Dark Space (Sentients of Orion)

by Marianne de Pierres

  ‘Who are you, Mesquite, that you can read my future?’ Mira laughed.

  Mesquite sighed heavily. ‘A person who pays daily for the sins of her ancestors.’ She inhaled deeply, then let the roll-up hang from her lip. The smoke curled up into her dark hair. ‘When it happens, you run. I will hoard a little food in Cass’s barge but there is not much to spare. You take as many of the women from this dorm as you can—and get out. Go to the Pablo mines south of Pellegrini B.’

  ‘Why there?’

  ‘Provisions have been made for this kind of... occurrence.’ Mesquite hesitated as if she might share something more but the moment passed. She turned and began hanging more liners out. ‘You must accept this and trust me.’

  More questions sprang to Mira’s lips but in the end Mesquite’s steadfast self-possession silenced them all.

  * * *

  That night Mira went to the town salon to see Rast.

  Catchut patted her down against the wall in the large room they had first been taken to.

  Mira stood stiff against the contact, wishing it to be over.

  ‘Nothing on you, but what about in you?’ Catchut’s smile was cruel.

  Acid rose in Mira’s throat—what did the mercenary mean? She took quick nervous sideways steps until she knocked into something—the weapon that had so intimidated the miners.

  Catchut pounced on her, rescuing it from falling.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Mira. ‘Why were they so scared of one rifle?’

  Catchut moved the rifle to the table, placing it carefully in the middle. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘You aristos don’t get out much, do you?’

  Mira thought he might even laugh but the hint of humour died as his stare rested on the covered rifle.

  ‘GRG. Gamma-ray. Best you go and see the Capo. Save your questions for her.’

  Rast was in a smaller room that she was using for sleeping. She wore a soft grey underliner that showed the lines of her hardened muscles. Her combat hood and protecsuit were next to her feet.

  Like Mira, her possessions were few—a spare underliner, some personal effects and a tube of cleaning gel. Parts of her rifle were spread across a low bureau in precise order. She selected a part and squeezed a small trail of gel onto it. ‘How fare the warrior gentry?’

  Mira ignored the sarcasm. She leaned wearily against the door—she’d worked in the hydro tents through the day and had taken her rostered turn in the laundry. Clothes were becoming a problem. Some of the liners in the protecsuits needed replacing and the familia who wore fellalas needed the skins repaired.

  Rast saw her fatigue. ‘I hear you’ve been getting your hands dirty, Baronessa’ she said. ‘You want to watch out, you’ll be getting a reputation.’

  ‘I suppose you would know about that,’ Mira countered.

  Silence fell between them, which Rast showed no interest in breaking. She carried on methodically cleaning her weapon.

  Mira straightened her back and took a deep breath. ‘I have come to ask you for guards on the dorms. The women are no longer safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ Rast’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. ‘Can’t do, Baronessa. I only have twenty people here that I can trust and I can’t spare them to babysit.’

  ‘Bodies are turning up around the town every morning. There won’t be anything left for the Saqr—we’re killing ourselves.’

  Rast’s expression became unreadable. ‘It happens like that. But we need to wait.’

  ‘For who? What help will come here?’

  Rast seemed about to answer but instead she put down a rifle part and came over to Mira. She ran a hand down Mira’s arm. ‘You’ve lost weight.’

  ‘We all have,’ Mira retorted, edging back.

  ‘You look more real every day.’

  ‘Real?’ asked Mira, puzzled.

  ‘I like the look of you here... and here...’ Rast leaned over and caressed Mira’s neck.

  Mira stood absolutely still, like a hunted animal. ‘The men think you are weak. They will do something whether you like it or not.’

  Rast dropped her hand to her side. ‘The Saqr don’t fall down dead in front of ancient .44 Winchesters and electromagnetic pistols, Baronessa. Their skin is too tough.’

  ‘What about your fancy rifle that everyone is frightened of?’

  ‘Even with that we will be butchered if we fight them now.’

  ‘The miners don’t think so.’

  ‘What do you think, Mira Fedor?’ Rast asked softly. Her eyes gleamed with an intensity that made Mira want to curl up.

  ‘I think we may starve to death. But before that we will kill each other. We are living on a diet of kranse and quark eggs. The high protein will send us all loco in the end anyway.’

  ‘As I’ve said at the town meetings, I have scouts out. One of them, Latourn, has just located some surviving Carabinere. They will be here within days to assist us. If they can launch a counter-attack we shall stand a better chance.’

  ‘And if not, one night you and yours will just disappear and leave us to our fate.’

  Rast suddenly looked tired. She rubbed her eyes. ‘I can’t save all these people, Fedor. Not without help. But if I can save my crew, I will.’

  ‘We have assailant craft on Mount Pell. If I could somehow get these I could come back here and assist you to break the impasse with an air attack.’

  Rast gave a humourless grin. ‘And what would your experience of this sort of thing be, Baronessa? A handful of virtual hours on a simulation programme? How do you think you might survive a journey to Pell? Do you think the Fleet is still intact? And if, by some miracle, you succeeded and got to them, would you come back? Wouldn’t it be easier to just disappear?’

  ‘I would never do that. Even a woman has honour.’

  ‘Even a woman?’ Rast narrowed her eyes. ‘You might have made a soldier—but you would be a terrible mercenary.’

  Mira straightened her shoulders. ‘And you would disappoint as a Baronessa.’

  Rast belly-laughed until her hood began to beep. She picked it up and slipped it on. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Capo. An AiV’s just flown in on the north-side perimeter. I think you should see who is in it.’ Mira heard the voice as clearly as if she was wearing the hood herself.

  Rast jumped to her feet, pulling her protecsuit on. ‘No, you can’t have a guard. Now get yourself back to the dorms.’

  Mira reacted to being dismissed. ‘If it is to do with the Saqr maybe I can help?’

  Surprisingly, Rast didn’t argue. ‘Sure. If you keep up,’ she said as she closed up her hood.

  By the time Mira had sealed her velum and followed her from the building, Rast was reversing her TerV. Mira scrambled into the passenger seat as the mercenary leader started to weave between pedestrians before heading quickly to the northern perimeter.

  Within moments Mira could feel the heat burning her skin even through the TerV’s canopy. Her eye- display told her that her fellala needed re-skinning.

  She would not be the only one with such a problem. And she had heard that the melanin boosters were running out as well. How long before people started dying from heatstroke?

  ‘Are you sick, Baronessa?’ Rast had pulled the TerV alongside the northern guard post and was staring at her.

  ‘I’m due for a melanin booster.’

  Rast took out her ‘scope and trained it on the AiV that had landed some mesurs back on the other side of the laser fence. ‘Well, I got some bad news for you there.’

  Mira nodded. ‘They are finished?’

  ‘Yep.’ Rast tapped the focus toggle. After a moment of intense scrutiny she swore in cold, hard words that brought more heat to Mira’s body.

  ‘What is it?’

  Rast brushed her arm as she handed her the ‘scope. ‘See the ‘esques? There’s only one reason for them to be here.’

  Mira placed the ‘scope to her eyes, altering the focus. Her hands shook so much that the mechanism struggled to compensate. She brac
ed herself against the door of the TerV and reset the eyepiece. ‘What reason is that?’

  ‘Killing.’

  Mira swept the scope along the figures standing on the other side of the fence near a recently landed AiV—a dozen Saqr and two humanesques.

  Jancz and Ilke.

  TRIN

  ‘Where would you have us go, Don Pellegrini? If Christian Montforte and Jus Malocchi are dead then what of Franco? Is it likely that you are now the Principe?’

  The question came through the shortcast from Juno Genarro who was piloting the AiV that hovered on Trin’s right wing. Trin sensed he was asking it for the benefit of the other Carabinere listening in.

  Trin did not hesitate—he could not, if he were to take the lead. ‘It is very likely,’ he said gravely.

  Are you dead, papa? He did not stop to probe his own feelings—they were too tangled. But he knew where they should go. ‘My tia Marchella has stockpiled her mine with food. Pablo also has many subsidiary tunnels. We can withdraw underground to the south if necessary.’ His voice sounded confident even though his mind was skittering through a thousand possible tragedies.

  ‘What about the Fleet?’ someone asked. ‘You are Pilot First. We could use the Fleet’s weapons to rid ourselves of these creatures.’

  A strangling sensation rose in Trin. He would never admit to these men that he could not command the Fleet, that he was unable to fly the Insignia because its systems were too intuitive for him. ‘If this invasion has been well planned then the Fleet will be gone: destroyed or sequestered. We could scout the Fleet base but it

  would be time wasted when we have injured who need medic. The Pablo mine will contain much of what we will need.’

  Voices crowded the shortcast, trading opinions.

  Trin let them debate for a few minutes before he cut across their talk. ‘It will be this way. Juno Genarro will take one craft to Dockside to see if the Fleet survives. I will lead the others to the Pablo mine.’

  There were no objections to his decision. Trin felt energised: these men were listening to him.

  Genarro immediately altered his direction to Dockside while the three remaining AiVs set their course south, for Pablo.

  They flew for several hours across the great red plains, spotting only occasional burned-out ground vehicles among the dust swirls and quivering mirages.

  Trin switched to autopilot and made a show for his Carabinere passengers of closing his eyes, though his thoughts rebounded between Djeserit, the fate of his papa, and the extent of his resources. Four AiVs and forty-five men—three injured—did not make an army. Are you dead, papa?

  ‘Principe?’ Seb Malocchi roused him from his reverie. He gestured below.

  Trin glanced out of his window. They had reached the beginning of the iron dunes outside Loisa where rocks jutted like rows of broken red teeth. ‘Si?’

  ‘Our visual scans are showing a TerV on one of the dunes. They are signalling for our help.’

  ‘Search the lower frequencies.’

  Seb sent his scanner flicking until he located an ‘esque voice.

  ‘—ed assistance. Repeat. Need assistance.’

  Trin toggled the shortcast. ‘This is the Araldis Carabinere. Identify yourself.’

  ‘Thank fuck,’ the voice said in a muffled aside. ‘It’s the Carabinere.’ Then louder. ‘My name is Latourn. I’ve been sent from Ipo to scout for help. The Saqr have surrounded the town. We got over three thousand ‘esques trapped there. We’ve rigged a laser fence around from the town’s power cells and a team of eighteen IH are holding everything together. How many men do you have? Do you have weapons?’

  Interstellar Hire. ‘What are IH doing on Araldis?’ Trin demanded.

  ‘The Principe hired us. We arrived a bare week ago.’

  Trin sensed the men behind him glancing at each other. ‘I know nothing of this,’ he said.

  ‘Can’t help that, mate,’ said Latourn dryly. ‘Can you help us?’

  ‘What do you propose?’

  ‘Our Capo wants a distraction coming from behind them. She reckons we can get most out that way. Needs to be coordinated through her, though. We’ve got combat- com and one GRG. Things are getting desperate, though: food is short. The miners are fixing for a bloodbath, which wouldn’t be so bad—if the town wasn’t full of women and bambini.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘Our Capo is Rast Randall. Best IH in the business,’ he added.

  Trin took a moment to think. Why had papa hired mercenaries? Had he suspected that danger was imminent? ‘We must collect some resources at one of our mines and then we will hasten to Ipo. Stay on this frequency. Give us two days.’

  ‘The quicker the better—I’ll tell the Capo that the cavalry are coming.’

  ‘Carabinere.’ Trin corrected Latourn humourlessly, and signed off.

  * * *

  They continued south but this time Trin returned to manual flight to distract himself from his hunger pains and his fears. Djeserit had not uttered a sound since Pell and he fought his compulsion to glance anxiously at her. Hovering over a ginko was not the way to keep the respect of these men he was leading.

  As they descended towards the Pablo site, they flew over the giant excavation machinery at Pellegrini B, which stood inert and abandoned: vari-loaders, scrapers, and haulers, their paint blistering under the sun. Many, dust blowing from their half-full buckets, looked as if their operation had been suspended mid-action.

  ‘Looks like everyone’s deserted, Principe,’ said Seb Malocchi.

  A sensation of unease grew inside Trin. Was he the only one who knew of Pablo’s food and medic stores?

  They set down on the landing pad by the Pablo site office and spilled from the AiVs, gathering in the shade of two haulers. Joe Scali stood next to Trin like an anxious fratella. ‘Bring the ginko, Nobile. You will have to carry her,’ Trin whispered to him.

  His friend nodded and returned to the AiV.

  Better that he himself kept his distance from her,

  Trin thought. ‘Where is the entrance to the main shaft?’ he asked.

  ‘Behind the water tanks,’ called an Ascanio. ‘But there are only these two TerVs left. We will have to walk or do repeat trips.’

  Trin glanced around. Apart from the gusting swirls of dust and the men’s voices, the mine was unnaturally quiet and without movement. ‘Together,’ he said firmly. ‘Use the TerVs to follow with the injured.’

  Again there was no argument from the men.

  They walked into the main tunnel minutes later. As the light faded behind them, Trin found himself breathing too frequently. Even though the tunnel was wide and the descent gentle, it was as if a weight of rock pressed down on him and the oxygen in the air had diminished.

  They zigzagged downward along the road for an hour or so before they reached the bottom of the main shaft. The road opened out into a large cavern into which entry was blocked by a line of electric crawlers, diggers and spiders. The line was too perfect, too tight, as if the vehicles had been set there as a deliberate boundary.

  ‘Wait,’ Trin told the Carabinere.

  He motioned Seb Malocchi to follow him as he climbed onto a giant track of one of the machines. Behind it, the cavern was pitch black.

  Malocchi pressed a torch into his hand.

  Trin shone it up to the rocky ceiling and then along and down one side.

  ‘In front of us,’ whispered Malocchi. ‘Some movement, I think.’

  Trin swung the light directly in front of him. Anxious faces peered back at him from the gloom. Hundreds of them.

  ‘Don Pellegrini,’ shouted a voice in relief. ‘Thank Crux—it is the young Principe.’

  MIRA

  The Saqr broke through the fence before dawn.

  There were just shouts at first: unintelligible noise that could have meant nothing more than another fight at one of the clubs.

  Then, as Mira started awake, the shouts became hoarse but distinct words that filled her with a sick
kind of fear.

  ‘Fence’s down!’

  ‘Wake up. Wake up. They’re through!’

  ‘The Saqr are coming!’

  Mira rolled from her bed and began pulling on her fellala. The korm woke a moment later and gave a loud screech. Across on the other side of the room Mesquite was shaking women awake, directing them to stay calm and collect their things. They were assembled in a handful of minutes, clutching their bambini and their meagre possessions.

  Mira slipped Vito into a harness that Cass had fashioned from kranse stalks. She put her hand on the korm’s forearm to quieten it down.

  It blinked its large eyes.

  ‘Stay near me,’ Mira said, ‘whatever happens.’

  The alien stopped screeching and chittered.

  Suddenly Mesquite was next to her. ‘Cass will be waiting with her land barge. You take these women there. Go to the Pablo mine, south of Pellegrini B.’

  ‘Perche?’

  ‘Because it has many subsidiary tunnels that lead far south underground. With enough water you should make it nearly to the islands. If any of the Carabinere are alive they will go there as well—the smart ones. If Franco is dead, as they say he is, someone will have assumed leadership. Perhaps Jus Malocchi. Perhaps Trinder, my young nipote.’

  ‘Nipote?’ Mira wanted to shake her head to clear it for with every word she spoke Mesquite’s voice had lost its standard ‘esque accent and acquired something more cultured—more familia. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Marchella Pellegrini,’ she said simply.

  Mira stared at Mesquite—Marchella—in astonishment. Of course—how could she not have seen it? ‘B-but... aren’t you coming?’

  ‘There are five other dormitories in Ipo like this one, plus the women who have taken others into their homes and those who chose to stay with their men. I will get as many out as I can. These are your responsibility, Mira. Keep them together. The Saqr are less likely to attack a large group.’ The woman gave her a rough push. ‘Don’t let me down, Faja Fedor’s little sorella.’ With a quick squeeze of her shoulder, Marchella disappeared.