The Sentients of Orion

by Marianne de Pierres

  ‘What is so important, Chief, that you would brave us in our den?’ warbled Miranda Seeward.

  The eminent dieter was perhaps the most irritating and repulsive of all the tyros, her rolls of loose flesh and superior attitude a counterpoint to each other, as though one gave the other credence. Unfortunately, she was thick with Lawmon Jise, who Chief Balbao had a great and wary respect for—the man who had sculpted the new OLOSS charter and was known for his diamond-cut intellect. Labile Connit was the other one that made the chief nervous. Rumours had risen around Belle-Monde that the geneer had dubious and powerful connections. Jividdat was less of a concern and kept to himself, and Ra was simply weird. Tekton, thank Sole, had gone on practical absence leave—something about overseeing the manufacturing of a construction—and not returned. On the one hand, the chief hoped that something terrible had befallen the tight-skinned hairless fop. On the other, he wished the greedy back-biter was here. He had one enormous problem, and these idiot Godheads were his best hope of a solution.

  ‘I have an announcement to make. Something unsettling and perplexing. I have...’ his Balol pride made it a struggle to get the words out ‘... need of your expertise and opinion.’

  That set off another round of chatter and calls for more drinks.

  By the time the bartender arrived with another tray of deadly concoctions, the chief’s neck frill was stiff with anger. All the years of scientific training and devotion to perpetuating the betterment and longevity of the sentients of Orion, all that learning and civility, began to disappear underneath an unholy rush of pure Balol aggression.

  ‘Sit down and shut up,’ he roared, ‘before I rip your heads off!’ He bared his teeth for good measure.

  The open-mouthed Godheads switched to playing meek children in a trice, each sipping their drink as carefully as if it were their last.

  The chief opened his mouth to explain his terrible dilemma, but shut it again as the holo-field near the bar flared into life. They all swivelled their attention towards it. What was so important as to cause an impromptu feed?

  ‘It’s the OLOSS summit,’ groaned Miranda almost immediately. ‘How tedious. Turn it off!’

  ‘Quiet, Miranda,’ said Jise, picking up on something that the rest hadn’t. ‘Switch to maximum function,’ he told the station moud.

  Suddenly it was as if they were all at the summit meeting, albeit off to one side, seated behind the untidy skieran contingent.

  The chief recognised a number of highly important dignitaries, including Warrior Butnik, President Gan, JiHaigh the OLOSS all prime, and the most infamous of all ‘esques, Commander Lasper Farr.

  A thin young woman stood at the open end of the U-shaped meeting table. Her head was bent, eyes to the floor, shoulders tense as though she bore the greatest of weights upon them.

  All attention seemed to be directed her way.

  ‘I know her!’ said Connit. ‘At least I’ve seen her. She’s the Latino woman who escaped from that horrible little backward planet when it was invaded.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Miranda Seeward. ‘Some type of coup there by those ghastly primitive Saqr. Tekton knew of it. And I think... maybe, that I had relatives in the area.’

  ‘Shh!’ hissed Jise again. ‘We’re missing it. Listen.’

  The tyros fell silent again.

  ‘All very fascinating, Baronessa,’ said President Gan to the Latino woman. ‘And it would seem that the Post-Species are responsible for the Saqr adaptation. But what is the significance?’

  ‘Goodness!’ Miranda Seeward exclaimed. ‘Those damnable Extros.’

  The Baronessa replied. ‘I have sought to build a picture, President Gan, so that you understand the gravity of what I am about to tell you next. As Insignia approached the shift sphere leaving Post-Species space, we came across a terrifying sight. Millions of Geni- carriers. Shifting.’

  At the summit meeting a buzz of reaction broke out

  from the attendees, but in the mélange lounge the silence was exquisite, and uncharacteristic.

  The chief did not like the anxious expressions on the tyros’ faces.

  ‘Millions, Baronessa?’ Commander Farr finally spoke up, quieting the chatter in the Summit room. ‘An exaggeration surely? There were only three in the Stain Wars. Manufacturing on such a large scale in the time that’s elapsed since then is impossible.’

  ‘My biozoon can verify this,’ said the thin woman.

  ‘Then instruct it to do so,’ ordered the OLOSS prime, JiHaigh.

  ‘I do not instruct my biozoon,’ she said quietly. ‘But I will request.’

  After a protracted silence in which nothing happened, the convener of the summit began shouting accusations.

  Chief Balbao didn’t recognise him, but one of the tyros did.

  ‘Landhurst,’ said Labile Connit. ‘He’s the station master at Intel.’

  A guard stepped forward and seized the Latino woman and a commotion started, Commander Farr among the many voicing their displeasure. It was the Commander, in the end, who drowned the others out.

  ‘Wait!’ he bellowed.

  His imperative caught everyone’s attention, including the tyros of Belle-Monde, who gravitated closer together, as if proximity to each other would help them digest the situation better.

  Focus in the summit room altered as a projection appeared on the hub-screen. It became difficult to see over the skierans, who almost doubled their size as they swelled with concentration, blocking the lower edge of the images.

  Even so, there was no mistaking what was happening at the top half of the projection.

  ‘Geni-carriers,’ gasped Javid. It was the first time he’d spoken since entering the room.

  ‘How many?’ moaned Labile Connit. ‘How goddamned many?’

  The chief continued to stare at the images, his mind processing what he’d just seen. What did that mean? Why was it happening? And did it bear any relation to... ‘Kill the feed,’ he subvocalised to the station moud.

  The tyros blinked at each other, and then at him.

  ‘There is something else you should know,’ he said without further pause. ‘The Entity has gone.’

  SOLE

  Time to get’m

  Soak’m up

  Let’m burn all

  Push push push

  Make all change

  Luscious

  THALES

  ‘You took the blame for me,’ said Thales.

  Fariss had lounged on the bed while he bathed, and now she watched him while he searched among the shelves for a robe that would fit. He found a plain fellalo and slipped it over his head, pressing the seals together with weak fingers. Though the biozoon had healed the worst of his facial scars, Thales felt his strength was a long way from returning.

  Fariss whistled with disappointment at his vanishing nakedness. ‘You getting dressed already?’ she teased, ignoring his question.

  Thales’s body warmed as she leered. He couldn’t quite explain his feelings for this semi-literate Consilience soldier. She’d broken a man’s neck on Edo to save him, and risked much to bring him aboard Lasper Farr’s ship as her consort—booty, she’d called him. Then, when he’d stabbed the mercenary Macken who was trying to rape him, she’d broken this man’s neck too and smuggled Thales off the ship. Taken a murder charge for him.

  They’d only known each other a few weeks, but her impact on his life was beyond measure. On the trip to Intel station for the summit meeting she’d instructed him on when and how she would like sex, and slapped him if he offended her. Her behaviour made a mockery of the way he’d been socialised—sensibilities, etiquette, appetites all turned inside out. And yet as he stood before her, as shy as a young boy, a deep-seated longing beset him. He was in love with Fariss O’Dea in a way he hadn’t known to be possible.

  His time with Bethany Ionil—Lasper Farr’s sister—had been comforting and educational, but never once had he experienced such powerful, overwhelming emotions.

  Only one woman
had made him ache with longing before, and he had to speak to her soon, tell her what had befallen him in the months since he had fled his home. His wife.

  ‘I have to speak to... someone who may be able to help the Baronessa. The biozoon hasn’t been able to stop the birthing process that has begun, only slow it down. She will have the baby soon—a day, or maybe even hours.’

  ‘Well, I’m all for getting her off here then. Pregnant women make me angry.’ She laughed, then squeezed one of her breasts into a lewd shape. ‘Might give us some alone time. I’ve been pretty bored while you’ve been sleeping. Time you entertained me.’

  Thales’s skin heated with desire, but he shook his head. ‘Farris, there are things I want to do here. Would—would you help me?’

  Fariss had come with him of her own free will. Her time and interest was not his to command.

  ‘Like?’

  ‘When I left Scolar, I was running away from the Sophos. The things that have happened to me since then have been ugly... sordid. I’m not sure what I’ve learned exactly, other than to know that this is important. Truly. I must warn the Sophos of the virus that has been loosed on our people. I cannot let our society lose the one thing that gives it meaning—its intellect. Gutnee Paraburd must be brought to account for what he has done, and so must the ones who devised such an insidious agent.’

  ‘Brought to account,’ repeated Fariss. ‘I like the sound of that.’ She grinned. ‘I’m with you as long as I get to play with you first.’

  Thales moved over to her and sat down. Her big muscular body took up most of the bunk. He stared at her fingers, which were laced together across her stomach. He would never forget her choking the life from Lasper’s man. ‘Farris, the person I would speak to shortly, to help Mira Fedor, is my wife.’

  He stole a glance at her face.

  Her expression didn’t change. ‘And that would mean?’

  He felt relief and disappointment. What had he hoped for? Jealousy? Possessiveness?

  Fariss saw his expression and laughed. ‘My rules are simple, pretty one. When I want your attention, I get it. And don’t you ever lie to me. Lying gets people dead.’ She poked him with her toe. ‘Got it?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘So you don’t mind that I’m married.’

  She shrugged and pressed her foot against his groin. ‘Nope. Do what you have to do, Thales. If it gets to the stage where we need to be exclusive, you’ll know.’ She grinned, and her face lit with magnificent energy. ‘I’ll make sure you do.’

  Mixed reactions caught him again. He didn’t know how he felt about his wife any more, yet he knew he didn’t want to share Fariss with anyone. ‘Does the same apply for me?’

  His question threw her off balance for the merest blink. Then she laughed again. ‘Make your own rules, but be sure to tell me what they are. I’d like to know when I’m breaking them.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I have to go to the buccal and talk to Rene. I’ll come back here then.’

  Fariss pushed him playfully off the bunk. ‘Hurry up. I’ll be waiting.’

  * * *

  Mira Fedor was in Primo vein when he reached the buccal. ‘Give Insignia the contact protocols,’ she instructed.

  The pair sat in silence while the biozoon attempted to make contact with Rene Mianos.

  ‘Would you prefer privacy?’ Mira asked eventually.

  Thales hesitated. ‘Perhaps, at the end. If you would be so kind.’

  ‘Of course. Insignia tells me that Rene Mianos has accepted your ‘cast request.’

  Thales sat straighter and touched his scarred face. Would his wife even recognise him? ‘Visual display, please.’

  The space above Primo resolved into the head and shoulders of a beautiful but languid woman.

  ‘Rene?’

  She stared so long at him without recognition that Thales feared she would cancel the ‘cast.

  ‘Rene, it’s Thales.’

  ‘You don’t look much like my husband,’ she said carefully. Quietly. ‘How would I know it’s you?’

  ‘So much has happened to me since I left Scolar. I would be pleased to tell you all of it, if you were disposed to meet me. But first, I have a matter of urgency. I’m travelling with a woman who has gone into premature labour and needs urgent medical attention.’

  Rene seemed distant. ‘Even if you are my husband, why would you come to me with such a problem? Take the woman to a medic. Is the child yours?’

  ‘No.’ He struggled to keep the agitation from his voice. This subdued almost dull woman was not his sharp-minded wife. ‘Her circumstance... her condition... is complex and unusual. I believe she needs to go to the Mount Clement clinic.’

  Rene frowned as if the conversation was an effort. ‘But the clinic is for specialised genetic research. It is not an antenatal facility.’

  ‘I know, Rene. You did some of your post-doctoral research there. You told me that they can accelerate cell growth. I believe they are the only ones who can save this woman’s baby.’

  His knowledge of her past seemed to make her more alert. ‘Thales? Is it really you?’ The clarity of Insignia’s ‘cast-imaging showed that her lips trembled.

  Tears burned the back of his eyes. ‘Yes, dearest. Did you not see me speak at the summit meeting on Intel?’

  ‘I—I’ve been on retreat. I’ve heard things about the Post-Species and Consilience. But so much is rumour. The Sophos have instructed us not to heed the farcasts.’

  ‘Rene, please watch the feeds from the summit meeting. Verify that I spoke to the assembled leaders, including your father. We believe that a Post-Species invasion of OLOSS territories is imminent. Scolar must disengage its shift spheres soon or face annihilation. I must speak to the Sophos.’

  She frowned. ‘But they will arrest you if you land.’

  ‘Will you help me convince them to give me an audience?’

  Her pale fingers strayed to her lips in a familiar absent-minded mannerism. ‘I will review the summit feed. Please wait.’

  Thales did not look at the Baronessa when the ‘cast winked out.

  ‘Your wife is beautiful,’ said Mira.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Thales, ‘and clever. But her loyalties are tied, above everything, to the Sophos. I learned that the hardest of ways. Yet today she did not seem herself.’

  ‘Perhaps she too has been affected by the virus.’

  Thales stared at the Baronessa. ‘No.’ His denial was soft and unsure.

  ‘If your leaders are also tainted by it, you may have difficulty convincing them of any danger.’

  ‘You don’t think that I should meet them?’

  Mira gave the slightest shrug. ‘What are the consequences of this virus?’

  ‘In truth, I don’t know. I saw signs of apathy among both the young thinkers and the Sophos before I left. I was frustrated but not alarmed, thinking it merely a passing thing, something that would rectify itself with a new crop of free thinkers. I was resolved to fight alone, to continue to ask hard questions when questions seemed passé. It was not until I met Villon that

  I considered it could be more than a mindset. Now I see that Scolar has fallen ill.’

  ‘Then will the Sophos believe you? Are they capable of truly grasping or caring about the threat?’

  The ‘cast display shimmered alive before he could reply.

  ‘Thales?’

  ‘I’m here, Rene.’

  His wife’s voice seemed sharper. ‘Is the woman you seek to help the fugitive Baronessa from Araldis?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘On what grounds do you believe Mount Clement can help her?’

  Mira left Primo to stand near Thales in the broadcast space.

  ‘I am Mira Fedor, Rene Mianos.’

  Rene inclined her head, eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Baronessa.’

  ‘I would plead for your help. My baby, conceived on Araldis, has been subject to experiments in the Post- Species worlds. It is only a short time in the womb, and yet it wants to be born.
My biozoon is of the belief that the child is not properly humanesque.’

  ‘The father is alien?’

  Thales saw the faint wrinkle of distaste in Rene’s expression, and felt embarrassed by her prejudice.

  ‘No. We fear it may be a Post-Species hybrid.’

  ‘That sounds far-fetched, Baronessa.’

  The scant colour in Mira’s face drained away, and she suddenly looked so tired that Thales thought she might faint.

  He took her arm. ‘Rene, please. I know her, and have travelled with her. The things she says are true. She needs help, or the baby will die. The cell accelerator may save her child.’

  Rene looked away from them, as if to someone out of their view. ‘Very well, Thales. I’ll make contact with the clinic.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mira steadied herself and nodded to Thales. She left the buccal.

  Thales watched her leave, and then looked at his wife.

  ‘We are alone now,’ he told her.

  ‘Strange company you keep these days, my husband.’

  ‘Fortune has taken me in unexplainable directions.’

  ‘Is it fortune? Your appearance...’

  ‘The scarring will soften,’ said Thales. ‘And the cause of it is not a story to be told in brief. I had hoped to see you again. I’ve thought of you often.’

  ‘I’m afraid that your fate is out of my hands, Thales. I would wish you well.’

  ‘That is all, Rene? That is all you would wish me?’ He couldn’t stop his voice from rising.

  She gave him her look of practised patience. ‘That sounds more like you, Thales.’

  ‘What sounds like me?’

  ‘You were always so easily hurt.’

  Thales faltered for a moment. ‘Is that how you remember me? As weak?’

  Her expression softened. ‘Not weak, Thales. But someone with a deep sense of entitlement.’

  Suddenly all the nervousness and the expectation of speaking to Rene again drained away in the face of her criticism. ‘I’m not the person you remember, or think

  you know, Rene,’ he said stiffly. ‘And I’ll manage my own fate. But I would ask one thing for what has happened between us. One boon for a marriage lost.’