Surface Detail

Vatueil turned to find that – without him having noticed them arriving – there were two humans, a large, hovering blue bird and what looked like a crudely carved, garishly painted ventriloquist’s dummy sitting on a small multi-coloured balloon, all standing or floating around him.

“I’m the Fixed Grin,” the first human told him; the avatar had silvery skin and looked vaguely female. “Representing Numina.” It nodded/bowed.

“The Scar Glamour,” the blue bird told him. “SC.”

“Beastly To The Animals,” the other humanoid avatar said, a thin-looking male. “I represent the interests of Restoria.”

“Labtebricolephile,” the dummy may have announced, having what sounded like trouble with the “L” sounds. “Civilian.” It paused. “Eccentric,” it added, needlessly.

“And that,” the chandelier called Zaive said, as the others help-fully looked off to one side, “is the Dressed Up To Party.”

The Dressed Up To Party was a small orange-red cloud hanging more or less over the hovering blue bird.

“The Dressed Up To Party is also non-aligned and is some non-specific distance away; its contributions will be sporadic,” Zaive said.

“And probably beside the point, as well as trailing it,” the blue bird representing the Scar Glamour said. It cocked its iridescently plumaged head to look up at the orange-red cloud, but there was no visible response.

“Together,” Zaive said, “we make up the Specialist Agencies Prompt Response Committee, or at least the local chapter, as it were. A small number of other interested parties, each no less security-conscious than ourselves, will be listening in at greater removes and may contribute subsequently. Do you need any explanation regarding our titles or terminology?”

“No, thank you,” Vatueil said.

“We understand that you represent the highest strategic level of command within the anti-Hell side in the current confliction regarding the Hells, is that right?”

“Yes,” Vatueil confirmed.

“So, Space Marshal Vatueil,” the bird said flapping its short wings lazily – too slowly for it to have truly hovered had this all been taking place in the Real. “You indicated this was both urgent and of the highest importance. What is it you wish to tell us?”

“It’s about the war over the Hells,” Vatueil said.

“That kind of came presupposed,” the bird said.

Vatueil sighed. “Are you aware that the anti-Hell side is losing?”

“Of course,” the bird said.

“And that we attempted to hack the substrates of the pro-Hell side?”

“We had guessed as much,” the thin-looking male said.

“Those attempts failed,” Vatueil said. “Therefore we decided to bring the war into the Real, to construct a fleet of ships which would destroy as many of the Hell-containing substrates as possible.”

“So the entire decades-long confliction was for nothing,” the blue bird said crisply, “putting it on the same level as the vows one assumes you must have taken at the start of the war renouncing resort to precisely the two courses you have just outlined.”

“That’s… a weighty thing to have done, Space Marshal,” the dummy said, hinged jaws clicking as it spoke.

“It was not a step we took lightly,” Vatueil agreed.

“Perhaps it was not a step you should have taken at all,” the blue bird said.

“I am not here to justify my actions or decisions or those of my comrades or co-conspirators,” Vatueil said. “I am here only to-”

“Try to implicate us?” the blue bird said. “Half the galaxy assumes we’re behind the anti-Hell forces anyway. Perhaps by coming here – and being allowed audience despite the earnest entreaties of some of us – you intend to persuade the other half?” Directly above the bird’s head, the little orange-red cloud had just started to rain, though no moisture seemed to reach the Scar Glamour’s avian avatar.

“I’m here to tell you that the anti-Hell forces came to an agreement with the GFCF and elements of the Sichultian Enablement – behind the backs of the NR and their allies, the Flekke and the Jhlupians – to build us our fleet using the Tsungarial Disk. However, we have received intelligence that the NR thought that they too had an agreement with the Sichultia, promising that they – the Sichultia – would refuse to help the anti-Hell side and would do whatever the NR wanted them to do to stop any war fleet being built.”

“The Sichultia sound as free with their agreements as you and your fellows are with your solemn undertakings, Space Marshal,” the blue bird representing SC said.

“Must you be quite so unpleasant to our guest?” the silver-skinned avatar asked the Scar Glamour’s avatar. The bird bristled its feathers and said:

“Yes.”