Surface Detail

“This sounds a little vague,” Chruw Slude Zsor said.

“I intend to be much less vague when we discuss financial remuneration and technology transfer,” Veppers said. “What I’m looking for right now is a declaration of goodwill more than anything else.”

“The Flekke are happy to give this,” Chruw Slude Zsor said.

There was another inscrutable pause before the Reliquarian said, “Similarly.”

“Subject to contract,” the Flekkian added.

“Also similarly,” 200.59 Risytcin confirmed.

Veppers nodded slowly. “Good,” he said. “We can do details later, but for now I’d like to approach the monetary strand of these talks. Mr. Jasken here will record our deliberations using his Oculenses from this point on until further notice, each of us having a veto. Is that agreed?”

“Agreed,” 200.59 Risytcin said.

“The principle is allowed,” Chruw Slude Zsor said. “Though given that all we ask of you is to do nothing, and the price of in -action traditionally is significantly less than that of action, we might wish that you do not approach such negotiations with too unrealistic a set of hopes.”

Veppers smiled. “I shall, as ever, be the very soul of reasonableness.”

Veppers had extensive business interests on Vebezua and throughout the rest of that day he attended a series of more conventional meetings following the one held in the paper boat on Mercury Lake. The Iobe city authorities held a reception for him that evening in a great ballroom complex suspended on cables in the centre of the single greatest circular piercing above the main city caverns. The ceiling was opened to the night.

Vebezua was uncomfortably close to its star and Iobe lay almost right on the equator; by day it would have been insufferably hot and bright in the ballroom with the ceiling irised back, but by night the full glory of the stars was displayed, a distant speckled wash of multi-coloured lights enhanced by a large waning moon and the layered, slow- and not-so-slow-moving sparkle of junk and hab light as the planet’s various halos of artificial satellites rotated overhead.

Veppers had been coming to Vebezua on business for decades and possessed one of the finest mansions in the inner city; however, it was being remodelled, again, and so he had elected to stay in Iobe’s finest hotel, his suite of suites and his retinue taking up the two top floors. He owned the hotel, of course, so making the arrangements, even at relatively short notice, had been trivial.

For security reasons he slept right at the back of the hotel where its largest, finest but windowless grand bedroom had been carved out of the rock of the cavern wall.

Before retiring for the night he had Jasken meet him in one of the saunas. They sat facing each other, naked in the steam.

“My, how pale that arm is becoming,” he told the other man. Jasken had taken his cast off and left it outside.

Jasken flexed his arm, clenched his fist. “I’m due to take it off next week.”

“Mm-hmm,” Veppers said. “The Reliquarian. Did it put something in the Oculenses?”

“I think so. Probably a tracker. Too small to tell. Do I give it to Xingre’s techs to check?”

“Tomorrow. Tonight you stay here.”

Jasken frowned. “You sure?”

“Quite sure. Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t I just leave the Oculenses?”

“No. And do something memorable.”

“What?”

“Something memorable. Go back out, to a club, start a fight, or get two girls fighting over you, or throw a whore into a wine barrel; whatever it takes to be noticed. Nothing so heinous anyone would think to wake me, obviously, but something that‘ll make it very clear you’re still here.” Veppers frowned; Jasken was frowning at him. Veppers looked down at his own lap. “Oh, yes, well; just the mention of whores will do that. Better deal with it.” He grinned at Jasken. “Meeting over. Tell Astil I’ll manage by myself tonight and send Pleur up on your way out.”

The suite’s giant circular bed could be surrounded by multiple concentric layers of soft and floaty curtains. Once they were all fully drawn round and the hidden monofils within the fabrics had been activated and stiffened, it was impossible to tell from outside that the bed had descended into the deep floor and retreated into the rock wall behind and beneath.

Veppers left Pleur sleeping; the tiny drug-delivery bulb attached to her neck would keep her under for days if necessary. The drug bulb looked just like an insect, which was a nice touch, he thought. He must get Sulbazghi to provide more of the things.

The bed went back to where it had come from; Veppers walked across the gently lit tunnel and into a little underground car. Not too dissimilar to the Reliquarian’s bullet shape, he thought as he swung the door down, switched the thing on and flicked a button to tell it to go. He was pressed back in the couch as the car accelerated. The Reliquaria. Annoying species, or machine type – whatever the fuck they were. Again, though; useful on occasion. Even if it was to be little better than a decoy. He punched in the destination code.