I am.

[Ayem]

Ayem ibn Sina sat on a finely wrought chair on the veranda of his private villa and looked out over the golden fields that spread out beyond the horizon. He was not an overly tall man and his flesh was marked with scars from the lesions he had developed when he had been without Cardamine, drifting in space. The effect was that of a leopards fur in reverse; his skin was a dusky brown and the scars were pale. That had also been when he had lost his name, though by his research he had managed to regain that much.

He had not been impressed. It was an unremarkable name. Marco. He had discarded it, and kept the name born of his long absence. Ayem. Ibn Sina was the name of his family, a proud family that in the distant stretches of time were Islamic immigrants to the Hispanian nation when the Sol system had been their home. Ayem had discovered that he was not alone and also that he was not the long-lost head of the family. It took little effort to correct that oversight.

It is said of Maltan politics that fools die young and the old are gnarled with their cruel wisdom. It is not untrue. The assassination of his uncle had taken mere weeks to accomplish. The lecher had been visiting a slave girl from Liberty for some months and his wife kept a tight lipped silence about the affair. When she was offered a controlling stake in the family as opposed to her trophy wife status, Susa ibn Sina soon fell to Ayems wiles. She had arranged for the slave girl to be absent from her cell in the slave complex. There was message left to Raul ibn Sina, Ayems uncle, to find the slave girl in an idyllic spot close to the golden fields, where there was a small artificial lake built by Rauls father. On reaching this secluded spot, Raul found no slave girl, just Ayem with his long and heavy black hair standing barefoot on the shore of the lake.

Ayems servant, Sehti Vehk, subdued his uncle and then pierced each of his eyes with a knife. They turned the man loose in the fields and let the grass bleed Raul ibn Sina dry.

Susa ibn Sina had turned out to be a fine partner. Her knowledge of the Dons and the market allowed the family to improve their holdings. Their land, previously almost neglected, increased its yield by an impressive margin and improvements in slave health care reduced the cost of buying new, untrained slaves. Ayem knew that Susa had a small stake in the last improvement, as she had followed her departed husbands route of lust. He understood that this week it was a Kusari man sharing her bed. If it kept her content, he was not against such behaviour. For himself, he seemed to have lost many of the urges he had indulged as a younger man. Now knowledge drove him. While most of the profits of the ibn Sina family were recycled into the improvement of their Cardamine growing capabilities, Ayem kept a private account.

From this he had funded the Sicarius, a Rheinland Pirate Cruiser, whose captain was Sehti Vehk. The Sicarius had been tasked with exploration of the borderworlds and the furthest fringe of known space. Regrettably, it had been intercepted by Corsairs and was a floating wreck somewhere in the Omega systems. However, the information the Sicarius had relayed was invaluable. A religion that based the nomads as its source was spreading from the fringe, seeking its way inwards. It had already penetrated the Houses.

The Spirits Ayems voice carried on the gentle breeze bowing the grass stems. Sehti Vehk who leant against the low, outer wall of the veranda glanced back across his shoulder to his master. They evade me, Sehti. I understand humans, I comprehend the Outcasts only too well but the Spirits? Ayem shook his head, and then raised a glass of wine, smuggled fresh from Gallia. Are they gods? Is that why I cannot see inside their minds?

Sehti shrugged. No other answer was forthcoming.

Ayem frowned at his minion. That was not a rhetorical question.

Enough of our people treat them as though they are. Your slaves make offerings to them, so that they dont have to face the wrath of the Spirits. Sehti gave an amused snort, but his expression shortly became more serious. Youve been near them again, havent you?

Ayem finished his wine in one short draught. Yes. I witnessed.

You damn fool. What if they realise what youre about?

What Im about?

Your research!

I only want to talk to them, Sehti. I only want to learn their games, their speech and their rhetoric. I want to understand their sophistry and return it to them. Ayems eyes were intense as they locked Sehti in his place. Sehti shivered. I want to play with them.

They arent chess pieces, Ayem! Theyre the Spirits. Scary, ruthless Spirits!

Nevertheless, this is my path. But in the mean time, we must protect them. The greatest block to diplomacy is in not knowing ones counterpart. If we allow the ones we know to die, then we have to start over again.

Arent they all the same? A group consciousness?

No, surprisingly. There is a relay of information between separate bodies of consciousness, and that relay acts as the simulacrum of a consciousness while allowing a certain amount of autonomy. You should have seen by now that each of the greater Spirits acts in a different manner.

Im too busy running, most of the time.

We must develop a stake in Tohoku.

Sehti was silent as he assessed his Masters shift in thinking. The Consortium incident?

Just so. It has come to my attention that they are attempting to set themselves as guardians of the Golden Crysanthemum sect. Much as the ibn Sinas currently do to the Spirits. However, there has been a schism, regrettably due to the Golden Crysanthemums desire to kill one of theWilde. The tone with which Ayem said the last word was neutral. He was still not entirely sure how to deal with the hybrids, as he preferred the pure effect of Cardamine on the human consciousness which allowed for complete individuality, compared with the union of Spirit and human, which lead to the near total suppression of the human consciousness. They fired on and damaged a Spirit in my presence. It had been quite amenable, too. There may have been some potential in communication with that one.

You want to pit us, and by extension potentially the Outcast race, against a group of bio-mechanical war machines?

Just so.

Sehti spat over the side of the veranda. The wind was picking up and caught the globule, tossing it against the wall only a few feet down. Sehti watched his saliva cling there and glimmer in the evening sun, regretting the action. Youll have to expect casualties. Ship replacements. Morale. And we have no capital ship operational at the moment to base ourselves in, which will mean long resupply trips after patrols.

The money has been arranged. Funds will be transferred as and when they are required. With regards to engagement, it is only to occur when either our pilots or the Spirits are fired upon. Ayem broke into a bright smile. For morale, I shall lead the first patrol wing in my Falcata.

Youre mad, Sehti slumped. Ill be waiting at the hangar with the pilots. My Switchblade will fly on your wing for the first. No arguments. I want to see this threat with my own eyes.

Acceptable.

Sehti adjusted his shirt, doing up the buttons.

Not acceptable, said Ayem, and watched his servant blush. Well, perhaps there were still some urges that tugged at him.

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