Read Online Bonshoon: A Tale of the Final Fall of Man by Andrew Hindle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Hindle
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convict with a bright smile and a swift but clearly-deliberate stroke of his tongue down his elongated eye tooth. A Molranoid insult, albeit a mild and quite dated one. “I didn’t know you could write Xidh so fluently.”
“Well, now it’s a secret shared by you, me, and anyone who reads my tracking and supervisory database for warning markers,” Glomulus smiled.
Decay smiled back – although again, really, how could you tell? “I’m also pleased to see the ‘shit-dancer’ detail there,” he said, making a vague little gesture with his upper right hand. “It suggests that you can be taught the difference between a Molran and a Blaran, after all.”
“Oh yes, I have this excellent method for remembering,” Cratch replied. “I just remind myself that Steña Oyana MassKoi was a Molran , until she decided to take a ride on the wild child, and then she became a Blaran .”
“Yes,” Decay said equably, “that’s a sensible way of keeping it all straight,” he inclined his head infinitesimally, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Cratch said, “I just meant to say…” Decay paused, and turned back, ears lowering. “I’m glad the female died,” he went on in an earnest, sincere voice. “The one that married you, I mean. Steña. It was fast. And her degradation is over. They might’ve even let her into Molran Heaven, right?”
“I’m glad too,” Decay replied, after a long pause.
Glomulus lifted his own pale eyebrows. “You don’t say.”
“It’s always good to have confirmation,” the Blaran noted, “that you and I are each on the right sides of this wall.”
He turned and strolled away along the corridor. He’d left the flux open, Glomulus mused, the plate solid but two-way transparent. He could have punished Cratch by leaving it transparent from the outside in but a solid wall from the prisoner’s perspective. A touch of the control panel would have done it.
This way there was still nothing to see, but it was a dynamic nothing. And his next inspector wouldn’t sneak up on him, except in the unlikely event of a remote polarity change from one of the bridge consoles. Which he wouldn’t put past Sally, for example, but still seemed unlikely.
“A miss,” he murmured contemplatively, looking down at his precious sheet of flimsy. “A very palpable miss.”
Z-LIN (NOW)
Commander Z-Lin Clue stood at the entrance to the oxygen farm arc that they’d all come to think of as ‘Thord’s room’, and would probably now have to start thinking of as ‘the rumpus room’. At least until such time as the juveniles within began to whittle down their own numbers and the idea of it being a rumpus room became too sad to tolerate.
She sighed. It felt like she spent a lot of her time sighing. The burden of command was one thing, but this was the death of a civilian. A real civilian, a passenger , not like the under-qualified, technically-uncertified but nevertheless active non-Corps crew under her charge. A passenger, no less, who had been companion – and perhaps much, much more – to an aki’Drednanth. Unless the seven pups in the farm decided to back them up over this, the information would most likely cascade through the Drednanth Dreamscape as soon as they returned to subluminal space. However that sort of information happened to cascade anywhere, which was a bit beyond Clue’s sphere of expertise.
And if the Drednanth got upset, then the Molren would be upset. And the last thing they needed at that time was the Fleet being pissed at them as well. They already had more than enough enemies … although Z-Lin accepted the fact that she , of all people, probably shouldn’t complain too loudly about that.
Frankly, the idea that at least five or six aki’Drednanth might soon also be dying on board her ship wasn’t something she wanted to focus on, even if that was a series of deaths the Drednanth would probably wholeheartedly approve of. It was almost
“Well, now it’s a secret shared by you, me, and anyone who reads my tracking and supervisory database for warning markers,” Glomulus smiled.
Decay smiled back – although again, really, how could you tell? “I’m also pleased to see the ‘shit-dancer’ detail there,” he said, making a vague little gesture with his upper right hand. “It suggests that you can be taught the difference between a Molran and a Blaran, after all.”
“Oh yes, I have this excellent method for remembering,” Cratch replied. “I just remind myself that Steña Oyana MassKoi was a Molran , until she decided to take a ride on the wild child, and then she became a Blaran .”
“Yes,” Decay said equably, “that’s a sensible way of keeping it all straight,” he inclined his head infinitesimally, and turned to leave.
“Wait,” Cratch said, “I just meant to say…” Decay paused, and turned back, ears lowering. “I’m glad the female died,” he went on in an earnest, sincere voice. “The one that married you, I mean. Steña. It was fast. And her degradation is over. They might’ve even let her into Molran Heaven, right?”
“I’m glad too,” Decay replied, after a long pause.
Glomulus lifted his own pale eyebrows. “You don’t say.”
“It’s always good to have confirmation,” the Blaran noted, “that you and I are each on the right sides of this wall.”
He turned and strolled away along the corridor. He’d left the flux open, Glomulus mused, the plate solid but two-way transparent. He could have punished Cratch by leaving it transparent from the outside in but a solid wall from the prisoner’s perspective. A touch of the control panel would have done it.
This way there was still nothing to see, but it was a dynamic nothing. And his next inspector wouldn’t sneak up on him, except in the unlikely event of a remote polarity change from one of the bridge consoles. Which he wouldn’t put past Sally, for example, but still seemed unlikely.
“A miss,” he murmured contemplatively, looking down at his precious sheet of flimsy. “A very palpable miss.”
Z-LIN (NOW)
Commander Z-Lin Clue stood at the entrance to the oxygen farm arc that they’d all come to think of as ‘Thord’s room’, and would probably now have to start thinking of as ‘the rumpus room’. At least until such time as the juveniles within began to whittle down their own numbers and the idea of it being a rumpus room became too sad to tolerate.
She sighed. It felt like she spent a lot of her time sighing. The burden of command was one thing, but this was the death of a civilian. A real civilian, a passenger , not like the under-qualified, technically-uncertified but nevertheless active non-Corps crew under her charge. A passenger, no less, who had been companion – and perhaps much, much more – to an aki’Drednanth. Unless the seven pups in the farm decided to back them up over this, the information would most likely cascade through the Drednanth Dreamscape as soon as they returned to subluminal space. However that sort of information happened to cascade anywhere, which was a bit beyond Clue’s sphere of expertise.
And if the Drednanth got upset, then the Molren would be upset. And the last thing they needed at that time was the Fleet being pissed at them as well. They already had more than enough enemies … although Z-Lin accepted the fact that she , of all people, probably shouldn’t complain too loudly about that.
Frankly, the idea that at least five or six aki’Drednanth might soon also be dying on board her ship wasn’t something she wanted to focus on, even if that was a series of deaths the Drednanth would probably wholeheartedly approve of. It was almost
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