by Mike Freeman
“Delicious,” Havoc said.
“Divine,” Novosa said.
Touvenay looked about as animated as Havoc had seen him.
“The lamb is marvelous.”
“His name was Wink,” Fournier said.
“Pardon?” Stone said.
“My youngest daughter named him Wink,” Fournier said.
Stone comprehended his.
“The lamb we are eating...”
Fournier nodded.
“Was called Wink. Wonderful fellow, gamboling and playing; well muscled and lean. I took him the day before I left.”
“Ah.”
There was a pop of a cork and Whittenhorn circulated, dispensing champagne. A glass was also passed through the crowd separately. Touvenay handed it to Jafari as Brennen's voice floated over.
“For you, Mr Jafari.”
Jafari reached for his non-alcoholic beverage.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Chaucer shook his head.
“I had a patient who abstained from drinking, sex and rich food. He was healthy until the day he took his own life.”
“My faith,” Jafari explained.
“Lord save you,” Chaucer said, taking a drink.
Jafari smiled.
“That's the plan.”
“Ugh,” Chaucer said.
Havoc looked around the assembled throng. Many of the women had favored skin art and glyphs as well as jewelry. Karch had a little meteor shower that occasionally sparkled across her neck. Stephanie had a Celtic design that glowed gold as it slowly traced across her shoulder, gradually changing shape. Stephanie caught Havoc’s eye over Tomas's shoulder and gave him a smoldering look. Poor Tomas, Havoc thought. He looked to see if Weaver had any glyphs but he didn't notice any. Now he was looking at her, it seemed quite difficult to look anywhere else.
Ambassador Abbott tapped his glass with a spoon. His face broke into a wide smile as he raised his glass.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome. Commander Brennen has asked me to give our toast. My first toast must be to the ladies, for if beauty were tyranny, we would all be in chains. Our beautiful ladies.”
The men echoed the toast, glasses were raised and everyone drank; the ladies toasting each other, of course, rather than themselves.
“Our beautiful ladies!”
Abbott turned slowly, surveying the room.
“My second toast is to our venture. Coming together is a beginning; working together is progress; and leaving alive is a success!”
There was laughter at this subversion of the marriage toast. Glasses were raised to the toast.
“Success!”
Havoc caught Weaver looking at him. He was drawn into the infinitely recursing gold triangles spinning slowly across her pupils. He found the effect hypnotic. Stone clinked his glass and Havoc broke eye contact as Fournier raised his glass and added his own toast.
“If you can be happy, then be; for tomorrow there's no knowing.”
Touvenay looked droll.
“The future is not what it used to be, apparently.”
There was laughter.
Weaver appeared at Havoc’s shoulder. It looked like it was time to start building bridges.
“It’s about before...”
He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.
“It's ok.”
“I just wanted to say...”
She was obviously finding it difficult to apologize for screaming in his face. He reached for one of Fournier’s little appetizers to pass over to her.
“It's ok, there’s no need.”
“Yes, well. I think I ought...”
He shook his head.
“Honestly, there’s no need to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“For screaming at me.”
“For telling you what you are?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“You think I was going to apologize to you? I was going to let you apologize for lying to me.”
“Lying to you?”
“When you misled me earlier.”
“What?”
“I can't believe you thought I would apologize to you. If you had better interpersonal skills...”
He made a choking sound. Breathe, he told himself. Weaver looked at him with disdain.
“When you do feel able to apologize, I want you to know that I'm ready to accept it and move on.”
Havoc felt his teeth grinding. Weaver watched him. He stared into the middle distance. When it was clear that he wasn't going to respond, she spoke.
“Well, I’m glad we had this little talk.”
He didn't trust himself. He chucked Fournier’s treat in his mouth instead. She watched it disappear.
“Oh, is there any more of those?”
“That was the last one,” he said, still chewing.
He had no idea if it was true. She looked at him reproachfully. Stone laughed loudly and they both turned. Stone tipped his head back and Novosa dangled one of Fournier's treats above his mouth. Having teased Stone enough, Novosa dropped it in.
Weaver smiled.
“They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”
“Sounds a bit inefficient to me,” Havoc muttered.
Weaver tutted as she spun on her heel and walked away. He watched her go as he thought about the benefits of all male missions.
They were always better; no exceptions.
~ ~ ~
Touvenay held up his glass for Whittenhorn to refill.
“Almost by definition, a species that journeys beyond its origin planet is an apex-predator.”
Fournier shook his head as he took a drink.
“And how would you respond if a string of cockroaches wandered up to your front door to start a conversation?”
“I would hope we're past the state of ignorance where we refer to another species that approaches us as a string of cockroaches,” Weaver said.
Fournier looked at her.
“It isn't just our response that we need to account for, is it?”
Touvenay looked thoughtful.
“Has humanity ever co-existed with another species they didn't dominate?”
“Have we ever met another species to co-exist with?” Weaver said.
Touvenay considered this.
“True.”
“But look at our relationship with the Dem,” Kemensky said.
Weaver looked confused.
“What relationship? We have no relationship with the Dem.”
“Surely we can't assure the future of our species by hiding in a cave,” Darkwood said.
“What if it's an AI on Plash? Would we treat it differently to another species?” Jafari said.
“Even if the Plash species are evolved biological life, it doesn't necessarily follow that they have emotions or values as we understand them,” Touvenay said.
“We can at least try to understand another species. It could be a gift,” Weaver said.
Stone’s head lolled slightly.
“I understand my wife more than we understand the Dem.”
Havoc reflected.
“Sometimes you don't understand things, you just get used to them.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow at him, apparently amused by his philosophical contribution. His ex-fiancée held his gaze as she toyed suggestively with her wine glass. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or terrified.
“Surely we would agree that humans are unique in their ability to be cruel to their own species?” Jafari said.
Fournier set his glass down.
“Oh, bullshit. We had a swan on our lake. It beat the other swans with its wings until it could force their heads under the water and drown them. After it murdered them it danced for its mate. I didn't believe it until my daughters filmed it.”
Touvenay nodded.
“Intraspecies cruelty being limited to humans is a myth.”
“But surely once a species develops the intelli
gence to reach the stars...?” Kemensky said.
“Like we did?” Jafari said.
Weaver frowned.
“But... we didn't.”
~ ~ ~
The mood was relaxed. The food, though not of Fournier's standard, was excellent and Darkwood's Château Margaux '89 was excellent. They were drinking it with a crumbly, sharp Edelpilz, biscuits and defrosted grapes when Fournier tantalized them with a description of an exquisite sweet, ‘if they thought they could make room’.
A rolling wave of enthusiasm washed Fournier into the kitchen and shortly afterward he disappeared to get some additional ingredients. He reappeared a short time later and cleared a space at one end of the table. Laid out before Fournier were various items, including, Havoc noticed, a gas cylinder by his knee. Fournier commentated as he busied himself.
“We don't have the equipment I need for the baskets, so I have taken the liberty of borrowing this cylinder of cyclobutane.”
A cheer of bravado came from the diners. Various military eyes narrowed; Tyburn's in particular.
“I'm not sure this is a good idea.”
Brennen gazed down the table.
“Mr Fournier, can you assure our security lead, Mr Tyburn, that you know what you are doing?”
“I can, Sir.”
Bergeron looked back and forth nervously.
“I don't think this should happen. It's against regulations.”
Abbott snorted.
“You lawyers only ever want to spoil our fun.”
Bergeron shook her head in protest.
“That's not true. In fact, I would go so far as to say it's a misrepresentation.”
Abbott snorted.
Brennen laughed.
“Noted and overruled on moral grounds.”
Humberstone dived to the aid of his legal partner.
“Strictly speaking, there are no moral grounds on which to overrule.”
Brennen spoke in a firm but well-humored voice.
“Bergeron, Humberstone; please stop worrying about the playback of this dinner at some unknown point in the future and be more concerned with simply enjoying it now. Proceed, Mr Fournier.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Fournier asked Stephanie, Weaver and Novosa to sit in a three way circle facing inward. Havoc had no idea what the dessert entailed, but having three beautiful women sitting in a circle seemed a great start.
Fournier asked the ladies to hold their hands out in front of them and with some trepidation they did so. Fournier began weaving an elaborate construction between their hands using a fine golden thread. There was a great deal of intrigued conversation around the table. The room was fascinated, loving Fournier's theatrical performance – the magician weaving his spell over his three alluring assistants.
In the center of the long strands running from their hands emerged a segmented woven globe onto which Fournier deposited a thick syrupy paste, frozen sorbet and chocolate putty. The confection smelled sweet and delicious. Fournier was immersed in his virtuoso performance as he complemented his gorgeous assistants on their steady hands while racing to complete his structure before it melted, cooled, shifted or any other one of a myriad of other things that could bring it crashing down before its completion.
“That's it my beautiful elves! Hold it there; perfect, you are perfect!”
The three women were laughing, entranced by the sculpture held between them. The room was heavy with anticipation as Fournier built to a climax; twisting, tweaking and then lifting the explosive canister. The women were wide eyed with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as Fournier coaxed them on.
“That's right, steady, that’s just what I want; hold it, hoooold it.”
Fournier deftly flicked on the canister nozzle with his free hand and gas hissed around the dessert. There was a building 'ooooh' from the room, especially from the three women. They all had their hands pushed forward but were simultaneously trying to twist their faces away as Fournier shouted, sparking the gas.
'And...!”
A flash of fire enveloped the food art and the three women screamed as the flames whooshed between them. The flames raced along the threads, burning them away and their hands parted streaming flickering remnants.
“Voila!”
Fournier stepped back holding a spinning globe of caramelized weave, containing compartments of crushed sorbet and chocolate truffle; the confection hanging from a thick golden thread.
The room erupted into applause. Darkwood leaped to his feet.
“Spectacular!”
“Wonderful!” Novosa cried.
Brennen shook his head in wonder.
“Mr Fournier, you surpass yourself!”
Havoc clapped with everyone else but his brow was troubled. Brennen shouted over to him.
“Come now, John; that must have impressed even you.”
Havoc's face broke into a smile.
“Fantastic.”
Havoc looked at Tyburn.
“Are you going to tell them or should I?”
Tyburn shrugged.
The room quietened, sensing a problem. Fournier stood, the globe still spinning back and forth. Brennen looked puzzled though he still sounded well-humored.
“Is there something you want to share, Mr Havoc?”
Havoc gestured at the globe.
“Well, Mr Fournier has just created that wonderful dessert in our Hub Hab.”
Brennen nodded.
“Right.”
“Using a controlled explosion.”
More nods.
“Right.”
“And nothing happened.”
“Right.”
“Ah.”
“Hmm.”
Silence. People thinking.
Touvenay frowned at him.
“Is this the dog that doesn’t bark?”
Havoc nodded.
“Right. It's exactly that.”
“What?” Stone said.
Brennen’s expression turned serious.
“There should have been an alarm.”
25.
Havoc knelt next to Jafari while their systems expert completed his diagnostics on the sensor block in the instrument panel. Brennen stood over them with Tyburn, Whittenhorn and Yamamoto. The atmosphere remained relaxed and the dinner party went on, slightly muted. Faults on ships were rare but not impossible, and this ship had been rushed into service in the attempt to keep the mission secret.
Brennen looked at Havoc.
“We have this under control, John, if you want to have another drink.”
“It's fine, Commander.”
Jafari inspected the results.
“The sensor information is being relayed to the control without any problems. It's the sensor control which is faulty.”
“Shouldn't it self-report, then?” Havoc said.
Jafari frowned and juggled it in his hand, then tossed it to him.
“Yes it should but it diagnoses itself as fine. Faulty part.”
Havoc caught it and spun it in his hand. He inspected the Hub Hab topo in his mind's eye. As soon as there had been a problem he'd pulled the topo from shipnet. Shipnet had pinged Brennen to give him permission and Brennen had granted him access. Havoc studied the topo.
“There are two controls for this hab, right? One covering this side and the other covering the counter area.”
Jafari nodded.
“Yeah. They're both faulty.”
Havoc’s tone was dubious.
“You really think both these parts are faulty? Both with corrupt self-diagnosis?”
Jafari shrugged.
“It suggests a manufacturing fault. It happens. At least we can sort it out now.”
Havoc turned to Brennen.
“I'm going to grab a sensor from the kit in hab three and bring it over.”
“You found it, John, well done. You can relax now and we'll address it after the meal. There's no rush.”
“I don't mind.”
Tyb
urn sounded impatient.
“Look, you already got the hero points for finding it, Havoc; you can leave it for now.”
“I don't mind,” he persisted.
Yamamoto looked at Brennen.
“I have no objection, Commander.”
Brennen looked at his ship captain. An understanding passed between them. Brennen turned to Havoc and nodded.
“Fine.”
Tyburn frowned.
“Commander––”
Brennen lifted a hand.
“It's fine, Mr Tyburn. Proceed, Mr Havoc.”
26.
As Havoc re-entered the Hub Hab, Stone was leaning against the counter sandwiched between Novosa, who sat with her legs crossed on a high stool, and Marsac, who towered over Stone as he loosened his bow tie. Someone, and for Stone's sake Havoc hoped it was Novosa, had drawn a heart on Stone's bald head. Stone looked as happy as a dog having its tummy tickled. Stone held up his glass and called over to Havoc.
“You want a drink?”
Havoc waved in acknowledgment and shook his head 'no' as he made his way over to the panel. Jafari joined him and Tyburn wasn't far behind. Havoc handed Jafari the sensor and Jafari slipped it into position. It spun up, performed a status check and confirmed it was functioning correctly. They waited.
Nothing.
They watched.
Nothing.
They breathed easier.
Stone stepped forward from the counter holding up a bottle.
“Hey, Havoc, you sure I can't bring you a drink?”
Stone staggered forward, drunk and precariously unbalanced. Marsac grasped the shoulder of Stone's jacket to stop him tumbling over. Stone's face registered confusion at the mysterious force holding him upright. His eyes rolled skyward in search of an answer.
Havoc laughed.
Stone stumbled sideways. Half of the hab was bathed in red light as a grating alarm sounded. Stone lurched back as people whipped round in alarm.
The alarm switched off and the lighting returned to normal.
There was a frenzy of voices as a dozen conversations started at once. Havoc got the alarm information over shipnet at the same time as everyone else. A bomb, near the counter. Havoc’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Stone.
Biobomb.
Stone looked terrified. Marsac was the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor.