Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies

‘This looks comfortable enough,’ I said, with a nod of greeting to the senior planetary defence force officers already seated around the polished stone table, the partial fossils of the occasional aeon-old aquatic invertebrate visible here and there in the reflective surface. Most of my attention, however, was on the display of refreshments laid out at the far end of the room; not for the first time after escaping death by millimetres, I suddenly found I was famished.

‘Let me introduce General Porten,’ Fulcher said, with a wave in the direction of the most braid-bedecked member of the contingent, whose greying moustache would have impressed a Vostroyan with its size and luxuriance, ‘commander of the Ironfound Defence Force.’

‘An honour, commissar.’ Despite the abundance of facial hair, which effectively hid much of his expression, he sounded genuinely impressed, no doubt suitably primed by the exaggerated stories he’d heard about my supposedly heroic exploits. He nodded cordially at me, a positively restrained greeting by the standards of the system we were in, and I found myself warming to him at once. Here, at least, was a man for whom protocol clearly came a distant second to the practical considerations.

‘Likewise,’ I said, helping myself to a cyna bun and a mug of recaff as I spoke. Given the highly confidential nature of what we were about to discuss there were none of the servants I’d normally expect to find hanging about the place, so in the absence of Jurgen I’d just have to shift for myself. ‘Anyone hungry or thirsty while I’m up?’ An offer I fully expected to be refused, of course, given my status, but which I knew would go down well, cementing my undeserved reputation for the consideration of others.

‘Wouldn’t mind another recaff,’ Porten said, rising another notch or two in my estimation, not least because of the audible intake of breath around the table in response to his reply. I poured the requested drink with a friendly smile, and placed it on the slab of stone between us as I took the seat opposite him, keeping my own provisions in front of me. ‘Thank you. Much appreciated.’ He picked up the porcelain cup with surprising delicacy, and strained a mouthful of its contents through his moustache.

‘Everyone here knows Osric, of course,’ Fulcher said, although I doubted that, given the blank expressions of the clutch of senior aides and officers in the seats adjoining the general. Porten evidently did, however, as the arbitrator smiled at him in an affable fashion, and settled into the well-padded chair next to mine. The adjacent seat remained empty, no doubt earmarked for Defroy if his presence was required, or whatever business he’d hurried off on was successfully concluded before the meeting ended. Fulcher seated himself too, at the head of the table, and waved an introduction to a cadaverous fellow whose Navy-styled uniform was almost as lavishly ornamented as Porten’s. ‘Admiral Herren, C in C111 of our system defences.’

‘What’s left of them,’ the man remarked dryly, presumably before anyone else did. A faintly awkward silence fell, before being broken by Porten, who coughed apologetically.

‘The fighters have lost contact with the eldar,’ he said, apparently in response to a voice in his comm-bead. ‘They were forced to break off by the volume of civilian traffic around the orbital docks.’ Which made sense to me, even though most of the faces around the table seemed to share Porten’s disappointed bafflement. The Vypers were smaller, and far more manoeuvrable than their pursuers; once they got into the main traffic lanes, the relatively cumbersome Lightnings would find them a good deal more difficult to track, not to mention having their lines of fire impeded by innumerable cargo shuttles and the like. ‘They were last confirmed in the vicinity of Skyside Seventeen.’

Herren nodded, apparently listening to something in his own earpiece. ‘I can confirm that,’ he said. ‘They were engaged by the point defences, and shot up a few of the surface structures on their way past.’ He nodded towards the head of the table. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that your estates up there escaped unscathed, however.’

‘Not really the issue,’ Fulcher said. ‘I’m rather more concerned with what was damaged, and how many casualties we took in the process.’

‘Point taken, governor.’ If Herren was abashed at being caught out in quite such a blatant attempt at toadying he hid it well, simply moving on as if the exchange had never happened. ‘Most of the damage appears superficial, which is only to be expected given how quickly the xenos passed the void station. No deaths or injuries reported yet, although that might change – if it does I’ll let you know.’

‘So they’re beyond the atmosphere now,’ I said, more to show that I was paying attention than because I was particularly interested. Eldar going away wasn’t a problem; it was the ones still coming at us that worried me. ‘Anything at all on the long-range augurs?’