He brought her fingers to his face and held them against his cheek. He was trembling, as if needing her close. She felt the hot wetness of his face against hers. Felt his exhaustion to match hers. He turned and pressed his lips into her palm.
Instead of pulling away, she welcomed his contact, letting her hand cup his jaw. They were alive.
‘Baronessa?’ A quiet and totally unexpected voice intruded into their space. ‘Let me help you.’
Josef pulled away, and both of them turned in the direction of the voice.
A slim tight-skinned ’esque in a worn robe stepped around the bend of the stratum. ‘My name is Tekton of Lostol.’
JO-JO
Tekton! A wave of shock passed through Jo-Jo’s weakened body. ‘What in Crux’s name are you …’ He trailed off, barely able to believe that Tekton was standing before him.
The tyro gave a strained smile. ‘It would seem that fate has plans for us. Or should I say that Sole does.’
‘You are the tyro from Belle-Monde. You knew Marchella Pellegrini,’ said Mira. Like Jo-Jo, she forced herself to an upright position, her torso wavering as if she might collapse again.
Tekton went to her and lent his support. Slowly, carefully, he helped her to her feet. He was not much taller than her, or stronger, but he had energy where hers was spent.
‘Marchella Pellegrini,’ said Tekton. ‘A name I had not thought to hear again. Perhaps, at another time, we can speak of her. But now there is some urgency, I believe, to leave this location.’
‘Si,’ she said. ‘Help me to the buccal then come back for Josef.’
Tekton nodded his agreement, but Jo-Jo didn’t trust the tricky Godhead.
As the tyro helped Mira Fedor around the stratum and out of his sight, Jo-Jo crawled after them. On hands and knees he made his way, painfully, towards the buccal. He knew this ship, remembered the contours and bends, the quicker ways. And the ship moud code. ‘Sal,’ he gasped as he put one hand in front of the next.
Josef? Josef Rasterovich? Salacious’s reply rumbled through his mind as the longdormant moud reactivated.
Yes. I’m here.
You left me.
No. I was tricked and then put in prison on Dowl station. Jancz and Ilke stole you from me.
Oh. The hybrid seemed confused. But I have a new captain now. Tekton.
No. I am your captain. Still.
How can I know who it should be?
Serve me now, and I will release you to the Pod. End your tenure.
My contract?
It’s in my name. I can legally rescind it.
I will be free.
Yes. If you help us to leave this world.
The hybrid’s hesitation was as brief as Jo-Jo’s next breath. Welcome back aboard, my captain.
Sole
Closer, Closer
Come To Me,
All Done Soon,
All Done.
MIRA
‘I’ve heard of you, Godhead,’ whispered Mira as they negotiated the obstacles along the rubbish-cluttered strata.
‘And I, of you,’ the Lostolian replied. ‘Please … tell me what is happening outside.’
‘The Post-Species are birthing something in the desert, a new craft from the old. It is spreading … growing as if the air feeds it. We must leave this area before we are damaged by its expansion.’
‘A new craft from the old,’ repeated Tekton. ‘Fascinating. It must be the quixite.’
‘Not fascinating,’ she said, ‘terrifying.’
As they reached the buccal, tears sprang to Mira’s eyes; the walls of the hybrid’s cheek were bleeding, and its flesh hung in unhealthy clumps.
She pointed to one of the nubs in the centre of the buccal. ‘There, please, Tekton.’
Tekton helped her across to the unused Primo vein. The grey protective skin was thick and resistant to her touch. She hesitated to pierce it. She was already bonded to Insignia; if she used Sal’s vein-sink, what would happen? Would Sal’s personality meld with hers? Sal was unhealthy, not sane in the way of other biozoons. Already she could feel its agitation.
Sal, what’s wrong? she asked the hybrid.
Where are the other ’esques, Mira Fedor? Where are the corporeals? The Balol and Captain Jancz.
You killed them, Sal, Mira said gently.
It made a noise she thought to be mirth. Yes, I did. It felt good, Mira Fedor.
Were the corporeals cruel to you?
Cruel to be kind. Cruel to be kind. The hybrid sounded strained and odd, not incomprehensibly raving as Mira had heard it before, but distanced, remote.
Another sliver of fear stabbed her consciousness. Would she lose her mind to Sal if she used the Primo vein? Would she maintain her link with Insignia? And Nova?
Mama?
She ignored her daughter, lifting her finger to stab through the nano-membrane and begin the immersion process.
‘Mira. No!’ Jo-Jo Rasterovich stood swaying in the pucker of the buccal. ‘This was – is my ship. I’ll fly it. I know the island coordinates.’
He let go of the pucker and staggered across to the Autonomy nub.
Tekton made no move to help him or stop him. Mira wavered with relief. Sal? We wish to go somewhere where you can recover. Your fins will never be tied again, I promise.
The buccal started to shake, and a noise vibrated along the hybrid’s strata – part screech, part wail. Mira felt the creature’s relief and anger, but underneath it all still mistrust.
‘Josef,’ Mira whispered. ‘Be careful. Sal’s damaged.’
He nodded. ‘Then we’re a good pair.’
Mira moved to another nub and watched Jo-Jo climb into Autonomy. The v-comm unfolded over his head, and his fingers moved slowly through the air in front of him, creating patterns.
‘Tekton, sit.’ She gestured to unused nubs. ‘They will help protect you from the acceleration, but be careful not to pierce the outer layer of skin. The ’zoon is not … healthy enough to immerse in.’
The Godhead had not moved since Jo-Jo had entered the buccal, his brow drawn in concentration as though he was remembering or realising something important.
He shook his head slightly and stepped across to a nub. It responded to the pressure of his weight, folding around him. Mira sank carefully onto the surface of hers and let it do the same.
Another vibration spread through the buccal, a more familiar one. Salacious was moving. She glanced at Josef. He was concentrating, hands working, lips the same.
Finally she opened her mind to her biozoon. Insignia?
Dearest? The biozoon sounded anxious.
We’re aboard the hybrid. Follow us to the islands. I will come back to you then. Nova—
I’m here, Mama. I am happy that you are with the hybrid. I was scared.
Nova, the Post-Species have created something terrible. We must get far away from it. Insignia, it was so large … do you know what it was?
I’m afraid so, Mira.
Insignia projected her own images to Mira’s mind. They were moving. She saw the hybrid lifting high above Insignia and diving west towards the islands. Then the dunes began to shrink as Insignia gathered height. A towering shadow fell across them, a shadow that Insignia must scale – so, so high and far, encroaching on the biozoon, threatening to engulf it.
How big is it? Mira wanted to know.
I can’t say. It’s still growing. Given time, it could cover much of the main continent. Perhaps more.
No!
It’s possible while it has resources.
The quixite?
It would seem so.
As Insignia rose, the shadow seemed to chase them, while below the grisly object continued to expand.
Insignia, you must get higher!
But the shadow kept pace with them, blocking their view to the west. If Insignia faltered, the object would overtake them, suck them into its expanding mass like an exploding star gobbling a planet.
Hurry. Please. Save Nova.
A tiny but pure beam of energy joined it, bolstering Insignia’s effort, and suddenly the biozoon was free, soaring above the object.
Nova.
Little one.
Look, Mama. Look, Tasy-al.
With altitude came more perspective, and something Mira could see but barely comprehend. Crux! It’s not a ship. It’s a single Saqr.
Insignia corrected her. No, Mira. It is both.
THALES
Thales looked around the group of Swestr gathered in Magdalen’s home: thirty or more women who’d arrived during the evening in twos and threes, now occupying every available space in Magdalen’s living room. He recognised a few faces, Eclectics from the candlelight vigil at the statue of Exterus, where he’d last seen Magdalen. One woman he knew separately, an academic from the Motokiyo Aesthetics stream. Ling-Ma. She was a descendant of the famous Ma dynasty who owned the Heka system. What would her family think of her membership of the Swestr? Ling-Ma nodded at him but made no further attempt to reacquaint.
The atmosphere in the room was furtive, as though at any moment their gathering might be discovered. Thales glanced nervously at the large bay window, now shuttered, that he knew gave a splendid view of the leafy Place de Liebniz. He remembered having been in this room once before with Rene, a bohemian dinner party where they’d eaten with their fingers, and he’d drunk too much piska wine. Rene had been annoyed with him, and displeased by having to use her fingers.
They did the same now, though more for expedience, passing around slabs of hot cheese dough and carafes of juice. The dough, though tasty, sat heavily in his stomach, and he was forced to eat it slowly. Fariss had no such problem, demolishing a panful by herself. The Swestr watched her with approval while Magdalen talked.
‘We need a way to the shift station,’ she said. ‘Who can help?’
‘The Sophos are monitoring all traffic. Politics are searching shuttles,’ said a heavyset women with long white hair.
‘What about private craft?’ asked Magdalen.
‘It’s impossible to get clearance. The uplift zone is chaotic.’
‘I can get us clearance,’ said Linnea. ‘If you can get transport.’
‘I have a space-worthy,’ said Ling-Ma quietly.
More looks of approval. Most of them knew, Thales judged, but had been waiting for her to speak.
‘Thank you, Ling-Ma,’ said Magdalen. ‘Now, once on the station we’ll meet resistance. We need to bring as many of the Feohte as you can fit. What’s your capacity?’
‘Twenty. Thirty if we don’t have to shift.’
‘What’s a Feohte?’ asked Fariss with interest. She’d stopped eating, and now picked dough from her teeth. Her large body sprawled across the floor, taking up the space of three women.
‘Feohte are the Swestr’s combatants. The Swestr doesn’t advocate violence, but they recognise the need for protection.’
‘And we are that protection,’ said a woman from the back of the room.
Thales – and everyone – turned to look at her. Though not as tall or broad as Fariss, she stood with the ease of someone who was comfortable with her physicality. Her arms appeared muscular beneath her short-sleeved tunic.
‘Janne,’ said Magdalen in acknowledgement. ‘You’re late.’
Thales knew the uniform. Janne was a free-hand, one of Scolar’s manual workers who’d chosen labour as the way to enlightenment.
‘The Politics are active all over the city. This meeting is being monitored. I saw them in the street. Best we appear to be carousing.’
Magdalen threaded her fingers together and twisted her hands. ‘I’ll bring in some bottles of piska. Everyone must drink a little before leaving. How much did you hear of our conversation, Janne?’
‘Enough. How many of the Feohte can you take, Ling-Ma?’
The Hekarian looked to Magdalen. ‘Who else will it be?’
‘Thales and Fariss. You, me and Linnea. That leaves space for fifteen Feohte.’
Janne made a dissatisfied face. ‘Twenty would be better.’
But Magdalen didn’t agree. ‘We don’t know what will happen up there. It’s possible we may have to shift to survive. I won’t risk more than I need.’
‘Fifteen Feohte against squadrons of politics …’ Janne trailed off and crossed her arms.
‘We aren’t seeking conflict, Janne. Simply shielding. We have one ambition only, to close the shift sphere.’
Janne narrowed her eyes. ‘That is what I’m talking about.’
Ling-Ma’s craft would be luxurious as the ship, the Last Aesthetic, which they’d taken from Rho Junction to Edo station, though Thales could only recall the cabin Tekton had rented for them, having been too sick to venture out into the ship.
He ran his fingers over the roughened texture of his cheek. The scars had finally healed thanks to the biozoon, but they would never fade, and nor would his bitter memories of Lasper Farr. The hero of the Stain Wars was a terrifying and immoral man who wielded too much power.
After they boarded Thales lay for a while in one of Ling-Ma’s guest cabins, but was roused by Farris what seemed to him almost immediately after he’d fallen asleep.
‘Nope, it’s been hours,’ Fariss told him. ‘We’ll be docking at Scolar station soon.’
Thales stretched and sat up. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Gettin’ acquainted with Janne and the Feohte.’ She grinned.
Fariss was happy. Things were happening. How could she ever be that way with him, living an ordinary life on Scolar? If they succeeded in closing the shift sphere, that’s what she would face.
‘You know, when we shut the sphere you’ll be trapped here,’ he said.
Her smile faded. ‘Can’t say I like that idea much. But could be it’s the only way to stay alive. If so, then you’re gonna have to keep me entertained.’
Her answer was light, but Thales saw the slight tightening of her jaw. Fariss was a free spirit, not a person to be tied to one place. But their choices were limited. The Extros had seen to that.
‘I’ll do everything I can,’ he promised.
‘Make sure of it.’ She leaned over and kissed him deeply, stirring his desire.
He washed, then followed her out of the cabin to the low-lit lounge area. Janne and half the Feohte were there with Magdalen and Linnea. All of them were watching a map in the centre of the room.
Linnea glanced across at them and pointed at the diagram. ‘This is the area around station Shift Command, where the res-shift controls are. There’re two ways in – either through the front door, or by busting a hole through from the information node which backs on to it. IN is the best option, in my opinion. Other than the technicians, there’s usually only a small entry guard. Whereas Shift Command’s got a series of checkpoints.’
‘We’ve brought cutting tools,’ said Janne. ‘Are the walls titanium?’
The galley supervisor and former IN tech nodded. ‘Behind the actual node is steel. The outer walls are titanium.’
‘Ling-Ma will stay with her craft,’ said Magdalen. ‘Linnea will lead us to the IN.’
‘And then?’ asked Janne.
‘Then I call the tune,’ said Fariss.
Thales held his breath, waiting for objections. But no one spoke, not even Janne. Strangely, the Feohte leader seemed satisfied. As they all did.
At some point in the short time they’d been together, an implicit agreement had been reached among the Swestr. Fariss knew danger better than anyone.
BALBAO
‘We’re station side,’ said Jelly Hob. ‘C’n feel it.’
Balbao roused from his doze and sat up. He sensed nothing different to the previous days they’d spent in their prison. ‘How can you tell?’
‘C’n hear it,’ said Hob.
The others joined them in paying atten
tion. The old woman, Samuelle, nodded her head. ‘Yeah. You’re right. They haven’t vacced us yet, Jeremiah. So now what?’
Balbao was wondering the same. Days had passed with no contact from Farr, or anyone save the guards. Ra had not returned, which, though a relief in some ways, had made him speculate over what had befallen the arrogant Godhead. Was Ra assisting Farr is some way? Or was he dead? Somehow, he felt it might be the former.
‘That would be Scolar res station?’ asked Lawmon Jise.
He and Miranda Seeward had spent much of the time over the last few days huddled together, whispering and petting. Their fellow prisoners had tried ignoring them, but the pair seemed almost childishly unaware, or uncaring, of their exhibitionism.
‘Less Lasper decided something else, I’d say so,’ said Sammy. ‘You know, the Swestr are strong here,’ she added under her breath to Jelly Hob.
Balbao wanted to ask her what Swestr were, but
Connit jumped up off his bunk and smacked the wall.
‘Why did he come here? It’s suicidal!’
Commander Farr’s son appeared to have inherited none of his father’s unnatural calm. In fact, Balbao was starting to fear for the young ’esque’s sanity. In sleep, Connit had moaned and ground his teeth, and during waking moments he was singularly withdrawn.
His dour mood infected them all, and they fell glumly silent in the wake of his statement.
Even later, when they ate together, conversation didn’t improve, and Balbao went to sleep feeling disconsolate and helpless.
He was woken by a hand across his mouth and a warning in his ear. ‘It’s Sammy. We wanna talk to you, nice and quiet now, over at our bunk.’
Balbao fought his instinct to swing at the person who’d brought him abruptly from sleep, and nodded.
She took her hand away and disappeared back across the dark cell.
Balbao gave himself a few moments to wake before sitting up. Jise, Miranda and Connit all appeared to be asleep. He trod carefully over to Sammy and Hob’s section of the prison cell.
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