“Um, just means that applying manual tension to one set of strings applies it to others as well,” Cossont said. “Or decreases it, depending.” Reikl gave a curt nod. Cossont went on: “I told the ship how I planned to try it some day if I could get my hands on a good example, and it looked it up and, ah, well, long story short: it built one for me. Presented it to me as a surprise on my birthday. I started playing it, with the ship’s help; it had made a sort of twin-arm prosthetic which … anyway,” Cossont said, feeling herself shrinking under the general’s gaze, “I became very interested in the instrument, the ship knew this and – this was near the end of the exchange; it was a two-year, ah exchange – it asked if I wanted to meet somebody who claimed to have met Vilabier. The Younger; T. C. Vilabier; he composed the piece that … it’s the most famous piece written for the elevenstring. The first … the piece that caused it to be designed and made at all, although there are many oth—”

“If I can just hurry you along, Lieutenant Commander,” Reikl said. “Who was it you met, and where?”

“A man called QiRia. That was his real … well, the name he had before he went to this place. It was called Perytch IV, a water world. This man had been swimming, living with the Issialiayans, the inhabitants – something to do with an interest in their, ah, sounds, sonic sense; they’re these huge animals, semi-sentient or proto-sentient or whatever. Rich sonic culture. Anyway, he’d been one of them for, well, decades and he was coming back, going through something called … Processal Reconnecting?”

The general glanced at her notebook, turned a page, nodded curtly. Cossont felt relief at getting something right.

“So, the ALC had turned—”

“The what?” Reikl interrupted, then shook her head quickly. “No; got it. Ship. Carry on.”