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Authors: Michael Cobley
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vee this morning to tell us that the Hammergard government has been in contact with a ship from Earth!'
First she gasped in disbelief, then started talking, almost tripping over her own words.
'But that's . . . incredible! You're sure, Tom as, absolutely sure?'
'It's the honest truth, Catriona, I swear! The ship is called the Heracles and it's entering orbit around Dan en right this moment. Look, there's a vee-panel up in the mess hut which is where the rest'll be, watching the live relay from Port Gagarin.'
A web-tethered flock of membrane insectoids drifted past on a warm updraught as they hastened up to the enclave buildings. Catriona grinned while trying to think through the giddy thrill she was feeling.
'It's unbelievable,' she said. 'I never thought I'd live to see this - I wonder what they'll be like? You remember that play by Fergus Brandon?'
'The Lifeline?" He chuckled. 'I doubt that any wouldbe colonists will be queueing to come out here. Said as much to Greg Cameron earlier.'
'Greg?' she said, trying to sound vaguely disinterested. 'What were you calling him about?'
'Neh, he called us to gossip about the announcement. We gabbed on about it and the Brandon play came up. Yah, he's just as excited about it as everyone.'
Of course, Catriona thought. Those two were good friends at college, so it's no surprise that he would call. She felt a small shiver go through her. I wonder how he's been since he came back .. . but why should I wonder? He's just another man who's got better things to do than .. .
She had only met him a few times, ever since she'd suggested the link between the proportions of the temple on Giant's Shoulder and the physique of the Uvovo, and she had hoped that their professional friendship might become something deeper. And then he gave up everything and moved away up north to Trond to get married, settle down and have kids, apparently - only to return several months later, alone. Hopes which had collapsed rose again, but tempered this time with a dash of realism and caution.
And now she was resolved not to let Greg Cameron or her failed minicam experiment dilute her excitement at Tomas's news.
'Right, Tomas,' she said with a determined laugh as they came up to the mess hut. 'Let's see if we can get a good seat!'
ROBERT
On board the Earthsphere cruiser Heracles, in the largest of its three staterooms, Ambassador Robert Horst was indulging in the archaic practice of packing luggage.
'I don't know why you don't ask the room to do it for you,' said Harry, his AI companion.
'But the room doesn't know what I need to take with me.'
'The room has access to your sartorial profile, as well as Darien's styles and customs, such as they are. So where's the problem?'
'The room can't know what I need,' Robert said, smiling as he placed a semi-formal tunic into his partitioned valise. 'Because I don't know myself. Or rather, when I see it I'll know that I need it.'
Harry smiled and shook his head. In Robert's field of vision, Harry seemed to be standing over by the stateroom's centrepiece, a sleek porcelain and perspex column with a holobase in each of its five faces. He resembled a young man dressed in an immaculate but outmoded black suit, his round features displaying a perpetual amusement and a hint of cynicism. Robert had chosen to model his companion upon the main character from an American black-and-white flat-movie from the mid-twentieth century, whose storyline dealt with postwar intrigue and betrayal. Orson Welles's portrayal of the mercurial Harry Lime had captivated the young Robert Horst, and after deciding on his companion's form he had also resolved that he would appear in monochrome. After all, he was the only one who would see it.
'I'm not sure that the personal touch will be helpfu ,' Harry said. 'After 150 years of isolation and resource scarcity, social fashions are bound to be a little rustic'
'My God, Harry, you're a snob.'
'Not at all. I just feel sure that these
First she gasped in disbelief, then started talking, almost tripping over her own words.
'But that's . . . incredible! You're sure, Tom as, absolutely sure?'
'It's the honest truth, Catriona, I swear! The ship is called the Heracles and it's entering orbit around Dan en right this moment. Look, there's a vee-panel up in the mess hut which is where the rest'll be, watching the live relay from Port Gagarin.'
A web-tethered flock of membrane insectoids drifted past on a warm updraught as they hastened up to the enclave buildings. Catriona grinned while trying to think through the giddy thrill she was feeling.
'It's unbelievable,' she said. 'I never thought I'd live to see this - I wonder what they'll be like? You remember that play by Fergus Brandon?'
'The Lifeline?" He chuckled. 'I doubt that any wouldbe colonists will be queueing to come out here. Said as much to Greg Cameron earlier.'
'Greg?' she said, trying to sound vaguely disinterested. 'What were you calling him about?'
'Neh, he called us to gossip about the announcement. We gabbed on about it and the Brandon play came up. Yah, he's just as excited about it as everyone.'
Of course, Catriona thought. Those two were good friends at college, so it's no surprise that he would call. She felt a small shiver go through her. I wonder how he's been since he came back .. . but why should I wonder? He's just another man who's got better things to do than .. .
She had only met him a few times, ever since she'd suggested the link between the proportions of the temple on Giant's Shoulder and the physique of the Uvovo, and she had hoped that their professional friendship might become something deeper. And then he gave up everything and moved away up north to Trond to get married, settle down and have kids, apparently - only to return several months later, alone. Hopes which had collapsed rose again, but tempered this time with a dash of realism and caution.
And now she was resolved not to let Greg Cameron or her failed minicam experiment dilute her excitement at Tomas's news.
'Right, Tomas,' she said with a determined laugh as they came up to the mess hut. 'Let's see if we can get a good seat!'
ROBERT
On board the Earthsphere cruiser Heracles, in the largest of its three staterooms, Ambassador Robert Horst was indulging in the archaic practice of packing luggage.
'I don't know why you don't ask the room to do it for you,' said Harry, his AI companion.
'But the room doesn't know what I need to take with me.'
'The room has access to your sartorial profile, as well as Darien's styles and customs, such as they are. So where's the problem?'
'The room can't know what I need,' Robert said, smiling as he placed a semi-formal tunic into his partitioned valise. 'Because I don't know myself. Or rather, when I see it I'll know that I need it.'
Harry smiled and shook his head. In Robert's field of vision, Harry seemed to be standing over by the stateroom's centrepiece, a sleek porcelain and perspex column with a holobase in each of its five faces. He resembled a young man dressed in an immaculate but outmoded black suit, his round features displaying a perpetual amusement and a hint of cynicism. Robert had chosen to model his companion upon the main character from an American black-and-white flat-movie from the mid-twentieth century, whose storyline dealt with postwar intrigue and betrayal. Orson Welles's portrayal of the mercurial Harry Lime had captivated the young Robert Horst, and after deciding on his companion's form he had also resolved that he would appear in monochrome. After all, he was the only one who would see it.
'I'm not sure that the personal touch will be helpfu ,' Harry said. 'After 150 years of isolation and resource scarcity, social fashions are bound to be a little rustic'
'My God, Harry, you're a snob.'
'Not at all. I just feel sure that these
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