as broad swaths of polyp ablated.
Iasius
started to tumble helplessly down towards the scorching river of light.
The retinue of voidhawks watched solemnly from their safe orbit a thousand kilometres above, singing their silent hymn of
mourning. After they had honoured
Iasius
’s passing with a single orbit they extended their distortion fields, and launched themselves back towards Romulus.
The human captains of the voidhawks involved with the mating flight and the
Iasius
’s crew had passed the time of the flight in a circular hall reserved for that one purpose. It reminded Athene of some of
the medieval churches she had visited during her rare trips to Earth, the same vaulted ceiling and elaborate pillars, the
intimidating air of reverence, though here the polyp walls were a clean snow-white, and instead of an altar there was a fountain
bubbling out of an antique marble Venus.
She stood at the head of her crew, the image of Saturn’s searing equator lingering in her mind. A last gentle emanation of
peacefulness as the plasma sheath wrapped
Iasius
in its terminal embrace.
It was over.
The captains stopped by one at a time to extend their congratulations, their minds touching hers, bestowing a fragile compassion
and understanding. Never, ever a commiseration; these gatherings were supposed to be a reaffirmation of life, celebrating
the birth of the eggs. And
Iasius
had energized all ten; some voidhawks went to meet the equator with several eggs remaining.
Yes, they were right to toast
Iasius
.
He’s coming over, look, Sinon said. There was a mild tone of resentment in the thought.
Athene raised her eyes from the captain of the
Pelion
, and observed Meyer making his way through the crowd towards her. The
Udat
’s captain was a broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, black hair cut back close to his skull. In contrast to the silky
blue ceremonial ship-tunics of the voidhawk captains he wore a functional grey-green ship’s one-piece and matching boots.
He nodded curtly in response to the formal greetings he received.
If you can’t say anything nice, Athene told Sinon, using singular-engagement mode, don’t say anything at all. She didn’t want anything to spoil the wake; besides she felt a certain sympathy for someone so obviously out of place as
Meyer was. Nor would it do the hundred families any harm to introduce some diversity into their stock. She kept that thought
tightly locked at the core of her mind, knowing full well how this bunch of traditionalists would react to such heresy.
Meyer stood before her, and inclined his head in a swift bow. He was a good five centimetres shorter than her, and she was
one of the smaller Edenists in the hall.
Captain— she began. She cleared her throat. No fool like an old one; his affinity bond was with
Udat
alone. A unique neuron symbiont meshed with his medulla, providing him with a secure link to its clone-analogue in the
Udat
, nothing like the hereditary Edenist communal affinity. “Captain Meyer, my compliments to your ship. It was an excellent
flight.”
“Thank you for saying so, Captain. It was an honour to take part. You must be proud all the eggs were energized.”
“Yes.” She lifted her glass of white wine in salute. “So what brings you to Saturn?”
“Trade.” He glanced round stiffly at the other Edenists. “I was delivering a cargo of electronics from Kulu.”
Athene felt like laughing out loud, his freshness was just the tonic she needed. She put her arm through his, ignoring the
startled looks it caused, and drew him away from the rest of the crew. “Come on, you’re not comfortable with them. And I’m
too old to be bothered by how many navy flight code violation warrants are hanging over your head.
Iasius
and I left all that behind us a long time ago.”
“You used to be in the Confederation Navy?”
“Yes. Most of us put in a shift. We Edenists have a strong sense of duty sequenced into us.”
He
Roy Wenzl, Tim Potter, L. Kelly, Hurst Laviana