Transformation Space

by Marianne de Pierres

  She sipped on a sweet juice Linnea had produced for her and wondered at the expression on his face. He seemed confused.

  ‘I want to hold my baby, Dolin,’ she said.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Just a moment.’

  More clinicians arrived, crowding around the crib.

  ‘What? What is it?’ Mira demanded.

  Finally Dolin lifted the baby from the observation bubble and passed her to Mira.

  As she took her child in her arms, an overwhelming swell of emotion and responsibility surged through her. She had brought this child to life, and now she must ensure her survival.

  Mira pressed her lips to the baby’s tiny wrinkled forehead and studied her features. Fine dark hair covered her peeling scalp, and her lips were pursed in a red slash that gave colour to the palest of little faces. She hadn’t cried or uttered a sound, and her eyes were open. She stared back at Mira with open curiosity.

  ‘She can see me,’ said Mira, startled. ‘Her eyes are focused.’ She knew enough of babies, from Villa Fedor, to know that humanesques did not focus their eyes immediately. It could take weeks, sometimes longer.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dolin. ‘The baby has some unusual characteristics, as we suspected.’

  ‘Please stop saying that and explain.’

  ‘Baronessa, there is no other way to say this than plainly. Your baby doesn’t have reproductive organs of either sex.’

  ‘My baby is a eunuch?’

  ‘I’m not sure … We need to do further tests to determine exactly.’

  ‘What sort of tests?’

  ‘Genotyping, and more … neurological and body scans.’

  Mira took a deep breath. She could deal with anomalies in the baby’s reproductive organs. But neurological anomalies … What had the Post-Species done to her child? ‘I will be present during the tests,’ she said decisively. She did not trust even Dolin to take the baby from her sight.

  ‘The tests will take time, and you must be tired. We can take the child and feed—’

  ‘No!’ Mira held the baby close. Something told her not to trust the seemingly benign scientist. ‘I will feed her myself. And I will be present at the tests.’

  Dolin glanced at the others. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Is my baby sick?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is she in danger of dying from her prematurity?’

  Dolin scratched his head. ‘Remarkably, no. The gene accelerant seems to have worked better than we could have hoped.’

  ‘Thank you for saving her. But please leave now, while I acquaint myself with my daughter. Your other tests can wait that long, at least.’ She stared Dolin down, until he nodded and motioned everyone out of the room again.

  Linnea stood at the foot of her bed with her arms crossed. ‘You’ve got a way with you for someone so thin and pale. What’d you do, swallow a whale’s backbone?’

  Mira wasn’t sure that she properly understood the woman’s meaning. She shrugged and lifted the baby to a more comfortable position on her lap. ‘Please. Could you show me how to feed my baby?’

  Linnea’s mouth dropped open, and she burst into a loud laugh. When she finally stopped, she shook her head and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘You just stared down a roomful of our most high and mighty scientists, but you don’t know how to feed your own baby. Where the hell was it that you said you came from?’

  ‘Araldis,’ said Mira, her face warming.

  ‘That the place where those aliens landed and killed everyone?’

  ‘Si.’

  ‘Been all over the ’casts. So you’re the one that escaped.’

  Mira nodded.

  The woman gave a heavy sigh. ‘You’ve been through a lot, love. Here, let’s teach you some mothering things, before the fermenters come back.’

  ‘Fermenters?’

  ‘That what we call ’em. Ferment anything in a dish, they would.’

  Linnea put the baby back in the crib and helped Mira to wash, finding her some clean lab overalls to put on. She also got some absorbent film from a drawer for the residual bleeding. When she was dressed, Linnea helped her back on the bed.

  ‘Bleeding might go on for a few days yet. Just keep yerself changed and clean, and there should be no problem. Like I said, the placenta looks healthy enough.’

  Then she showed Mira how to hold the baby in the crook of her arm and manipulate her breast so that the baby could attach its mouth to her nipple. Mira found it easy to overlook her natural modesty with the woman’s practical ways, and after several painful tries the baby began to suck.

  ‘Now, all yer gotta do is relax.’ Linnea laughed again. ‘Damn easier said than done. Nothing like a hungry babe working its gums to put you through the roof.’

  Mira smiled through her discomfort. Something about Linnea soothed her.

  ‘What you gonna call this babe? Can’t be going too long without a name. Not good for your bonding. Yer got someone you c’n name her after?’

  ‘My sister Faja. Or her friend Estelle. They died on Araldis.’

  ‘What about the father? I’m assumin’ if you’re from that planet, you still choose fathers the old fashioned way.’

  ‘They choose you,’ she countered abruptly.

  Linnea pulled a face, but was smart enough not to pursue it.

  Mira stared down at the baby. The infant looked back at her, even though it was feeding, and its tiny fingers curled and uncurled against her breast. How could her child be so alert? It seemed unnatural.

  Milk blew in little bubbles from the corner of the baby’s lips, and Mira thought of Vito’s solemn face and quiet manner. Her heart contracted. Linnea was right: she must name her child.

  ‘I’ll call her Nova. Because she is new and fresh.’

  Linnea shrugged and nodded. ‘Seems to fit. Now, time to swap over.’

  The galley supervisor helped her move the child to the other side, and went through the same steps. But Nova fussed, and kept pushing Mira’s breast away.

  She lifted the baby so that their faces were close. ‘What is it, little one?’

  The blue-grey eyes blinked with intensity, as if trying to tell her something. Mira stared into them, remembering how active Nova had been in the womb, especially in times of danger.

  The next moment the doors swung open and the clinicians returned, led by Dolin. He stopped alongside the bed and held out his hands for Nova. ‘It is time.’

  Mira refused to hand her over, sliding her feet onto the floor. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘I would simply paste a little trace substance in her mouth.’ He waved at the wall. ‘The nanites will transmit their analysis here, and we will be able to verify your daughter’s health and many other things.’

  Mira hesitated. Did she really want to know those other things?

  Nova flailed her small fists in the air, her fingers curling and uncurling again. She seemed irritated, but that was ridiculous. A newborn could not be that way.

  ‘Can the nanites harm her in any way? What will happen to them when they’ve done their job? Do they remain in her system? What if she is allergic to them?’

  ‘They are completely benign, medical-grade, and will degrade and be excreted within a short time.’

  Mira sought Linnea for reassurance, but the scientists had pushed her to the back of the room.

  ‘Very well,’ she said. She stood on shaking legs, and pushed determinedly past the observers to stand in front of the screens. ‘But I will administer it, and you will explain everything to me as the nanites transmit.’

  Dolin hesitated, glancing around the group.

  Mira wondered why he’d been appointed spokes-person. Was it because they thought she would relate best to him, because of his biozoon experiences? Had they hoped to make her more sympathetic to them?

  Dolin moved closer to her and produced a small tube from the pocket of his coat. Detaching a small applicator from the lid, he squeezed some paste out onto it.

  Mi
ra took it from him and held it near Nova’s mouth. The blue-grey eyes stared at her again, and the little lips pursed.

  ‘Come, little Nova. Just this once, so that we can better understand you.’

  To Mira’s astonishment, the baby’s lips parted in compliance. She tilted Nova towards her to hide the extraordinary behaviour, and slipped the applicator in her mouth, sweeping the nanite-infused paste across her gums.

  Nova screwed up her face and dribbled, poking her tongue out at the taste.

  Almost immediately, the walls came alive with a flood of data, and the observers spread out, examining it.

  ‘This section analyses cell integrity. This one examines organ function. Endocrine. Vascular. Musculo-skeletal. Neurological.’ Dolin pointed to different displays.

  Mira watched the interplay of information and felt more comfortable. It was similar to being in the Autonomy function on Insignia. She rocked Nova. The baby settled in her arms, eyes closing, and she relaxed with it, tiredness creeping up.

  But an increase in the level of murmuring brought her sharply alert.

  ‘There!’ said Dolin with excitement, pointing. ‘I was right.’

  Mira concentrated on a single screen that showed a complex diagram she recognised as genome markers. Even from her most basic understanding, they seemed wrong.

  ‘That is not possible. Not for a humanesque,’ said one of the clinicians.

  ‘There have been instances of humanesques being born with dual sex organs, but your baby has neither.’

  ‘It is a neuter?’

  ‘Not a neuter exactly,’ he said. ‘Something else …’

  ‘Dolin!’ one of his colleagues cried. ‘Look at the EM scan!’

  Dolin’s eyes slid to another screen, and Mira followed his gaze.

  Mira?

  Si, Insignia?

  There is important news that impacts our safety.

  But Mira was distracted. My baby … they say that sh-she is n-neither male nor female.

  Arbitrary and unimportant. Nova is healthy; that is all that matters.

  But you’re not humanesque. You don’t understand what that means.

  I do.

  How could you? Your own species is different.

  I know because Nova has explained it to me.

  Mira stiffened. You’ve spoken to Nova.

  Of course. Our communication began while she was still in your womb, but Nova’s thoughts were quite unformed then. They become clearer by the moment. And she is in agreement with me that we should leave this planet.

  She? But they say she has no gender.

  ‘She’ is a pronoun you seem comfortable with, and I’m happy to accommodate your need.

  Need! Mira didn’t know whether that angered or amused her. Why must we leave? She glanced down at Nova’s face. The baby’s eyes were open again, and staring steadily at her as if trying to convey a thought.

  ‘… The baby has a pronounced electromagnetic field around it,’ said Dolin finally.

  Mira took a moment to react to his statement. Electromagnetic field? She stared at the baby’s translucent skin, so thin that she almost seemed blue from the glow of her myriad tiny veins. ‘I’m not—’

  But the wall screens suddenly blanked, causing her to pause. Then a loud chiming claimed everyone’s attention.

  The wall reactivated, showing the head and shoulders of a middle-aged humanesque in some type of ceremonial robe. He spoke without preamble.

  ‘You will all know me as Sophos Kantos. For some time there has been rumour about a Post-Species threat to OLOSS territories. We have been sceptical of such stories, believing them to be the propaganda of extremist groups who are opposed to our philosophies and ideals.’ Sophos Kantos cleared his throat and blinked several times, as if trying to clear his vision. ‘This morning, however, we have farcast evidence that the threats are neither terrorists nor a hoax. In a moment I will broadcast shocking – unbelievable – images from the Mintaka system, captured by a biozoon. I urge you not to panic but to absorb this information. Mintaka is far, far from Scolar, and the Sophos has already dispatched our full politic guard to protect our shift station.’

  Cries of surprise broke out in the lab, only to silence again as new images flickered across the screen. At first they were difficult to understand: exterior views of space interspersed with streaming light signatures, and blurred holo-diagrammatics of the Mintaka system. A commentary started, the biozoon’s translated version of what was happening.

  Mira recognised the Extro Geni-carriers before anyone else did, knew immediately what they meant. But she stayed quiet, listening to the back-and-forth between the scientists as they proffered their theories.

  Then the narrator translator began to list details.

  More theories bounced between the scientists. What was a Geni-carrier doing in Mintaka? Exploration, thought some. No! Barter? No! An Envoy?

  Dolin was less optimistic. ‘Geni-carriers do only one thing: transport intelligent sentient incendiaries.’

  Mira wanted to leave the room, to get as far away from the farcast feed as she could, but her feet remained fixed to the spot, and the tightness in her throat wouldn’t ease enough for her to speak. She hugged Nova, waiting, forcing herself to watch.

  The images cut to show incendiaries spraying from the Geni-carriers and plunging straight into the atmosphere of one of the outer worlds. A wave swept across the planet, as if the rocky surface was suddenly composed of water. The wave buckled, and it erupted across the equator like a horizontal volcano. Dust and smoke spewed from the sides, and an instant later the planet blew apart.

  The biozoon narrator listed the losses in clipped tones: ‘5 billion sentient inhabitants, 3,313 industries, 2,025 service providers, all lost, including an advanced genotyping facility.’

  ‘Mount Kent,’ said Dolin in shocked tones. He closed his eyes, and the colour drained from his face, leaving him almost as pale as Nova. ‘Our companion lab. We have a mirror facility. We … had a failsafe …’

  An ’esque next to him buckled over and fell to his knees, moaning. Some went to give comfort.

  But Dolin opened his eyes and looked at Mira. ‘My colleague’s wife,’ he said. ‘She was on transfer there.’

  Sophos Kantos reappeared on the screen. ‘This is an attack but, as I said at the beginning of the ’cast, we are not in any immediate danger. Our entire space contingent has been sent to Scolar station as a precautionary measure. It is vital that our ’casts stay operational, so that we may advise the OLOSS forces.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Many of you will have loved ones, friends and family, on other worlds. I cannot guarantee their safety other than to say that we will be advising their governments.’ He stopped and took a deep breath. ‘There will be regular ’casts from the Sophos over the next few days, to keep you informed.’

  Mira. You must leave and bring Nova back to me. I’ve been in contact with the Pod. They are convinced that Scolar will be the next target for the Post-Species invasion force. The Sophos are deluded, believing themselves immune. Our best option is to leave there soon.

  Many others will think the same, Insignia. It will be chaotic.

  A good reason to be decisive.

  How do I get to you from here? They will try to stop me.

  There will be much distraction in the wake of this announcement. Use it to your advantage.

  As Insignia finished its thought, ’esques began entering the room. And leaving. Someone helped the stricken scientist to his feet. Dolin then activated a com-sole and began talking.

  Mira slipped across to the back of the room, near Linnea. The galley supervisor’s lips were pursed, her forehead creased with concern.

  ‘I need to get back to my ship,’ Mira said.

  ‘You need to rest.’

  Mira shook her head. ‘Terrible things are going to happen to the OLOSS worlds. I might be able to do something to stop it. Please …’

  Linnea’s eyes darted around the room. No one was watchin
g them; Dolin was surrounded by anxious colleagues. ‘Quick,’ she said. ‘My transport is on the roof.’

  ‘You have your own?’ Mira remembered Thales telling her that Scolar restricted ownership of private transport.

  ‘I’m considered essential services,’ she said. ‘Nuthin’ more essential than getting your baked breakfast on time, or a late supper if you’ve been workin’ through the night. This way!’ She jerked her head and walked straight out the door without looking back.

  Mira followed her, holding her breath, waiting for Dolin to shout out, or for a hand to close around her arm. But no one noticed, and she joined the stream of traffic hurrying along the corridor. She turned her body against the jostling to protect Nova. Her baby was squirming, eyes bright and alert.

  ‘In here,’ said Linnea after they’d descended two levels. She pulled Mira into a room where the floor was streaked with grease marks and half-full of crates. ‘Utilities and storage,’ she said. ‘Most of our food and disposables sit here before they get unpacked. I park outside here. Much quicker to the kitchens this way.’ She gave a sly grin. ‘Can nip in and out easily, as well.’

  She led Mira across the storage room and out onto a large square of plascrete. A bulky rectangular object took up one whole side of the slab, while a little AiV perched alone in the opposite corner.

  Linnea glanced into the sky, then ran across to her flyer and threw the hatch-wings open. ‘Quick,’ she called. ‘’Fore the next lunkey lands.’

  Mira climbed in beside her, but more slowly, careful not to fall with Nova in her arms. She strapped herself in as Linnea brought life to the AiV. They lifted straight up and forward, almost clipping the edge of the Mount Clement building.

  ‘Sorry ’bout that,’ Linnea barked. ‘Needed to keep out of the lunkey’s way.’

  As she spoke, a shadow fell across the cabin. A large transporter vehicle descended past them and onto the pad. It hovered, sprouted pads and landed heavily. The shape of it made Mira glance back at the object sitting on the other side of the plascrete. ‘That’s a lunkey as well?’

  Linnea nodded. ‘Best food storage containers around. Fly themselves in and out and keep the produce cool and dry. When they’re stationary, they fold down into a big box, more or less. Means you can store them as well.’ She slipped an audio piece over her ear and listened intently for a moment.