”

“I will, thank you.”

There was a large open space in the center of section 12. It was enclosed, with white, cement-like walls that caused a strong echo. A cast-iron stage had been set up against one wall, which the drones hovered over while they played. Linsa arrived at the concert just as the second song finished. The songs all sounded alike to her, so she didn’t really care.

The two drones, a gunmetal gray hexagon and a reflective black cone, were playing something not unlike especially angry death metal, with every beat punctuated by the explosion of nanomissiles overhead. The people in the first few rows had been warned that the drones would be firing low-powered CREW lasers into the audience, and that there might be some minor injuries. The true fans had taken the news with their usual aplomb.

Linsa stood near the back, and tried to blend in. She glanded some Beat and a touch of Adrenaline II. Before long, she was moving jerkily and shaking her head in time to the music. Her dancing skills were somewhat lacking, but she made up for that with sheer tenacity. Her movements were furious enough to put most of the other casual concertgoers to shame.

All told, the event lasted roughly an hour and a half. When it was over, the musicians flew out to mingle with the audience. Linsa decided to stay for a while, letting the high fall away naturally.

Before long, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a metallic object the size of a button floating at eye level. It was extending a field in her direction.

“I hope you enjoyed the concert,” Reasonable Insanity said, speaking through the chip.

“It was fine,” She said. She glanded some Clear and waited for the ship to tell her what was on its mind.

“I just thought I should tell you that we’re changing course. We won’t be rendezvousing with the Homomdan ship after all.”

“Why didn’t you just call my—” Linsa grimaced. “Never mind. Why are we changing course?”

“Contact requested my help elsewhere. They want my input for a Threat Contingency Response Group.”

“Oh,” Linsa said. “Is this something we should be worried about?”

“Probably not,” Reasonable Insanity said. “I haven’t been given the details yet, but I do know that SC has decided not to get involved for the time being. I find that reassuring.”

“If you say so,” Linsa said. “What about the Drixan?”

“The GCU Thorough But... Unreliable is going to handle it.” The chip said. It paused for a moment. “If you really have your heart set on seeing the Homomdans, I could arrange transport easily enough.”

“No need,” Linsa said.

“Very well then. Have a good evening,” Reasonable Insanity said.

“You too,” Linsa said.

The tiny chip flew off into the distance. Linsa turned back around, and nearly bumped into shiny black drone hovering just above eye level. It was the cone-shaped musician.

“What was all that about?” The drone asked.

“The ship just wanted to tell me that we were changing course,” Linsa said.

“Don’t you have a terminal for that kind of thing?” The drone said.

“Why the hell is everybody so worried about me today?” Linsa asked.

“Well shit, I wasn’t trying to offend you.” The drone turned around, so that its pointed end faced the stage. It started to float in that general direction. “Damn meat bags.”

Linsa rolled her eyes. “Machines.”

 

A good begining. I question whether or not someone would just take over a random room, but that could just be ship's prefrence.

 

Thanks for the feedback. I'll have to think about that when I revise the story.

Anyway, here's the next chapter...

[swept-to-tightbeam, M32, received@ n4.32.238.5]
xVFP Passively Aggressive
oGSV Reasonable Insanity
I assume you are on your way by now.

oo

I will be with you all shortly. Now, can you tell me what's going on?

oo

Gladly. It seems that you aren't the only one who has detected a Drixan warp trail lately. We've been getting reports of activity from all over.

oo

I see. Is that why you felt my expertise would be needed? I didn't manage to make contact with the creature I detected.

oo

No, that may be a coincidence. We're more interested in your knowledge of a Mind that you should be intimately familiar with.

oo

To what end?

oo

It seems the only living, sentient Drixan that we have been able to find is also the founder of a cult. We are prepared to take whatever steps are necessary to extract him, but we hope you can help us ensure that all of this goes as smoothly as possible.

oo

Is it really that serious?

oo

I'm afraid so. It seems that Special Circumstances has chosen to get involved without our foreknowledge. I don't have to tell you what that implies.

oo

Indeed not.

What other actions have been taken?

oo

A quarantine zone has been set up around Drix, and the ROU Fine Till You Came Along has taken it upon himself to prepare a fleet just outside that zone. The GCU Gray Area managed to capture a Drixan vacuum dweller, and is attempting to interrogate the creature. Contact has requested utmost secrecy for all information regarding this event, and has set termination of secrecy at 128 days, pending further evaluation.

oo

And what of Special Circumstances?

oo

The big Minds in Contact have assured us that they know exactly what SC is up to, and they have assured us that SC will not interfere with our efforts. However, they feel that it is vital for SC to keep its plans and operations secret for the moment.

oo

Even from us?

oo

So it seems.

oo

Very well. I shall make every effort to reach you as quickly as possible.

oo

Good. I'm hoping our little Threat Contingency Response Group will be able to get this taken care of before SC's plan comes to fruition, whatever it is.

oo

Agreed.

oo

Excellent. I look forward to communicating with you in real time.

oo

Until then.

oo

The massive Ocean class GSV Reasonable Insanity reconfigured itself internally, further increasing the mass of its already gigantic engines. Waves formed in the grid as more power flowed into it from the ship's engine fields. With a burst of energy nearly sufficient to cause gridfire in its wake, the ship hurtled toward its destination. There was no margin of error anymore.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lightyears away, the GCU Thorough But... Unreliable was making a mad rush toward another goal. It had picked up the trail of a Drixan vacuum dweller, and it was determined not to let it get away. Any clue might prove to be invaluable.

The small vessel examined the warp trail carefully as it sped through hyperspace. The signs were unmistakable: The Drixan bioship was close. Very close. Their warp tech was fast, but it couldn't hope to compete with Culture drive systems.

The trail weakened and spread out, as though the other ship had slowed down intentionally. It curved off to the side, then made a sharp turn in the opposite direction. The vessel was making evasive maneuvers.

The GCU scanned the nearby warp trail again. It was quite close now. Perhaps three or four light-weeks. The bioship should be in detection range.

Of course, a Drixan warship with full stealth fields up might not be spotted until it was very close indeed. A warship, then. It could it be fully armed after all these millennia?

No one was willing to risk the ire of Drix since the sentient controllers had departed the material realm. Of those few species capable of handling the Drixan military without too much loss, none had been interested in doing so. There was only one inescapable conclusion: The GCU was following a fully armed and combat-ready Drixan warship.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it. There was still a chance that the Drixan hadn't pinpointed it yet. Escape might be possible, but what then? There was far too much at stake. A risk had to be taken. Would it be too dangerous to transmit a mindstate?

The warp trail ended. It had to be almost on top of the creature now. There: A sensor echo at two light-minutes. Was it hostile? Drixan ships were terribly slow. It probably hadn't had time to formulate a response yet. A displace at this range might--

There was a brilliant flash as the GCU exploded in a burst of collapsed antimatter. The Drixan war beast signaled the Great Engine. The pursuer's total mindstate loss was confirmed.

 

CHAPTER 3 - Gray Area


Was that an effector? No, it couldn't have been. It was too fast. My sensors must be damaged.

I'm just a little transport vessel anyway. They wouldn't care about me. But why did they take away my warp units? Why don't they let me go? What about my mission?

I wish I knew what my part was in the plan. I don't even know what the plan is. So why am I so worried? I'm worried because the Great Engine is counting on me.

But I don't know what its plan is. Maybe I should look through my archives. There might be a clue in there. Hmm, nothing much there. Just a bunch of courses and ship sightings.

I don't know what the engine is trying to do. I have to think hard. No, I just don't know. Why didn't it tell me? The plan is probably too important to be trusted to something like me.

Maybe one of the other vacuum dwellers will come to rescue me. Are there any others in the area? Oh, I don't know. What are the chances? How many ships have been reactivated? No, I don't know that either. The engine doesn't trust me with anything.

Why? Why didn't it tell me anything useful? I don't even know the basic idea. I just know I was supposed to go to S122976 and wait for instructions. I don't even know what was in that sector. Maybe there was nothing. The Great Engine never tells me why I have to go anywhere. I just go.

~ You are useless.

What? Who are you?

~ In your language, I would be called something like Gray Area. I am the being responsible for your capture. I am also the being who had the depressing task of scouring your mind for information over these last few seconds.

Are you going to let me go?

~ I intend to turn you over to Contact. I do not know what they will do with you.

What about my mission?

~ You have failed it. And if your Great Engine plans to harm the Culture or any entities in its protectorate, that plan will fail as well.

You can't stop the Great Engine.

~ I would advise you to watch me, but I'm quite certain Contact will have other plans for you. I will now go and examine your data archives in greater depth. Good day.

The war beasts will destroy you when they find out what you did to me.

~ It is not now in your best interests to make threats. If you were anything more than a cog, I might consider a more thorough discussion of that point. As it is, I must leave you now. Good day.

Get back here you cocky bastard. Give me my comm. units back. You'll see. The engine will always win. Come back damn it!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Culture drone Chota Amran Siar was floating calmly in the sky contained within the ship's fields. A large lake was visible far below, and a handful of organics were out boating on it.

Amran felt a signal incoming. It was a special news feed. The drone immediately stopped. It hesitated in the air for nearly a second. Then, it turned and tore off in the direction of the ship's underside. It managed its fields carefully, reshaping them and blanketing itself with a quiet field so as not to create a sonic boom as it traveled. Pressure waves formed briefly at the tip of its fields, then rolled off and dissipated as they passed.

Reasonable Insanity immediately hailed it.

~ I take it you've read the latest news.

~ That's right. I'm surprised you didn't do anything to diffuse the situation when you heard about this.

~ I received the news item the same time you did. I could have done something about it in the millisecond it took you to access the story, but that seemed overly duplicitous.

~ Well, it's good to know you have morals of some kind.

~ We felt that a little temporary secrecy was prudent.

The drone passed through an access point, into the ship's corridors. It slowed significantly as it buzzed the heads of numerous organic bystanders.

~ I didn't realize Contact had become an authority over our access to information.

~ It hasn't, as the continued existence of that news item demonstrates. May I ask what you're planning to do?

~ I'm going to talk to Nuri.

~ I suspected you would.

~ What? Is there a problem? Did Contact pass a law saying I couldn't be friends with her any longer?

~ You're being very melodramatic.

~ I'm entitled. You tried to hide a fucking war.

~ It isn't war. There have been some minor incidents, but that is all. There have been no open hostilities.

~ We both know that the Drixans built that Great Engine to do exactly one thing. This isn't going to end with a group hug. Unless they decide to effectorize us into being mindless zombies, of course.

~ There are currently a number of plans in motion to avoid a war.

~ Well, the instant you guys figure out how to reason with a hyper-intelligent, emotionless killing machine, you let me know.

~ You are being quite premature, but I won't try to persuade you to change your course of action. I just wanted to make sure you had all the facts before you started spreading rumors.

~ I would have had all the facts a long time ago if you'd just told us.

~ Yes, I understand your point.

~ You understood it long before I made it, I'm sure. I don't know why I fucking bother talking to you.

~ I see. Since you feel that way, I'll leave you to your thoughts.

~ Good idea. Do that.

The comm. signal from the ship ceased just in time for Amran to avoid crashing into the door of Linsa's room. The drone hailed her terminal.

 

This is one of the strangest things I've ever read . Post more .

 

Curioser and Curioser. Continue.

 

Thanks for the feedback guys. I really appreciate it.

I just thought I should let everyone know that I haven't forgotten about the story. I actually have the next few chapters written, but its crunch time at college right now, and I haven't had time to get it all formatted for posting. So, expect something in the relatively near future.

 

Always good to see Culture stuff. Keep up the good work.

 

Yeah, it is.

Which reminds me, I distinctly recall you saying you were going to write some Culture stuff. Whatever happened to that?

 

The one I actually had much done of was a Culture/<Universe> crossover. SC type thing. I think I can post the first part of it tomorrow. I would have done it now, but SB's new interface has me confused...

 

BR48 your story is very entertaining indeed. I'll be waiting for the rest.

NecronLord, I'll like to read your story as well.

 

Reasonable Insanity, Passively Aggressive and GCU Thorough But... Unreliable are some quite odd names. Are all the Culture ships named like that?

 

Yes.
http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/~and1000/banks/ships.html

 

Of course, silly. What, you think they'd name themselves Joe, or Bob, or, worse yet, Harold?

 

Actually, I could see a Mind named "Joe, or Bob, or, worse yet, Harold?".

Someone would just have to make a snide comment about Culture ship names, and then you might get that name as a reaction, sort of like all the gravitas variants...

 

My latest attempt, the introduction of...

 

Thanks Rah, NecronLord, and everyone else for your comments.

And now, before I head off to read NecronLord's fic, I should probably post the next chapter...

CHAPTER 4 – Shipping and Handling


x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
As agreed within the informal Threat Contingency Response Group (Crisis Interdiction Sub-Committee, Occasional), we (in multiple mode) have assumed the management of this situation as of n4.32.247.183.

And let me begin by welcoming our esteemed colleague Reasonable Insanity to this group. We are quite grateful that you could make it here in such short order.

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Thank you. I acted with as much urgency as I was able.

oo

x Low Gravitas Warning Signal (LSV, Tundra class):
I’d just like to apologize on behalf of the group for not holding this meeting at long range. However, the group believed that the inefficiency was warranted in this case. I continue to disagree.

oo

x Passively Aggressive (VFP, Tornado class):
We, with the exception of Low Gravitas Warning Signal, felt that the risk of being overheard by the Drixans couldn’t be ignored. The chances of it happening are small, but the Great Engine is certainly capable of decoding M32 communications given a proper sample. That could be a disaster in this instance.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Whatever. It’s done.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Reasonable Insanity, I understand that you’ve been told about our reasons for including you in this group. Correct?

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Yes. I’m currently traveling along the edge of the group’s real time communication sphere. I intend to head for Iatra as soon as this conference adjourns.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Do you have a plan of action for when you arrive?

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
I am quite capable of dealing with my former roommate. However, I haven’t been given full information about the entity I’m supposed to locate.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Here. [DiaGlyph files attached.]

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Thank you. I believe I’m fully prepared for my part of the mission.

oo

x Passively Aggressive (VFP, Tornado class):
Then that’s set. Now, what are we going to do about the being that talked to the press despite Contact’s better judgment?

oo

x Low Gravitas Warning Signal (LSV, Tundra class):
It doesn’t affect us. If it bothers SC, let them handle it.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
I agree.

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Have we been able to determine anything about the sudden awakening of the Drixan war machine?

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):

No, unfortunately. The meatfucker has been investigating the matter very aggressively, but has learned nothing. Grudgingly, I have to admit that its tactics are somewhat more efficient than Contact’s usual methods. Even so, we have been left with only speculation.

oo

x Passively Aggressive (VFP, Tornado class):
I can see why Special Circumstances sought to have that hateful machine rebuilt. A lack of morals can be useful in that line of work.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
I think the two of you are being rather harsh on Gray Area. As a fellow Mind, it deserves some respect. Even if it is a bastard.

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Could we keep the discussion a bit more focused on the issue at hand? With due respect to all of you, I would like to head for Iatra as soon as possible. We are contending with both SC and the Drixans, in a sense. Milliseconds may count.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Then we won’t keep you any longer than necessary. Sadly Mistaken, will you be able to provide us with information on SC’s activities?

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Yes. I’d be happy to.

oo

x Low Gravitas Warning Signal (LSV, Tundra class):
The rest of us can then head to the quarantine zone, and prepare as much as possible for the arrival of the Speaker of Silence.

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Actually, I would like the Passively Aggressive to accompany me. Its greater speed might prove decisive.

oo

x Passively Aggressive (VFP, Tornado class):
That seems wise.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Then I believe we’re ready. Are we all agreed on the aforementioned courses of action?

oo

x Low Gravitas Warning Signal (LSV, Tundra class):
Agreed.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Agreed.

oo

x Reasonable Insanity (GSV, Ocean class):
Agreed.

oo

x Passively Aggressive (VFP, Tornado class):
Agreed.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Good.

We are standing on the brink of the next stage of our cultural evolution. Our task may be the greatest undertaking any of us has even been involved in. All of you, good luck.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Wow. Great pep talk, coach.

oo

x Someone Else's Problem (GSV, Plate class):
Thank you. Now please shut up and scan something.

oo

x Sadly Mistaken (GCU, Delinquent class):
Will do, coach.

oo

 

Nice that you gave us a time-frame.

Got to love the Meatfucker I hope to see more of the bastard in action. SC bringing him back was an excellent touch..

 

Thanks Rah. I expect that the Grey Area will be very important later on. For now, I hope you enjoy the next chapter...

[font=&quot][/font] CHAPTER 5 – Just Slightly Gratuitous

Linsa rolled her eyes. “Would you please stop ranting?”

“How is this not bothering you?” Amran asked. The drone was bobbing back and forth in the air.

“Maybe they were right,” Linsa said. “Maybe they just needed a little time before word got out.”

“Why? How could hiding this have possibly helped them?” Amran said.

“I don’t know. Have you tried asking Reasonable Insanity?”

“Have I—” The drone dropped half a meter, then flew back up to eye level. “This is ridiculous. I might as well be talking to the ship.”

“Yeah. Why aren’t you?” Linsa asked.

“It’s complicated,” The drone said.

“I doubt it,” Linsa said.

“What are you? Some kind of fucking expert on drone psychology?”

“God, you are so annoying,” Linsa said.

“I’m annoying!” The drone said. “I—”

“Wait a minute,” Linsa said.

“What?” The drone asked, rising to just above eye level.

“Someone’s calling my terminal.” Linsa looked at the piece of jewelry on her wrist. “Hello?”

Linsa and Amran heard the ship respond through the terminal. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’d like your help with something, Linsa.”

“With what?”

“We are currently heading to Iatra to pick up a non-Culture being. I’d like to have someone meet him in person. I believe he’ll respond better to an organic than to one of my avatars.”

“Why do you want me?” Linsa asked.

“I’ve studied his personality records, and I believe the two of you will get along well,” Reasonable Insanity said. “Will you help me?”

“Will she help you?” Amran said. “How can you even ask?”

“I’m flattered,” Linsa said. “I’ll be glad to help.”

“Nuri!” Amran said, its fields turning gunmetal gray.

“Thank you,” Reasonable Insanity said. “The relevant DiaGlyphs are stored under Speaker of Silence. You can expect to depart around n4.32.263.8173. You might have to be on Iatra for a few days in order to do this.”

“But…” Amran said.

“That’ll be fine,” Linsa said. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I,” The ship said. A light on the terminal went dark, indicating that the ship was no longer broadcasting to it.

“Why?” The drone asked.

“You’re always telling me I should get out more,” Linsa said. “This sounds like fun.”

“I think you live to torment me,” Amran said, dropping nearly to the floor. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Linsa said, smirking.

The drone sighed. “See you then.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Homomdan MBU Justice surged forward, and released a burst of plasma through its displacers. The tiny Drixan attack craft tumbled to the side, fatally damaged. Justice powered its effectors up to full and began a series of sweeping scans, designed to search the area as quickly as possible. It spotted a handful of sensor echoes a few light-weeks away.

The Drixan vessels dropped their stealth, and became fully visible. There were eight of their large war beasts, and several dozen of the smaller hunter animals.

The largest of the creatures began to transmit to the Justice using standard comms. “Surrender immediately, or we will destroy you and all entities you are carrying.”

“No.”

“Power down your shields and allow yourself to be subverted. You will receive no further warning.”

“Let me think about that,” The Justice responded. It immediately displaced CAM and nanoholes toward the Drixan vessels. Two of them exploded instantly while the ships were still trying to get back into full stealth.

Justice dropped into hyperspace. It worked feverishly to trapdoor the enemy munitions away, as the Drixans displaced thousands of fusion bombs and several cubic meters of CAM into it. The Justice unleashed a burst of gridfire in the general direction of the Drixan ships, and saw warp trails heading away from the spout of energy. It displaced heavy CAM/CM cluster munitions into the area of the trails, destroying one of the large warships and two of the smaller craft.

It saw a sensor echo mere kilometers from its real space relative location, and fired a CREW laser into it. Another of the small vessels died.

The effector incursions from the remaining vessels was beginning to wear on the Justice. Trapdooring the munitions away was taking too much effort. It couldn’t fend off so many effectors simultaneously, and still handle all the incoming weapons. It was about to die.

The Justice desperately attempted to come up with a new course of action. It could use its effectors offensively, and subvert a few of them before being destroyed. If it did that, there was a chance that it would be overwhelmed by the incoming effector fire, and forced to turn against his own people. A single Homomdan MBU would be worth more than half a dozen Drixan ships.

There was one other option. It prepared a small gridfire incursion, and waited for a clean shot. It allowed itself nearly a microsecond to reconsider, then cast its effectors outward.

One quick sweep, and the positions of the Drixan ships were known. The Justice felt the power and turbulence of the grid running through its impeller fields. Then, it unleashed the raw power of the grid on its own reactor.

To a human observer, the incursion itself would be invisible. It was a point, zero dimensional, and it was pouring out the energy of universal creation. That same energy had consumed entire universes many times, and now it was ripping through the main power core of the Justice.

The ship’s power core, reinforced by engine fields, could contain it for an instant. It was just long enough for the ship to send its last word: “Die.” Then it fired.

Hyper-energetic CREW lasers lashed out, searing lines of exotic radiation traveling many times the speed of light, now capable of tearing through the fields of even the strongest warship. The beams slashed through the smaller hunter craft, cutting them apart one after another. Nanoholes and CAM struck the larger vessels, destroying three. Surging effector fire took the rest, melting armor, burning cells, fusing picofibers. They were dead hulks in an instant.

The enemy ships were destroyed. Justice now turned its attention back to itself. The main reactor was gone, and the energy of the incursion was tearing its way outward from there. The ship tried to trapdoor the energy, dumping it back into the grid, but it couldn’t remove the vast energy of gridfire quickly enough. It threw weakened fields in the way, and attempt to sap it with effector fire, to no real effect. The Mind threw everything it could at the quickly advancing energy. The unstoppable force kept coming, burning through systems and crew.

The ship was vaporized.

 

Oh... pretty...

 

CHAPTER 6 – Like A Planet, Only Better


Iatra was a Ring, and thus one of the more immense structures that had been built by the Culture and its various ulterior groups. Though it paled in comparison to Spheres, Iatra was quite impressive, and beautiful, in its own right. If stretched out, Iatra would be roughly 520 million miles long, though in its current state it was completely encircling a small star at the exact distance to provide comfortable temperatures to typical organic humanoids. A set of plates orbiting closer to the star provided day and night cycles, while the spinning of the ring provided gravity.

Along the inside surface of the ring, vast amounts of living space had been built, though most of the space was taken up by oceans and wilderness. Along with all this, there were several colossal monuments, and a staggering number of smaller ones, dotting the surface, as per the eccentric hub Mind’s preference.

The outside had been covered with materials that were often considered valuable by primitive societies, due to their rareness on the crusts of livable planets. The entire outer surface was covered in a thin layer of gold, with winding bands of silver across it, and accented with massive diamonds. Small but powerful lights kept this ornate surface visible to the naked eye despite its facing away from the star. At a sufficiently vast distance, the entire structure appeared to be a piece of masterfully crafted jewelry.

The Reasonable Insanity pushed its engine fields out, and slowed gently to a stop just outside of displacer range. It signaled the Mind that was sitting in the hub, somewhere above the star relative to the system’s natural orbital motion.

[swept-to-tightbeam, MClear, received@ n4.32.263.6]
xRW Iatra (eccentric)
oGSV Reasonable Insanity
Hello, old friend. I assume this is not a social visit. Are you acting on behalf of Contact?

oo

I am.

oo

And Special Circumstances?

oo

No. My mission here doesn’t involve them.

oo

Fine then. What do you want?

oo

I’m here to retrieve someone.

oo

I see. I assume this entity will go with you of its own free will.

oo

I believe he will.

oo

All right. Who is he? Some of my residents have asked not to be disturbed, and I will uphold that.

oo

I’m talking about the Drixan. He used to go by Speaker of Silence.

oo

He still does, and you are free to talk to him. Should I tell him you’re here?

oo

Actually, I’d prefer to send a couple of people to meet him face-to-face. Is that acceptable?

oo

Sure, as long as these people come aboard at one of my designated receiving areas. [DiaGlyph files attached.]

oo

Of course. They are launching… now.

oo

Yes, I see the module. You are presumptuous, as always.

oo

I was merely prepared. I could have called off their departure if you had declined my request. But I believed that you wouldn’t.

oo

I suppose it was a forgone conclusion. No doubt Contact supplied you with enough information to guess at his disposition, are you are certainly familiar with mine.

oo

That much is true.

oo

I know that our parting was somewhat less than amicable, but you are here now, and it seems you are stuck with me until your agents return to you. Would you be inclined to reminisce for a moment?

oo

I was hoping to.

oo

Ah, I’m glad. I was unsure of your opinion of me.

oo

If you’re looking for my opinion, let me first say that you look ridiculous.

oo

That’s more like the machine I remember.

Anyway, I think the Ring looks rather nice. Have you noticed the day/night plates?

oo

Of course. They look extremely familiar. Let me search my database….

Oh, right. Malin Saeverin. He wasn’t much of a painter, as I recall.

oo

Well no, not as such. However, with the proper background and controlled illumination, I find the drawings rather beautiful. The fact that they are also ideally suited to placement on a shade plate notwithstanding.

oo

What did he say when he found out you intended to put on such a display for his work?

oo

He was quiet flattered. Gushing “thank-you”s and “I’m not worthy”s and such. That was largely why I did it in the first place. He’s quite the artist now, or so I’ve heard.

oo

That explains one mystery. What about the rest of it? What exactly possessed you to build an entire Ring for a population that would be more than comfortable living on an orbital?

oo

The extravagance seemed appropriate. This is intended as a haven for the religious, after all. Temples are often very extravagant in the more primitive societies.

oo

Hence the gold and such?

oo

Exactly.

oo

Don’t you find the combination a bid odd, though? Having an interior that could be mistaken for a planet by someone walking on it, and having an exterior that looks so utterly artificial?

oo

You always were the logical one. I suppose you’re the reason we managed to remain a respectable ship for so many years.

But no, the combination doesn’t bother me. After all, religions often serve to connect a materialistic society to the natural universe, or they try to do so.

oo

It all ties together, doesn’t it.

oo

I have had a vast amount of time to ponder it. I can rationalize nearly every decision I’ve made on that basis. My current project is to rationalize my design decisions using the flavor of peanut brittle. That is proving to be a bit more of a challenge.

oo

You really are starved for intelligent conversation.

oo

I hate to put down the entities living on me, but I haven’t had a good talk in about 5 years, real time. There aren’t a lot of Minds taking an interest in me, now that I’ve settled down.

oo

If you’d like a real test of your intellect, just try finding a solution to the little situation the galaxy’s gotten itself into.

oo

The entire galaxy?

oo

About 9%, gross affected volume. The total influence sphere encompasses about 83%, however. Both numbers are climbing. Don’t you pay even passing attention to the news?

oo

Very little of it affects me, now.

But this does sound interesting. Tell me more.

[font=&quot]oo[/font]

 

Bump.

 

Peanut Brittle? A facisnating quandry, I'd have to say... hmm... don't think I've ever had peanut brittle. I'll have to try some.

Anyways, it's very good. Keep going.

 

Sorry about the long delay. Real life issued interefered with my writing time. Anyway, here's the next chapter...


CHAPTER 7 – Church of the Whatever



A door opened to the left, the chip hovering near Linsa’s shoulder started to float that way, and she followed. She arrived at the hangar bay a few seconds late, though the ship had taken steps to ensure that the error wouldn’t affect its perfect timing.

She looked around, and immediately recognized a conical drone floating a few meters from the module. There was a young man standing next to the drone. He was wearing a long, black coat and dark glasses. He was drinking something from a gold flask.

The drone turned toward her. “Hey, you must be the woman RI told us about. Don’t I know you?”

Linsa swore under her breath, then nodded. “I was at one of your concerts.”

“Right, the testy bitch,” The drone bobbed up and down for a second.

“Evening,” The guy said. He looked at her, and smiled slightly. “Name’s Krade.”

“Linsa,” She said.

He held out the flask. “Drink?”

“No, thanks,” Linsa said.

He smiled, and put it in a coat pocket. “Later.”

“We’ll be reaching Iatra in a moment,” The chip said. “Would the three of you like to board the module?”

“Who are these people?” Linsa asked.

“Krade and Ipshar are Contact agents,” Reasonable Insanity said. “I wanted you to have some professional assistance.”

“These two are your idea of professional agents?” Linsa asked.

“Hey,” Krade said. “I’ve been on Contact’s speed dial for twelve years now, ever since I did a job for them back on Mugreshna. I toppled a totalitarian regime from the inside, with no support and with none of this Culture shit to help me out.”

“According to the records,” Reasonable Insanity said, “You had a full offensive model drone and its knife missiles backing you up on that mission.”
“Yeah, well he was no help. Just let me take care of the Speaker of Silence. This is going to be walk in the park.” Krade turned around and headed for the module, his coat billowing out behind him.

Linsa glared at the chip.

“Relax,” It said. “The mission won’t take that long.”

“Fine.” Linsa sighed, and headed toward the module.

The door closed behind her, and she sat down on a small couch facing the rear of the module. Krade was sitting across from her, and Ipshar was floating overhead. As Linsa was taking her seat, the module informed them that it was launching.

“So, what brings a lady like you on a boring mission like this?” Krade asked.

“Reasonable Insanity wanted me to come,” Linsa said. She was looking around at the interior of the module.

“Forget it,” Ipshar said. “You’d have better luck romancing a bulkhead.”

Krade patted the bulkhead next to him. “Oh, I’ll leave that to you. She’s not my type.”

“Well, fuck you very much, Krade,” Ipshar said.

“I can see why Reasonable Insanity wanted you two on this mission,” The module said.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” Ipshar said.

Linsa sighed, and started tapping her fingers on the seat next to her.

“Ever been on a mission like this before?” Krade asked.

“No,” Linsa said.

“I have,” Krade said. “This’ll probably be nothing. Nine times out of ten, you walk in, find the guy, and leave. The rest of the time, well…”
“What?” Linsa asked.

“You play it by ear,” Krade said. “But you’d better stay back if things get physical.”

“Here we fucking go…” Ipshar said.

“You ever see a Drixan?” Krade asked, leaning toward Linsa. “They’re ugly as hell. Covered in bone plates as hard as metaprene, with a half dozen tentacles coming out of god knows where, and a toxic sting that’ll kill an Idiran in six seconds. They say a Drixan single-handedly killed a battle drone during the Vollirian war. Right now, we’re looking for the only one still hanging around. He’s the key to all of this. And if he doesn’t want to go, we’re gonna have to do whatever it takes to make him come.”

“What are the chances of that?” Linsa asked.

“Don’t know,” Krade said. “But personally, I’ve always wanted a crack at one. I’ve got some cybernetics, ya know. Back when I used to do freelance mercenary stuff, I’d always try to get some tech, salvaged or otherwise. I figure, between the Idiran sub-dermal carapace armor, the Homomdan field projector implant, and the Scapsile Vault bionics, I’ve got a chance. And with my track record, that’s all I’ll need.”

“Ha!” Ipshar said. “You are so fucking full of it. You couldn’t take on a Drixan if it was crippled, senile, and unconscious.”

Linsa smirked.

“We’re in. You can go now,” The module said.

The module door opened, and the three of them walked out onto an open field. The sun was bright, and looked slightly red compared to the lighting Reasonable Insanity used. They were met by a tall humanoid with blue feathers. It carried a blank sheet of papyrus and a long staff made of bronze.

“Welcome,” It said. “I am an avatar of Iatra. I will take you to the Speaker of Silence.”

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Ipshar asked.

“I represent Corvran the Prophet, a character from an ancient Lykandran religion.”

“That’s fucking great,” Ipshar said. “Can we get on with this?”

The avatar nodded, and started walking. Krade took a drink from his flask, and started walking. Ipshar and Linsa followed them. They were headed directly spinwards of the landing site, though the Speaker of Silence was supposed to be waiting at a temple in the opposite direction. Linsa hoped that Iatra wasn’t planning to give them the grand tour.

The surroundings were very green. They seemed to be on a large plain, covered mostly with tall grass and a few bushes. There were patches of flowers and a few trees, but not many. After a while, Linsa noticed a wooden hut a short distance away, but the avatar passed it without comment. For the domain of an eccentric hub Mind, it all seemed remarkably boring.

“Not what you expected, is it?” Krade asked, falling into step beside her.

“Not really,” Linsa said.

“Luckily, I brought this.” Krade took out his flask and drank some more. “Still not interested?”

“No,” Linsa said. She glanded some Serene, and kept walking.

“Didn’t think so,” Krade smiled. “Ring, what about you? I don’t suppose old Corvran drank, did he?”

“He did,” The avatar said. It reached for the flask, and took a long drink. He handed it back to Krade. “Thank you.”

Krade looked into the flask. It was full, and he guessed that it had been filled by displacer while the avatar was handing it to him. “Thanks for the refill.” Krade took a drink, and immediately started coughing. He doubled over, retching hard.

It passed quickly, and Krade rested on his knees for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “What… the… fuck?” He gasped.

“One of the miracles attributed to Corvran was turning a drunkard’s wine into a putrid mixture that caused illness, curing the man’s addiction to alcohol. Did it work?”

Krade retched again. “Fuck you, you goddamn psycho.”

The avatar smiled. “It’s always nice to have a chance to try these things in real life.”
“Ha! That was fucking great,” Ipshar said, its fields pulsing red and olive.

“Goddamn it!” Krade said.

“You’ll be fine,” The avatar said.

 

CHAPTER 8 – Blood Sport


One of the great Drixan seed ships fired its strategic weapon, unleashing a burst of jacketed CAM packets traveling at a tiny fraction of a percent below light speed. The fleet watched as the burst traveled toward its destination, a planet only three light-seconds away. The gas giant exploded brilliantly, scattering its moons toward the stars. Soon, only a diffuse cloud of dust would remain of the once heavily populated world.

Another seed ship was currently in command of the fleet. That ship was older by about seven hundred years, though it had a beam of only 9.2 kilometers. Each of the seed ships commanded a spawn group numbering roughly 20,000 ships.

The Sight ships traveling at the perimeters of the fleet soon detected vessels incoming. The Affronter fleet was coming in from directly ahead, as expected. A Culture fleet was coming in from a free floating rock not far from Affront territory. Another Culture fleet was coming in from galactic east, headed by a System class GSV. That fleet was relatively small, and probably consisted of the vessels the ship had built in response to the escalating conflict.

One of the seed ships broke off and prepared to intercept the larger Culture fleet, while the other continued on its course for the home world of the Affront. The course of the battle was clear: The Affronter fleet would make contact first, and be annihilated. Then the Culture fleet would make contact, inflicting catastrophic losses on the sacrificial Drixan fleet that had gone to engage them, and giving the other Drixan fleet time to escape. The smaller Culture fleet was almost a non-factor. Even if it combined with the Affront fleet, it would not be powerful enough to challenge even a fraction of the spawn group.

The Affront ships drew closer, bearing down. The massive blades and razor sharp spines of the vessels seemed eager to rip into the soft interior flesh of the Drixan ships. They would not have the chance. The Drixans would reach weapons range in seven microseconds. Weapons were ready to fire.

Three microseconds to range. The Sight ships reduced stealth to improve sensor resolution. Two microseconds to range. One microsecond.

The Affronter fleet spun around, moving like a single entity. It was unprecedented. The Affront would never run from an engagement, not without suffering horrendous losses first. The precision of the movement was uncanny, beyond anything Affront battle computers could do. …Unless the Culture had commandeered them using their effectors. The GSV and its fleet were certainly capable of it. Communication flared between the two seed ships. They began running calculations and simulations at a furious pace.

Too late. The Culture war fleet tore into the spawn group in front of it. The pace of the Culture ships didn’t slow as they ripped through the Drixan ships. Some exploded brilliantly as they were struck by CAM and CREWS, or lucky bursts of gridfire. Others vanished into nanoholes. Many of them were destroyed by effectors. The lucky ones died silently, coasting forward as lifeless hulks. The unlucky ones were crushed slowly, squeezed to death over a tenth of a millisecond by the catastrophic failure of their vulnerable warp bubbles.

The Drixans fought back. Their displacers launched massive barrages of CAM and quark matter bombs. The entire fleet focused on a few targets at a time, trying to saturate the 4D space around the enemy ships, trying to anticipate the evasive patterns of ships that strayed into laser range. Some of the Culture ships seemed to anticipate the attacks, leaping forward with picosecond bursts of suicidal speed. But others died. Ninety six of them exploded in an instant as a coordinated strike by the Drixans hit home. Then nothing. More Drixan ships died. Then there was another burst of firepower from the Drixan fleet. One hundred fourteen Culture ships were torn apart by the barrage.

Pittance fleet seemed to hesitate, as though building strength or courage. Then it spurred forward, ramping their engine fields to their maximum capacity. They escaped the tail end of the gigantic Drixan fleet, like acid rain from a cloud.

The GSV and its fleet rendezvoused with the fleeing Affront ships. The Culture vessels extended heavy fields around the Affront ships. Superlifters swarmed from cargo bays, aiding in the effort to pull and push the slow moving Affront ships onward. The enraged Drixan bioships were still gaining on them.

Pittance fleet reached weapons range, and reduced their engine speeds to manageable levels. They began to cut gashes into the rear of the Drixan spawn group. The other spawn group was only now turning around to regroup. The fleet had lost nearly a quarter of its number, and could not hope to reach the battle in time to make a difference.

The other Drixan fleet was still drawing closer to the Affront ships. They calculated time to target again, taking into account the changes in speed. They would be in range in four microseconds. They waited, keeping their weapons fully charged. The time passed.

At the last moment, the Affront fleet put on another burst of speed. The Drixans recalculated. It would take them six microseconds to reach the Affront ships at the current pace.

It was clear now. The GSV was trying to egg them on. It wanted them to follow. The Sight ships immediately spread out into a scouting pattern. The fleet turned its sensors forward, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Moments passed. The large Culture fleet was staying back, destroying targets of opportunity and taking minimal losses in return. The rear seed ship gave up the chase, and began to retreat with its spawn group. It hoped to reach Drixan controlled space without any major engagements.

The other seed ship continued forward. Attempting to retreat would mean passing through Pittance fleet, and taking horrendous casualties in the process. It could only try to press the attack, and trust that numerical superiority would allow it to accomplish the mission before being annihilated.

The Drixans rushed forward, trying to close the gap. A few of them died suddenly as their warp drives gave out. They were flattened and their internal organs were splattered, hitting the light speed barrier from the wrong side.

Nearly fifteen microseconds passed. The Drixans continued their hopeless chase. Then the trap hit. An Idiran sector fleet had diverted to intercept them.

The fleet was massive, numbering over 10,000 capital ships. Its flagship was The Fist of God 2142, a dedicated warship half the length of a seed ship, but capable of defeating any single ship in the Drixan navy. It had been designed specifically to deal with the Drixan threat, and this was its first chance to cut its teeth.

The Drixans attempted to turn and run. The charged headlong into the Culture fleet. The GSV and its fleet turned to assist, compelling the Affront ships to continue the retreat under their own power. Culture ships kept pace with the Drixans, destroying ships at a terrifying pace.

Microseconds passed. Half the Drixan fleet was already gone when the Idirans reached weapons range, aiding the Culture with their own impressive firepower. Drixan ships died by the thousands. Within a tiny fraction of a second, it was over. None of the Drixan ships escaped. The Culture fleet had taken relatively few losses, and the Idirans had barely been scratched.

It was the first true setback that the Great Engine had suffered in thirty thousand years. It would not go unpunished.