Latourn pulled a sullen face.
It was then that Jo-Jo noticed the cuts on him: a fine network of them at the base of his throat and on his forearms where his shirtsleeves were pulled up. He grabbed
Latourn’s shirt at the waist and jerked it up to expose his stomach. The mercenary cringed and tried to wrest the material from Jo-Jo’s grasp.
Jo-Jo let it go in disgust. The cuts on Latourn’s stomach were deeper than those on his arms and were neatly connected with stitching like a child’s joining game, excepting where Jo-Jo had punched him. There they were torn and bleeding.
‘If you’ve been in The Hoes then where’s the idiot?’
Latourn fumbled to tuck his shirt in and Jo-Jo noted the glassy eyes. He was stoned as well.
Just as well. Or I— Jo-Jo’s thought stopped there.
Latourn had pulled a blood-sticky knife from his pocket. Be swung it in an unsteady arc. ‘Get out of my face, God-man,’ Latourn hissed. ‘Everyone deserves a little downtime.’
Jo-Jo didn’t flinch. ‘Your boss took a little downtime and now Mira Fedor is missing. What’s yours cost us?’
‘She’s gone?’ Latourn’s knife hand dropped to his side.
‘Maybe. Randall’s looking for her. This place is Extro soup, so we’re pulling out.’
Some of the glassiness left Latourn’s eyes. ‘Berniere went ahead of me to a factory in Heijunka. When I got there, I found a dead balol and a lab-rat that had shitted up its lab gear.’
Jo-Jo’s adrenalin spiked so hard that his temples hurt. ‘A dead balol? How long ago?’
‘Less than an hour, maybe. No police but the rat had called them so I pissed off. Took the scenic route back here, to stay low.’
‘Did the lab-rat say where Berniere had gone?’
‘It was jabbering stupid about a Shadow.’ Latourn shrugged. ‘Didn’t think Berniere had the balls to shoot a balol.’
‘He doesn’t. Sounds like he’s got company of some kind,’ said Jo-Jo flatly. Was it Tekton? The news feed fitted too closely for it to be anyone else. But why would Tekton shoot a balol? Smarts didn’t usually get their hands dirty on anything—Jo-Jo knew that from experience. He wanted to go and talk to the lab-rat but that was too risky from how Latourn had described things. Where would Berniere go if he’d got caught in some crossfire? He would run home—to the biozoon and the protection of the mercenaries.
Jo-Jo turned and began to walk away.
‘Hey!’ shouted Latourn. ‘Where are you going?’
Jo-Jo didn’t care to waste his breath on an answer.
TRIN
‘We will have to make part of the trip in daylight, Principe,’ said Juno Genarro.
He crouched near Trin in the wet sand of the last bay island, peering across the Galgos Straits. Tiesha was high but Semantic was on the wane, yet even the softness of their light could not disguise the rough chop of the waves.
‘How far do you think?’
‘Maybe fifteen mesurs. A day and a night on the water.’
‘It took me half of that to get there and back,’ said Djeserit. She had come out of the water and sat next to Juno. Her legs were too weak to stand and he could hear the breathiness in her voice. ‘But I was able to swim the currents.’
‘The yachts are like sinkers in the water,’ said Joe Scali, slapping miserably at the sand fleas that had turned his skin to welts. The fleas worried all of them, but Joe Scali and some of the women suffered worst. Trin had not seen his friend smile in so long that he had almost forgotten that person. This Joe was full of worry and pessimism. Even if they found a place to live and thrive, Trin wondered if Joe would ever be able to see the lighter side of things again. Would any of them?
‘They are buoyant enough,’ Trin corrected him. ‘But they are not built for the open sea.’
‘Built for aristos to lounge around on in the evenings, sipping from their kiante bottles.’
Trin did not bother to turn and acknowledge the voice. Only one person among them spoke to him with such insolence. Djes and Joe Scali had lobbied for Cass Mulravey’s presence here. It was better, they said, to keep her close. Yet her presence made him stiff with anger, worse even than the way he felt near Jilda. At least his madre understood her place.
‘I would think twice before ridiculing them—or me, Cass Mulravey. We are your only protection.’ Trin let threat enter his tone. It was time that the woman was put down.
She made a derisive sound but said no more. Irritatingly, though, she came and stood next to him.
‘We will need shade and ropes, Principe. In such waters it will be easy to be swept away. The yachts have no sides.’
‘We could knot weed together for rope and tie each person to the masthead,’ suggested Djes. ‘And make shades from the spine bushes.’
Trin visualised her idea. It could work. It would have to work. ‘It will take us several days to prepare the ropes. Joe, I want you to desalinate as much water as you can and store it in the larger shells that we have collected. We will take extra with us in case we cannot stay close enough together. Mulravey, your women will collect the weed and knot it together.’
‘And what will your men do, Pellegrini? Or will their “protection” be enough of a blessing?’
This time Trin did turn to her, making no attempt to disguise his annoyance. ‘My men will take a yacht and return to the last island to collect spine bush. There is not enough here to both shade us and to tear down. And if you question me again, I will withdraw my protection and you will be left to your own resources.’
Mulravey rocked forward on her heels as if she might launch herself at him. Trin could smell her stale sweat and see the knots in her straggling hair. Her shape was mannish under her envirosuit, her breasts limp and flat.
‘Please, Cass Mulravey, your women are so exhausted and weak—it is the better task for them,’ said Djeserit. ‘I can show them the strongest kelp. This trip will be our last.’
Mulravey exhaled slowly and settled back on her heels. ‘You are right, Djeserit. Despite the fish you brought us, many of them are still so weak that they can barely walk. I’ll gather those that can and bring them back here. You can show us where to find the best weed.’ She turned and walked up the beach.
‘You would have made a good diplomat, Djes,’ said Joe Scali after Mulravey had gone. He had a respect in his voice that Trin had not heard before.
‘Thank you for the food, Djeserit,’ said Juno Genarro. ‘I had not thought that raw fish could taste so good. You’ve saved us from starving, girl. And from giving up.’
The men’s attention made her shy. Trin could tell that by the way she drew her legs to her chest. ‘There is fresh water on the new island,’ she said, deflecting their comments. ‘And caves. And the vegetation promises fruits and nuts.’
‘Then I say we get on with it,’ said Juno. ‘Principe?’
‘Si,’ said Trinder thoughtfully. ‘Si.’
THALES
Thales nursed the gene gun on his lap, his eyes fixed on the Petri bubble. The Godhead had hired a taxi to take them back to the Arrivals Bell so they could speak privately. He was grateful to—and terrified by—Tekton in the same disturbing vortex of emotions.
The archiTects of his acquaintance had all been self-absorbed aesthetes. It was a manner that Thales felt comfortable around—for philosopers, though not always aesthetes, were indeed inclined to similar preoccupations.
But Tekton was something more than that. He had shot the balol without compunction and had seemed only interested in preserving the life of the filthy old man whom he had brought into the clinic for a specific reason. Human compassion did not appear to figure highly, if indeed at all, on Tekton’s agenda—which made Thales nervous, for the Godhead appeared to be helping him. Thales could only deduce one thing from this: that Tekton had his own reasons for doing so.
Thales would not be fooled again by a veneer of philanthropy, as he had been with Gutnee Paraburd.
I can change. I c
an learn.
He suddenly longed to see Bethany. This longing came with a surprise realisation. He had come to rely on her opinion in such a short time. Despite her blunt ways, Bethany understood men of this calibre, had mingled with these calculating types all her life. Her own brother was one.
‘And you say you travelled here on a biozoon piloted by a female. How does an educated young man from Scolar find himself on such a beast? I’ve heard they have the odour of a butchery.’
Thales lifted his gaze to meet his saviour’s. Tekton was of a similar build to him, but his skin was unnaturally tight over his skeleton, and his face was without eyebrows or eyelashes, his head without hair. It created an effect of brittleness and witlessness that was clearly misleading. Tekton lacked neither energy nor perspicacity.
‘I have never been in such an establishment, but it does remind me of the smell of vinegar-cured meats,’ said Thales.
Tekton wrinkled his pert nose. ‘How appalling.’
‘You become accustomed to it, Godhead, as one does with anything, over time,’ Thales added.
‘I am not one to accustom myself to anything. But tell me how this came about—you and the biozoon? You mentioned blackmail—a word that one should never utter lightly.’
‘There is nothing light about my situation, Godhead, except perhaps your intervention in it.’ Then Thales told him how it had started: Gutnee and his deceptive courier mission, Sophos Mianos, and his escape with the Baronessa and her mercenaries.
‘Can you tell me why a Latino noblewoman was meeting with OLOSS officials between Scolar and its shift station?’
‘They were suspicious of her biozoon and did not wish it to come close to our planet. The Baronessa comes from a place called Araldis; a distant mining planet that has recently been overrun by an alien species. She was the only one to escape—saved by her ability to pilot the biozoon. She is fiercely determined to save those that are left—but OLOSS are not convinced.’
Tekton did not respond immediately and appeared to be listening to another voice. So Thales went back to contemplating the bubble of the gene gun. What were the contents intended to do, he wondered? If he still had access to Alambra he could ask her to research the function of the orbitofrontal cortex. He missed her voice in his head. Mouds were another thing to which one became accustomed.
‘And this Latino woman is still with you?’ asked Tekton abruptly.
‘Yes. She is charged with returning me to Edo, as are the mercenaries. Then Lasper Farr will oblige her with a force to recapture her world.’
‘Lasper Farr?’ Tekton’s thin-lipped mouth fell open in undisguised shock. ‘Carnage Farr?’
Thales nodded angrily. ‘It is an apt name. At his best he is psychopathic. At his worst... who can say what such a man could do?’
‘He is the one who has sent you here to retrieve the DNA? Or was it the man Gutnee?’
‘Farr discovered that my blood contained a barrier substance used by couriers. He... questioned me at some length, and compelled me to come here and receive the DNA. I am to return it to him instead of to Gutnee.’
Tekton’s lips curved in a sly smile. ‘You could say that he saw an opportunity.’
Thales nodded again. ‘To ensure my compliance he infected me with a bacterium that the barrier will not stop. I must return the DNA—and myself, obviously—to receive the antidote.’ He stopped then. Sick of it all, and of himself. Perhaps he had told the Godhead too much about his situation. But leverage was what he needed, and that was something he sensed that Tekton could provide.
‘Then our meeting is most providential, Thales Berniere. And I look forward to meeting the Latino Baronessa.’
‘She is a most refined woman,’ allowed Thales, ‘who has been forced into poor company.’
‘Aaah, yes,’ said Tekton. ‘That is something we must all zealously guard against.’
Thales nodded a third time. On that point, he and the Godhead were in complete agreement.
* * *
Bethany was waiting just inside the biozoon’s egress scale. She flung herself upon Thales and clung to him.
Conscious of Tekton’s presence, Thales tried to hold her away at a distance. But she would not be deterred.
He leaned back to peer down at her face. ‘Bethany, this is Godhead Tekton, a tyro to the Entity on Belle-Monde.’
But Bethany either did not hear him or would not heed him. She raised her head and stared at him with tear-swollen eyes. ‘Thales, the Extros have taken the Baronessa. Randall left us at the markets on the docks. We—we knew it wasn’t safe so we started to head back here to Insignia. But they overran us—a bunch of siphonophores—I tried to grab her hand but it was like a wall between us. And when they’d gone, so was she. The biozoon let me on board, but it’s distressed—can’t you hear it?’
Thales listened. The creature’s normally dull internal noises were sharper, the way it sounded when its system was altering pattern.
‘I think she must have been taken off Rho Junction. The biozoon is getting ready to leave. What should we do? Should we get off? Josef hasn’t returned yet.’
‘You’re the only one here?’
‘Yes.’ Bethany finally glanced at Tekton. ‘Pardon me, Godhead, but our... friend has—’
‘Yes, yes,’ said the Godhead, speaking quickly. ‘Tragic and worrying. May I offer a quick alternative?’
‘Y-yes,’ stammered Beth. She glanced at Thales for his agreement. ‘I guess so.’
‘Msr Berniere has apprised me briefly of your situation and I find myself in a position to offer some help. Not for the Baronessa, I’m afraid, but for you. I would offer you lodgings on a luxury ship and conveyance to Akouedo. And before you ask why, let me say that I am appalled at Msr Berniere’s circumstances, so it seems the least I can do. The cost is incidental to me. However, time is crucial. It seems this biozoon has imminent plans to follow its Innate and, as you will understand, Thales, I have the need to avoid station sec. I do not wish to get caught up in untidy or prolonged investigations. There is a liner leaving within the half-hour and I have booked passage on it. It departs from the dock opposite this one.’
‘I don’t know that—’ Bethany began to refuse but Thales grabbed her hand.
‘Bethany, come with me,’ he said.
‘But what about Lasper?’ she said.
Thales held up the gene gun. ‘I have the DNA here. Surely Lasper will accept that and will provide me with the bacterium antidote.’
Some of the worry lines eased from Bethany’s face. ‘You didn’t have the injection?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘It will take time to tell the events as they happened but Godhead Tekton has made a generous offer, Beth. I want to take it.’
‘But the Baronessa?’
‘I am concerned for her too but the mercenaries will see to her safety,’ he soothed. ‘What could we do anyway?’
‘And Josef?’
Thales frowned. ‘Whose company would you prefer to be in—mine or his?’
Bethany chewed her lip in indecision. ‘It’s just that I owe Josef a debt of sorts. Without him I would not have escaped Dowl station, without him—’
Thales put his finger to her lips. ‘Please, please come.’
Her stare searched his face. ‘But what does it mean, Thales?’
‘Freedom,’ he whispered. ‘For both of us.’
Bethany took a deep breath and kissed him. ‘I have to leave Josef a message.’
Thales nodded. ‘I will collect our things.’
* * *
Thales returned with a pitifully small bundle that contained both his and Bethany’s belongings.
Tekton stood impatiently by the egress scale, shifting from one foot to the other. He was listening to his moud again and Thales felt a stab of envy.
‘We must hurry. The Last Aesthetics moud has contacted me to say that they will close boarding in a few minutes. The station has put a hold on incoming traffic and disembarkation is moving throug
h more rapidly.’
‘I’ve left Josef a message on his cabin intracast.’ Bethany came up behind them. She glanced around. ‘Insignia’s starting to vibrate.’ She pushed her hand into the pucker of the egress scale. When it peeled back Tekton led them out and along the docking tube.
At the entrance he turned to the right and caught the conveyor that took them on a loop around the ventilation shaft that penetrated the centre of the docks.
Thales stared out at the markets that hugged the rim of the shaft: hundreds of stalls and booths selling food and trinkets and filter masks. A stretch of catoplasma tubes like the ones in the Heijunka, advertised as cheap sleeping compartments.
Tekton got off the conveyor and directed them to a tube entrance bearing a humanesque-shaped hand as its symbol. The tube was almost opposite Insignia but nearly a full mesur away.
Thales pointed to the symbol. ‘A good omen,’ he said to Bethany. ‘It’s a Jain symbol called Ahisma.’
But she had stepped off the conveyor to the other side and was standing on her toes, peering back towards Insignia.
Both Tekton and Thales went across to her.
‘You have a special friend whom you do not wish to leave?’ Tekton enquired politely.
‘Yes, in a way. At least, I would like to have seen him and... Oh! There! Thales, it’s Josef.’
Thales followed the line of her out-thrust arm to where Insignia was docked. He could see Jo-Jo Rasterovich and the three mercenaries gathered around the mouth of the biozoon’s tube.
‘Josef!’ Bethany shouted and waved her hands. ‘Jo—’
Rasterovich saw her and waved back. He began to run towards the conveyor on his side but the white- haired mercenary blocked his escape, grabbing him roughly.
Tekton clamped his hand over Bethany’s wrist. ‘This is not a time for problematical goodbyes, and anything that might require your deliberation means you will miss departure.’
‘Beth!’ pleaded Thales. ‘Don’t complicate this.’ The Ahisma symbol had begun to flash. ‘The liner is leaving.’
The Sentients of Orion Page 60