remit.’
‘You know,’ 428 tapped his teeth with his fingers, ‘after the Second World War the villagers near Dachau claimed not to know about the death camp on their doorstep. Not a clue. Utter innocence. Wide eyes. An American general couldn’t quite believe it. And yet he almost did. The village was so near the death camp, but seemed so utterly normal, so quiet, innocent. Until he realised no one in the village hung their washing outside to dry. Because of the smell.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Level 7 stinks. And you know it does.’
‘It’s not my responsibility.’
428 made a disgusted noise. ‘And you were only obeying Protocols.’ He glared at me.
‘I’ll blip the commander of Level 7. We call him the Oracle.’
I called up the Oracle on my tablet. He stared out of the screen, his fat eyes filled with delight, his fingers waggling in excitement at seeing me.
‘Ah! Why, it is you, Governor, and I knew it would be. And who can this be …? Why yes, of course, this is Prisoner! 4! 2! 8! How wonderful. I wish I could say unexpected, but I knew it would be so, I shall, yes I must, settle for Wonderful.’
428, for once, was lost for words. He glanced at me. ‘What’s his deal?’
The Oracle was still at ‘Wonderful to see you, 428. How can I help?’ He tapped his fingers on the screen, a pit-a-pat of oily raindrops.
428 looked about to ask a lot of questions. I cut across. 428 was many things, but useless at diplomacy. The Oracle required careful handling. Otherwise, well, his charges had been rumoured to suffer. ‘Oracle,’ I said. ‘The latest power drain is critical. The station is reaching, ah, cascade failure. We’re going to eject you so that you can launch a beacon. So that you … your charges may stand some chance.’
The Oracle beamed and rubbed his fingers slowly across each other. ‘Oh, yes, why yes, I shall tell the children. They will be pleased! A trip! Everyone does so love an outing.’ He frowned, and his piggy eyes squinted till they were little glitters of coal. ‘But the weather will be bad. I know that, sadly.’ He wagged a finger disapprovingly. ‘I’m seeing lots of mauve.’
‘Children?’ muttered 428 ominously.
I nodded.
‘You keep children in prison?’
The Oracle looked up sharply. ‘I told you he wouldn’t be happy. And he doesn’t like me already. A man of taste and discrimination! Ha ha.’ He leaned into the tablet, filling the screen with his smile and his hands. ‘Why yes, Prisoner 428. My little crate isrammed to the rafters with the families of dissidents. People on HomeWorld who are perhaps a little out of favour … but not out-of-favour enough to be shipped here. The kind of lovely, loyal people who will be extra lovely and loyal knowing that their children are hostages. My cargo is most, most precious … and, as I said, will just adore an outing.’ He clapped his hands together and giggled.
It was a repellent display and it wasn’t wasted on 428.
‘Ejecting Level 7 is a great idea. Get them out of here,’ he said. He turned back to me. ‘This isn’t over.’
I noticed that 428 was behaving like he was in charge again. I didn’t care for that.
I nearly said ‘Do as he says,’ but knew that Bentley would object. Instead, I called up the schematic and activated the ejection procedure myself.
The Custodians quivered. Bentley assented with a grunt, and they hurried into action Level 7 was launched.
Level 7 was launched.
The Oracle’s face appeared on the screen. ‘Oh dear. How magnolia. Didn’t I tell you there’d be bad weather? We’re not moving.’
Bentley scanned the display panel. ‘There’s not enough energy left in the system to operate the automatic eject.’
‘But …’ The Oracle grinned. ‘I’ve got engines. Can’t Ijust fire up my toasty little “Baxter Drive”?’ He put the quotes round the name himself and I really wished he hadn’t.
‘Not with the clamps engaged,’ I told him.
‘You know,’ 428 tapped his teeth with his fingers, ‘after the Second World War the villagers near Dachau claimed not to know about the death camp on their doorstep. Not a clue. Utter innocence. Wide eyes. An American general couldn’t quite believe it. And yet he almost did. The village was so near the death camp, but seemed so utterly normal, so quiet, innocent. Until he realised no one in the village hung their washing outside to dry. Because of the smell.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Level 7 stinks. And you know it does.’
‘It’s not my responsibility.’
428 made a disgusted noise. ‘And you were only obeying Protocols.’ He glared at me.
‘I’ll blip the commander of Level 7. We call him the Oracle.’
I called up the Oracle on my tablet. He stared out of the screen, his fat eyes filled with delight, his fingers waggling in excitement at seeing me.
‘Ah! Why, it is you, Governor, and I knew it would be. And who can this be …? Why yes, of course, this is Prisoner! 4! 2! 8! How wonderful. I wish I could say unexpected, but I knew it would be so, I shall, yes I must, settle for Wonderful.’
428, for once, was lost for words. He glanced at me. ‘What’s his deal?’
The Oracle was still at ‘Wonderful to see you, 428. How can I help?’ He tapped his fingers on the screen, a pit-a-pat of oily raindrops.
428 looked about to ask a lot of questions. I cut across. 428 was many things, but useless at diplomacy. The Oracle required careful handling. Otherwise, well, his charges had been rumoured to suffer. ‘Oracle,’ I said. ‘The latest power drain is critical. The station is reaching, ah, cascade failure. We’re going to eject you so that you can launch a beacon. So that you … your charges may stand some chance.’
The Oracle beamed and rubbed his fingers slowly across each other. ‘Oh, yes, why yes, I shall tell the children. They will be pleased! A trip! Everyone does so love an outing.’ He frowned, and his piggy eyes squinted till they were little glitters of coal. ‘But the weather will be bad. I know that, sadly.’ He wagged a finger disapprovingly. ‘I’m seeing lots of mauve.’
‘Children?’ muttered 428 ominously.
I nodded.
‘You keep children in prison?’
The Oracle looked up sharply. ‘I told you he wouldn’t be happy. And he doesn’t like me already. A man of taste and discrimination! Ha ha.’ He leaned into the tablet, filling the screen with his smile and his hands. ‘Why yes, Prisoner 428. My little crate isrammed to the rafters with the families of dissidents. People on HomeWorld who are perhaps a little out of favour … but not out-of-favour enough to be shipped here. The kind of lovely, loyal people who will be extra lovely and loyal knowing that their children are hostages. My cargo is most, most precious … and, as I said, will just adore an outing.’ He clapped his hands together and giggled.
It was a repellent display and it wasn’t wasted on 428.
‘Ejecting Level 7 is a great idea. Get them out of here,’ he said. He turned back to me. ‘This isn’t over.’
I noticed that 428 was behaving like he was in charge again. I didn’t care for that.
I nearly said ‘Do as he says,’ but knew that Bentley would object. Instead, I called up the schematic and activated the ejection procedure myself.
The Custodians quivered. Bentley assented with a grunt, and they hurried into action Level 7 was launched.
Level 7 was launched.
The Oracle’s face appeared on the screen. ‘Oh dear. How magnolia. Didn’t I tell you there’d be bad weather? We’re not moving.’
Bentley scanned the display panel. ‘There’s not enough energy left in the system to operate the automatic eject.’
‘But …’ The Oracle grinned. ‘I’ve got engines. Can’t Ijust fire up my toasty little “Baxter Drive”?’ He put the quotes round the name himself and I really wished he hadn’t.
‘Not with the clamps engaged,’ I told him.
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