The Shipping Forecast

Rockall - Part 9

It would be impossible, little one, to repeat word for word what was spake by the object. The words that tumbled out were confused and often contradictory, but the sense of them was there to be had, and Qi'tik certainly understood much of what passed. There was regret, and sorrow, and remorse; so much so that for some time Qi'tik wondered if she were listening to the valediction of a self-death; as if it's owner, lonely on the rock, were intending on diving into the brine and going deep into the blackness far below, to end despair and suffering.

To come all this way to witness such a trivial thing as a self-death of a self unknown to the Nam'bia would have been an abhorrent waste of the pod's resources, not to mention the numerous beings and selfs who had perished along the way to get here, but among the grovelling apologies and sadness were tantalising things, promises of reparations and gifts; gifts of unimaginable wealth and purpose.

Qi'tik swam in a slow circle around the object, a length behind and slightly above her Queen where she could keep watch for any danger. Opposite them, Secci and his Premier did likewise, and Qi'tik increasingly found her attention drawn to them as the object spake on. The feeling she had that Secci was suppressing an extreme excitement came back to her once more, as Secci and especially his leader, gave away signs that betrayed their feelings. It was there in the sudden bursts of speeds, the flick of their tails, the spasmodic arching of their backs, and once, despite an effort by Secci to block her view as it happened, the Eur'opan Premier gave in to a moment of ecstasy that was quickly, but with obvious effort, brought under control. It was surpassing strange.

The object continued its constant stream of talk, but it had moved on from regrets and sorrow and promises of unimaginable gifts, now speaking at length of a lost future. Or maybe, thought Qi'tik, parsing the strange structure to the object's words - the words of the self on the rock, she had to remind herself - not a lost future exactly, but perhaps a future for which something had been lost. It used a word over and over that had a resemblance to 'chamber', but could, if Qi'tik cast her mind back to the strange style of spake that belonged to her great, great matriarchal grandmother, half remembered from when she was just barely more than a calf, might also mean 'vessel'.

At last, the object fell silent; the miss-shapen self they had left clinging to the rock had no more to say. But Qi'tik understood its last request, repeated over and over like a litany, asking them for help in retrieving what it had lost and had come looking for.

And what it wanted from the Nam'bia was for it to give up nothing less than its most precious, most unique, and most irreplaceable resource.

It wanted their Bastions.