The Sentients of Orion

by Marianne de Pierres

  Thales’s heart pounded, sending a rush through his body. He bent down and rubbed circulation back into his legs. Had the Politics found them?

  The hatch opened without preamble, and a light flashed down on them. He saw Fariss braced against the wall, ready to spring.

  ‘Thales Berniere?’ said someone from above.

  He recognised the voice, vaguely. ‘Who is it? I c-can’t s-see you.’

  The light moved, shining away from his eyes and onto a rope ladder which dropped into the space between him and Fariss.

  ‘Climb, Thales. Hurry.’

  The voice again. He knew it... ‘Magdalen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Thales grabbed the bottom of the rope ladder. ‘Fariss. Come on.’

  The soldier slid down from her vantage point and boosted him up several rungs. As he laboured up the moving ladder to the lip of the tank, she was behind him, nudging his feet.

  Then suddenly they were both outside, breathing clear night air, peering into the dark. Magdalen had extinguished her light, and he could barely make out her outline in the moonless sky.

  She took his hand. ‘Follow, don’t speak.’

  He reached for Fariss and felt better when her hand engulfed his. They walked slowly, connected like this, along the side of the house and through the lanes to the edge of the settlement. Magdalen led them with little hesitation, as if she’d practised this dark walk many times.

  Not a word passed between them until they belted themselves into a small AiV. Even then, as they lifted into the sky above the town, Thales could barely believe their escape.

  Finally, Magdalen turned from the front seat to speak. Thales could see her face a little better now. She was still as slim and pale as he remembered: a similar build to Rene, a one-time friend of his wife’s who had chosen a different philosophical path from them both.

  ‘This is Linnea,’ she said, indicating the female pilot. ‘She was told that you asked for her in the town. She contacted me. Villon must have been watching over you, Thales. Your escape from the robes was more blessed than earned.’

  ‘How can I thank you, Magdalen? This is Fariss O’Dea, my... companion.’

  Magdalen raised an eyebrow at the soldier bent almost double so as to fit her tall frame into the cabin. ‘Your tastes have changed, Thales.’

  ‘Many things about me have changed, Magdalen. I’ve seen and heard much while I’ve been away from Scolar.’

  Magdalen nodded. ‘I have heard some of it. But you must tell me all.’

  ‘How could you have heard?’

  ‘We have some informants among the Sophos personal guard.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘It is not only you who has experienced change, Scholar Thales. Our world is—’

  ‘Our world is being run by Sophos who are not capable.’

  Magdalen made a dry sound. ‘And you believe them to be infected by some virus.’

  ‘I don’t believe, I know. Villon... believed...’

  ‘Villon? Villon is dead!’ Magdalen exclaimed.

  ‘Now he is, but not then.’ Thales pressed his fingers against his eyes. ‘Magdalen, there is so much I can—will—tell you, but the most important must take precedence. The Post-Species invasion is very real, and they’ll destroy us if the shift sphere isn’t disabled. You saw the ‘casts.’

  ‘The Eclectics believe the same thing,’ she agreed.

  ‘So how do we do it?’ asked Fariss.

  ‘Get to Scolar station,’ said the pilot, Linnea.

  They all stared at her. ‘I worked as an IN tech for a while.’ She shrugged. ‘Moved on to essential services a little while ago. Pays more, and comes with transport. Means I get to spend time at home.’

  Fariss grinned wide at that. ‘An IN tech. Bonus.’

  ‘You know how to shut down the sphere?’ Thales asked Linnea.

  ‘No,’ the pilot replied. ‘But I know how to get up there. Did the shuttle run more times than I could count.’

  ‘Scolar station sounds good to me,’ drawled Fariss.

  Thales took her hand in a gesture of calm determination. He knew what he wanted to do: the same thing Villon had wanted. ‘We will close down the sphere. And then deal with the Sophos.’

  MIRA

  Mira felt an odd pressure in her head. The beginnings of a headache perhaps, or an adjustment to having Nova’s mind so close to hers. It left her quite detached as she climbed out of the egress scale into the sunset-soaked desert. Leah was below the horizon, but the ambient light was still bright and burning hot.

  She took a moment to absorb the impact of the overwhelming heat, and the knowledge that she was home. Insignia had settled on a dune to the north of the Juanita mine, its scarred outer skin glistening darkly against the red sand.

  Close by was another biozoon, a hybrid that Mira recognised by sense rather than sight. Sal.

  To the south lay another huge, almost endless object, cylindrical in shape and half-buried in the sand. Mira’s detachment faded a little as she recognised the creatures gathered in clusters across its hull.

  What is it called? she asked Insignia.

  Medium. I docked with it when I was searching for you in Post-Species space. I should add that the other humanesques went aboard.

  Josef and Rast Randall? Her heart beat faster. Were they still there? Still alive? She would be pleased to see them.

  Yes. Them, and the other two.

  Mira paused, taking a moment to recall their names. Latourn and Catchut. So much had happened in between, she’d almost forgotten Randall’s crew.

  Mama, Wanton says the Non-Corporeal ship may be dangerous. Wanton cannot guarantee their reaction to you.

  Mira felt inside the pocket of the new fellala she’d taken from Insignia’s storage. Wanton lay at the bottom of it, its normally slick casing grainy to the touch. It had subsumed its last bead of mycose before leaving the biozoon. Its present supply would only last hours. She’d washed the traces of mycose away with gloved hands before placing it in her robe.

  Now she squeezed its casing gently in reassurance.

  ‘Baronessa?’

  The voice called from a terrain vehicle already parked in the shade of the biozoon. The figure inside was shrouded, but she knew it was Jancz.

  She closed her hood. The TerV pulled in closer, and the passenger door opened.

  Mira settled inside without a word.

  They drove the dune-filled distance to the Post- Species ship. When Jancz stopped just short of the towering sides, Mira broke the silence.

  ‘You remember me?’ she asked.

  ‘You made a deal with me. Safe passage to Loisa for forgetting that we’d met. You kept your word. ‘Esques don’t often do that; I’m impressed. That’s part of the reason you’re down here, not floating around in the mess of your detonated ‘zoon.’

  ‘Part of the reason?’

  ‘The other part is not for me to say.’

  Mira fought to keep the image of Insignia being annihilated from clouding her thoughts. ‘The Post-Species corporeal that I carry requires immediate assistance. Why have you stopped here?’

  He turned the TerV’s cooler up to maximum and dimmed the windows. ‘Show me your face.’

  Mira unsealed the hood and waited for him to do the same. His face was less elongated than she remembered, but his eyes were still as cool and dispassionate.

  ‘As you can see, I am the same person,’ she said.

  ‘My... it’s been a while since I’ve seen a female ‘esque.’ His voice hoarsened.

  ‘I imagine that is to be expected when you choose as you have,’ Mira returned.

  ‘Are you judging me, Baronessa? I’d be careful of doing that. You’re the one aiding an injured Extro for no good reason. My reasons are quite logical.’

  She stared into his eyes. ‘Then I hope they are enough to wipe out the memory of the worlds being destroyed on your account.’

  ‘Not everyone views the new order of things as you do.’ His e
xpression smoothed out and he pointed to a spot in the apparently seamless hull. ‘I’ll take you there. You’re on your own then.’

  ‘Why are the Post-Species here? Why is this supply of quixite so important that they would send Saqr to invade my world?’ She thought to ask him about Josef and the others, then changed her mind. It was possible he didn’t know of them, and in that case it would be better if it remained that way.

  Jancz’s hands moved restlessly, and his glance strayed to the marker pegs that signalled the opening to the

  Juanita mine. ‘They got plans. Their craft can’t self- repair for as long as they’d like. It’s a problem they need to fix.’

  Mira thought of the Hub world. ‘But they have self- maintaining technology. I—I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Where there’s oxygen, yeah. But out in the vac’s a different thing.’

  ‘Couldn’t they have just bought the supply? Why such violence?’

  Jancz’s mouth kinked in a detached smile. ‘So proper, Baronessa. So wedded to rules. They operate differently. Ain’t you got that yet?’

  Moments of past conversations with Wanton flashed through Mira’s mind. Wanton had at certain times seemed kindred to her, and at others more different than she could comprehend. It had been upset when its cephalopod Host had died as they escaped the Hub, but she was not sure for what particular reason. The cephalopod had limited sentience. How attached did the Post-Species really become to a basic organism? Was it like a pet and its owner? Or something less?

  And how different were the Non-Corporeal to the Hosts? she wondered. Did they value compassion? Did they experience emotion at all? ‘What’s inside there?’ she asked.

  He started the TerV and they moved slowly along the circumference of the enormous ship. ‘That ... you’re about to find out.’

  ‘But it’s so large? Many times the size of a biozoon. If they are all Non-Corporeal then why would they need—’

  ‘Shut your mouth, Baronessa. I ain’t here to satisfy your curiosity.’ He suddenly stopped the TerV and pointed out of the window to a mild blemish on the pitted metal. ‘Get yourself over there and push against that spot.’

  Despite the fellala, the heat was like a wave rising up to roll over her. The skin of the ship was burning hot, even through her gloves. She flinched and stepped back; the blemish was too high to reach.

  ‘Get up on the front of the TerV,’ Jancz called out. He waited while she climbed awkwardly onto the vehicle.

  She hesitated before she touched the ship again. What would happen to her?

  ‘Get on with it,’ bellowed Jancz.

  She pressed her hands against the hot skin. She had come here to do something and she would do it. Nova was safe in Primo, being tended by the membrane that would feed and clean her, and keep her muscles stimulated. Her babe could exist comfortably there for an indefinite time, if anything happened to Mira. Insignia would not leave Nova alone, though, without another humanesque. They had discussed that, and Mira knew that Insignia would find another innate to care for her child.

  When the skin began to soften, Mira guessed what would happen next. The Hub world’s wall had behaved in a similar manner when she and Wanton had escaped into the Bare World, sucking her through its semipermeable membrane.

  She didn’t panic as she felt the pressure of being drawn in. This time she was not able to move her arms

  and legs, and had no sensation of her own movement. Matter pressed around her, changing and conforming as it pushed against her body. She felt neither breath nor the lack of it, only pressure, and Nova’s curiosity prickling through her mind.

  What’s it like, Mama?

  Shh, Nova. Not now.

  Mira fell out and down, as if spat or propelled, onto a hard surface. She wiped her eyes and blinked. Ambient light glowed, but she couldn’t determine its source. She tested her legs, climbing first to her knees, then to her feet. Though firm, the surface beneath her was springy, as if it might suddenly change consistency, or break. She stood, breathing softly, looking around. She was in a tunnel of sorts. With no other idea as to what to do, she followed its course.

  It wound for a time, narrowing and then enlarging like the intestines of a large creature. The walls were semi-opaque and tinted amber, similar to the floor, and gave the impression that they were recently formed.

  When the tunnel finally widened into a huge space Mira felt no wiser for the greater view. The near section—as far as she could see—was filled with a large slick object that pulsed with the regularity of a giant heart torn from a humanesque body. From where she stood, the object looked higher than Insignia and twice as wide. Silver tributaries of fluid streamed across it, encasing it in a silvery web.

  Mama.

  Nova, I told—

  Mama, Wanton asks you to put him on the pupa.

  Pupa?

  That is what he says.

  Mira stared at the throbbing slick mass before her. What could be encased in such a thing?

  Wanton asks that you hurry.

  Mira slipped her hand into her pocket and took out the little Extro.

  Just step towards it, she told herself.

  She reached up high, to place Wanton in a fold of the glistening wet skin, tucking it under the web of red vessels. In the time it took her to step away again, Wanton had disappeared, absorbed in the way Mira had been drawn through the craft’s wall.

  Nova? She waited for her daughter to reply.

  Si, Mama. Wanton is healing. The pupa is full of the mineral amalgam that it needs.

  Quixite? It’s full of quixite?

  There was another pause. Si. Wanton says the quixite will seal the crack in its casing. It is not required to meld with the Non-Corporeals.

  I’m pleased.

  Wanton says thank you. It will do what it can to help you.

  What do you mean?

  Nova’s next thought sounded thin, almost frightened. Mama, you must leave. Now.

  But Mira’s feet had already begun to slide into the floor. She tried to lift them, to run back down the passage, but movement made it worse. She was stuck, and sinking.

  JO-JO RASTEROVICH

  The sound of a voice woke him, and he lay, confused, trying to remember where he was. Cave. Island. Araldis. Survivors. Shit.

 

  The voice was in his head. Sole?

 

  Go now, where? The Entity was so clear and loud that he wanted to plug his ears.

 

  Back there? No way!

  The imperative was so strong that he jerked upright.

  Randall stirred and rolled over. Next to her, Catchut lay on his back, breathing evenly.

  Jo-Jo barely had time to accustom his eyes to the darkness before the next imperative surged through him.

 

  Sole hadn’t been so directly—so forcefully—in his mind since the Entity had driven him to the pseudo- world of Belle-Monde, back when he’d first encountered Tekton and wound up with a Hera contract on himself.

  He’d tried disagreeing with Sole. Told him to go fuck himself, if he recalled correctly. But the concept had been meaningless to the Entity, and soon enough Jo-Jo had found himself sitting in the tyros’ bar on Belle-Monde, doing exactly what Sole wanted him to do.

  When he’d thought about it afterwards, he figured Sole’s power over him was born from the mind reconfiguring that had saved his life.

  Talk about strings attached! He couldn’t believe that the tyros on Belle-Monde had actually chosen to have the process done to them. Shafting, they called it.

  Unlike them, Jo-Jo had been an innocent bystander, quietly dying on the bridge of his ship after the environmentals had carked it. He hadn’t been given a choice; Sole had just resurrected him.

  And now, again, it seemed he was being robbed of choice.

  His body took itself carefully through the cave, keeping to the narrow corridor between those still sleeping. He tried to pause at the mouth a
nd take in the night-time vista, but his limbs climbed down directly toward the AiV.

  An ‘esque spoke to him, a sentry, but he didn’t bother to reply.

  By the time he’d climbed inside the flyer and had run his fingers over the com-sole, the sentry had alerted others. Jo-Jo thought he could see Trinder Pellegrini, and Bethany’s girl, Djes; then Randall and Catchut. They scrambled from the cave towards him. Randall bellowed his name.

  He wanted to stop and explain. She’d think he’d crossed her, and after the things they’d been through the notion pissed him off. He fought Sole’s compulsion with everything he could: tried opening the door and throwing himself to the ground, but his hand wouldn’t leave the com-sole, his feet wouldn’t lift from the floor, and soon he was in the air, with the mountainside and the island diminishing into the deep dark.

  * * *

  The energy cell red-lined as he descended onto the beach near the chalet. Dawn was close, fuelling his sense of urgency. With quick, surprisingly efficient hands he transferred the cell from the other AiV into his, and was back in the air again before Leah broke the horizon.

  Setting the auto, he dozed without really sleeping deeply. Since escaping Medium it had been that way, light, fearful sleep. And now here he was, on a course heading straight back to the object that had so terrified him. Restless half-dreams brought him images of Mira Fedor—stroking her skin—and arguments with Rast Randall, his hand to the mercenary’s throat, her strong fists punching deep into his stomach.

  He woke in pain, wanting to vomit. The AiV’s locator told him that they had covered a large distance. He peered out. Even through the tinted windows, the brightness of the sun told him it was early afternoon. He searched through the emergency packs and found some protein biscuits and a tube of nutritional gel. They tasted better in his stomach than the raw fish and gritty roots he’d eaten the night before.

  With food in his belly, his thoughts drifted to the survivors. They were pitifully thin and worn, and their Principe was everything Mira Fedor had said he was—arrogant, authoritative and, even after all he’d been through, filled with a sense of entitlement. And yet he’d kept thirty or so ‘esques and a korm alive, a miracle of sorts.