Mira nodded.
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘Scolar.’
‘Home? I am home?’ Gladness crept into his voice, colour to his skin.
Mira let herself enjoy his pleasure. ‘There are people I’m sure that you wish to see. I would only ask that you support my request to be treated at the Mount Clement clinic.’
Thales jerked up a little. The vein responded by buoying him upright. ‘Of course. Baronessa, forgive me. How is your baby?’
‘‘Insignia has slowed my fluid loss, but I risk infection without proper care. I would ask your advice on how to contact the clinic quickly.’
The colour deserted his face as he climbed to sit on the side next to her, the effort taxing him. ‘I must contact my wife.’
Mira stared at him steadily. ‘Sophos Mianos’s daughter, the one you spoke of in front of the summit meeting? Will she help you?’
‘I—I’m not sure.’ He stared back at her just as intently. ‘But we have been through much together, you and I. I will do my best for you.’
‘Give Insignia the details and she will attempt contact. Do you wish to bathe first?’
‘That would be preferable, or my wife may not recognise me.’ Mira heard the tinge of bitterness in his humour.
‘I would bathe also.’ She rubbed her hand across the small hard lump in her belly. It felt lower, as though it pressed on her bones. ‘But I don’t have much time, Thales.’
He nodded. ‘I will hasten.’
They helped each other as far as the cucina, where Fariss appeared. The tall soldier’s face softened when she saw Thales. ‘You’re awake.’
‘Could you help him to a cabin?’ Mira asked her.
Fariss stuffed the biscuits she held into her mouth, and scooped up Thales in her arms as if he weighed nothing. The young scholar sank against her with complete trust.
As Mira watched them disappear along the stratum, her heart tugged a little, not from jealousy but envy. She hadn’t experienced comfort in another’s company since her sister Faja had died. Even Insignia and the nurturing of the Primo vein did not fill her need for humanesque intimacy.
She continued on to her cabin, where she bathed and brushed her hair, taking care to keep her movements slow and steady. When she was finished, she located an absorbent wad in the cabin cupboard and inserted it into her fresh underwear.
Feeling more ready to cope with what would come next, she sat on the bed.
‘Wanton?’
The Post-Species individual was where she had left it, resting on her bed covers against the tiny blisters of mycose. The pile had dwindled since her last visit to her cabin, indicating that Wanton was still in trouble.
‘Mira-fedor. Wanton is most pleased to hear your voice.’
‘H-how are you?’
‘The mycose has preserved my life. It is not an inexhaustible supply though. I would hope to heal the fracture in my casing before it has depleted much further.’
Mira leaned closer to the small gelatinous object. Its voice sounded plaintive, but she was never sure if attributing humanesque characteristics and emotions to it was appropriate. Did Wanton have feelings in the way she understood them? The Extro had helped her to escape her Post-Species gaol, and had displayed a very humanesque sense of self-preservation throughout their escape from the Hub world, but something was intrinsically different between them. Something she couldn’t qualify.
‘We are in Scolar space,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Wanton. ‘The biozoon has been exchanging information with me.’
‘Insignia? said Mira with surprise. ‘And you?’
‘We have shared our knowledge of humanesques. It is surprising to see what information we both lacked.’
Mira sat back, annoyed and amused. Wanton and Insignia had been talking about her. ‘And what did you learn?’
‘Contradictory would seem the most appropriate word.’
Mira couldn’t control her defensive reflex. ‘I wouldn’t specify that as a solely humanesque trait. I have known you to be evasive, and Insignia to be contrary.’
‘It is true that both biozoons and Post-Species Hosts display minor idiosyncrasies, but with humanesques it seems to be... quintessential.’
‘What do you need to heal yourself?’ Mira changed the subject quickly. Together Wanton and Insignia, it seemed, would be impossibly superior.
‘I am not permitted to disclose the required healing substance.’
‘Then how can I help you?’
‘I will tell you when and how.’
Mira let out an exasperated breath. ‘Now who is being obtuse?’
Mira, interrupted Insignia, Thales is ready to contact Scolar.
Mira pressed her hand down into the bed to ensure that the mycose blisters rolled as close to Wanton as possible.
I’m coming.
BELLE-MONDE
The tyros filled the ménage lounge with chatter and the smell of fruit cocktails. Chief Balbao seated himself, stiff-backed, in a lounge chair in the centre of the small bar and waited for them to assemble around him: Miranda Seeward, Javid Javiddat, Labile Connit, Lawmon Jise, Ra of Lostol and the uuli pair whose names he could never remember.
‘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 t
he 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 you
r 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.’
Transformation Space (Sentients of Orion Book 4) Page 4
