the private network of Gentian Line. Yes, Campion and I are both shatterlings. That didn’t even cross your mind, did it? If it had, you wouldn’t have wondered which civilisation we were from.’
After a moment, Ateshga’s figure reappeared. ‘Anyone could make this claim.’
‘But I am making it, and I am Gentian. You should have been more alert, Ateshga. You saw two ships and thought: they can’t be shatterlings, because shatterlings always travel alone. Most of the time you’d be right, too. But Campion and I are not your normal run-of-the-mill shatterlings. We consort. That means we travel as a pair, and it means you are in unimaginably deep trouble.’
‘You have given me no reason to believe you are Gentian.’
‘I’m about to. In the meantime, I want you to think about what it means to make an enemy of us. There may not be a thousand of us any more, but there are still eight hundred and eighty, not including the two of us. That’s eight hundred and eighty enemies you don’t want to make. Enemies who not only know the location of your system, but who also have access to some of the fiercest weapons ever invented.’
‘Threats mean nothing without proof.’
‘I know, and that’s why the Line has taken pains to enable any member to establish his or her authenticity. I know from the data in Campion’s trove that a Gentian shatterling visited this system only a few hundred thousand years ago. That shatterling - her name was Mimulus - revealed herself to you with a password left by a previous member of the Line. Upon her departure, Mimulus left you with another password, a word of her own choosing, which she then registered with the private network. Since no shatterling has visited you in the meantime, that password remains valid.’ Purslane took a theatrically deep breath. ‘The word is “passacaglia”.’
There was a silence. The gowned figure hovered before us, its face frozen in a deeply inscrutable expression. This was just the form he chose to adopt for the purposes of entrapment. He might have looked similar, or he might have been embodied as a city-sized intellect floating just above the liquid hydrogen ocean that lay beneath the lowest clouds.
‘You could have learned that password,’ he said. ‘You could have intercepted and interrogated a Gentian shatterling, or broken into their private network.’
‘Or we could be exactly who we say we are,’ Purslane said.
At last a flicker of doubt crossed the mask. ‘Perhaps there has been a degree of misunderstanding.’
‘More than a degree, Ateshga. The question is: what are you going to do about it?’
Dalliance lurched slightly as the field relinquished its hold. Cautiously I applied power, half-expecting to be pinned down again, but we were free to move. I cleared the southern pole of the moonship, emerging back into the vacuum bubble surrounding the vast spacecraft, and then reactivated my own impassor before slipping back into the crush of the Jovian’s atmosphere.
‘We’re waiting,’ Purslane said.
‘Might we soothe matters with a generous discount?’
‘It’ll take more than a discount. The gift of a ship might begin to cut it.’
‘But there aren’t any—’ I started to say.
Purslane shushed me. ‘Then we’ll talk about the people, crews and passengers of the other ships.’
‘The people?’ Ateshga asked vaguely.
‘Let’s get something straight. If I even begin to sense that you’re not telling me the whole truth, I’ll send an order to my ship telling it to alert the Line immediately.’
He shot back a hasty smile. ‘Just seeking clarification, shatterling.’
‘Then let’s be clear. There were people in those ships. You might have killed them, but I’m guessing you opted to keep them alive, or at least in abeyance. It wouldn’t have cost you anything, and you’d always have the option of selling them on down the line. Civilisations will pay a lot for minds stuffed full of ancient
Learning to Kill: Stories