The Sentients of Orion

by Marianne de Pierres

  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 was 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.

  ‘Look.’ She pointed to the ceiling where the mass appeared to touch the curve of the ship. ‘See how the light is different up there.’

  She was right. It was brighter there, but it wasn’t direct light—more like the external skin of Medium had opened to the sky, yet the gap remained invisible to them, blocked by the mass within.

  ‘Maybe that’s where they’re loading the quixite?’

  She lowered her head to the floor gently. ‘Si. I think so.’

  He did the same, and their faces were close again. ‘When I landed, I saw the Saqr trail to and from the mine. Knew they must be bringing the mineral on board.’

  ‘Do you notice the scent? The sweetness?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s them. The Saqr. I’ve smelt it before.’

  ‘It’s also the scent of ligs.’

  Jo-Jo frowned, not understanding. ‘What’s ligs?’

  ‘Ligs are one of the few insect species on Araldis. We use their pollen extract to scent our candles.’ She ran her tongue over her teeth in a nervous gesture. He’d forgotten how crimson her skin was, and how deep the colour of her lips. ‘Ligs are as much a part of Araldis as the dust and the rock. There is something in the ligs that the Post-Species need. The ligs and the quixite. I think it is enabling them to—’

  But she stopped short as the object shifted.

  ‘Josef,’ she whispered. ‘I think... we must get out.’

  ‘If the tunnel stays there—there wasn’t one before when I was here. All we saw of the ship was a small space. Then the floor liquefied, and we were trapped undern—’

  A loud crackling noise stopped him. They both looked at the object again. It had split some of its skin, and a wet mound of tissue bulged out towards them. As they watched, the bulge grew, oozing through the fissure like thick liquid until it stopped only a short distance from their feet.

  Jo-Jo felt the floor harden to accommodate the new weight.

  ‘Now!’ He scrambled to his feet, hauling Mira up with him.

  They ran through the dim tunnel. Mira lifted the folds of her robe to make it easier, but she was still hampered by them. Jo-Jo caught her twice as she stumbled, but in truth he could barely manage her weight, his own strength diminishing rapidly.

  The tunnel began to buckle and fold, the ceiling collapsing behind them as they moved.

  By the time they reached the outer wall, only a short length of tunnel remained. Jo-Jo ran his hands over the blemish.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she panted.

  ‘The ‘zoon ripped its coupling here; it’s still healing and there’s a weakness.’

  Her reply was a strangled noise, and her fingers tugged at his robe. Over his shoulder, Jo-Jo glimpsed the last of the passage disappearing. The object had spread right out to the ship’s limits, and in a moment it would crush them.

  ‘Shit!’ Jo-Jo gouged at the roughened blemish. ‘Scratch it, hit it. Anything!’

  Mira roused herself and joined him, pinching and pushing at the skin. She cried a name he didn’t recognise. ‘Wanton!’

  Another loud crack. Then the sound of something wet and heavy moving behind them. Jo-Jo felt pressure against his back and neck. This time he couldn’t turn his head to see. He was pinned to the wall, his chest struggling to expand enough for him to breathe.

  Next to him, Mira’s eyes were closed, as if she were concentrating on something else. He clawed the wall with his fingers and dug his toes into it with the small room for movement he had left.

  ‘Take my hand,’ Mira said suddenly.

  Her eyes were open, and clear. Strain showed on her face.

  He reached down and felt her slim fingers grip his own. She squeezed his palm, giving comfort. Strength and calm flowed from her. His breathing steadied despite the crushing weight.

  ‘It’s going to expand again,’ she said. ‘Be ready.’

  Jo-Jo had long fantasised about her voluntary touch, and the irony of it coming now angered him. He squeezed her hand and laboured over the words he had to say. ‘I would’ve—come—anyway. Sole—didn’t need—to—make me.’

  He saw her brief surprise and something else, something he couldn’t quite read.

  Then the pressure began to build again, and his ribs felt like they were breaking. He tried to brace, tried to fight the compression, refusing to let go of Mira’s hand even when her fingers went slack.

  No. No!

  Then the outer skin split, and he tumbled free.

  MIRA

  ‘Wanton!’

  Mama? Are you all right?

  The pressure against her was so great that Mira could barely breathe. Nova, can you—speak to—Wanton? I’m in—trouble.

  Si, Mama. I will try. What should I say?

  Unable to think in sentences, Mira shared images of her situation: of the object expanding so rapidly that it was pressing on their backs, and the weakness, the blemish that Josef had spoken of, where Insignia had torn away from the side.

  Crushed, Nova. Wanton, help us.

  Long moments passed, and the only things she was aware of were her battle to breathe and Josef holding her hand. With every increase of pressure against her body, his grip tightened as though he would never let go.

  JO-JO

  His fall to the dune below should have been soft, but the distance turned soft sand to rock. He lay, winded and paralysed by the agony of impact, unsure whether he’d broken anything.

  Through
sand-blurred eyes, he saw the glow emanating from Medium, and behind it a moonlit sky. Thank Crux it was still night. Then the outer skin of the ship ruptured above him, squirting fluid and a sticky wet mass into the hot air and spraying him with sweet fluid.

  An intense rush of adrenaline got him upright. He searched frantically for Mira, and saw her in front of him, spreadeagled on her stomach. She’d been thrown further from the craft than he had, and he scrambled over to join her.

  She moaned at his touch.

  ‘Away!’ he cried in her ear. ‘We need to get further away.’

  She struggled to her knees and collapsed, her moaning louder.

  Jo-Jo swore at himself. He couldn’t lift her. Randall’s image sawed its way into his head. The damn mere would find strength from somewhere; he damn well would too. Bending down, he lifted Mira into his arms. She was light, but he was weak and hurting all over. Not just hurting, his body screamed at him. But he ignored it and began to stagger in the direction of the biozoons.

  He only vaguely took in the headlights of the TerV that left the edge of the ship, heading towards the dark mouth of the mine. The activity of the Saqr, though, was more worrying. They seemed disorientated, some crawling in circles while others stopped to rear up on their hind legs. Their bodies made a weird shadow play against the still-glowing ship.

  Jo-Jo set his jaw.

  Can, he told himself.

  Mira stirred in his arms. ‘Let me walk,’ she whispered.

  He shook his head. ‘You can’t.’

  The TerV lights had changed direction. It was labouring over the dunes towards them.

  ‘Who’s—in—that?’ he asked her.

  Mira pushed back the hood of her robe to see. ‘His name is Jancz. He works for them. He led the invasion here. Brought the Saqr in.’

  ‘What sort of ‘esque would work for the Extros?’

  ‘He told me it was logical that he did.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe he formed a... relationship with them, as I did with Wanton.’

  Wanton? The name she’d called out before they fell from the ship. ‘Who’s Wanton?’ he said fiercely.