‘Cloudsheen, is that you?’ she asked the Affronter. The destroyer Wingclipper had arrived the day before with a cultural exchange group the university had been expecting for some weeks. Cloudsheen was the ship’s captain; they’d had a good talk about pan-species semantics at the party just the night before. Intelligent, surprisingly sensitive creature; not remotely as aggressive as she’d expected. This looked like him, but different. She had a disquieting feeling the extra bits on his suit were weapons.

‘Captain Cloudsheen, if you please, professor,’ the Affronter said, floating closer. It was directly above her skirt, lying crumpled on the floor. Heavens, she had been messy last night.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked. She had a strong urge to fart but she held it in; she was oddly concerned that the Affronter would think she was being insulting.

‘I am perfectly serious, professor. The Affront and the Culture are now at war.’

‘Oh,’ she said. She glanced over at her terminal brooch, lying on an extension of the bed’s headboard. Well, the Newsflash light was winking, right enough; practically strobing in fact; must be urgent indeed. She thought. ‘Shouldn’t you be addressing this to the Hub?’

‘It refuses to communicate,’ the Affronter officer said. ‘We have surrounded it. You have been deemed most senior Culture - ex-Culture, I should say - representative in its place. This is not a joke, professor, I’m sorry to say. The Orbital has been mined with AM warheads. If it proves necessary, your world will be destroyed. The full cooperation of yourself and everybody else on the Orbital will help ensure this does not happen.’

‘Well, I don’t accept this honour, Cloudsheen. I--’

The Affronter had turned and was floating back towards the windows again. It swivelled in the air as it retreated. ‘You don’t have to,’ it said. ‘As I said, you have been deemed.’

‘Well then,’ she said, ‘I deem you to be acting without any authority I care to recognise and--’

The Affronter darted through the air towards her and stopped directly above the bed, making her flinch despite herself. She smelled . . . something cold and toxic. ‘Professor,’ Cloudsheen said. ‘This is not an academic debate or some common room word-game. You are prisoners and hostages and all your lives are forfeit. The sooner you understand the realities of the situation, the better. I know as well as you that you are in no way in charge of the Orbital, but certain formalities have to be observed, regardless of their practical irrelevance. I consider that duty has now been discharged and frankly that’s all that matters, because I have the AM warheads; and you don’t.’ It drew quickly away, sucking a cool breeze behind it. It stopped just before the windows again. ‘Lastly,’ it said, ‘I am sorry to have disturbed you. I thank you personally and on behalf of my crew for the reception party. It was most enjoyable.’