Jo-Jo blinked a few times to see if they went away, but the objects remained above him, cruising in a serene orbit. Instinct told him to get back to Randall and Catchut quickly. If they could get the com-sole working, maybe they could find out what the Crux was happening up there.
MIRA
Even this remote arm of the landing port teemed with activity. Mira threaded her way through queues and past kiosks selling credit exchange and transport vouchers. Ahead, she saw the crowds streaming onto four different conveyors. The signs hanging above them confused her, so she stopped at a seedy kaffe, which served pastries swimming in liquid and oversized cups of dark mokka, and asked directions.
The attendant was unobliging and distracted, his eyes flicking between a man at a corner table and a spot on the opposite side of the transit court, where an unmistakable, roughly dressed figure stood towering head and shoulders above the rest.
Fariss O’Dea would stand out in any crowd, on any world, thought Mira. Something the soldier must’ve found a mixed blessing.
But who was the man at the table? Mira observed his aquiline nose, large ears and smooth complexion. Something about his looks stirred her memory. She’d never seen him before, but …
‘Excuse me,’ she said to the attendant in crisper, more authoritative tones. ‘I believe I know the gentleman on the far table. I’ve forgotten his name. Would you by any chance be able to tell me what it is?’
The attendant blinked at her, taking a moment to make sense of her words and assimilate them into his thoughts.
‘You callin’ him a gennelm’n means you can’t know him too well, missus.’ He began to stack cups into a washer.
‘His name, prego!’ Mira snapped. Insignia’s need for urgency crawled along her skin. She didn’t have time to stop for this, but something told her it was important.
The attendant shot her a glowering look. ‘It changes all the time. You want somethin’ or what? I’m busy.’
Mira glanced behind her. A queue was starting to build. She moderated her tone. ‘Please. I think he might owe my husband money. Just tell me his name, and I’ll go.’
The attendant glanced at the newborn baby in her arms and relented. ‘Gutnee’s a common name he uses. But, like I said, it changes. Now move. Please.’
Mira nodded her thanks and stepped away from the counter. Her stomach churned. She knew that name; Thales Berniere had said it to her many times. Gutnee Paraburd was the man who’d duped him.
Nova began to cry, a gentle but insistent hunger noise.
Our child is hungry, Mira.
Si. I am close.
Then why do you stop?
I’ve seen the man who duped Thales. He is watching the soldier Fariss.
Insignia made a harsh sound in her mind. You’re being distracted again. Bring Nova to me.
Mira deliberately shut the biozoon’s voice out of her mind and used the cover of passers-by to move closer to Fariss without being seen. The soldier appeared to be loitering, chewing open-mouthed and surveying the patrons from under half-closed lids. She seemed neither threatening nor alert.
Mira glanced at Paraburd. There was no doubt the man was watching Fariss. But where was Thales? Mira had seen him taken by the politic guards. So why was Fariss here?
I should tell her that she’s being watched.
Mira swivelled back towards the soldier, but she’d gone. Impossible!
Joining the flow of traffic, Mira walked past the spot where Fariss had been standing and could see nothing save a narrow corridor peeling off from the main thoroughfare.
Jiggling Nova against her shoulder, she stepped into the corridor and sagged against the wall. At the other end was a service door. Fariss must have gone through there, but the door appeared firmly locked. Maybe she’d gone elsewhere? Further into the main station?
The nervous energy that had sustained Mira through the birth and the AiV trip down Mount Clement had completely drained away. Her legs and arms trembled. Tears threatened. She needed to feed Nova.
Slipping her overall off one shoulder, she lifted Nova to lie against her. The baby latched on and suckled without fussing. Mira’s whole body relaxed with the movement of her tiny mouth, but with the release came an overpowering need to rest.
She set her feet and fought the sensation. There was no chair or ledge, and she would not sit on the filthy floor. O’Dea had gone. She would feed Nova and continue on to Insignia. It was all she could do.
Nova finished quickly and fell straight to sleep. Mira lifted her back up onto her shoulder and wriggled back into the sleeve.
As she pressed the seal on the overall back together, the service door burst open. A red-robed politic guard staggered out holding his head, blood running from a wound on his temple.
Mira pressed against the wall, out of his way, and he barely spared her a glance as he lunged past. Through the doorway, she saw fallen bodies in uniform robes. She glanced back to the guard, but he’d disappeared out of the corridor, probably looking for assistance.
Mira ran to the doorway and peered through in both directions. She glimpsed two figures, one much taller than the other, trying to open a series of locked doors.
‘Thales!’ she called. ‘Fariss!’
O’Dea jerked around, wielding a metal stanchion.
‘Mira.’ Thales’s voice was hoarse and soft. ‘Come.’
She climbed over the fallen guards and hurried to join them.
Fariss levered a door open with her weapon and hustled them inside. While she relocked it from the inside, Thales embraced Mira.
‘The baby,’ he said, stroking Nova’s head. Wonder smoothed the worry from his face, and he looked as young and attractive as the first time she’s seen him.
‘What have you—’
But Mira didn’t let him finish. ‘The man that you spoke of to me … the one who duped you here. Gutnee.’
‘Gutnee Paraburd?’ Thales gripped her arm. ‘What of him?’
‘He’s outside, sitting at the kaffe across from here.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I stopped to ask directions. The kaffe attendant was watching Fariss and another ’esque. The man seemed … familiar. Not someone I knew, but yet I felt as if I did. I asked the attendant who he was. He said his name … I remembered it. I went to tell Fariss, but she’d come down this corridor.’
Thales let go of Mira and turned to Fariss. ‘I must find him. The Sophos will not be able to ignore me if I can show them Paraburd.’
The soldier’s broad expressive face creased with mistrust. ‘You sure, hon? From what I can see, they’re not gonna believe you anyways.’
‘Signorina O’Dea is right, Thales.’
‘Fariss,’ the soldier said to Mira. ‘Not Signorina anything. What’s going on out there? ’Esques everywhere. Heard some things while I was waitin’ around. Seems too busy to be just rumour.’
Mira quickly told them of the Sophos announcement and the broadcast images. ‘I’m going back to Insignia. We believe it is better to leave now.’
‘But you could res-shift straight into trouble,’ said Thales.
‘The Pod will keep us informed, and I don’t wish to be trapped here. I will take my chances. Now Nova has been born, there are things I must try to do. Will you come with me? Unless the shift sphere is disabled, they will come and destroy your world. Your Sophos don’t see the threat as real.’
Thales and Fariss looked at each other, an exchange that held meaning she couldn’t decipher.
‘Then I must make sure that they do,’ said Thales.
Mira saw the strength of his resolution, felt his need to accomplish this.
She nodded. ‘Then I wish you success. A woman who works in the galley at Mount Clement, named Linnea, helped deliver Nova. She says many are unhappy with the Sophos. If you find her, she might lend you support.’
‘What sort of support?’
‘She is Pensare.’
Thales raised both eyebrows. ‘Women’s m
ovement. They’re everywhere. Militant, some of them,’ said Fariss. ‘I thought about joining ’em, then I met Sammy.’
‘Mia sorella is – was Pensare.’
‘Your sister was one? I would find this woman at the clinic?’
Mira shook her head. ‘Don’t go there. They are too curious. Linnea lives in the town below the clinic.’
‘Clementvale?’
Mira nodded. ‘Si, that’s it.’
They stared at each other, and Thales touched Nova’s head again. ‘You have been a true friend, Mira Fedor. I’ll never forget that.’
She nodded. ‘And you, Thales Berniere.’
He leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. ‘May Villon protect you and Nova.’
‘May Villon protect us all,’ Mira said.
Fariss cracked the door open and looked out into the corridor. ‘Go now and you’ll be unnoticed. They’re looking for Thales and me. Not you.’
Mira didn’t have to ask Fariss what her decision was. The soldier had chosen to come here with Thales, and she would stay with him. Their coupling was unlikely, but their bond seemed strong. She envied them.
As Mira entered the buccal, she felt Insignia quiver. It was only something that an innate could sense, a deep frisson of pleasure and anticipation that played along her skin and resonated in her chest.
Our child, Mira.
‘Si.’ Mira didn’t disagree for now was not the time for such discussions. She didn’t understand the biozoon’s obsession with her baby, but now that Nova had been born, Insignia’s ecstasy was plain. We should leave.
We have been given a place in the queue. Will we have company?
No. Thales and Fariss aren’t joining us.
Mira sank gratefully down into Primo and laid Nova on her chest.
Insignia’s sensors reached out, and the vein surrounded them both. A sense of belonging engulfed Mira. She could rest now, for a time. Not long, but enough. Enough to do what would come next.
Mira, the Post-Species creature has been asking for you.
Wanton? Mira had not thought of the little Extro at all over the last days. What is wrong?
Its mycose supply is running low. Its need is urgent.
Mira dragged herself to her feet and carried Nova to their cabin. Wanton lay where she had left it, surrounded by the dwindling mycose.
She sank onto the other end of the bed, careful not to sit too close. ‘Wanton?’
It took a while for the Extro to answer. When it did, its audio projection was faint. ‘Mira-fedor, Wanton is glad to see you.’
‘Please tell me how I can help you.’
She waited again. This time its voice seemed strong, as if it was making more effort – a very humanesque notion, she knew, that probably didn’t apply.
‘I am close to a critical point. Even sealing my protective layer will not keep integrity. I have only one option.’
‘What is it?’
‘I must meld consciousness with the Non-Corporeals.’
‘D-do you wish to do that?’
‘Wanton had thought itself unable to experience fear, Mira-fedor, but Wanton was wrong. Wanton does not wish to cease existing.’
‘Where are the Non-Corporeals that you would need to meld with?’
‘Mira-fedor would know that better than Wanton. I will accept if that is not possible. And thank Mira-fedor for her … friendship. I must conserve energy now.’ The Extro went quiet again, and Mira noticed another mycose bubble subsume into the casing. There were only a few left.
With a heavier heart, she returned to the buccal.
Where do you wish to go, Mira? The Pod would accept us. Or we could try to make for one of the fringe OLOSS worlds. The Post-Species will not bother with them; they are too poor and inconsequential. The Pod believes they will concentrate on the political worlds. Alnitak, Scolar and, as we already know, Mintaka.
Mira settled back into Primo, sliding Nova to one side so that the baby was tucked against her shoulder. She waited until her breathing steadied and her heartbeat slowed to sync with the pulse of the vein.
The decision had been easier than she thought. The pieces fitted. All she needed was courage. She would be placing Nova and Insignia at terrible risk, and yet she was filled with a sureness that she hadn’t felt during her pregnancy. This was the right thing, the only thing. This was the point where she must embrace her fears and be the person inside, the person who would not be propelled by circumstance or the whims of others. She had chosen. We will go to Araldis.
This is your humour?
No, Tasy-al. It is not. Mira used the biozoon’s real name to emphasise her sincerity. I’ve been told that the station is functioning again. When we get there, we will find a way to land.
What is your aim?
To take Wanton to its kind. To help the survivors. To find Djeserit and Vito and Cass Mulravey.
They will be dead.
No. She sent Insignia a very firm thought. And we had an agreement. You will assist me to help those on Araldis, and then I will go where you wish.
The biozoon didn’t reply.
Mira waited patiently while they lifted from the landing port, left Scolar’s atmosphere and followed the fraught trajectory that took them to their place in the frantic shift queue.
In the moments before committing to res-shift, Mira spoke again. Give me your word, Insignia, that you will take me to Araldis.
Functions and data streamed across her consciousness as Insignia immersed her. This time, however, something was different: another presence, a brilliant clear orb, moving through the data streams, radiating curiosity and wonder.
Nova, Mira and Insignia thought simultaneously.
Mira felt the recognition like a pouring of warm honey. And the orb that represented her child’s presence in their mind meld contracted and expanded and flickered as though it was dancing.
Thoughts poured forth from the orb, but Mira couldn’t quite grasp them.
She is speaking to you, said Insignia.
I c-can’t understand it. What is she saying?
Loving things, and …
And?
The biozoon paused for a moment, as if deliberating whether to share the information. She agrees with you. We should go to Araldis.
Mira struggled to assimilate the fact that her infant child was able to communicate with Insignia about such a thing. It should be impossible. It should.
She cuddled the baby closer and kissed the top of her soft head. Th-then let us not waste time.
BALBAO
The rescue ship’s umbilical connected with the life-ship, sending a shudder through the frame. As soon as the vibrations settled, the tyros and Balbao released their restraints and scrambled for the hatch.
With the hiss of pressure change came a sight Balbao hadn’t expected – armed soldiers waiting on the other side.
‘Is that all of you?’ one barked.
Balbao did a quick head count. ‘Five. Yes.’
‘Through!’ the soldier ordered. ‘Quick.’
Miranda tripped on the hatch lip as she hurried. The soldier stepped forward and pulled her up roughly, shoving her on through.
‘Stop—’ Jise began to protest, but the guard grabbed his shirt and pulled the tyro hard against him, so their faces were almost touching.
‘We’ve got minus time to get out of here before we get turned to gas. So get your arse in here or be left behind.’
The rest of them hurried, Balbao pushing Connit along.
The soldier didn’t even blink at Ra’s strange appearance; he just sealed the hatch and talked into his comm.
‘Take them to the buffer in the cargo hold. We’re going to res-shift soon.’
Balbao and the others were bundled down several levels and thrust into a containment room already filled with unkempt deckhands wearing standard ship overalls.
‘Strap in, we’re moving.’ The soldiers followed them in and took their places on the fold-downs near the door.
Jise helped Miranda to the one remaining vacant seat, and tried to compress her swelling ankle with his hands. Ra and Connit gravitated towards them, but Balbao stayed near the door, shoulders set. He could feel the antagonism bristling from the deckhands. No one knew if their next breath would be their last, yet the ship had gone out of its way to rescue them. This clearly hadn’t been popular. Which captain, Balbao wondered, had made the call?
A tremor ran through the walls, and he heard the whine of the buffers initiating. He squatted down and leaned back against the door. Even the best buffers could get you thrown about if you weren’t strapped in.
He clung to the deadlock handle as the cabin began to shudder. A quiet descended on the chamber. Jise grabbed his belly and doubled over.
The vibration got worse, and Connit, who hadn’t taken hold of anything, bounced across the chamber to tangle in the feet of one of the deckhands.
The dekkie lifted his feet clear and pushed Connit away, sending him over towards Balbao.
Balbao thrust out his foot for Connit to grab, and gradually pulled him in. There were dry laughs from the deckhands as Connit clambered over him to get a hold on the deadlock. Blood poured from the tyro’s nose, spattering about, and his eyes were already blackening.
The soldiers ignored it all, leaning back into their seats, eyes narrowed and faces grim as they listened to their comms. Balbao wanted to ask them what they could hear. Was everything all right? Would they make it? They were stupid, unanswerable questions, and he bit them back.
Instead, he let go with one hand and fished in his pocket, finding a plaskerchief and handing it to Connit. The man nodded gratefully and held it against his nose.
Balbao tried to relax, tried not to think of the hundreds of things that could be happening.
The vibration got even worse, and he was forced to lock his feet under a lever. Miranda moaned as her swollen ankle was wrenched from Jise’s grip and smacked into the floor.
The shaking became so intense that Balbao felt his teeth rattle. A terrifying pain shot down his neck and spine, and his desire to piss was overwhelming. He couldn’t take much more of this. Nor could the ship. Even the deckhands were gripping their seats.
Transformation Space Page 14
