Trin’s shoulders lifted slightly in satisfaction. ‘A change of heart, Mira Fedor? What did you see outside that took the wind from your bravado?’
Mira shrank from his perceptivity. ‘If you contact your familia they will help us.’
To her surprise Trin gave a mocking laugh. ‘I am here because I was being punished. The Principe was teaching me a life lesson.’
‘But you are the young Principe. Your safety is paramount,’ she protested. ‘Should anything happen to your papa...’
‘Then where do you propose we go, clever Mira?’
‘To Pell,’ said Mira, suddenly longing for the safety of the enclave.
Trin gave a derisive snort. ‘That is thousands of mesurs away. We have no transport, no food and little water. And what will we find there, anyway?’
‘The Fleet is there,’ she said.
‘The mighty Cipriano fleet: five vie-ships and a dozen assailants. And what good is a fleet with no pilots or crew?’
The ‘bino woke and gave a pitiable mewl as though it was too weak to really bawl.
Mira felt a stab of guilt. While she and Trin argued, the ‘bino was starving. ‘Pass him to me,’ she said to Djeserit.
She took the ‘bino closer to the fading solar light that hung above the TerV-way timetable. An orange-stained pannolino was stuck to the infant’s skin. Mira recognised the acrid colour as a sign of dehydration. She laid the ‘bino on its back and gently peeled the absorbent film away. Though its genitals were partially internal, she guessed it to be a ragazzo. He had long, thin limbs like all Pagoins and a solemn expression. Too solemn. He could barely cry now because of exhaustion. His thighs were raw from urine scalds; another day and they would be weeping with infection. His skin was already loose from hunger and the soft crown of his head was slightly shrunken.
Mira glimpsed her own fragility mirrored in his. How long would she survive without food and with little water? She had never been hungry or thirsty before.
‘We should go to the Carabinere. Their emergency shortcast will be working,’ said Trin.
‘D’accordo,’ Mira agreed cautiously. That made sense. ‘It will it take us some time to walk there.’ She thought of the youths with their guns, and the strange globe. ‘We should leave soon.’
‘Yes. Djeserit cannot travel in the daylight without a fellala.’
‘Nor can the ‘bino. And the wind has changed. The fires will come back.’
Trin nodded. ‘Fill your pouch and drink your fill before we go.’
Mira diluted some latte for the ‘bino in the TerV-way’s washroom. The mixture seemed more palatable this time and the infant settled into sleep. She unfolded the outer layer of her fellala and wound him into it. That freed her hands so that she could move quickly if she had to. Just so long as she didn’t trip and fall on him.
Djeserit watched. ‘What if we lose each other in the dark? The nightwinds can make you loco.’
‘If we are separated then wait where you are and I will find you. Do not wander.’ Mira sounded more confident than she felt. How would she find anyone when she herself had been lost already?
Djeserit repeated the instructions to the korm.
‘Has it no ‘esque language?’ asked Mira.
‘It understands Latino but it can’t form the words. Its beak is too...’ Djeserit searched for the word. ‘Wrong.’
‘Teach it what you can. Without you, it won’t be able to communicate.’
‘But that won’t happen. We won’t get separated,’ Djeserit said quickly.
Mira gave Djeserit’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Just in case. You understand?’
* * *
As every night, Tiesha rose before Semantic, casting its aloof light across Loisa. Tonight, though, the glow from the fires distorted the view of the city and several times they had to double back when the viuzzas were blocked with bomb debris. The blistering nightwind blasted into them until they were bent double against its drying force. Eddies of hot ash swirled past, choking them, and ‘esques ran past them in the dark. A group of youths knocked Djeserit down but Trin pulled her from under their feet before she could get hurt.
No one would stop and speak with them. Mira called to the shadowy figures as they vanished among the churning ash-phantoms. The city had lost itself in the spin of a day.
Trin instructed them to stay close but in a single line: himself first, them Djeserit, then the korm, with Mira and the ‘bino last. When AiVs with their night lights on flew overhead, he stopped. ‘Cavaliere,’ he rasped.
But Mira suspected his words to be more hope than anything else.
Without the protective filter of a fellala or suit Djeserit coughed constantly.
‘We should rest a while,’ said Mira.
Trin led them off the viuzza to a wall opposite a bomb-damaged bistro. They rested with their backs against it and watched the figures moving around inside.
The ‘bino woke and cried with hunger. Mira unwrapped him and laid him on the ground, gently peeling back the absorbent film. She removed her gloves to gauge the level of saturation. His urine felt grainy and she smelled the blood in it. ‘I need a clean pannolino.’
‘Our people use cloth, not film.’ Djeserit’s voice in her ear was thick with the effort of breathing. ‘I mean... my mother’s people do.’
Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? Turning away from them, Mira unwound her fellala enough so that she could wriggle out of her undershirt. She wrapped it as best she could around the ‘bino. He whimpered at her touch. The smell of his excretions clung to her fingers but she had nowhere to wash them. ‘The bistro might have more latte. I will look.’
‘No,’ said Trin with determination. ‘We should keep going.’
She could see his hooded profile in the moonlight, not his expression. ‘The ‘bino might be dead by then. He is dehydrated.’
Trin clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘Hurry, then.’
A baying started up behind them. Trin climbed onto the wall. ‘Cane,’ he said. ‘We are safe while it is yarded.’
Mira passed the ‘bino to Djeserit, missing the comfort of his small body the moment she did. ‘I will go.’
Trin climbed down and stooped to pick up an object. He pressed a chunk of catoplasma into Mira’s hand. ‘Don’t be afraid to use it, Baronessa.’
Thoughtful advice or a taunt, she wondered, as she gripped the rough edges and walked slowly towards the bistro.
A circle of ragazzi with torches sat to one side, drinking wine from demijohns and talking loudly about killing ginkos.
Mira skirted them and found her way around the back of the bistro. The outer coldlock door had been torn away. She pulled back the inner partition and stepped inside, heart racing. Without her undershirt, rivulets of sweat drenched the inside of her fellala.
Dimming solar lights showed the walls to be standing but the roof had collapsed in places. The floor was littered with large chunks of catoplasma from the ceiling, just like the one she was holding. She unsealed her velum and climbed over a pile of rubbish towards the line of frijs. They had already been ransacked.
A ragazzo with a torch was picking through one. He drew back when he saw Mira.
‘Nothin’ left,’ he said. His voice was soft. In the torchlight his skin looked sallow and tight like Djeserit’s but he had no neck gills.
Mira moved slowly towards him and set down the chunk of catoplasma.
He retreated, clutching the light.
‘I have a ‘bino outside. I need food for it,’ she said.
‘Sure. Everyone’s sayin’ that. But there’s no food coming in. No help. They’re planning to starve us out.’
‘Who?’ Mira asked the question as she stepped over to the first frij. It was empty.
‘Them ginks who want our planet.’
Mira took another step. He was right. All the frijs were bare. ‘What... ginkos?’
‘Haven’t you seen ‘em? Ugly maggoty things cracking out of eggs.’
The ragazzo was badly unwashed. Now that Mira was closer she could smell his body odour. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Perche?’
She shrugged. ‘I am Mira.’ She gave up on the frijs and began foraging under the fallen catoplasma. Keeping her gloves on, she burrowed for a few moments while he watched.
‘You’re familia. I c’n see that. I thought you’d all gone. Left us to die.’
She paused, not knowing how to answer. He was right—no familia had stayed to help. They stood in silence for a moment.
‘I’m Vani,’ he said finally.
Mira managed a smile. ‘Come and give me a hand, Vani. I think I’ve found something.’
He stayed where he was, suspicious.
‘I’ll share it with you,’ she coaxed.
Keeping the torch’s beam on her, he moved closer.
‘It’s a small frij under the fallen roof, I think. You can just see the corner.’
Vani’s hunger overcame his distrust and he put down the light and began to help her dig.
In a few minutes they’d cleared around the frij enough to open it. The smell of rotting food made her gag and her stomach hurt as it contracted. She doubled over in pain.
Vani took no notice, grabbing what he could.
Mira knelt down. In the door were little packets of latte. She scooped them inside her fellala. The corners scraped her skin where she’d removed her underclothes.
Vani was gorging on stale tramezzini.
‘Don’t eat any meat or eggs. You’ll get sick,’ she said automatically. ‘Just peel the pane off them.’
He ignored her, eating it all.
Mira found another compartment in the frij with stale pane rolls left in it, and slipped them inside her fellala as well. Satisfied that the frij had no more to offer she straightened. Then the sound of voices sent her stepping back into the shadows. Three ‘esques surprised Vani with his head still in the small frij.
‘What ya got there, ‘bino?’
They were older than Vani. And bigger. Each carried a weapon of sorts, clubs and a pistol. The biggest was ‘esque—a teranu, judging by his flat features. The others, like Vani, had sharp profiles.
‘Nothin’,’ said Vani.
‘Give us what you found. We need food,’ said the biggest of them.
One of the smaller ones cuffed Vani.
He staggered.
‘Next time it’ll be this.’ The teranu waved his pistol. It looked like a pulse device, not a solid-projectile gun. Mira guessed it probably had no charge, but Vani was terrified.
‘Now gimme ya light and get outta my way.’
Vani handed it over. ‘Can I have some food?’
The teranu grabbed Vani and bent him over, making obscene gestures. The others laughed.
Their crudity shocked Mira. She reached down for the chunk of catoplasma and then stepped into the arc of light. ‘Vani?’
They turned on her,” surprised. ‘Familia,’ said one of them and spat.
Mira lifted the catoplasma into view. Now she would find out if the pistol worked. ‘We’re hungry like you but there’s nothing left here. We are leaving,’ she said. ‘Dai, Vani.’
She walked past them and climbed the pile of rubble. A few more steps and she would be out through the door into the night. She subdued her urge to hurry and leave Vani behind.
The ‘esques did not move out of her way, nor did they stop her. Did she smell as bad as they did? Did she look as appalling?
Mira glanced back. Vani stood there, unsure. ‘Dai. The ‘bino will be hungry,’ she called softly.
With another glance at the pistol, he scrambled after her.
She led him outside and down the side to the viuzza. The circle of ‘esques had vanished and Semantic glistened distantly through the pall of smoke. Leading Vani by the hand, Mira searched for the wall where the others waited. She felt the stiff suspicion in him.
‘Trin. Djeserit,’ she called.
Across the wall the cane bayed at the sound of her voice.
The sound sent Vani into a panic. ‘You lie. There is no one,’ he said, pulling away.
Fear gushed into Mira’s stomach. They had not left her—surely? ‘They will be close by,’ she whispered.
‘Where? Where’s the ‘bino?’ he demanded.
Mira climbed up onto the wall to get a better view of the shadowy yard. Semantic cast only dull light across the dust. As if sensing that she had crossed into its territory, the cane inside bayed louder. A small light flickered in a window and a moment later the cane raged out of the door across the enclosure.
Mira climbed down backwards from the wall, landing heavily. ‘They can’t be in there. Not with that—She broke off her shaken whisper. She was talking to empty darkness. Vani had gone.
She took a few steps in different directions calling to him and the others. Across at the bistro, a commotion started up. Had Djeserit and Trin gone there looking for her? No. Perhaps she had taken too long and they had left.
Breathing unsteadily, Mira sank down against the wall. She could hear the cane pacing along the other side, snuffling and scraping its horns against the fence. She reached inside her jacket, broke off a piece of stale pane and threw it over.
Despite everything, her mouth began to water. Before she knew it she was cramming the last of the roll into her mouth. She forced herself to tuck the rest away in her fellala. The latte caplets scratched her bare skin, reminding her of the ‘bino. She must stay here—that was what she had told them. Don’t move. At least until daylight.
And then?
Fresh sweat broke out over her body. Calm, Mira told herself. Calm.
* * *
Maybe she dozed, or maybe her thoughts were tangled like dreams, nightmares of Djeserit and the korm being torn apart by a pack of animals. Gradually, though, the light of dawn came.
The cane had been whistled inside a while before. Whoever had been arguing outside the bistro had finished their business and gone.
Mira moved her limbs, rubbing circulation back into them. Should she wait? Should she move on? Where should she go? Thinking had become harder. Pangs of hunger and thirst sent her mind into a spiral of misery. She sipped her water bladder and drank one of the lattes but it curdled in her tense gut. By first light she was on her knees, vomiting.
Inside, the cane bayed as if it sensed her distress.
She rested back against the wall.
Then a hand touched her shoulder. ‘Baronessa?’
She clutched Djeserit with overwhelming relief. ‘Where were you?’
Djeserit pointed to the casa behind the wall. ‘The ‘esques who live there heard the ‘bino cry. They came outside to see who it was—said we could come in. Then the shooting started. Don Pellegrini said I should stay inside. He said you would be all right until daytime.’
Mira gave her a weak nod. ‘What about the ‘bino?’
‘He is sleeping. The woman gives him food.’
‘I wish to see him.’ Mira got to her feet, swaying.
She followed Djeserit along a narrow path that ran between two casas. The korm waited there. It chittered at her and dipped its crest for a scratch. Mira’s hand trembled; she had never exchanged affection with an alien before.
They walked together along the narrow back viuzza until Djeserit stopped. An ‘esque stepped from behind the rear gateposts. He was short and wiry, his crimson skin creased like folds in iron rock. The rifle he held was the projectile kind that miners favoured.
‘This her?’
‘Baronessa Fedor,’ Mira said, tiredly. ‘I went to look for food for the ‘bino and we became separated.’
‘Fedor?’ He stared suspiciously at her. ‘From the Pilot familia?’
‘Si.’ She waited. If the man refused to let her in, she might never see Istelle’s ‘bino again.
He chewed his lip for a minute, then waved the rifle towards the back door. ‘Git inside. Sun’s spoilin’ to be fierce today.’
Relief
again. Mira stumbled after Djeserit and the korm.
Djeserit stopped and waited for her, held her arm. ‘Baronessa?’
Mira nodded reassurance. ‘I-I am well. What about you?’
Djeserit looked away without answering.
The cane strained towards them from a tether on the portico. Its nostrils streamed with saliva that ran down its horns. The spit sprayed over her as it bayed its hostility.
Mira shrank away from it. Nothing could convince her that the animals made good pets. They were too clever and too savage.
The korm’s crest bristled and it fluffed its fur in agitation.
Mira shuddered to think what might happen between them if the cane was freed.
Trin Pellegrini met them at the coldlock. Accusations rose to Mira’s lips—he’d left her again—but this was not the time to speak them. As he stepped aside to let her in she saw no remorse in his face.
The casa was dark inside with the windows covered and barred. Mira loosed her clothing, soaking in the coolness as she followed the ‘esque through the cucina to a sitting room where a woman rocked the ‘bino. A little ragazza with cropped hair perched on the arm of her chair.
The woman glanced up and gave a tired smile. Her likeness to Istelle gave Mira a pang of sadness. She wanted to weep at the kindness of the woman’s look. Instead she slipped her hand inside her fellala and removed the latte packets. ‘For the ‘bino,’ she said.
‘Sit down,’ said the woman. She had her finger in the ‘bino’s mouth. He suckled it for comfort. ‘Baronessa, you must be exhausted. I am called Loris. This is Jessa and you’ve met my husband Con.’
‘Call me Mira.’ ‘Baronessa’ suddenly seemed vague, unrelated to who she was.
‘I’ve been nursing the ‘bino best I can, but he’s no great suckler. I have only a little left, from Jessa.’ Loris removed her finger from the ‘bino’s mouth and patted her breast.
Mira glanced away. Such things were not spoken of so plainly among her class.
Trin entered the room. Con followed but stayed near the door, his rifle cradled in his arms.
Dark Space (Sentients of Orion) Page 15
