‘Get on with it,’ bellowed Jancz.
She pressed her hands against the hot skin. She had come here to do something and she would do it. Nova was safe in Primo, being tended by the membrane that would feed and clean her, and keep her muscles stimulated. Her babe could exist comfortably there for an indefinite time, if anything happened to Mira. Insignia would not leave Nova alone, though, without another humanesque. They had discussed that, and Mira knew that Insignia would find another innate to care for her child.
When the skin began to soften, Mira guessed what would happen next. The Hub world’s wall had behaved in a similar manner when she and Wanton had escaped into the Bare World, sucking her through its semipermeable membrane.
She didn’t panic as she felt the pressure of being drawn in. This time she was not able to move her arms and legs, and had no sensation of her own movement. Matter pressed around her, changing and conforming as it pushed against her body. She felt neither breath nor the lack of it, only pressure, and Nova’s curiosity prickling through her mind.
What’s it like, Mama?
Shh, Nova. Not now.
Mira fell out and down, as if spat or propelled, onto a hard surface. She wiped her eyes and blinked. Ambient light glowed, but she couldn’t determine its source. She tested her legs, climbing first to her knees, then to her feet. Though firm, the surface beneath her was springy, as if it might suddenly change consistency, or break. She stood, breathing softly, looking around. She was in a tunnel of sorts. With no other idea as to what to do, she followed its course.
It wound for a time, narrowing and then enlarging like the intestines of a large creature. The walls were semi-opaque and tinted amber, similar to the floor, and gave the impression that they were recently formed.
When the tunnel finally widened into a huge space Mira felt no wiser for the greater view. The near section – as far as she could see – was filled with a large slick object that pulsed with the regularity of a giant heart torn from a humanesque body. From where she stood, the object looked higher than Insignia and twice as wide. Silver tributaries of fluid streamed across it, encasing it in a silvery web.
Mama.
Nova, I told—
Mama, Wanton asks you to put him on the pupa.
Pupa?
That is what he says.
Mira stared at the throbbing slick mass before her. What could be encased in such a thing?
Wanton asks that you hurry.
Mira slipped her hand into her pocket and took out the little Extro.
Just step towards it, she told herself.
She reached up high, to place Wanton in a fold of the glistening wet skin, tucking it under the web of red vessels. In the time it took her to step away again, Wanton had disappeared, absorbed in the way Mira had been drawn through the craft’s wall.
Nova? She waited for her daughter to reply.
Si, Mama. Wanton is healing. The pupa is full of the mineral amalgam that it needs.
Quixite? It’s full of quixite?
There was another pause. Si. Wanton says the quixite will seal the crack in its casing. It is not required to meld with the Non-Corporeals.
I’m pleased.
Wanton says thank you. It will do what it can to help you.
What do you mean?
Nova’s next thought sounded thin, almost frightened. Mama, you must leave. Now.
But Mira’s feet had already begun to slide into the floor. She tried to lift them, to run back down the passage, but movement made it worse. She was stuck, and sinking.
JO-JO RASTEROVICH
The sound of a voice woke him, and he lay, confused, trying to remember where he was. Cave. Island. Araldis. Survivors. Shit.
The voice was in his head. Sole?
Go now, where? The Entity was so clear and loud that he wanted to plug his ears.
Back there? No way!
Randall stirred and rolled over. Next to her, Catchut lay on his back, breathing evenly.
Jo-Jo barely had time to accustom his eyes to the darkness before the next imperative surged through him.
Sole hadn’t been so directly – so forcefully – in his mind since the Entity had driven him to the pseudo-world of Belle-Monde, back when he’d first encountered Tekton and wound up with a Hera contract on himself.
He’d tried disagreeing with Sole. Told him to go fuck himself, if he recalled correctly. But the concept had been meaningless to the Entity, and soon enough Jo-Jo had found himself sitting in the tyros’ bar on Belle-Monde, doing exactly what Sole wanted him to do.
When he’d thought about it afterwards, he figured Sole’s power over him was born from the mind reconfiguring that had saved his life.
Talk about strings attached! He couldn’t believe that the tyros on Belle-Monde had actually chosen to have the process done to them. Shafting, they called it.
Unlike them, Jo-Jo had been an innocent bystander, quietly dying on the bridge of his ship after the environmentals had carked it. He hadn’t been given a choice; Sole had just resurrected him.
And now, again, it seemed he was being robbed of choice.
His body took itself carefully through the cave, keeping to the narrow corridor between those still sleeping. He tried to pause at the mouth and take in the night-time vista, but his limbs climbed down directly toward the AiV.
An ’esque spoke to him, a sentry, but he didn’t bother to reply.
By the time he’d climbed inside the flyer and had run his fingers over the com-sole, the sentry had alerted others. Jo-Jo thought he could see Trinder Pellegrini, and Bethany’s girl, Djes; then Randall and Catchut. They scrambled from the cave towards him. Randall bellowed his name.
He wanted to stop and explain. She’d think he’d crossed her, and after the things they’d been through the notion pissed him off. He fought Sole’s compulsion with everything he could: tried opening the door and throwing himself to the ground, but his hand wouldn’t leave the com-sole, his feet wouldn’t lift from the floor, and soon he was in the air, with the mountainside and the island diminishing into the deep dark.
The energy cell red-lined as he descended onto the beach near the chalet. Dawn was close, fuelling his sense of urgency. With quick, surprisingly efficient hands he transferred the cell from the other AiV into his, and was back in the air again before Leah broke the horizon.
Setting the auto, he dozed without really sleeping deeply. Since escaping Medium it had been that way, light, fearful sleep. And now here he was, on a course heading straight back to the object that had so terrified him. Restless half-dreams brought him images of Mira Fedor – stroking her skin – and arguments with Rast Randall, his hand to the mercenary’s throat, her strong fists punching deep into his stomach.
He woke in pain, wanting to vomit. The AiV’s locator told him that they had covered a large distance. He peered out. Even through the tinted windows, the brightness of the sun told him it was early afternoon. He searched through the emergency packs and found some protein biscuits and a tube of nutritional gel. They tasted better in his stomach than the raw fish and gritty roots he’d eaten the night before.
With food in his belly, his thoughts drifted to the surviviors. They were pitifully thin and worn, and their Principe was everything Mira Fedor had said he was – arrogant, authoritative and, even after all he’d been through, filled with a sense of entitlement. And yet he’d kept thirty or so ’esques and a korm alive, a miracle of sorts.
Unlikeable bastard, thought Jo-Jo, but tough. A little self-belief goes a long way.
He stared outside, musing on Pellegrini, and soon enough fell into another doze. This time he was roused by a dull yellow light on the horizon. He checked the locator again. It was almost dark, and unless some external illumination had been rigged since they’d passed over, Medium appeared to be glowing.
/> As the AiV closed in on its target, his mind woke and questions began to fight each other for space. A sweaty fear engulfed him. Why did Sole want him to go to Medium? Why now? What were the Saqr doing there? How long would Sole’s control over his body last?
Once again, he tried to reset the AiV’s trajectory, but his hands still refused to obey his brain. He could think and make decisions, but none of them were translating to his physical self.
Fear turned to a raging frustration, and yet all the while his sense of urgency grew. He must hurry. Hurry! Hurry!
When the AiV began to descend toward the Extro ship, he got a close and terrifying view of hundreds and hundreds of Saqr crawling over the outer skin; lines of ’em, like ants toing and froing from their anthill to a good source of food, trailing off the sides and back in the direction of the mine. They’re taking quixite on board.
As the AiV banked, something else caught his attention: two biozoons, side by side, wallowing in the sand dunes like impossibly large whale sharks. They were lit by the glow from Medium and the glittering satellites that were beginning to pop into existence as the sky darkened.
Sal! Jo-Jo knew his ship in an instant. The other one he recognised almost as quickly. Insignia. The fear and frustration tearing at him turned to a strange elation. She’s here! I knew it!
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for the AiV to land. He sprang out of the pilot seat, down onto the sand, and tried to run in the direction of the ’zoons. But the Sole compulsion refused to comply, forcing him back towards Medium.
Hurry. Hurry. Over dunes. Staggering in sliding sand, until he found himself standing in front of the exact spot he and Randall and Catchut had been expelled from days before. He knew it from the dark burn-stain left by Insignia tearing away its coupling.
His hands lifted from his sides and pressed hard against Medium‘s coarse outer skin. The blemish was higher than he could reach. Too high! He fell to the sand and frantically began to dig, creating a mound to one side. When it was high enough, he tried again. This time his palms just reached the bottom of the dark stain. He began to push and pinch, the way he had before, and moments later he was pulled in – sucked, almost like thick liquid through a straw.
The sensation was a terrifying as before and he found himself screaming through the transition.
Once inside, he felt as if he’d been wrung out: the pressure left him weak and headachy. Blinking, he looked around. The interior had completely changed; the chamber they’d been trapped in was no more. Instead, Jo-Jo found himself in a low-lit tunnel. The only likeness it had to his surroundings last time he was here was the amber tint of the walls and floor.
He wiped his face with his hands and got slowly to his feet. Where did the tunnel go? Why was it a tunnel and not a space? He moved forward cautiously, following the tunnel through a series of bends. It’s like the insides of a body. Ear canals or intestines. The very notion made him want to run back to the scar in the wall and burrow out, but the compulsion wouldn’t let him. He moved inexorably forward and deeper inside, his sense of urgency growing by the breath. Hurry. Hurry. He trailed his hands along the wall to keep his balance, and his pace quickened until he found himself running as fast as his condition-weakened legs could go.
Finally, he burst from the tunnel into a place that was wider and taller than he’d thought possible for Medium to harbour. At least, that was his fleeting hind-brain impression, for his conscious attention was drawn immediately to two things: a large slick organism filling nearly the entire space, and the small figure of a woman, standing before it – sinking.
Mira!
He leapt forward without thought for anything except to stop her disappearing beneath the liquefying amber floor. He grabbed her shoulders, and before she could even turn her head, pulled her back towards him. They fell together, her body cushioned by his. A moment later she began to fight him, writhing and slapping at his face.
‘Baronessa,’ he gasped hoarsely, gripping her fists. ‘It’s Josef Rasterovich. Jo-Jo.’
Her body went slack as his words penetrated, and he eased her onto her side so that they were lying face to face.
‘Jo-sef!’ A terrified whisper, broken by relief. ‘Thank Crux.’
She gripped his arm as if she would never let it go, and a rush of elation made his body feel lighter and stronger. Jo-Jo had never experienced such pure pleasure. She was happy to see him.
‘Don’t move,’ he managed to say. ‘You’ll break the surface tension.’
She gave the tiniest of nods. Their faces were so close that her breath mixed with his. She smelled of biozoon and something milky-sweet.
Without thinking, he slid a hand down her side to her stomach. Her flesh felt flat and loose beneath her robe. Not pregnant.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What – are – you – doing?’
‘I – I – thought you were … I noticed … You were pregnant on Rho Junction. Weren’t you? Did you lose it?’
She seemed startled for a moment, then collected herself. ‘Si. It was not something I wanted to talk about then. And now the explanations could take some time. My baby survived, and is aboard Insignia.’
‘You had a child?’ He felt a well of endless questions opening inside. Who was the father?
‘Si. A girl. Nova.’
Jo-Jo tried to work it out. How long had they been apart? It seemed longer than it was. She could not have borne a healthy child in that time.
‘She was born early,’ she said, as if guessing his thoughts. ‘Tell me, do you know how to get out?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, except back through the tunnel. Same way I came in. Where we don’t want to be is underneath this stuff we’re lying on.’
‘What do you mean?’ She continued to stare straight into his eyes as he gave her a brief run-down of his time on Medium and his escape.
She didn’t interrupt him, her eyes growing darker and more intense as he told his story. When he’d finished, they lay in silence for a while.
‘And that will happen to us, if we move?’ she asked.
‘It might happen anyway. Seems they can make this stuff as liquid or as brittle as they like. Right now we’ll stay on top if we don’t move.’
‘But you got out,’ she whispered. ‘So what are you doing back here?’
He paused before he answered. It seemed the right time for the truth, of sorts. If Medium engulfed him a second time, he might never see her again. There was no point keeping secrets. ‘When the Entity saved me back near Mintaka, it changed my mind. You’ve heard of shafting?’
She nodded again, gently. ‘The Entity alters the minds of its tyros so that it can better communicate with them.’
‘Yeah. Well, it did the same to me when it resurrected me. See, I was dead out there. When it bought me back, it was able to talk directly into my head. I haven’t heard it for a long while. But it started talking to me a day ago. Told me to hurry here. Thing is, when it’s like that I can’t do a damn thing to fight it. It wanted me to come here and find you.’
He watched her absorb what he’d said.
‘Where were you when it … it intervened?’ she asked. ‘With the survivors,’ he said.
Her free hand shot out and gripped his shoulder again. Their lips were so close now that he had only to move his head a little, and—
‘Who?’ she whispered.
‘Pellegrini and some others. About thirty of them. Maybe less.’
Her fingers clenched convulsively, pinching his skin. He didn’t notice the discomfort, just that she was touching him. ‘Was Cass Mulravey alive? Did she have a ’bino with her?’
‘Mulravey? Yes, Randall knew her.’ Then he hesitated. ‘She did have a kid, but it died just as we got there. Killed in an accident. A fight between two of the men.’
‘A boy?’ she asked.
He nodded.
Her face went slack with shock, her hand dropping away from him and her whole body trembling. Though she shed no tears, her distress wa
s like a knife twisting in his gut.
He slipped his arm across her and drew her as close as he could.
She didn’t resist, nor did she respond.
They lay together for longer than Jo-Jo knew. As he held her, he found himself caught in an inexplicable web of emotions, fear and sympathy overridden by a swell of protectiveness. His heart felt like it might explode with the volume of emotion pouring from it. He wanted to stay for ever with her in his arms, and yet he wanted to move. Get them out of there. See her happy again.
She stirred, leaning away from him.
Reluctantly he let her go.
‘Why do you think the Extros are here?’ she asked.
She seemed composed, though absent, as if only a part of her mind was with him and the rest was grieving.
‘For the quixite,’ he said. ‘The Saqr are loadin’ it into Medium like it’s food for a long journey.’
‘Not food,’ she said. ‘But a material that is versatile.’ Her eyes lost some of their cloudiness as she visibly forced herself to think. ‘I learned some things on the Post-Species world I was taken to. The Extros exist within two main divisions: those with Host bodies and those without. We call those without, ‘Non-Corporeals’. The Non-Corporeals still need the corporeals to perform certain tasks for them.’
‘Why?’
‘Even with their ability to manipulate material at the atomic level, they cannot create everything they need. I think that somehow the quixite will help eliminate their dependency.’
Jo-Jo thought about what she said. He lifted his head carefully to inspect the object filling the huge space. ‘Could this … thing … be part of their independence from the corporeals?’
She lifted her head as well. ‘Si.’
‘Then what in Crux is it?’
‘I have an idea.’
‘Tell me.’
‘See … how it’s growing?’
Jo-Jo considered the sticky mass. It did seem closer, but then he’d only glanced at it briefly before snatching Mira from the floor. Now he studied its organic contours. It was alive; he was convinced by the way it glistened, the faint sense of movement.
Transformation Space Page 23
