Cossont swallowed once more. Her throat was still tingling. She could remember the breath whistling through her, being torn out of her lungs, like throwing up air.

“I need to get to … a place,” she said.

Berdle assumed a studiedly neutral expression. “You may need to be a trifle more specific.”

“I know, I know, but will you take me there, if I tell you where I need to go?”

The avatar smiled tolerantly. “You mean you want me to commit myself to taking you somewhere—”

“No, no,” Cossont said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “That’s not going to – I can see … you’re a … I’m just – I’m sorry, I’m not …”

While the human was screwing up her eyes and wittering, a signal arrived.

∞

xMSV Pressure Drop

oUe Mistake Not …

Tripped a pop-flag on this one, com: specs on your guests included the live bio’s name (rLC Vyr Cossont). Data from one interested party assertively idents a certain individual: C. cit. (congen) QiRia, Ngaroe (no further nom. detail avail.). If not fraud, semi-mythic figure. Vyr Cossont met him 20 years ago (cert. ≥99%). Link likely germane.

You were right; contents/passengers you rescued from craft/Eshri surface not random.

Ms Cossont may be our best lead.

Sound out. Stick with.

∞

The avatar smiled wearily but warmly. “Let’s suppose, for the sake of brevity if nothing else,” it said, “that our interests lie parallel. Why don’t you tell me where you want to go?”

Cossont had a think about this, and couldn’t see a way round it.

“Centralised Dataversities,” she said. “Ospin.”

The avatar made every show of thinking about this save actually stroking its chin. “Hmm,” it said at last. “Do-able. But the other ships I’m talking to will want to know why I’m going there; they’ll probably have their own good reasons for sending me somewhere else. I need to give them something if I’m to go charging off on the whim of a shipwrecked human I just picked up.”

“I’m looking for something,” Cossont said.

Pyan stuck one corner up, into Cossont’s face. Two circles like extemporised eyes popped into existence on its folded fabric. “Are you? What?” it asked.

Cossont put one hand over the familiar’s impromptu face and pushed it back down. “Something I gave to one of the orders there,” she told Berdle, “for safe keeping.”

The avatar looked interested but still sceptical.

“Something to do with one of your own people,” Cossont told it.

“One of our people?”

“A Culture person.” She held all four hands up. This had proved to be a useful gesture when used in front of humans – stopped them in their tracks, normally – though she had no idea how it would work on a machine. “Can’t say more for now.”