As the cabin door shut and clicked to lock, Tekton fell onto the bed and curled into a ball. Sleep was always a good way to bypass unpleasant thoughts.
* * *
Tekton spent the short, sub-light leg to the Edo res-station wavering between boredom and fear. Samuelle set strict rules, which his logic-mind endorsed as sensible, and Tekton carefully obeyed, although he longed to be out of the cramped cabin and to be free to go wherever he chose.
Instead, he spent the time pondering recent events and talking to Samuelle about Lasper Farr. Though she remained guarded on the topic of Consilience, she seemed prepared to discuss the Stain Wars until Tekton hoped never to hear of them again. War stories, it seemed, were not simply the province of males.
‘After the war I decided to stop rejuve,’ she mused aloud. They’d quickly fallen to the habit of conversation with Tekton reclining on the bed and Samuelle at the comm-desk interfacing with the ‘cast feeds. ‘I found
it damn useful looking like an old woman—in ways that I had never dreamt—as long, of course, as I kept my agility. Looking old’s one thing, creakin’ round like a bag-o’-bones is another. So I modified my suit from the combat models we used to wear on specials and kept a credit for organ renewal.’
‘So you were... are a soldier.’
‘Once upon a time, I was a forward scout for OLOSS. Saw the light after the war and paid out my draft. Consilience don’t have those kind of structures. You get assigned to a task dependent on what you can do; organised disorder, some say. I say it’s creative and effective.’
‘But why do you live on Edo and work for Lasper?’
‘I was with him in the war and it seemed it worked for us, for a start. He left us alone on Ampere ‘cause I was valuable to him. I could do what I wanted without OLOSS breathin’ down my neck. These days though, seems to be Lasper that’s doing the heavy breathin’.’ She leaned back in the desk-chair and in the time it took her to shut her eyelids, drifted off to sleep. The suit automatically stiffened and the collar elongated to accommodate her slackened muscles.
Tekton had already got used to her abrupt and unpredictable sleeping pattern. He moved quickly, standing and taking the four steps to the desk to peer over her shoulder. The deskfilm glowed with a representation of the Intel station and sphere. Intelspace was cluttered with the collisions of flashing icons and graphical depictions of ships and infrastructure.
As Tekton read the key on the side of the map he stifled a sharp breath. Attached to the station like the fringe of a woman’s shawl, or hovering almost as
close, were delegations from all over OLOSS. Above Intel’s bulb, a flotilla of biozoons floated in ever-shifting formation; crowding the main landing bays were OLOSS official flagships, and jostling for position around the Scawy docks were smaller alien deputations: uulis, skierans and others.
Tekton fancied the whole thing to be like an exotic underwater scene where sea creatures in search of food herded around the nearest reef, sucking at plankton and ducking in and out of crevices.
‘Seems like word’s got around, eh, tyro?’ Samuelle was awake as instantaneously as she had fallen asleep. ‘Lasper’s got a ‘cast coming through on relay.’
‘How long until we shift?’
She sat up straighter and, sensing her alert state, her suit relaxed its support. She fingered through a few screens. ‘Latest says an hour.’
T’m assuming a war craft like this has group buffers. How do you propose to conduct me to one of them unnoticed?’
‘Actually, tyro, I don’t.’
Tekton’s insides turned watery. Surely the woman had not forced him aboard merely to murder him?
Samuelle leaned back and slapped him across the back of the legs in a friendly gesture. ‘You’re gonna stay right here in that.’ She pointed to her spare suit. ‘B-b-ut I’ll... it’ll... I’ll... d-d—’
‘Rubbish,’ she snapped. ‘It’s designed to withstand shift and more. I modified it that way. I’d stay in here with you but I don’t want Lasper asking questions. Look, if you need reassurance, here are the specs.’
MIRA
Insignia?
We are at Intel station, dearest.
Mira wrenched upward, out of her reclining position in Primo. How long had she been asleep? Too long, she thought. It felt that way at least. Her mind was thick and stale. The vein let her go, its sensors like sticky fingers sliding reluctantly from her flesh.
How long have I been asleep?
I assisted your rest through shift. The baby has had quite enough trauma.
I told you not to do that again.
I am not beholden to you, Mira, Insignia chided. Our bond is my choice.
And mine.
Perhaps.
Mira controlled her desire to argue. Why did you bring us back here?
I shifted to Rho Junction. When I was able to contact my pod they told me that Emergency Council had been called on Intel. Our community had already sent envoys to meet with OLOSS and Consilience. They gave me permission to join our delegation. We are safe here among the envoys. Humanesques would not know one of us from another.
As her mind began to awaken Mira sensed Insignia’s improved mood, despite the biozoon’s sarcasm and provocation.
Mira relaxed a little. Can you show me?
Of course.
Insignia’s view of near-space poured into Mira’s mind. Ahead of them, Intel’s irregular lattice of grey landing channels invited docking, while alongside them the dark was cluttered with familiar shapes lit by the station’s external lights: biozoons of varying sizes, some several times larger than Insignia.
Insignia changed her perspective several times.
Are we in the centre of the pod? Mira asked
Insignia made a sound that Mira had not heard in a long time; a sound of amusement. This is not the pod, Innate, this is an Omniline.
Mira waited, knowing Insignia would only explain when she was ready. Meanwhile she let the images absorb her, curious to see biozoons en masse for the first time. They floated serenely, elegantly, near each other; shifting to fit around each others’ movements like a school of fish.
Omniline is a hereditary line somewhat like your familia, though much better behaved, Insignia told Mira.
You mean that a single family has been sent here to negotiate?
That is the manner in which we are organised. It is most expedient, I share lineage with the Envoy Omniline, so they will allow us to be present.
Mira thought about it for a moment. It really was not greatly different from humanesque social ordering. That is kind of them.
We are a very reasonable species. The rebuke in Insignia’s tone was unmistakable.
And we are not always. Mira sighed. Often, she corrected. How are we to find a way to communicate with OLOSS? Landhurst is untrustworthy.
We can use the Omniline Envoy to disseminate information to the Council, but it may draw attention to the cluster. We could be identified under close scrutiny.
Can we share what we know with the Omniline from a greater distance?
I cannot project my memories over farcast distances. Our close-sharing process requires proximity.
This time Mira sat up properly, and after a moment, stood. Despite the vein’s nurturing, lengthy periods in Primo always left her muscles weakened. I will wash and eat.
Sensible.
‘Mira-fedor?’ a voice said from near her feet.
Mira started. She had forgotten Wanton. The Extro still sat where she had placed it, on the floor near the pucker. She bent down and picked it up.
‘Si, Wanton?’ She examined the gelatinous casing and it seemed to have regained full lustre.
‘Thank you; you have perpetuated my existence for a time.’
‘Circumstance helped,’ said Mira. ‘It was fortunate that some mycose had been... left here. Has it replaced what was depleted?’
‘Although you will not be able to see it, I have a minute fracture in my shell. I will need
frequent resuscitation until I can find a way to relayer my protection.’
Mira frowned. ‘How often is frequent, Wanton?’
‘From what I could see of the package, I expect to have used the available resources within a few of your grouped cycles.’
‘Months?’
‘Yes.’
‘What will happen if you don’t get more?’
‘Wanton will become inactive for a period and eventually its core will degrade. Beyond that, Wanton is not sure.’
Mira shifted the Extro to her other hand. Perhaps she imagined it, but Wanton sounded scared. She expected that death—or non-existence—was not a concept that Post-Species contemplated in the way humanesques did. Death of their Host was the closest they came to bereavement, and from her observations on the Hue world, some did not grieve for deceased Hosts at all.
Her sympathies for Wanton grew, as did the less- than-generous notion that the Extro might finally experience real fear in the way she had lived and breathed it since, her graduation on Araldis.
Mira, we have an inconvenience.
What is it?
The Omniline will not agree to relay our observations of the Geni-carriers.
Why?
A section of the Omniline is concerned that evidence of our kind’s presence in Post-Species space may be considered suspicious. The mood amongst the allies is precarious and changeable. We cannot predict the outcome of sharing such information.
Mira stepped back from the pucker and ran her hand through her hair. It felt long and matted from her prolonged rest in Primo. She glanced at the hand. Though her skin remained supple enough, the veins showed through and the joints of her fingers seemed painfully large against the rest. She had no fat on her. No meat to support her baby and herself. But they must know what we saw. She would not back down on this.
The Omniline is divided. We do not wish to be victimised by panic reactions. Humanesques can be irrational.
Mira drew a ragged breath and crossed her arms. I understand the Omniline’s fears but we must take that risk. The Geni-carriers contained enough weaponry to destroy most of the OLOSS worlds. Or lay them barren. It is not just our species who is threatened.
The Omniline must be heeded. Insignia remained stubborn.
‘Then I will go,’ Mira said aloud and without hesitation.
No. You may not risk our child further. The decision rests with the Omniline.
Mira stepped back towards the buccal pucker, carrying Wanton in one hand. She would not let Insignia keep her captive. She pressed her fist against the sphincter and it retracted. Then I will wash and eat, and then I will meet with your Omniarch. Please arrange for me to go to it, she commanded.
She went to Rast’s cabin on the way to her own, and retrieved the cyrotrays.
Insignia did not respond until Mira had finished with her steam bath and was dressing.
Why are you using the royal fellala? asked the biozoon suspiciously.
Because I wish to make a good impression. And it better hides my belly. Are the arrangements made? Mira pressed along the brocade trim to seal the robe, and knelt down to lift the cryotrays of mycose onto her bed. She popped a number of the beads and formed a cluster on her desk. She then settled Wanton in the middle of them. The Extro had been quiet, conserving its energy.
‘Wanton, I am leaving Insignia for a short while. I have” placed you close to the mycose. Are you able to draw them to you as you need them?’
‘Thank you, Mira-fedor, that will work adequately.’
‘Use them sparingly. I will attempt to find a solution to your problem. If you have any ideas while I am gone then tell Insignia. Insignia will relay them to me.’
‘How long will you be gone?’ The Extro sounded anxious. ‘I should not need so much if your absence is brief.’
Mira was careful not to hesitate. ‘Not long at all, but I must speak with the biozoon Omniarch. It is better that you have more mycose than less.’
She left the cabin carrying a royal headdress and proceeded to the cucina, where she forced herself to eat overripe cheese and some soft dough that she mixed from a sachet. She couldn’t seem to remember the last time she’d enjoyed a meal, and the prolonged time spent in Primo had left her digestive system unused to solid food. She found herself nibbling the tiniest pieces just to be able to swallow.
When she had almost finished the cheese she felt a small surge of energy. She searched amongst the shelves for something to drink and located a store of animal milk supplied by Lasper Farr. It tasted bitter and rich but washed the cheese down enough that her mild attack of nausea settled.
Our Omniarch has agreed to your presence. Go to the lower armament store.
But that is near your tail spine.
We do not have a system for coupling using our egress scales. That is a modified entry point for other species only.
Then—
Hasten to my pelvic girdle. On the outer wall you will find three vents. Insert your body through the slit into the centre one. Do not make a mistake. The outer vents are used for fertilisation and should you enter them, you will be crushed in the clasping. The centre vent is not penetrated. We use it to transfer substances through suction extraction. The Omniarch will only attempt one exchange. The area we are occupying near the station is too congested for repeated manoeuvres.
Mira hurried downward to the area Insignia had specified, not daring to think what the process of suction extraction might entail.
Though she knew Insignia’s anatomy better than her own, she hadn’t ventured to the biozoon’s pelvic cavity on Insignia’s own warning of infection. Now she counted her way along the gill bars to the pectoral stratum, until she reached the thick cartilage wall that divided it from the pelvic section.
Wait. My pelvic girdle is inhabited by bacteria that are not deemed safe for your kind. I will flush the area with acid. That will give you a short time to transfer safely.
Will the acid residue harm me?
No more than if you emptied the contents of your own stomach onto me.
Mira found herself able to smile. I think I have done that several times.
Yes. You have. Please remember your manners when you are with the Omniarch.
Mira faced the barrier of gristly, grey membrane and waited. There was little ambient light at the narrow end of the biozoon’s body, barely enough to see her way; and even that she sensed Insignia had manufactured for her comfort.
After a time, a bubble appeared in part of the membrane between the cartilage deposits. It grew larger and larger as if filling with gas, and turned a deep purplish colour. Mira stepped back automatically and a moment later it ruptured, trickling blood onto the floor and leaving a narrow, rucked slit.
Step through now. I heal very quickly in this area, Insignia ordered.
Mira forced her body through the gap, though it was barely large enough for someone half her stature. Not for someone at all, she realised as she pressed against the stickiness. It’s porous to allow for transference of fluids—not objects. Insignia had deliberately torn the membrane to allow her to pass.
As she squeezed through, the hole was already closing on itself, and she was forced to drop the royal headdress. She found herself pressed into a narrow gap—nothing as wide as a chamber. The three vents Insignia had spoken of were higher than her head and surrounded by spongy tissue, thicker and more resilient than the membrane, and dotted with dentricles.
Tentatively she pushed her toe into Insignia’s flesh. It depressed enough for her to find purchase. Reaching as high as she could, she grasped a dentricle in each hand and began to climb towards the middle vent. But her pregnant belly hampered her agility and she overbalanced backward, falling hard against the cartilage and banging her ribs.
The child inside her moved, jabbing her lower belly, and making her nauseous as it spun rapidly in her womb. She tried to calm it by pressing her abdomen, but the child seemed frantic. The next strong jab hit up under her breastbone, bringi
ng tears to her eyes.
‘Be still if you want me to succeed!’ she cried aloud. She struggled to her feet and tried again.
The child settled as she climbed. In the back of her mind she sensed Insignia’s behaviour changing as well. The biozoon seemed almost submissive. Though she could feel no movement, an image formed in her mind, of Insignia arching its long back and curling its tail carefully out of the way.
Fear and urgency gripped her. Clasping was imminent, and she had no idea how far the Omniarch’s stems would penetrate the other vents, or how much distortion would occur in the tissue. She had to be inside the central one to be safe.
She scrabbled over the lip and slid forward into the wetness as the biozoon’s entire pelvic girdle began to shudder. She felt building waves of vibration and the vent began to contract against her as if being squeezed shut. For a moment she feared she’d be crushed, but with each contraction she was sucked deeper into the vent.
At some point she was no longer on board Insignia. She knew that from her mind-bond, not from any change in the vent’s shape or consistency.
The vibrations had stilled and she lay in the dark, pressed uncomfortably on her stomach, without room even to roll onto her back.
Insignia?
Your mind-bond with your mate will be much weaker while you are with me.
Omniarch?
You may address me as Ley-al.
I am Mira Fedor.
Yes, Innate. I am aware of who you are. Why do you insist upon meeting with me under these circumstances?
Ley-al, if you please, I am most uncomfortable lying upon my unborn child. Is it possible for me to move?
Very well.
Mira felt a constriction around her shoulders and hips again, as the peristaltic action of the vent moved her forward. Pain shot through her abdomen and dimly Mira felt Insignia’s protest.
Then she was squeezed out of the vent into a small ribbed space.
Follow the passage to the central stratum. It is a direct link to my buccal.
Mira got to her feet shakily. Though her limbs trembled under the energy demand and her belly ached, stubborn determination lent her strength. She’d failed to bring help to Araldis; she would not fail to warn OLOSS of the danger, even if she must face Stationmaster Landhurst and Sophos Mianos again. I will be heard. And after that... She shrugged to herself. After that, it didn’t matter.
The Sentients of Orion Page 83