She gave a low chuckle, a sound rusty from lack of use. ‘I heard you, Principe. You cannot thump at the water in such a way without deafening us.’
Us? The word caught in his chest. ‘You have been avoiding me.’
Djes buckled onto her knees and cupped Trin’s face
in her hands with her thick webbed fingers. Her face was changing, her skin glistening like that of the fish she pulled fresh from the sea for them to eat.
‘Not avoiding you. I’ve been exploring as far ahead as I could and I’ve got news. There are two islands between us “and a deep channel. On the other side of the channel there’s a bigger place where I think we can stay—high cliffs and thick vegetation. Never seen it like that before on Araldis.’
Trin sat up, pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. They sank down into the water together, flattening their profile to the curious watchers. Her arms felt cool and prickly around him as if scales were forming on them, and her mouth had the briny taste of the seaweed that they had all been eating. He was losing her to the sea and yet he could not make her stop. Her special physiology was all that kept them alive.
‘You are sure?’
Djes nodded. ‘I left the water and walked as far as I could before I had to turn back to still be here before dawn. The island is huge. Fifty times the size of this one.’ She sounded excited now.
‘The channel must be the Galgos Straits. Will the flat-yachts be able to navigate it?’
‘I think the crossing will take more than a day. It’s rough and I had to swim deeper than I wanted to, to avoid a family of xoc.’
She said it quickly, with no great emphasis, but Trin’s heart contracted. ‘Xoc! Then you must not go out again. It is too dangerous.’
Djes patted her webbed hand against Trin’s cheek and breathed salty flavours into his nose and mouth.
‘You’ll need me in the water for the crossing. It’s not like these gentle passages. There’re reefs that you won’t see until you run across them.’
‘But—’
Her hand pressed to his mouth. ‘I will come aboard to rest.’
Trin could think of no argument to deter her. Her devotion to him somehow neutralised the offensiveness of her independent manner. Or perhaps it was simply that she made such simple, logical decisions. Unlike Cass Mulravey whose abrasive way and ready prejudices were like oxygen to his fire.
‘When we reach the new island, we will be able to fish for ourselves. You will come back to the land,’ he said.
But the mounting light showed Trin the uncertainty in Djes’s expression, and he pulled her tightly to him. ‘You will,’ he repeated.
JO-JO RASTEROVICH
The uuli guide led Jo-Jo and Catchut through a series of smaller compartments into a large darkened space. The dim lighting revealed the convocation chamber to be a catoplasma balloon ridged with concentric seating—and stinking of an unreasonable fusion of odours.
Jo-Jo’s throat began to close again. He massaged it from the outside and told himself that he couldn’t be allergic to sweat.
They were shown to armchairs at the bottom of the chamber.
‘When you are ready to convene, make contact with the conductive strip in the curve of your headrest. I will return to you afterwards,’ said the uuli.
Catchut poked the strip with suspicion. ‘Like my virtuals to be somethin’ I can put on and take off,’ he grumbled. ‘Never know what they’re stealing from you otherwise.’
Jo-Jo had an urge to laugh. He hadn’t reckoned Catchut for a Luddite.
‘Why don’t you just sit and watch me breathe, then?’
Catchut growled and banged his head back against the sensor. A few seconds later his face relaxed.
Jo-Jo leaned into the strip more carefully. But the transition was smooth enough and he found himself in a perfect representation of the same chamber surrounded by tiers of bodies engaged in the type of squabbling behaviour that Jo-Jo had spent most of his life avoiding.
He glanced across at Catchut. The mercenary had chosen a female avatar with long, sensuous legs: a suitable companion for a God-Discoverer.
Suppressing his desire to laugh, Jo-Jo let the clash of the surrounding arguments sink into his mind, sorting one thread from another. One section of the convocation was bickering over trade agreements with OLOSS, while a smaller, less vocal core were analysing the reason for the unusually large presence of Extropists on Rho Six. Beneath those layers of discussion were individual conversations. He skimmed across them until one blew all other thoughts from his mind: a report of a shooting incident in the Heijunka section of Bell One between a hired balol security guard and a visiting Lostolian archiTect.
Lostolian archiTect?
‘Convocation has the privilege of an unexpected visit from one of Orion’s most notable speakers, Josef Rasterovich the Third, frequently referred to as the God-Discoverer. Welcome, Msr Rasterovich,’ announced the speaker.
No. But...
Jo-Jo was forced to launch into his patter, which he delivered while he tried to follow the sub-channelling. Annoyingly, most of it had stopped or had dropped below his auditory level. The Convocation, it seemed, were captivated by his story.
To his relief the speaker called for a break before question time.
Jo-Jo leapt from his chair. Nausea from the rapid
reality switch burned its way up his oesophagus. He burped it out and called for the uuli escort.
‘What is it?’ Catchut was standing behind him, blinking and clutching his stomach. ‘What happened?’
‘Msr?’ The uuli escort appeared from inside the chamber.
‘There is talk of a shooting in the Heijunka district. Where can I find out more about it?’
The uuli took some time to reply. ‘There is a public viewer outside the chamber should you wish to access public news.’
‘Show me.’
The uuli slid ahead of them, back through the small antechambers and out into a heavily trafficked section.
Jo-Jo ran past it to the closest ‘cast node but the queues wound back for half a mesur into the CBD.
Catchut was breathing in his ear. ‘What in fuckin’ cruxsakes are you—’
‘Another one, I need another ‘cast.’
‘There is another one behind the water tower,’ volunteered the uuli. It had caught up with them and was contorting in and out of shape, as if agitated.
Jo-Jo, followed by Catchut, ran the short distance to the node behind a large cylindrical tank. He thumbed the shortcast into action and began searching the feeds. The story was logged in Gal, between unverified reports that the Arrivals Bell was being closed while The Families investigated the flood of Extropists onto the mesa-worlds, and a notice that the TAFTers’ Convocation was in progress.
Jo-Jo opted for audio only and peeled an earpiece from the dispenser. He listened carefully to the report and then placed a query.
The reply was quick. ‘The identity of the archiTect is not public information at this time.’
Jo-Jo cued up the unverified sources. ‘Potential identification?’ he asked.
They all returned the same educated guess. ‘Tekton of Lostol.’
Jo-Jo reeled back. ‘Well, fuck me, Carnage Farr. Did your System Device predict that?’
Then a thought slapped him across the head. He blanked out the feed and stepped away from the ‘caster. Farr hadn’t shown him a tool for forecasting at all—he didn’t want to predict the future, he wanted to shape it. It was a Bifurcation Device. And where in Crux had he got the technology for that?
Realisation became a throb in his temple. There was only one possible answer—
‘Rasterovich!’
It was Catchut, with Rast Randall standing beside him.
‘Saw the Capo on the other side of the node.’
Jo-Jo glanced around. ‘Where are Beth and the Baronessa?’
Rast hesitated. There was a shifty look in her eyes that could have been guilt. ‘I got called away to do some busin
ess. Sent ‘em back straight back to the ‘zoon. Only...’
‘Only what?’ Jo-Jo demanded.
‘Only I just tried to ‘cast them. Can’t get a reply.’
MIRA
According to the tourist guide in Mira’s ear, the markets that populated the Rho Six docks never closed. Vendors replenished their stocks from flat-backed automons which meandered down the rows with arrogant lack of concern for the passing foot traffic.
Mira was overwhelmed by the collision of pungent smells and the colours and shapes of the myriad sentient forms. She found herself wanting to reach for Bethany’s hand like a child afraid of losing its mother in a crowd. She had craved to see such a place but now, confronted by it, she was terrified.
‘Siphonophores. Incredible,’ breathed Bethany as a group of nearly transparent creatures passed by them. ‘Their feet are so fluid it’s as though they are floating.’
Mira glanced at the pale suckered rippling flaps of skin that flowed across the floorspace. ‘They look amphibious.’
‘Probably were,’ said Rast Randall. ‘The Extros would have modified them when they stole their bodies.’
‘Then it is true?’ exclaimed Mira.
The mercenary stood aside from them a little, watching. ‘What? That they are body stealers? Yep. They poach bodies like we change clothes.’ She looked down at the borrowed Cipriano robe that she had worn over her grey garb almost constantly since Araldis. ‘Well, most of the time, anyway. And they don’t care too much about the organism they’ve used up, either.’
‘In their defence, they normally pick a sub-sentient species,’ said Bethany.
‘“In their defence”?’ Rast didn’t attempt to hide a sneer. ‘Why would you be defending them?’
Bethany flushed and shrugged. ‘Just a comment.’
Rast had been restless and antagonistic ever since they had left Insignia. As if the mercenary was preempting trouble.
‘How long do you think Thales will be?’ asked Mira.
‘Shouldn’t take long to give him the shot. Might be Rasterovich that takes the time.’ Rast frowned. ‘Seems like a lot of Extros on the docks and up there.’ She pointed to the high part of the dome where extraordinary butterfly-like creatures glided about.
‘They are Extropists.’
‘I’m guessing,’ said Rast.
‘I’ve seen them like that in the war, only far less innocent. Those ones were carrying lots of military fruit.’
Mira was entranced by the grace and shining transparency of their wings. ‘It’s hard to imagine.’
‘I’ve tried to tell you this before, Fedor. Never underestimate an Extro in any form.’
They moved on slowly. ‘What are those?’ Mira pointed to large once-white catoplasma tubes stacked alongside each other like bits of a flattened hive.
‘Cheap sleeper units,’ said Bethany. ‘Not everyone can afford proper accommodation in these places.’
‘But there must be barely enough room to roll over in them,’ said Mira.
‘Space comes at a price in these places, Baronessa. You planet people never really get that.’
‘Why? Were you born in one of these?’ asked Mira innocently.
Rast guffawed and for a moment Mira was almost enjoying herself.
Then a thickset ordinary male humanesque detached himself from the milling crowd of buyers and touched Rast’s elbow.
The mercenary twisted his fingers backward in a cruel and deft move.
Mira stepped back at the look of pain on the ‘esque’s face. With her other hand Rast patted the weapon under her robe.
She spoke a couple of quiet words in the man’s ear and let him go. He hastened back to the throng.
Rast glanced across at Mira and Bethany. ‘You know which docking tunnel we came through?’
‘Si.’ Mira pivoted and pointed to the Tau Crux symbol above one of the many tube ends.
‘Berniere should be well on his way to his errand now. When it’s done we need to dust this place. Finish up your gawking and get back to the ‘zoon. Don’t let anyone other than us on board.’
‘Why? Where are you going?’ Bethany asked anxiously.
Mira’s stomach knotted. Rast was leaving them alone. She had foolishly expected the mercenary to be dependable. Since that moment aboard Insignia when she had bared her soul Rast had been different. So she had thought.
‘Got some business to attend to that can’t wait,’ said
Rast. She strode away towards the fast-trak without another word.
‘So much for our protection,’ said Bethany. She looked less composed now, her face a sheen of perspiration. ‘What is she up to, I wonder?’
Mira guessed what it was. She had seen the satchel outlined beneath her robe beside the mercenary’s—weapon—but she did not share her knowledge with Bethany. She was Lasper Farr’s sister. Like Trinder and Franco Pellegrini, familia traits often ran deeper than appearance. Even Rast didn’t deserve that kind of betrayal.
‘I think we should return to Insignia. I am not sure that we are altogether safe alone,’ Mira said. Her imagination was already at work. The crowd seemed to have closed in on them without Rast there, as though the mercenary exuded some sort of personal power that demanded space.
‘Yes,’ Bethany agreed.
They began to retrace their route to Insignia but within a few steps of joining the main stream of traffic they were engulfed by a group of the towering transparent jelly creatures. Bethany and Mira were separated. Mira reached through the gelatinous wall for Bethany’s hand but what had appeared to be fluid flesh was now as rigid and impenetrable as steel. She let their motion propel her along, fighting off the sensation of suffocation. They will pass me by and I will be free of them. They will pass...
But a few steps later black ink squirted through the siphonophores’ bodies and they lost all transparency.
Mira tried to call out to Bethany but her voice was dry with fear.
Then she felt her body lifted up by their momentum and the light faded to something terribly, terribly dark.
JO-JO RASTEROVICH
‘You what!?’ Jo-Jo’s fists balled in anger and fear lodged in his throat. If Rast had endangered Mira Fedor he would rip the mercenary apart.
Rast saw his expression and squared her shoulders. She stuck out her jaw. ‘They were a few hundred mesurs from the docking tube. They’ve probably gone off sightseeing. Never seen such a pair of gawkers.’
‘Msr Rasterovich. You’re required to return to the Convocation.’ It was the uuli. It stayed outside their tense huddle, twisting its torso nervously.
Jo-Jo swore in every way he could. He had to finish the Convocation discussion to keep trouble away from Berniere—but right now there were only two things he wanted to do, and he wanted to do them at the same time. Find Mira and hunt down Tekton. He cut his losses and turned to the uuli.
‘Show’s over, mate. A friend’s in trouble.’
The uuli’s skin flushed a rainbow of colours, which Jo-Jo expected meant that it was pissed off. ‘It is not appropriate to leave Convocation before dismissal—’
‘Tell Convocation that they’ve got more things to worry about than my interrupted story. This place is crawling with Extros and I don’t think it’s for the sightseeing. I’d say you’ve got problems. Jo-Jo turned his back on the uuli then and faced Rast. ‘You’d better go and find her, hadn’t you?’
For a moment Rast looked like she might argue but Jo-Jo let his expression become ugly. Rast might be an experienced fighter but he had reason. Reason was worth shitloads. So was a ‘nothing to lose’ attitude.
Rast read all that there and nodded. ‘I’ll take Catchut. And you?’
‘Where is Berniere?’
‘Heijunka section near The Hoes. Factory unit is in FF. Will be a medi-lab, I would reckon.’
Heijunka was where Tekton had been reported. Jo-Jo pictured the tourist map. ‘Bell One. I’ll find Berniere and get him out of there. I’ve got a bad feeling
about these Extros. They’re everywhere.’
Rast nodded. ‘That’s why I was looking for you. I think we should pull out.’
‘Agreed. See you back at the ‘zoon. And Randall—it better be good news.’
The two exchanged looks and walked away.
* * *
The fast-trak to Bell One only increased Jo-Jo’s agitation. It was crowded with strange Extro-inhabited creatures, many of the floating gelatinous kind but others as well, including a group of small, almost humanesque-shaped bodies who had what looked like bones protruding through their skin. The rattling as the bones clattered against each other was the most reassuring of their attributes. They bore no facial characteristics on the segment of their body that should have been their head but Jo-Jo noticed a bulbous pod under each arm that was coated in several layers of translucent tissue and was ringed by fine spines. They kept their arms permanently lifted, as if airing their sides but Jo-Jo wondered if it was to allow them to see. They were utterly silent and utterly alien.
By the time he reached the exit conveyor for Bell One, Jo-Jo was drenched in sweat and strung out with worry about the various possibilities. What if Tekton had left the area? What if he was still there? What if he couldn’t find Latourn and Berniere? What if Mira Fedor was in trouble? What if Mira Fedor—
‘Rasterovich!’
Jo-Jo jumped at the sound of his name. Latourn was standing in the up-queue waiting to get on the fast-trak. He glanced around for Berniere but couldn’t see the scholar. He threw up his hands in a questioning gesture.
Latourn dug his hands into his pockets and narrowed his eyes in a mirror of Rast’s action. Jo-Jo took one stride to the dividing barrier and punched him in the solar plexus. Latourn howled and doubled over.
Jo-Jo hauled the bigger man over the barricade, barely feeling the weight. On either side of them ‘esques and aliens scattered to give them room but he shoved Latourn down the conveyor and out of the main stream of pedestrians until he had him backed up against a structural pylon. ‘What fucking game are you and your boss playing? You’re supposed to be with Berniere.’
The Sentients of Orion Page 59