Consider Phlebas by Iain M. Banks

impersonating the outworld minister Egratin, most of what had been coming in from outside had been rumour. Any idiot could see that the whole volume around the Sullen Gulf was going to become a battle space hundreds of light-years across, hundreds tall and decades deep at least, but exactly what was going on he hadn’t been able to find out. The war was shifting up a gear indeed. Still, only a lunatic would think of trying to move everybody off an Orbital.
    Yalson nodded, all the same. ‘So they say. Don’t ask me where they’re going to pull the ships from for that one, but that’s what they say they’re going to do.’
    ‘They’re crazy.’ Horza shook his head.
    ‘Yeah, well, I think they proved that when they went to war in the first place.’
    ‘OK. Sorry. Go on,’ Horza said, waving one hand.
    ‘I’ve forgotten what else I was going to say,’ Yalson grinned, looking at the three fingers she had extended as though they would give her a clue. She looked at Horza. ‘I think that about covers it. I’d advise you to keep your head down and your mouth shut until we get to Marjoin, where this temple is, and still to keep your head down once we get there, come to think of it.’ She laughed, and Horza found himself laughing with her. She nodded and picked up her spoon again. ‘Assuming you come through OK, people will accept you more once you’ve been in a fire-fight with them. For now you’re the baby on the ship, no matter what you’ve done in the past, and regardless of Zallin.’
    Horza looked at her doubtfully, thinking about attacking anywhere - even an undefended temple - in a second-hand suit with an unreliable projectile rifle. ‘Well,’ he sighed, spooning more food from his plate, ’so long as you don’t all start betting on which way I’ll fall again . . . ‘
    Yalson looked at him for a second, then grinned, and went back to her food.
    Kraiklyn proved more inquisitive about Horza’s past, despite what Yalson had said. The Man invited Horza to his cabin. It was neat and tidy, with everything stowed and clamped or webbed down, and it smelt fresh. Real books lined one wall, and there was an absorber carpet on the floor. A model of the CAT hung from the ceiling, and a big laser rifle was cradled on another wall; it looked powerful, with a large battery pack and a beam-splitter device on the end of the barrel. It gleamed in the soft light of the cabin as though it had been polished.
    ‘Sit down,’ Kraiklyn said, motioning Horza to a small seat while he adjusted the single bed to a couch and flopped into it. He reached behind to a shelf and picked up two snifflasks. He offered one to Horza, who took it and broke the seal. The captain of the Clear Air Turbulence drew deeply on the fumes from his own bowl, then sipped a little of the misty liquid. Horza did the same. He recognised the substance but couldn’t remember the name. It was one of those you could snort and get high on or drink and just be sociable; the active ingredients lasted only a few minutes at body temperature, and anyway were broken up rather than absorbed by most humanoid digestive tracts.
    ‘Thanks,’ Horza said.
    ‘Well, you’re looking a lot better than when you came on board,’ Kraiklyn said, looking at Horza’s chest and arms. The Changer had almost resumed his normal shape after four days of rest and heavy eating. His trunk and limbs had filled out to something approaching their fairly muscular usual and his belly had grown no larger. His skin had tautened and taken on a golden-brown sheen, while his face looked both firmer and yet more supple, too. His hair was growing in dark from the roots; he had cut off the yellow-white lankness of the Gerontocrat’s sparse locks. His venom-teeth were also regrowing, but they would need another twenty days or so before they could be used. ‘I feel better, too.’
    ‘Hmm. Pity about Zallin, but I’m sure you could see my point.’
    ‘Sure. I’m just glad you gave me the