Mirror Space (Sentients of Orion)

by Marianne de Pierres

  Tasy-al is unaware of our agreement. Tasy-al will be informed once you have debarked.

  And not before. Please.

  Agreed. The Omniline bids you farewell. It is most likely, in our estimation, that you will not return. Be assured we will console Tasy-al with a suitable replacement.

  At one time the Omniarch’s blunt comment might have upset or offended her, but she had grown accustomed to the biozoons’ manner. Now, strangely enough, as site made her way along the main stratum she could only feel grateful.

  THALES

  Fariss’s fingers tugged at Thales’s waistband and her lips pressed against his ear. They lay sandwiched together on the bunk, in the dark, Fariss’s large naked frame taking up most of the space. She smelt of sweat and something sweeter.

  ‘He’ll be expecting to hear us,’ she whispered. ‘Otherwise he’ll be suspicious.’

  Thales’s heart fluttered with excitement and nervousness. ‘You... do you... I mean...’

  Her hand slipped below inside the loose waistband and cupped his testicles. She began to massage them with strong, practised fingers that fell just short of inflicting pain.

  He hardened almost reflexively.

  ‘I mean... get on top of me,’ she ordered.

  In a clumsy, inexpert move, Thales rolled onto her. With their heads level, his toes scraped above her ankles. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down so that their groins met. Then she wrapped her legs around him and used her hand to guide him inside her.

  Thales listed in a sea of conflicting emotions: arousal, embarrassment—a woman had never handled him so perfunctorily before—and fear, what if he couldn’t perform? He’d never had to like this—not on demand.

  Fariss must have sensed his turmoil, his softening. She put her lips to his and filled his mouth with her tongue. With unreasonably strong arms and legs, she crushed him against her.

  He felt helpless in her grip and with that came a surge of desire. He hardened again and began to strain. She loosened her hold, enough for him to move. Within moments he climaxed, unable to stifle the sounds.

  In the bunk above them Macken rolled over and grunted.

  Thales lay on top of her panting and embarrassed, hoping that the mercenary was asleep.

  Fariss shrugged Thales off her and grabbed his hand. Without a qualm she placed it between her legs. ‘Don’t think you get to have all the fun,’ she whispered.

  She guided him then, showing him how and where to stimulate her, forcing his fingers to slide swiftly against the wet nub of her clitoris.

  She orgasmed easily, giving loud, unguarded cries.

  When she’d finished, she crooked an arm around him and drew him against her chest. Thales felt peculiar in that position—not a man’s position—although Rene had often liked him to put his head on her lap. But that had been comforting, like a parent tending her child. Nothing about Fariss was motherly. And yet, as she fell into a quick and deep sleep, he felt protected and for the briefest moment—content.

  * * *

  The contentment disappeared when he woke to Fariss rolling out of bed. Macken was already on the floor next to her, swearing and pulling on his pants.

  ‘We’re shifting early,’ Fariss explained. ‘Gotta get into the cans.’ She hooked Thales’s clothes up with her foot and flicked them at him. ‘I need to check in on Sammy. Wait here for me.’

  ‘I’ll take him to the cans if you want,’ Macken offered.

  Fariss leant over to the wall and palmed on the lights. She stared hard at the merc. ‘That a straight-up offer?’

  Macken shrugged. ‘Sure thing. I’m goin’ there, ain’t I? Not planning to stay here and rattle to death.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘All right, but don’t mess with my booty, Macken. I’ll come after you.’ She looked down at Thales.

  ‘Sh-shouldn’t I stay with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Sammy’s up a few levels. Don’t want to run out of time getting back and have to leave you here during shift’

  Thales licked dry lips. He didn’t want that either.

  ‘F-fine.’ He got up and began pulling on his borrowed clothes.

  Fariss dragged her weapons case out from under the bunk and removed something—a rifle, he thought. She closed the lid and keyed the lock. Then, to his surprise, she dropped a light kiss on his head as she bent to pull on her boots. ‘See you soon.’ With the hand Macken couldn’t see she pushed something small and hard into the pocket of Thales’s pants.

  She was gone then, leaving him alone with the mercenary and his stale sweat smell.

  Thales straightened up. He was shorter and much slimmer than the man, but he squared his shoulders.

  ‘What’s yer rush, booty?’ Macken slouched over between Thales and the door. ‘Siren gives us the final call. Wouldn’t want to get you in there too soon ‘mong all those wantin’ types. Not without yer missus. Tho’ can’t see what’s drawing her fanny to the likes of you. Bit fuckin’ scrawny I woulda thought.’

  Thales stayed quiet, containing his anger and chagrin. The man was as uncouth and vulgar as any he’d met—and pleased with himself, as well. Not in a harmless, boastful manner either. Macken’s ego made him dangerous.

  ‘Yer don’t say much tho’. Mebbe that’s why she likes you. Something to be said for booty that doesn’t gab. I’m more partial to wimmen in the sack meself, but they c’n bend yer ear so fierce you wanna snap their damn necks.’

  Thales backed away until he felt the opposite wall against his shoulder blades. He prayed for the siren to sound, calling them to the vibration buffer. ‘What do you think will happen when we reach Intel?’ he asked, seeking distraction.

  Macken stiffened for an instant then his mouth split into a less than pleasant smile. ‘My, my, now ain’t that a pretty little accent you got going there? You come through one of those expensive whorehouses then?’

  Thales nodded quickly to cover his error. ‘Yes.’

  Macken persisted. ‘Which one?’

  Thales racked his memory for the name of Aleta’s group. ‘Ardour.’

  Immediately he knew he’d made an even bigger mistake.

  ‘Ah, no wonder that big bitch brought you along.’ Macken’s face reddened, sending shivers of alarm shooting through Thales’s stomach. He wanted to run out into the corridor but knew he’d never get past the mercenary.

  ‘Planning to sell you to some to rich OLOSS type, is she? Mebbe she’s smarter than she looks.’ He took a step forward. ‘Think I might be tasting a little bit for free first though. Whores is whores in my mind—and I don’t pay for them, no matter how ejicated.’

  He took another step.

  Thales lurched to one side and tried to duck around. He got his hand to the door before Macken dragged him back. The brawny man threw him up against the wall.

  Thales struggled, but Macken flattened against him, crushing him with his superior weight.

  Thales screamed for help.

  Macken smacked him across the side of the mouth and punched him in the soft part of his back.

  Thales crumpled to the floor.

  Macken wrenched Thales’s pants down to his knees and partly lifted him to his feet. ‘You don’t act like any whore I’ve ever had. So let’s have a little taste of what makes you special.’ He rolled Thales over and threw him forward over the comm-desk.

  Thales tried to twist away from him but Macken struck him again; an open-handed smack across the side of the jaw, connecting with the same spot Fariss had hit earlier.

  The bruising accentuated the pain, and a sick feeling climbed the back of his throat. He curled further forward and felt the hardness of Fariss’s weapon press into his thigh.

  Kill him. The desire overwhelmed every other thought and sensation.

  He slipped shaking fingers into his pocket.

  As Macken attempted to penetrate him in a brutal first thrust, Thales found the trigger slot. He fumbled the pistol free of his pocket and turned the nozzle backwards, so that it p
ointed between his legs.

  It discharged into Macken’s groin, sending the mercenary flopping back onto the floor.

  Thales remained frozen by what he’d done, even when the warning sirens began to blare and the door opened abruptly.

  Fariss burst into the cabin, bearing her blunt, stubby rifle. She assessed the situation in a single breath. Bending down, she wrapped her hands around Macken’s thick neck and jerked it sharply to make sure he was dead. Then she stepped over his still form and pulled Thales’s pants up.

  ‘We have to get to the cans,’ was all she said. ‘Hurry.’

  * * *

  Thales clung to her in the vibration shelter. He couldn’t help it. The steady pressure of her arm around him as he pressed his face into her chest was the only thing that stopped him from screaming or sobbing.

  The catcalls and smutty comments from the soldiers packed alongside them on the benches were blank noise. His consciousness centred on Fariss, and the slight vibration and movement of her chest as she breathed and spoke—countering them with her own remarks.

  When the res-shift was over, she didn’t lead him back to their cabin but took the crowded lift down to the ship’s hold. They wove between rows of containers until she found a small, plax-partitioned cubicle.

  Through the daze of shock, he watched her enter and speak earnestly to an ‘esque dressed in standard work overalls. The ‘esque nodded as Fariss handed him something.

  She left the cubicle and came back to him. Her eyes showed him a kind of impatient sympathy. She grabbed his shoulders. ‘We’ll be docked in a few hours. You have to stay out of sight until then. Understand?’

  Thales tried. The words made sense but he couldn’t react to them.

  She shook him gently. ‘Macken was slime, but there’ll be fallout. They’ll come looking. I’ll say I shot him because he was chasing my booty. I’ll say you got scared and disappeared. So much will be goin’ on now we’re here; they won’t have time to search for you. I’ve paid the operator to get you off the ship when they start unloading.’ Her expression softened a fraction. ‘Find somewhere safe and contact Sammy through the station comm.’

  ‘You?’ Thales managed to get the question out, but his voice sounded so distant, so foreign, he wasn’t sure if he’d even spoken it.

  ‘I shouldn’t have left you with him. I shoulda known.’ Her brow creased in intense frustration so that her wide face seemed full of anger. She pulled him to her in a rough hug and then pushed him away.

  He watched her stride off between the rows of containers.

  ‘Get yer arse in here, mate.’ The ‘esque was behind him, pointing to an open refrigerated carton used for food transport. ‘I’ll leave the cooler off and the vents open. The automons’ll move you out in a few hours to the quarantine area. Intel likes to spray everything down before they convey ‘em to the refill depot. Get out before they fumigate.’

  Thales nodded dumbly. He climbed into the carton and a moment later was in complete darkness.

  MIRA

  You will soon be removed to the station quarantine area. It is my recommendation that you vacate before the fumigation process. The Omniline will not recognise your status should you be discovered in the quarantine area. Farewell, Innate.

  The Omniarch’s mental presence had already started to diminish in her mind. As a servitor jostled the mound of milk bladders out of the biozoon’s pelvic cavity and into a shuttle, Mira felt it drop away altogether to be replaced by Insignia’s fury.

  What have you done, Mira Fedor?

  I have made an agreement with the Omniline.

  You heedlessly risk the life of our child?

  It is not heedless, neither is it our child, she corrected.

  You made an agreement with me.

  Mira clenched her jaw. And I will keep that promise. But I have to warn OLOSS, otherwise I will have failed at everything. Don’t you see? It’s not just Araldis at risk now. The Post-Species threaten our existence.

  Several jolts shook her as she was lifted and stacked ready for transport. Then stillness followed while the shuttle covered the short distance from Ley-al to station quarantine.

  Your higher ambitions don’t concern me, Insignia persisted.

  They are not higher ambitions. I was the only one who could bring help to little Vito and Cass Mulravey and the korm. Do you know how it feels to have left your bambino to die?

  The child you call Vito is not your baby.

  Not my own flesh, but as dear to me.

  That doesn’t make sense.

  Mira clenched her jaw in frustration. How can you be so self-interested?

  How can you be so irresponsible?

  She fell silent. Insignia did not—would not—see her viewpoint.

  A second series of jolts sent Mira tipping forward onto her knees, as another automaton collected her from the shuttle and trundled down a steep incline. When it evened out, she was tipped back, jarring her spine. Cramps beset her legs and feet, and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. She massaged her legs with her fingers and prayed for the servitor to hurry.

  Finally, all was still again.

  She waited for a while before she allowed herself to prise open the bladder’s flexible seal.

  The quarantine area was a large, gloomy, flat expanse littered with cartons and containers and divided by conveyors. Automons ducked in and out of rows, unstacking and ordering and placing things on the maze of stationary tracks. A soft pulsing noise filled the air. She glanced upward, noticing the large, fat pipes protruding from the ceiling. When the time came to spray the incoming cargo, they would extend down to the middle of the warehouse. Already she could see the hydraulic hoses flexing.

  Hampered by her thicker robe, she took long minutes to wriggle out of the sour-smelling bladder. The exertion made her light-headed and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stave off sickness. It seemed that every time she placed a demand on her body it reacted with nausea or fatigue. The ‘bino drained her.

  She threaded her way between containers, stopping to peer around each one, fearing discovery, but the quarantine area seemed fully automated and devoid of ‘esque or alien.

  An automaton had already picked up her empty bladder and distributed it to a conveyor. When she reached halfway to the exit, the ceiling tubes began to descend.

  Mira increased her pace, careless of discovery now. She had to get out before the spraying started. But the door was too far. She glanced around frantically. The nearest conveyor disappeared into a narrow cavity in the wall. She ran alongside it, planning to climb onto the conveyor and crawl through its tunnel. As she reached the wall and climbed up onto the track, she heard a noise. Not the hissing of the tube hydraulics or the whine of the scurrying automatons—more like an animal caught in something.

  She climbed onto the track and glanced backwards. One of the containers behind her on the conveyor was making erratic, rocking movements. Had something alive been trapped in there?

  Above her, the bottom of each ceiling tube had opened and projected a directional nozzle.

  She crouched, preparing to crawl through the rubber- fringed entrance to the cargo tunnel, but the container noise became louder and punctuated with sounds that could have been grunts. Not animal, perhaps... but surely not...

  She climbed around the cartons between her and the moving container and bent to inspect it. It was adorned with icons denoting it as a refrigerator, and she sighted the refrigerant bar along one side. Now she was closer, she could see the door partially opened but the latch caught on the carton next to it.

  Using her knees and lower body she shifted the neighbouring carton a fraction closer to release the latch.

  The door of the refrigerated container flew open and a body spilled out, almost knocking her off the conveyor. She scrambled onto the top of the carton and clung to it.

  The ‘esque emitted a moan or a sob, she could not tell which, and glanced wildly around. Eyes fixed on her, unfocused at first and then
slowly, incredulously widening.

  ‘Baronessa?’ The male ‘esque’s voice was hoarse with emotion and distress.

  She stared into the stranger’s face. How did this man know her?

  She inhaled sharply and then stopped. The taint of something sickly sweet filled her lungs. She let out her breath. ‘Quickly,’ she said. ‘The spray.’

  He followed her back along the conveyor, crawling into the wall cavity behind her. The conveyor veered off at a right angle, disappearing through a slot under a closed shutter. There wasn’t enough space for them to follow it.

  ‘We’re trapped,’ said Mira shrilly.

  The ‘esque seemed even more frantic than she, flailing at the first shutter with his fists in a way that seemed familiar.

  ‘It’s unbreakable,’ she said automatically. Something about his panic had the reverse effect on her. She felt calmer; more able to think. ‘There must be a failsafe option. Automated facilities are required to have them.’ She knew that from the flight manuals she’d studied. ‘Look for a flywheel or an embedded disc.’

  The ‘esque obediently began searching one side of the small tunnel section while she looked over the other. The sweetly poisoned scent was creeping in,

  ‘Here,’ he cried, pointing overhead.

  ‘Spin it,’ she instructed. ‘Quickly.’

  He worked the embedded wheel with frantic fingers but it was stiff and unresponsive. ‘It won’t move,’ he gasped.

  ‘Harder!’ she urged him. She put her sleeve to her mouth. The scent was stronger in only a few breaths.

  He grunted with effort, the way he had when still trapped in the container, biting his lip, screwing up his face. As he did a flap of skin moved along his cheek as though it might slough off altogether.

  He wiped the sweat from his face against his sleeve as he pressed on the wheel. The skin peeled off and fell onto the belt. Beneath it was an ugly, blackened scar.