Backup Procedures chapter 5

Large pictures of landscapes, comfortable chairs, and pastel tablecloths helped warm up the Company's commissary, but they did little to avert the reality of a concrete-walled, windowless room built atop the air-base's bunker complex.

            Looking at his companions, Higgs picked at his breakfast. "So, how'd you two get drawn into this?"

            Franklin glanced at the amused Shelia and then back to Higgs. The red-eyed pilot drank his coffee. "Well... I'll blame the diversity card."

            "It is a bit-" Shelia tapped one of her horns. "-on the nose."

            "And why am I here?" Higgs asked.

            "Well Sir, you are Mr. Norton's biggest fan." Shelia grinned and picked up a piece of bacon.

            Higgs sighed.

            "Biggest fan on the planet, Rookie. It is your dossier that we all read," Franklin clarified. "Though, really I think it's because you round out our little diversity trio."

            Stirring his cereal, Higgs snorted. "I'm male, human, white, and straight. Sure I'm modded but all us Pilots are that."

            "Sir, you do realize you're an alien, " Shelia said.

            "And you're a demon."

            Shelia narrowed her eyes and glared before shifting into a toothy grin. "A demon from Columbus."

            "The Buckeye has a point, Higgs," Franklin agreed. All he had before him was a cup of coffee. "You're second generation colonist."

            "Yes, wonderful Jefferson, two states, a prefecture, plenty of trees, and the third largest strip mine in the worlds." Higgs spooned some cereal. "I like the place well enough, but I'm from there. It's not exotic. There aren't even that many interesting aliens; the hunting's pretty mild there, and the fishing isn't strange at all."

            "Yes, and Armstrong is the Galveston of the Inner Colonies. More of a port than anything else, sure it's a large port but that's it," Franklin said.

            "I'm sure your Homeworld is a charming place, Sir," Shelia said to Higgs, teasingly.

            "I guess," Higgs shrugged. "But that's not the point why me? I mean Efim's also colony borne don't forget Bourgain his parents moved to Midway when he was eight. Or does that not count?"

            "You do know Norton better than anyone else." Shelia reminded. "It was your report on him."

            "And speak of the devil-" Franklin gestured over.

            Shelia discretely rolled her eyes at Franklin.

            "There's our man." Higgs glanced to the door where a sparse man with somewhat short hair entering the commissary. He looked to be in his early forties though with modern regeneratives on the one hand and being a veteran on the other he could be older or younger by a decade.

            A company agent at his heel, Gabriel Norton approached the table. "Captians, Lieutenant." Franklin, Ford and Higgs stood. Gabriel shook the two pilot's hands and bowed his head slightly to Ford.

            Shelia Ford blinked and repeated the gesture with a bemused smile and sat down with the others.

            "I hope I'm not intruding." Gabriel glanced at his minder. The man in the grey suit and black sunglasses cracked a theatrical, conspirator's smile. He nodded with the guards shadowing Franklin and Higgs.

            "Well, technically..." Franklin shrugged.

             "I know you're getting pressure from above on this, and you'd much rather be doing your jobs."

            Shelia gave a slight nod. " Lieutenant Ford head dubbing technician. Captains Higgs and Franklin, F56 Badger pilots," the Descended introduced.

            "Gabriel Norton, US Army 82nd Airborne, retired, freelance journalist." Gabriel nodded.

            Pink eyes narrowing, the bulkier Pilot smiled thinly. "No it's our pleasure to help an eager journalist," Franklin said.

            Gabriel laughed. "Nice, but seriously. If I'm being a bother I can try someone else."

            Shelia glanced at Higgs.

            "I'm okay with it. He does know how to properly greet a Descended," Higgs said.

            "I'm glad he meets your standards on Descended culture," Shelia snickered. "He has spent far more time in Descended waters than me."

            Nodding, Gabriel made a mental note as he setup his recorder. "Do you mind?" he asked, placing the slim silver recorder on the table. He knew that the pilots would have their own mods recording, and doubtless the Descended had some hardware on her person. Then there was the minder and the guards who were all obviously wired.

            Higgs looked to the minder who nodded. "Sure go ahead," the pilot said.

            "You're familiar with my work." Gabriel activated the recorder.

            "Captain Higgs routed a little dossier around."

            The journalist eased into his chair. "That'll make my job simpler."

            "What're you looking to write about? Mercenaries? Mods? Pilots? Descended?" Franklin asked.

            "That and a Recon team and a combat tech if available. I'd also like to talk to your guards too. Heck, anyone you'll let me talk to."

            "Now why are you writing about these subjects?"

            Gabriel smiled. "They're unique. War's a constant; it's been around for all of human history. And apparently all of every other sapient species' history."

            Shelia raised an eyebrow.

            "But this war has some differences," Gabriel tapped the table. "Humanity's facing something truly alien and we're begun to reach the limitation of drone technology."

            "Hence your interest in mods and Pilots." Shelia nodded.

            "Correct, for a while it looked like wars could be outsourced-"

            Franklin smirked.

            Gabriel continued. "-that the human element could be eliminated instead of merely reduced."

            "It's never that easy," Higgs said.

            "No, it's not," Gabriel agreed. "But that's what makes this so interesting, because war doesn't really change, not at its core. Take the explosive growth of private military contractors."

            "Blame the UN ban on ahumans and nonhumans servicing and the related ban on derivative technologies," Shelia stated.

            Norton noted her bitterness. "Oh, I do. The rich potential of Descended soldiers and technologies was too tempting for military planners."

            The three Company officers were silent.

            "I'm not going to make the obvious profit point. Military contractors need to make money, the alternative is something even the East Bloc abandoned long ago." Gabriel tapped the table again. "And I'll concede a company will build a better tool to if they need to use it themselves in order to generate revenue than a product they can simply sell through lobbying to people who won't be using it."

            Higgs allowed a slight smile.

            "You also missed the synergy of offworld development and investment," Shelia said with a little smile.

            "Correct. People do what they always do when faced with a ban, they work around it. Granted some governments were far more blatant about it than others."

            "And some governments never got the opportunity." Franklin added.

            "The Big Eleven do work hard to limit Lock access," Higgs said.

            "A Lock is the ultimate bottleneck and trade route. In a way we're lucky that no country has an outright monopoly and that Earth's Locks are split between at least that many nations."

            "With the US 'sharing' fully half of them." Shelia smirked.

            "The US Navy was, and still is, at a unique advantage, having more operational nuclear submarines than the rest of the world combined," Norton said. "Which is another similarity. Again, we see the Navy becoming the dominant means of empire-building."

            "You said this was the same as before?" Shelia asked. "I'm pretty sure this level of military privatization is unprecedented. Sure support jobs had always been civilian, save back in the centuries of mass conscription, but combat troops? Combat aircraft?"        

            "Actually it's not that odd," Higgs mussed.

            Gabriel nodded. "Mercenaries were common enough among the European powers during their imperial days. Going back even further we find more parallels. Take the roman axillaries. These were contracted troops separate from the Legions that provided skills the Legions were deficient in, like cavalry, skirmishers, archers, or whatever was available. And private air forces would periodically pop up in the twentieth century."

            "But, returning to empire building?" Higgs asked

            "How many stars does the US flag have?" Gabriel grinned.

            Higgs glared at that.

            Franklin laughed.

            "But it's not just military, the social implications are huge. Consider the demographic implications of widespread regeneratives. The price will go down. Or look at the effect wide-scale dubbing will have. Imagine what that will bring."

            "I suppose one could look to Descended society, though the Descended don't have anything like dubbing." Shelia's small grin grew slightly.

            "Sure but there's other changes. Take their information systems. The Descended Empire is the largest market for cell phones and computers, period. More undersea cables are being laid in their waters than in human."

            Shelia shrugged.

            "They're modernizing too," Higgs said.

            "Anyway there's big stuff for human society too. Let's ignore that there's aliens openly living on earth now. That hasn't been new in decades. But consider modern subdermals and dubbing of course. Can you imagine what would happen if those technologies became more than military technologies?"

            Continuing, Gabriel pointed to his eyes. "I have to use earbuds and contacts or glasses, but you guys get it piped straight in."

            Higgs shrugged.

            "It's just another exploit of sympathetic tech. The display path terminates in a similarity circuit that uses a contagion bridge to directly display on the retina. Most piloting mods work on the same principle." Shelia smiled showing her teeth. "Though the simpler systems work more universally."

            "Yes. Can you imagine sympathetic tech being used by any human? Or any Descended for that matter? Think of what it could mean for our peoples."

            Shelia nodded thoughtfully. She then put her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands. "You're a little bit of a geek aren't you Mr. Norton."

            Gabriel gave a weak smile. "We're on the cusp of a true tranhumanism, if death can be evaded..." Embarrassed, he trailed off.

            "Geek," Shelia repeated.

            "Anyway, that's why I'm here: to talk with you guys and see what it's all like, and to try to inform the people back home."

            Franklin laughed. "Speaking as one of those transhuman death-cheaters, it's okay. Better than the alternative. Tall and grey's better than rotting. Though I guess one of me is doing that."

            "Yes." Norton regained his composure. "How do you deal with your –well- death? Do you consider yourself a copy or a continuation?"

            Franklin leaned back. "Well, does it matter? I'm alive, the other me if there was one, is gone."

            "You consider the issue moot?" Norton asked.

            "Yeah."

            "If you don't mind? What was it like?"

            The grey-skinned man shrugged. "I was strapped into the chair, the dubbing process kicked in, I blacked out, and when I came to I was like this."

            Shelia looked appraisingly at Franklin. "Series 4 Ajax, a very good model. A bit tall for the cockpit, but well-integrated mods."

            "Thanks Shelia," Franklin sighed.

            "Whoever did your dubbing did a good job, Sir. Though it has been a couple of years so you should be well-established."

            "What's it like losing your face? Over time do you get more used to it?" Norton asked.

            "It's pretty close," Franklin shrugged. "I was lucky enough. My Badger had an airframe failure so I was the only one to die, and the Series 4 is the closest match."

            "But are you still you? Hormones, organs, tactile senses, the brain doesn't exist in a vacuum."

            "If you want to get technical that's not even Captain Franklin's brain. His memories, his personality were copied into the standardized brain of an Ajax unit," Shelia explained

            "You're all heart," Franklin smiled.

            "We do adjust the clones to match the.... 'settings' the Pilot is used to, but the whole thing is a compromise."

            "Again, it's better than the alternative," Franklin said.

            "It just sounds so cavalier. Even 'Descended Insurance' has more... warmth."

            Franklin shook his head. "You know what we get? A big white room that pops us into a backup a few hours after we get blown up, and we don't even remember how we died."

            "So, it is less personal?"

            "Descended Insurance is being saved by your comrades as you lie bleeding on the ground, of course it's going to be more personal. Lieutenant Ford's great, but there's a difference between being saved by family and being saved by the Company."

            Shelia gave a reluctant nod.

            "So, the clones aren't customized? Why aren't they, you know, clones of you?" Norton asked.

            Shelia and Franklin laughed.

            "No, the Company considers that far too expensive." Higgs frowned slightly.

            "And if you never die then what? Your clone just stays in storage forever? What if someone ends up dying twice? They get to use yours?" Shelia sipped her milk. "Same boat then."

            "It's far cheaper to have a few versions that you can mass produce and ship out." Shelia stated. "The transfer's also more reliable due to standardized... parts."

            "That seems a little... cold. Aren't these people? Is there any question of souls?"

            "No." Shelia's tone was firm. "They're blanks, homunculi"

            "When do you think a body gains it's soul?"

            "Conception is the safe answer, but there's the rub these clones aren't conceived. They're constructed. Their brains are deliberately structured so they cannot form their own souls."

            "Really? I find it hard to believe the Company considered the theological implications."

            "It's more logistical. To transfer a dubbing you need a 'blank tape'. The copy won't hold otherwise. For it to work at all, the clones have to be soulless shells."

            "And even then it's dodgy," Higgs muttered.

            "We've got the transfer up to a five in six success rate." Shelia said prideful, and defensive.

            "Oh? You're on the design team?"

            "More the applications side." Shelia clarified. "My doctoral work was in Seattle, building and troubleshooting the recovery and storage mechanisms."

            "And that's why the Company hired you?"

            "WIC sponsored the research." Shelia nodded. "And it allowed my wife to stay close to her family," she added a bit distantly.

            "What about your masters work? The same subject?"

            "Same school, different subject: Xenobiology," Shelia stated.

            Higgs and Franklin exchanged a smirk.

            "Oh, what species?"

            Shelia raised an eyebrow.

            Norton inclined his head. "Ah."

            "Yes, Descended." Shelia took a sip of her coffee.

            Norton blinked. "Oh, well, I suppose that made your research easier."

            Shelia nodded. "At the start I would sometimes wrangle my sisters to come for a few scans. Though Missy really didn't like the MRI machine. Later on, I found easier subjects."

            "What area?"

            "Development and growth of chimera-class tissues and organs."

            Eying her horns, Norton nodded. "Right, the biggest health risk a Descended faces is childhood."

            "More of our legacy," Shelia looked down. "On the upside I had the best of medical care with my eldest daughter. Gave some real piece of mind there."

            Franklin chuckled. "We get to the true mercenary reasons."

            "I'll do anything for my daughters." Shelia primly stated.

            "Back to the dubbing, how do you know that the soul is what transfers?" Norton asked, deliberately changing the subject.

            "Well, the transfer only works after the Pilot's died. If you try to use it on a living pilot things go... wrong."

            Norton checked his recorder. "Are you saying you proved souls exist?"

            "I could." Shelia smirked. "I could also explain it away if you liked. In order to backup, dub has to have a similarity circuit, an Entropic Quantum Entanglement, with the original brain. This link is a constant, and is exploited during the daily backup."

            "And as long as the original brain exists the link prevents the copy from transferring to a new host?"

            "Sure." Shelia broke off a piece of bacon. "The dub works by exploiting Congruent Bias Affinity. It simulates the structure of the host's brain which forms a connection and the retention of data. This connection is why you cannot copy a soul and why the transfer doesn't work if the original body is still alive."

            She leaned forward. "Now the interesting part is that the original body is vital to keeping the dub –well- vital. That's why we try to synchronize our Pilots daily, and why when one dies we've got a limited window to transfer them into a new body.

            "It's like a tether, without it, the soul, sorry the data, floats away. The key part is that the dub simultaneously exploits a similar CBA effect with the specially prepared clone brains. This is why every dubbing rig has to be customized to each Pilot and the pool of compatible humans is quite small. A significant hurdle towards wider use."

            Norton frowned. "But you think it's all souls?"

            Shelia raised an eyebrow.

            "Don't mind her, her religion has funny ideas about souls," Franklin joked.

            "Ah," Norton nodded. "Well, I'm almost absolutely sure you're not Sein Path."

            Shelia looked down at her arm. "Yes, but I do have family that belong."

             "Interesting. The Sein have been less cliquish after contact with Earth. So, are you a Restorationist, a Follower of the Waves, or a Comprehensive?"

            "Catholic." Shelia chuckled.

            Norton blinked then nodded. "So all that stuff about souls?"

            "You should have learned in Sunday School." Shelia grinned.

             "If you don't mind me asking how did you come to your faith?"

            "My parents were converted back on Midway. There was an exchange and my parent's brood moved to Earth and most decided to stay. What's a Comprehensive?"

            "Comprehension is an animist religion popular on parts of Haven. They believe that the divisions between objects and people is arbitrary and that all matter is part of a contiguous greater spirit and that the purpose of the universe is to increase the self-awareness of the spirit."

            "Neat. I've never been to Haven. How active are they in making their beliefs come true? I'd think enough advances in mod-tech could allow for synchronized consciousness on a direct level."

            "Not the ones I met, but that's possible. Did you go to public school or Catholic?"

            "And an all girl's one at that." Shelia chuckled. "All of us did."

            "A lot of sisters then."

            Shelia raised an eyebrow.

            "You're taking a Christian demon awfully well," Franklin noted.

            "It's getting plenty of converts. Not that there's that much competition among human religions in Descended waters. Judaism doesn't actively convert, Buddhism's dietary tenants make it a hard sell, and Islam has even more gender issues than Christianity and Confucianism combined. Though I'll admit, that Confucianism's filial piety does have many direct analogs to Descended mother-daughter roles. I guess Hinduism's doing well enough, but they're not proselytizing as much."

            Franklin nodded. "Interesting, but I think we're overlooking the important part. Our lieutenant Ford used to dress in a cute girl's school uniform."

            "I am married, Sir."
            "Lucky woman, and I bet you still have it."

            "That's a bit personal." Shelia laughed.

            "We could talk about Higgs' love life," Franklin suggested.

            "No thanks, Jim," Higgs grumbled.

            "I am interested in Captain Higgs." Norton said.

            Higgs looked up from his empty bowl.

            "You were born on one of the Inner Colonies. What are your feelings on Earth and how it relates to colonial issues?"

            Higgs blinked. "You're serious?"

            "Well, you've gotta have political views, Sir. You read enough news." Shelia helpfully said.

            "It doesn't really matter. There's no way any of the Big Eleven will let the Inner Colonies loose. That's far too much of a security risk."

            "An independent?"

            "Not so much anymore," Higgs shrugged. "Again, the reality won't allow it. Any planet directly connected to Earth is going to be dominated by Earth politically."

            "It could be worse. Midway has direct connections to both Earth and the Descended Motherworld," Shelia said.
            "The Inner Colonies are Earth's back yard. Even New Holland's getting settlers, and it's an unbreathable hole."

            "But it's is the waystation between Earth and the worlds of Port Ashgrove and Bharata. It's going to get a lot of traffic, especially to Bharata."

            Norton nodded. "With about seventy million colonist that's one of the biggest Consolidation worlds."

            Shelia frowned. "We haven't had open Locks on Earth for forty years. Do you know how many people they've have to shove through the Lock to get that many colonists?"

            Franklin did the math, the numbers floating on his virtual vision. "Ten boat loads of five thousand people every day."

            "Quite doable. But we're ignoring people like the good Captain." Norton nodded to Higgs. "The birth rates are higher in the colonies than they are in their mother nations. Even the Russian, Japanese, and French  colonies are growing."

            'The colonies are really on the upswing." Franklin finished his coffee.

            "Not really." Higgs leaned back. "Earth still holds the vast, vat majority of population. There's hardly two hundred million people in all the human colonies. And most of them are in Inner Colonies or the Consolidation."

            "Which are still soundly under Earth's influence. You have to get more than two Locks away from Earth for things to wane. And there are only a few million humans out in N3 and higher worlds. Sure there the Spinward Steppe's ripe with worlds for the colonizing but right now they're still pretty empty."

            "Exactly," Higgs shrugged. "And given the choice between flying for the Company and going to some hardscrabble colony world-"

            "You end up being shipped off to some hardscrabble colony world," Franklin grinned.

            "Yes but as a Pilot," Higgs countered.

***************

           Gerard Pascal adjusted the knot to his paisley tie. " Navarch Kenva, it's an honor to host a representative of the Imperial Office of Naval Security."

           The woman across from him snorted. She had lavender skin and wore the black blouse and skirt of the Imperial Navy's "new" uniform. In the years following contact with Earth the Admiralty had decided to adopt a more Earth-style dress uniform. That any many other improvements were adopted to "better facilitate integration with allied nations". Pale bluish-white hair was pulled back in a small knotted bun at the base of her head. Dark, almost black, red eyes studied the balding man in his rumpled blue suit.

            "Really?" Kenva shook her head, taking in the dingy conference room with its burn coffee smell and creaking chairs. "At least you're shaved."

            "I'm sorry I'm not playing the part of the playboy."

            Leaning forward, Kenva mock pouted. "I'm doing my part."

            "Little challenge." Pascal eyed her. "It's odd to see you like this."

            "The uniform?" Kenva blinked. "I'm a big purple demon. It's a bit hard for me to blend in out in the Steppes." She tapped the plastic glass full of tap water and crushed ice-cubes.

            "You'd probably have an easier time here than on Earth. Not many Vird emigrate over there."

            "Most Descended can pass, even Sein look human from far away, and some of the Ferri aren't too bright red, but the us?" Kenva shrugged.

            "But the colonies are more accepting?"

            "You know I'm not here to chat."

            "You wouldn't have come on the INV Ridgeline otherwise," Pascal tapped the table. "Do you realize the headaches that caused me with Rear Admiral Terson?"

            "Admirals." A fraction of mirth entered Kenva's voice. "I thought the man from ONI didn't fear the Man?"

            Pascal sighed at her deadpan delivery.

            "Really, it's only natural. Your species does have so very many words for demon. Of course some of them would match up. Though this is particularly fitting."

            "Just because the Imperial Navy is your executive branch. That doesn't mean we're like you."

            "Yes, yes, our senior officers require legislative approval for their commissions. Worlds different."

            "I was thinking more along the lines of your Commander in Chief."

            "Imperial Fleet Admiral Gurges. What about her?"

             "That's a true difference between our peoples. We have civilian control of our government."

            "Bravo." Kenva gave a slow clap. "Earnest, ignorant, condescending, and a slip of the tongue away from a diplomatic incident. Lovely disguise."

            Pascal bowed his head. When he looked up he was smiling. "Seriously, why are you here?"

            "So, straightforward." The mock pout returned. "In my day spies at least attempted seduction."

            "Yes, I know how IONS gets much of its information."

            "Like your hands are so clean. Plenty of patriotic young ladies were taught at your own Sparrow School."

            "That's Russia."

            "Ah the Consolidation." She puffed. "A handful of worlds, but not without their charm."

            Pascal tapped the table.

            Kenva straightened her shoulders. "We got a lead on Nevlani Redweaver, damn S'manima bitch."

            "Sounds familiar." Stomach-tightening, Pascal picked up his glass.

            "She did that school in Argos." Kenva's fingers tightened, her claws threatening to slide out.

            Coughing on water, Pascal was hit by the memory. "She got to three of the teachers didn't she?"

            Kenva nodded. "Left them in with the rest of the hostages. When the local police came in they proved a great distraction."

            "The whole thing was a distraction ," Pascal said.

            The woman nodded. "While Nevlani's daughters, both overt and subvert, wreaked their havoc, she was across town knocking over a bank."

            "She got away clean."

            Kenva narrowed her eyes. "She sacrificed five of her daughters and killed over two dozen children. Nevlani is a true  S'manima, a monster."

            Pascal looked away from her smoldering eyes.

            A slight frown crossed Kenva's face. "When people call us demons; it's because of creatures like her."

            "And you think she might be here?" Pascal let out a breath. "Mooring's a bit too small for someone like that to hide for too long."

            "You're here."

            "And you're talking to me instead of law enforcement because?"

            "What law enforcement? Mooring has a sheriff and a few deputies to roll the drunks and give navy girls a place to cool their heels. This isn't the Inner Colonies; there's no shiny FBI office out here.

            "And so you come to the US Navy."

            " I need a counter-intelligence person and the USN does maintain that presence here."

            The balding man rubbed a worn lapel. For the Descended, their navy was their de jure  executive government; similarly US Navy functioned de facto in much the same way. "Yeah, we're a gateway. New Carlisle has five Locks. WIC has a big facility here, and a lucrative contract. Charles S. Abbot Naval base is a major staging area for exploring this sector of the Steppes."  

            "You're also on the border between the Steppes and the Maker Remnants, as evidenced by the little scrum those mercenaries in their expensive planes got into."

            Pascal frowned. "Nevlani, do you know what she's after? Who hired her?"

            "I don't even know if her target is here or if she's passing through. I also have leads that she and her sick brood might be headed to Fostoria or Rossford."

            "Fostoria? That world hasn't even been fully surveyed."

            "Yes but there's some very interesting ruins and some very expensive navy hardware out there. Not to mention an ARIC Institute facility in Rossford."

            Pascal nodded. "But you think she'll hit here?"

            "As I said before, you're here." Kenva nodded at him. "I have every confidence in you."

            "Right." Pascal tapped one of his rings and started taking down notes to complement the record. "I'll need the latest information you have on Redweaver. The size of her family, who her contacts might be." He looked a bit hopeful. "I don't suppose you know what she looks like now."

            Kenva shook her head. "No, but I've still got her scent, and she can't change that."

            Pascal raised an eyebrow. "Right. I'll put the base on alert and contact our company liaison. They've got a Recon team and plenty of Descended staff."

            "Really?" Kenva asked, somewhat impressed. "That'll make it harder to infiltrate. If they know what they're doing."

            "It's WIC. If they're not paranoid enough then we'll have some real trouble."

            Kenva tapped her chin. "Good point. Nevlani was never one for the hard target."

            "That leaves us with the soft targets."

            "What about victims? Does she have any pattern?"

            "Prefers female between 15 to 35 years. Keep an eye on missing persons, if there's a spike in that group then you've got a real problem."

            "The Sheriff doesn't exactly keep up to date records," Pascal frowned. "What about tactical turning?"

            Kenva nodded. "You'll need to take warning of anyone critical vanishing. The Navy should have procedures for that."

            "The Company too."

            "Ah" Kenva bowed her head. "Right, I'll need a list of what's ashore."

            "Does this mean I can count on your support?"

            "The Ridgeback will continue her friendship tour of the Steppes, minus myself and my team."

            "Pending an invitation from Admiral Terson?" Pascal poked.

            "Of course." Kenva smiled. "The Descended Empire would never intrude into the affairs of an allied state. "

            "Respect is the touchstone of trust." Pascal shook his head. "Seriously, when is your team going to get off the boat?"

            Kenva tilted her head.

            Pascal sighed.

            "Oh come on, you've got a Company Recon team running around here. There's nothing my girls will do that they haven't already."

            "Actually, they're quite well-behaved."

            "Meaning they keep their hands clean and do their work in the shadows."

            "That does describe Sergeant Cavina Somerset's girls."

            "Cavina?" Kenva blinked. "What clan?"

            "Sallentian." Pascal smiled. "Why?"

            "Oh that green-haired bitch!" Kenva swore.

            "Then you know her?"

            "Briefly. We served together."

            "Imperial Marines?"

            "Close enough." Kenva rapped her fingers on the table.

            "And here I thought you were always an IONS girl."

            "That was a long time ago. We've both matured." Kenva regained her composure.

            "Yeah, she's got kids. Kids old enough to serve with her. Really, I can't even imagine the Sergeant being a hellion."

             Kenva groaned. "That was bad, human."

            "Now, I'm intrigued. What was she like as a young woman?"

            "Playful... annoyingly so," Kenva said.

            "What about her mate?"

            "Mate?" Kenva shook her head.

            "Well yeah, she's got some kids. So, she had to have had a mate."

            "Well... not quite but..." Kenva paused. "Look, I wouldn't bring up her mate. Mourning takes a while for our kind, especially someone as passionate as Cavina."

            "I'll remember that." Pascal nodded.