‘Anti-bac spray. It cakes your pores. Gives you a rash,’ Latourn muttered. Then he added, ‘Let me know if you need a hand to wash it off.’
A masked guard in an olive OLOSS uniform entered before Mira could react to Latourn’s suggestion. Two more joined him a moment later, carrying a chair and a fold-up table. When the table and chair had been set in front of Latourn and Mira, all three guards took up positions on either side of the door.
Latourn mimicked their action, settling himself against the wall opposite. Mira clasped her fingers together to keep them still and sat stiffly, waiting.
Finally, an affluently robed male with thin patrician features and soft skin entered. Something in his manner reminded Mira of the Principe Franco: confidence born of authority. And not just authority, she sensed; self- belief as well.
He held out his hand in greeting. ‘Sophos Mianos, OLOSS designate on Scolar.’
Mira half rose from her seat and returned the soft- fingered touch. ‘I am Baronessa Mira Fedor of the Cipriano clan on Araldis.’
The man stumbled over her use of her title, she thought, but he quickly arranged his expression into sympathetic lines. ‘Now, Baronessa Fedor, tell me quickly of this tragedy that brings you in such haste across Orion.’
Mira began hesitantly but found momentum in the reliving of her story and the presence of a sympathetic ear. She told Mianos most things—except for Marchella’s part in the events and Trin’s final act. When she had finally exhausted herself she sat, hunched and miserable, wishing for sleep or any type of oblivion.
Sophos Mianos took her hand and patted it for long moments until she grew uncomfortable and withdrew it.
‘Would you care for refreshments, my dear?’ he asked gently.
‘Th-thank you,’ Mira stammered. His refined manner was almost jarring after so long with the mercenaries.
They sat in an awkward silence until a menial bought a jug of iced water. Mira drank hers quickly but Latourn refused, frowning at her.
When the menial had removed the tray, another one appeared with a plate of meats and pastries which he placed in front of the Sophos. With a sigh and an innocent smile, Mianos tucked a serviette over his robe and began to eat. Between mouthfuls he began to ask questions.
Mira could not concentrate due to the smell of the marinated meats and the look of the honeyed cakes.
Her exhausted mind struggled to answer Mianos, for his questions seemed designed to trip up her logic and confuse her recollection.
She began to realise that though his skin was soft and his eyes gentle, Sophos Mianos was neither of those things. He continued to eat with a fastidiousness that could only have been intentional—fussing over the tiny scraps of fat and drips of meat juice, never once offering food to Mira or Latourn.
‘Tell me again, Baronessa, why the Principe’s heir provided you with transport to escape, while he stayed on?’ he asked.
Behind the Sophos one of the masked soldiers moved restlessly as though he too was impatient with proceedings.
Mianos turned and scowled at him: a fierce, quelling look.
Mira forced herself to speak. ‘I have explained, Sophos Mianos. The young Principe Pellegrini chose to stay to lead the survivors to a safe place. Our fleet had been destroyed—only the biozoon remained. He told me where it had been hidden. He knew—’
‘He knew what, Baronessa?’
She hesitated before continuing. ‘He knew that I was the only one who could fly her.’
Sophos Mianos put his fork down on his plate and blinked. ‘Are you telling me that you—a woman—have the Innate gene?’
Mira clung to her erect posture despite the dreadful fatigue flooding her body. ‘Si.’
‘But you cannot—’
‘Si, Sophos. But it has happened—a freak of nature, perhaps, but undeniable.’
Mianos threw his napkin down on his meat scraps and stood. He paced a few steps as if the knowledge of Mira’s talent had somehow changed things.
He turned to her. ‘What is it that you expect OLOSS to do?’
‘Trinder Pellegrini said that you would lend humanesquetarian aid. That the OLOSS charter meant that you would intervene on behalf of the Ciprianos.’
Mianos paused, plucking at his soft hairless chin. ‘Indeed, our accord protects worlds from such atrocities—but these things are never simple matters. An investigation and recommendation will need to be made to the OLOSS secretariat before any intervention can occur.’
‘But how long will that take?’ Mira cried.
‘I cannot answer that precisely. You will be notified when a decision has been reached. In the meantime, OLOSS will need to isolate and examine the biozoon. We will of course provide supervised accommodation for you on Scolar while the decision is pending.’
Isolate the biozoon. Supervised accommodation... Blood thundered in Mira’s ears. ‘No!’ She rose hastily from her seat and stepped back towards the connecting matrix. Latourn did the same.
‘Politic!’ snapped Mianos at the three guards.
Two of them reacted immediately, bringing their weapons to bear on Mira and Latourn. The other, though, pulled his weapon from its holster and threw it towards his fellow guards. The impact when it hit the ground caused it to discharge and one of them fell to the floor, wounded.
The now-unarmed guard cried aloud—a childish, frightened noise. Then he rushed at the standing soldier, knocking his weapon from his hand.
‘Flee!’ he shouted at Mira.
But she was riveted by his clumsy movements and obvious desperation. She saw his ill-fitting torn uniform. Who is he? Why does he help us?
‘Please go!’ he cried again. ‘Do not trust him.’
As Latourn dragged Mira into the connection matrix, the uninjured guard grappled with the inept dissident and ripped the visor from his face.
Mianos gasped. ‘Thales! What in Kant’s name are you doing—’
‘You would imprison this woman as you did Villon? As you did me?’ The young man’s voice was impassioned. Wild.
The guard caught the dissident’s arm and jerked it hard behind his shoulder, twisting it to dislocation point.
The dissident roared with fury rather than with pain. His shouted words became incoherent angry sobs.
Mira’s heart beat harder at his distress, but Latourn showed no such concern. He was pounding at the egress scale.
Mira stayed where she was in the centre of the connection matrix. ‘Help him,’ she said.
Latourn stared back at her, incredulous. ‘No,’ he barked.
‘Insignia will not open the egress scale until I tell her,’ Mira told him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Help the dissident and I will instruct Insignia to open it.’
Latourn’s eyes widened. ‘Capo said not to go with you—she said you were loco.’
Rast had said that? Mira kept her expression impassive. Perhaps she was. ‘You are a fighter. So fight for me.’
Latourn made an infuriated noise. He unbuckled the belt around his fellalo and plunged back through the matrix into the other ship’s link chamber.
Mira followed him.
The uninjured guard thrust the dissident aside roughly, bent swiftly to retrieve his weapon from the floor and turned it on Latourn. But the dissident threw himself against him, spoiling his aim before he fell sprawling.
In a deft, quick move Latourn looped his belt around the guard’s throat and twisted hard, snapping the man’s neck. He pulled the dissident upright and tossed him from the link chamber into the matrix. He landed almost at Mira’s feet.
Mira ran to the egress scale. Open for us, she instructed the biozoon.
The scale peeled back and she scrambled through first. A moment later the dissident followed with Latourn behind him.
Insignia’s presence filled her. She felt stronger and lighter. Thank you.
Then Rast had her, pulling her to her feet by her throat, shaking her into the present.
‘W
hatisit!’ The mercenary demanded. ‘What’s happening? And who the fuck is this?’
Mira peeled Rast’s fingers from around her neck. Pushing back her disordered wimple she glanced down and saw the dissident’s face clearly for the first time. She did not think she had ever seen a more beautiful man.
Insignia, break away from the other ship. She looked back at Rast. ‘I really do not know.’
JO-JO RASTEROVICH
‘You’re the God-Discoverer.’
‘Some call me that,’ said Jo-Jo.
‘I’m Loker.’ The round, sweaty man shot out his hand. ‘My H-M picked up your heat signature.’
Jo-Jo shook Loker’s hand. Then he turned in the tight confines of the small cluttered bridge and nodded his thanks to the scruffy glassy-eyed kid seated in the immersion sink.
‘Tell me, what was the God-Discoverer doing floating around tethered to a station lug? Shouldn’t you be toastin’ your naked backside on a beach somewhere?’
‘Bad Timing’s got no manners,’ said Jo-Jo in a noncommittal manner. ‘Am obliged to you for picking us up, though, seeing as you’ve already got a fair load.’ They’d climbed over the bodies of ‘esques and aliens in the corridors of the Savvy’s ventilated section.
‘Yeah. Too many. We’re thinking of going for a scrap- shift. Get these people off my ship as soon as I can.’
‘Scrapshift?’
‘Can’t see much in the way of alternatives. Maglev is working to the outstations but there ain’t nothing out there but a bunch of satellites and some demounts on one of the moons. If we don’t go while scrapshift is still working we might get stuck here. I only got a week’s food left, and that’s for a crew of ten. No knowing what those ginkos will do, either. Or how long until help comes.’
Jo-Jo realised why they’d been brought to the bridge. Scrapshift was a shitty experience. Sometimes people died from it. The Captain needed a second opinion—or someone else to blame. Jo-Jo had done it once before but he’d been in a half-decent can and unconscious drunk to boot. Afterwards he’d still felt like he’d been shredded. ‘You got extra vibration cans?’
‘Yeah. But not enough for everyone. We got a ton of bodies sardined into a Savvy rated for thirty. My ventilators are crapping themselves while we stand here flapping our gums suckin’ air.’ The Captain sounded cool enough but tension played around his mouth.
Jo-Jo thought about it. He couldn’t see many options either. ‘Tough call, though, Loker. Might lose some.’
The Captain shrugged. ‘I figured you’d seen a bit. You got anything better?’
‘Can you distribute people onto the other craft?’ asked Bethany.
Loker ran his fingers along his com-sleeve and a low-resolution image of Dowl res-space flickered into life in front of them. It reminded Jo-Jo of acid hour at the Vega swap meet. ‘Each ship is in the same situation, only they can’t do a scrapshift—their ships aren’t built for it.’
‘Maybe we could take a vote. Those who don’t want to risk it can get off,’ suggested Beth.
Loker’s face seemed to expand with annoyance. ‘This ain’t a frikkin’ election, lady. I’m betting we’ve got an hour before life-support craps itself completely, which will at least spare us death by starvation. Every damn ship out there is in the same situation. Either we put down on Araldis or we risk an unattended scrapshift.’
Beth blushed but she didn’t back down. ‘I see the dilemma, Captain, but you’re making a decision that might kill people. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.’
‘So it’s better if we all die, then?’ said Loker hotly.
Yet Jo-Jo could see that Beth had rattled him. He was a Savvy captain. Life-and-death responsibility didn’t come in the job description.
‘I think we should put down on Araldis,’ Beth insisted.
The Captain gave her an incredulous stare. ‘The place is burning. We can see it from our sats.’ He tapped the sleeve again and a primitive slide-show of images replaced the shift-space representation.
Beth sagged when she saw the grainy pictures of billowing smoke. ‘Araldis has a high oxygen quotient. The fires will take a long time to burn out,’ she whispered.
‘What’s not burned is desert,’ said Loker.
Mau put his arm around Beth’s shoulder and squeezed her gently. ‘Scrapshift best.’
Jo-Jo nodded agreement. ‘Where’s the nearest station?’
‘Jandowae.’
Loker lifted his sleeve and spoke into it. ‘Get everyone into the buffer cans.’
‘Captain?’ replied a crew member from somewhere on the ship. ‘There ain’t enough roo—’
‘I know. We’re scrapping in eight minutes.’
The virtual representation of their position vanished and reappeared in the air above the H-M’s sink, flashing between schematic and sectioned real-time views.
Loker muttered into his sleeve, his eyes half-closed as he became absorbed in interface. The H-M was slack- jawed as well; spit bubbling at the corner of his mouth.
Jo-Jo felt a tightening hand on his guts. Gould the kid handle this?
A third crew member entered the bridge and grudgingly handed out antispasmodics. ‘Scrapshift is rougher than most—even in the cans. Need two of these normally but there ain’t enough to go around. Should save you from the worst, though,’ he said.
Jo-Jo slipped his into Beth’s hand. She frowned at him and shook her head.
‘Mothershit!’ cried the H-M.
Jo-Jo didn’t have to ask what was wrong. The schematic showed another ship crossing ahead of their shiftspace trajectory. Not a Savvy. Something bigger, creating an uncommon energy signature.
‘Where are they going?’ cried Jo-Jo. ‘I thought normal res-shift was buggered.’
‘H-M?’ Loker’s voice quavered.
‘Must have entered at the same time as us, Captain. It’s an organic. A ‘zoon or a biobe,’ said the young kid. ‘They don’t need working res. They just need the—’
‘Coordinates. I know,’ finished Jo-Jo. Was it Salacious?
‘They’re going to squirt.’ Loker lifted his sleeve. ‘We’re in their slipstream. Secure the vibration cans. NOW!’ he screamed.
‘Josef,’ Bethany wailed.
Mau grabbed her hand—the one that held the anti- spas—and twisted it. She opened her mouth to protest but he forced her palm to her lips and made her swallow the caps.
‘Loker,’ said Jo-Jo sharply. ‘We go in on their tail and we’ll pixelate.’
‘Not if we stay close enough.’
‘Close enough? We’d have to be fucking ‘em!’ Jo-Jo roared.
Loker was staring over the edge of his own indecision: shaking; eyes blank.
Calmer, thought Jo-Jo. Be calmer. ‘Loker, pull out and we’ll go again.’
‘He’s right, Captain,’ said the H-M. The kid was shaking worse than Loker but he was still thinking.
‘No, too much damage,’ insisted Loker. ‘We tuck in tight. Don’t argue, Len.’
The Savvy started to groan as though the long- married seams were planning a separation. Jo-Jo felt the start of a tooth-rattling, bone-deep vibration where there should be none.
‘Cans are malfunctioning, Captain.’
‘Why?’ demanded Loker.
‘Slipstream’s causing a vacuum. Can program’s getting the wrong data.’
‘Change the parameters.’
‘Take too long,’ said the kid.
Mau looked at Jo-Jo.
Jo-Jo nodded at him, then slung his arm through one of the grips that hung from the ceiling. ‘Don’t damage the sleeve,’ he said softly.
Mau made a deep-throated noise and pushed Bethany down into a wall cavity. Then he launched at Loker with his undamaged shoulder, knocking the Savvy captain out of his crib onto the floor.
‘H-M, peel out,’ shouted Jo-Jo. ‘NOW!’
The kid looked at Loker. The Captain was unconscious.
He punched his fist into his palm and nodded.
; For as long as Jo-Jo could stay upright and keep watching the schematic he didn’t think they would make it. Then he lost his handgrip and flew across the cabin to crash into Mau and Loker.
Sound replaced sight: Mau’s swearing, the H-M grunting as though lifting something heavy, and the distant but persistent screams.
Jo-Jo lost his grip on Mau’s leg and juddered across the floor, whacking the side of his face against the bulkhead. The pain was nothing compared to the agony that had overtaken his body: cramps in every conceivable muscle—legs, arms, stomach and, worse, his lips and cheeks sucking inward as though he was trying to swallow his own mouth.
Then the Savvy broke out of the slipstream with an unforgettable jolt.
The vibration stilled.
The H-M stopped grunting and took in dry gulps of air. So did Bethany.
‘H-M?’ Jo-Jo rasped when he could speak. ‘Report?’
Young Len gave a lunatic’s high-pitched laugh. ‘I think we’re good to go again.’
* * *
They re-entered scrapshift thirty minutes later. Jo-Jo felt the relief of comparative stillness as they reached the optimum speed and the vibration buffers kicked in.
Even so, his bones felt as though they’d been compressed and mixed into a paste. Mau lay atop Loker, swearing still, and Beth was curled into a ball. Only Len seemed to be functioning.
Tough kid.
‘We’re calm,’ Len pronounced wearily a few moments later. ‘Jandowae.’
None of them moved or spoke for a long while.
Loker surfaced from unconsciousness. Pressing the back of his head with one hand, he kicked free of Mau and checked his sleeve.
‘Jandowae,’ he said, and smiled. ‘We slipstreamed it.’
Jo-Jo waited. It was the H-M’s call; the kid had to work with Loker.
But Len stayed silent.
The Savvy captain bestowed a sneer upon all of them, then climbed to his feet and stumbled from the bridge.
* * *
Jo-Jo helped Beth to her feet. She was trembling but composed enough. He couldn’t see any signs of bruising on her.
The Sentients of Orion Page 47
