Seignur Veeoni’s Private Workroom
The soldiers had quickly determined the most efficient method for the three of them to assemble tile racks. Seignur Veeoni brought the numbers and types required up on the screen and left them to it.
The comm pinged with an incoming call as she was passing her desk.
Possibly it was Andreth, with some question about her needs. She stepped over, and touched the key, accepting the visual.
“Yes.”
The person in the screen was not pale, round-faced Andreth. This person had a lean, dark, intelligent face. He wore a leather jacket over a dark sweater. There was a wide cermabronze bracelet around one wrist, and four matching rings on his long fingers.
“Am I speaking to Seignur Veeoni?” he asked, and his voice reminded her of Tolly Jones—pleasant and warm.
“I am Seignur Veeoni. Who are you?”
“I am Comm Officer Joyita, attached to Bechimo,” he said with an easy half-smile.
“What do you want?”
“To discuss with you the architecture of the new station core.”
Seignur Veeoni frowned, interest piqued.
“Are you an architect, Comm Officer?”
“Not in so many words. However, I have a very close, even intimate, understanding of architecture as it pertains to sentience.”
Seignur Veeoni sat down.
“The ship is sentient, that I know,” she said. “But you are not the ship.”
“I’m the comm officer,” he said, patiently, warmly. “Independent of the ship.”
“This I had not known,” she said, her interest now fully engaged. She leaned forward, the better to look into his eyes. Marvelous, darkly expressive eyes. And was that a scar across a nose that had surely once been broken? “What motivated you to waken? No.” She held up a hand, exercising discipline even as she sighed.
“Comm Officer Joyita, I welcome the opportunity to discuss architecture with you, but that will have to be later. I am committed to another task in this hour.”
“I understand. When may I call again?”
She began her answer—and paused as she recalled a trivial matter which M Traven would doubtless bring to her attention soon. Sleep was a waste of time, in Seignur Veeoni’s opinion. However, it could not be argued that a sleep deficit impacted her work adversely.
“I will be available to you in eight hours,” she said, suddenly aware of M Traven inside the room. “Call on this screen.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Until soon.” The screen went blank.
“Who was that?” M Traven asked.
“One of the crew of Bechimo who may have valuable insight into our work with the core. As you heard, we will speak in depth after I have checked progress in the lab, and have slept.”
“Oh, you remembered sleep,” M Traven said, in a tone of broad enlightenment.
“If I had not, you would have reminded me,” Seignur Veeoni said, rising and moving toward the antechamber.
“Yes,” said M Traven, “I would have.”