~ The rest of our fleet has arrived at roughly the same estimation. The ships within the cloud are, of course, broadcasting their positions and configuration, otherwise we should not see them individually and know what they are. There may be others which are not making themselves known.

A growing sense of horror and looming, utterly ignominious defeat was growing in Greydawn’s interior. ~ Are they real? he asked.

~ Apparently.

Greydawn watched the image expand; it was a wall of ships, a constellation, a galaxy of craft.

~ What are they doing now? he asked.

~ Deploying to face our fleet.

‘They are . . . enemy?’ he asked, feeling faint.

‘Ah,’ said the ship. ‘We’re talking now, yes?’

It was only then the Affronter realised he’d spoken rather than sub-vocalised the text. ‘All the ships,’ the Heavy Messing said, its voice steady, calm and deep inside Greydawn’s armoured suit, ‘are signalling that they are Culture ships, non standard, manufactured by the Eccentric GSV Sleeper Service and that they wish to receive our surrender.’

‘Can we get to the Esperi entity before they intercept us?’

‘No.’

‘Can we outrun them?’

‘The smallest and most numerous ones, perhaps.’

‘How many would that leave?’

‘About thirty thousand.’

Greydawn was silent for a while. Then he asked, ‘Is there anything we can do?’

‘I think surrendering is our only sensible course. If we fought we might inflict a small amount of damage on a fleet of this size, but it would amount to little in absolute terms and almost nothing as a percentage of their number.’

Think of your clan, something said in Greydawn’s mind. ‘I will not surrender!’ he told the ship.

‘Well, I’m going to.’

‘You will do as I say!’

‘Oh no I won’t.’

‘The Attitude Adjuster told you to obey us!’

‘And within reason we have.’

‘It didn’t say anything about “within reason”!’

‘I think one just takes that sort of proviso as read, don’t you? I mean, we are Minds. It’s not like we’re computers. Or soldiers. No offence. Anyway, I have discussed this with the other ships and we have agreed to surrender. The signal has been sent. We have begun deceleration to--’

‘What?’ Greydawn raged, slapping one armoured limb against a screen projector set within his nest-space.

‘--a point stationary relative to Esperi itself,’ the ship’s voice continued calmly. ‘The ROU Killing Time has been designated as receiving our formal consent to place our offensive systems in its control and will meet us at our stop-point to effect the surrender. If you do not wish to capitulate along with us then I’m afraid it will be necessary for me to place you outside my hull - within your space suit, of course - though technically I believe I ought to intern you . . . What do you wish?’