Transformation Space (Sentients of Orion Book 4)

by Marianne de Pierres

  They stared at each other in unhappy recollection, then Gutnee stepped neatly back to allow a group to pass between them; when they’d gone, so had Paraburd.

  Thales didn’t linger. The lack of surprise in Gutnee’s expression told him that the man knew him to be here. He ran out of the building and across the tarmac among the traffic auditors and the AiVs manoeuvring into parking spots. Fariss was ahead of him, weaving in and out of vehicles, ducking around pay stations

  He approached the bank of taxis. ‘Esques milled around the pay maestro, demanding rides. The maestro shouted at them, trying to force them into some order.

  The taxis were all locked automatons. Thales wouldn’t be able to get one without the maestro’s release command.

  Steal one, Thales.

  Keeping track of Fariss, he edged over to the private vehicle lot. A family of ‘esques were climbing out of a small domestic flyer, simultaneously engaged in a blossoming argument.

  Thales waited until they were at the rear luggage compartment, then crawled into the passenger seat from the other side. He lay there for a few moments staring at the controls, breathing heavily. He’d operated similar vehicles as a child, transporting scholars to and from his birth town to the Logic Courts, and then later, a few times, when he and Rene had taken holidays on the Faust Coast. This one was even simpler than those, a luxurious and virtually automated flyer with an updated verbal command function.

  The carriage rocked as the luggage compartment slammed shut.

  He had to decide. Fariss wouldn’t be able evade the Robes much longer.

  Voices grew louder, and the door slid open. A hand fumbled along the pilot seat for the activation slide, the ‘esque still talking to his family outside the door. The man had only to turn his head to see Thales lying sideways on his seat.

  Thales grasped his chance. He grabbed the slide and rotated his body around, reached for the ignition slot. The slide slipped in, and the vehicle issued a guttural start-up sound which sent the man’s head swiveling.

  ‘What—’

  ‘Close doors,’ Thales told the craft.

  The man instinctively withdrew his hand to avoid having it crushed and yelled.

  ‘Proceed north.’

  Thales sat upright and slid into the pilot’s seat. The flyer began to move forward, out into the designated taxiing lane.

  A glance at the proximity viewer told him that the ‘esque was chasing him.

  ‘Lock doors.’ He scanned the area for Fariss. From the cluster of guards, they had her cornered by the pay station furthest from the terminal. A politic transport with red and gold markings was approaching from the opposite direction.

  The sight of it spurred Thales. If the guards captured Fariss, she’d be taken to detention, as he had been. His thoughts flashed to Villon. He wouldn’t fail Fariss as he’d failed gentle Amaury.

  He told the vehicle to hasten to the farthest pay booth. It showed a location image on the screen and asked for confirmation.

  ‘Yes!’ he said. ‘Hurry.’

  ‘At what speed do you wish to travel?’

  ‘Maximum limit.’ Then he reconsidered. ‘No. Maximum speed possible without damage.’

  ‘You wish to ignore speed limits.’

  ‘Yes. Ignore all speed limits.’

  ‘It is legally required that you record your deliberate intention to break the law.’

  ‘I have instructed vehicle—’ Thales glanced up at the registration holo ‘—MA040 to ignore speed limits.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the flyer. ‘Harness securing.’ Safety straps snaked around his shoulder and waist. It lifted and accelerated with force.

  Thales fell back against the seat. A few moments

  later they were hovering above Fariss. There would only be one chance to pick her up; the approaching politic vehicle was already broadcasting threats.

  ‘Descend at maximum speed and hover three mesurs above the ground surface. Stand by for immediate ascent,’ said Thales.

  ‘Confirming that speed will be outside safety parameters,’ intoned the flyer.

  ‘Confirmed,’ said Thales.

  It dropped without further warning to a very short distance above Fariss’s head. She jumped for the flyer’s struts and wrapped her hands around one of them.

  ‘Ascend and accelerate out of the port zone to Clementvale.’

  ‘Confirm location on map,’ said the flyer.

  Anxiously Thales tapped in confirmation as the Robes closed on Farris, batting her with their swords. She kicked back at them and swung her long powerful legs around the strut.

  As the flyer lifted, one of the taller guards managed to seize her ankle. They flew, clinging together for a short distance, before Fariss slammed his face with the heel of her other boot.

  With horror, Thales watched his fall from the proximity cams. ‘Proceed with maximum speed.’

  They soared over the port boundary, gaining height and speed. He worried that Fariss would freeze or fall, but the politic flyer was pursuing them aggressively now, lights and sirens activated.

  Thales tried to think above the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his limbs. He’d never acted so decisively before. This was not impulsive, like his attack on Sophos Mianos, or because he was afraid of dying, like his actions on Rho Junction. This was a clear rational choice, and he must see it through.

  And Fariss needed him.

  She was kneeling on the horizontal strut now, inching her way up.

  ‘Open the passenger door,’ he told the vehicle.

  ‘This is a manufacturer warning. Opening the door at current speed will cause instability and changes in cabin pressure,’ the vehicle bleated back.

  ‘Proceed!’ ordered Thales.

  As the door opened, he was slammed back against his seat by the wind that tunnelled through. He reached out a hand, which Fariss grabbed with bone-crunching force. She hauled herself up onto the seat, sprawling over him.

  ‘Close door,’ Thales gasped.

  The door slid shut quickly, leaving them tangled and breathless.

  Fariss lifted her head and dropped a heavy breathless kiss on his face. She slid her legs down and levered into the passenger seat. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’ll land near Clementvale. Make enquiries for the woman Linnea.’

  ‘But how we gonna shake them first?’

  Thales stared out of the window. The city was passing beneath at a terrifying pace as they reached maximum speed. Worse was the vibration.

  ‘You overridden the safety?’ shouted Fariss.

  He nodded and waited for her reaction.

  She slapped him on the back with approval and squared her shoulders as the harness wrapped around her. ‘Make a soldier of ya yet.’

  They didn’t try to speak again as the flyer strained toward its destination, leaving the slower politic flyer further and further behind. When they began to ascend Mount Clement, the vibration intensified, and a dreadful tearing noise filled the cabin.

  ‘Slow!’ Fariss bellowed.

  ‘Reduce speed!’ said Thales.

  The command came too late. A large piece of fairing peeled off the nose and smashed into the passenger bubble. The bubble cracked under the impact, and a blasting gust of cold air speared through the cabin.

  ‘Engine malfunction alert,’ blared the flyer.

  The dashboard flashed a sequence of lights that meant nothing to Thales.

  ‘Land!’ he shrieked.

  Their descent was swift and ragged. For a few desperate moments Thales thought they’d hit nose first, but the vehicle corrected its wing balance in time to drop tail first. The impact was so hard that Fariss’s lap restraint snapped, and her lower body was flung forward. Only the shoulder restraint prevented her from smashing her head.

  Thales’s neck jerked back and then forward. As he gasped for breath, Fariss was already wriggling out of her shoulder harness and kicking the door open.

  She released Thales from his restra
int and pulled him into her arms as though he was a small child being rescued by its mother.

  ‘Where to?’ She didn’t put him down as she slid onto the ground.

  Through his daze he noticed grease on her face and the spatter of blood that ran from her high broad cheekbone down to her generous mouth. There was no smile on those lips. They were pursed with pain and determination.

  He remembered how easily she’d strangled Lasper Farr’s soldier on Edo, the one sent to kill him. And then later how she’d shot the mercenary, Macken, when she’d caught him forcing himself on Thales. When Fariss decided to kill, she showed no hesitation. Or remorse.

  He shook in her arms.

  ‘Thales!’ she demanded. ‘We stay here, and they’ll be all over us. Where to?’

  He raised his head and tried to get his bearings. They’d landed on a commuter siding near the mouth of the quarry. Thales knew the area vaguely. His father had brought him here once, hoping his son might choose a less lofty position than scholar. He still recalled their conversation—his father’s resignation and acknowledgement of his mother’s genes.

  ‘You must know what it means to work for a living, Thales. Sometimes I think they forget. Those up there, with their ideas.’ He stared into the distance towards the city. It was then that Thales had felt the yearning to go there and become one of the untouchables. The pull had been so, so strong.

  ‘Follow the escarpment. Town’s over the other side,’ he whispered.

  Fariss strode on without another word.

  He tugged her shoulder and made her look at him. ‘I can walk,’ he said. ‘Put me down.’

  She gave a nod and dropped him to his feet. ‘Shame. Kinda enjoy doin’ that.’

  Another warm feeling infused his hurting body. She could still do that to him despite everything.

  They headed up the side of the quarry toward the treeline. Thales found himself jogging to keep up with her. The brush at the top was thick, slowing their progress. Halfway along the escarpment, he begged Fariss for a rest. She stood impatiently over him as he sank into the dry grass, panting.

  The politic flyer made several passes over the quarry before settling to land near their discarded flyer. Guards poured out.

  She grabbed Thales by the arm and pulled him to his feet. ‘Get your arse moving, or I’ll be carrying you again.’

  Staying under the cover of the trees, they crested the quarry. Beneath them, Clementvale spread through the hollow, between the quarry and another heavily wooded mountain on the opposite side, proof of what the area had been like before its excavation.

  ‘Cat-cons—are—down—there,’ Thales gasped. He pointed to a discoloured section of the uniformly white catoplasma rooftops. ‘If she’s a worker, she’ll live there.’

  ‘How will we find her?’

  ‘Ask—someone.’

  Fariss nodded. ‘Come on.’ She gripped his hand as they slid and scrambled down the quarry-side, keeping him upright when he might have fallen.

  They skidded down the last section as the guards reached the crest. Fariss had the first line of houses in her sights, and her unrelenting grip propelled Thales forward.

  They hastened between rows of houses, weaving

  through the lanes at Fariss’s whim. He wanted to ask her if she knew which direction to go, but he couldn’t catch his breath enough to speak.

  As they moved through the centre of the town, a cloak of familiarity descended over him. He’d grown up in a town like this, and the sense of familiarity delivered a rush of emotion. Unbidden, tears began to stream down his cheeks.

  Fariss cricked her neck to stare down at him. ‘You hurt?’

  He shook his head and dashed the moisture away. ‘How far to the Cat-cons?’

  She glanced at the rooftops. ‘Nother block, maybe.’

  Scolar’s sun had started to set; they’d have darkness on their side soon. For the first time in his life Thales was relieved that Scolar had no moons. The street lights were already warming, and quiet had descended. It amplified the shouts of the Robes tracking them.

  Fariss pulled him down one more lane and into a small amphitheatre. They skirted around its edge and past the next set of houses. These ones were a different colour: the Cat-Cons.

  A group of children were playing in the last light, throwing balls at a wall. They stopped their game and stared at the fugitives. Then the oldest one grabbed the younger ones and shuffled them inside one of the homes.

  Sirens were blaring now, alerting the town to an emergency. Inside the houses com-soles would be ‘casting images of Thales and Fariss to the occupants.

  An ‘esque appeared in the doorway through which the children had disappeared. He carried a weapon.

  ‘Get on yer way!’ he bellowed.

  Fariss squared her shoulders, and Thales felt her tension escalate. Her body became taut, ready to fight.

  Thales straightened and limped forward. ‘We’re looking for a woman named Linnea. A Swestr. A woman—friend of hers—told us she would help.’

  The man glanced back into the shadows in the doorway. He inclined his head towards Fariss and Thales. ‘Inside. Quick.’

  Fariss stepped in front of Thales, her hands loose at her sides, fingers flexing. As they crowded into the small entrance, a woman spoke to them from the shadows of the hall. ‘I’ll take you to a safe place until Linnea comes. She’ll decide.’

  Fariss didn’t like it, Thales could tell. He placed his hand in the small of her back and stepped round her bulk so he could see the woman. The man shut the door behind them.

  ‘Thank you. The Robes are searching for us. We don’t wish to bring you trouble.’

  The woman was round and dark, and her Scolar accent was clipped, less cultured than his. She wore soft boots, loose pants and a collared shirt as if she’d just got off work.

  ‘You already did,’ she said without preamble. ‘Come.’

  They followed her through the dully pigmented corridor, straight to the back of the house and into a neatly paved yard. The automated gate swung open at her request, and she hurried along an equally tidy paved laneway.

  They could hear the Robes clearly. They were broadcasting a warning message along the streets and banging on doors. Thales glimpsed two of them between houses. They had their weapons raised and were engaged in animated conversation.

  The woman began to jog.

  Thales tried to keep up with her, but his body was close to collapse. Fariss fell back and linked her arm with his.

  ‘Just a little further,’ she whispered. ‘Then we can rest.’

  He thought of Mira Fedor—how she’d escaped the Post-Species world and the Saqr invasion. From somewhere he dragged up determination. Mira had no one and nothing, and yet she’d survived. He was blessed with Fariss. He would not let her down. He pulled his arm from her support and quickened his pace again.

  The dark was upon them when the woman stopped abruptly. She leaned forward, panting into a comm. The gates to another yard opened, and she hurried them through before they closed again.

  From what Thales could see they were in an almost identical yard. Soft garden light lit their way towards the house, but the woman deviated from the path and squatted down among some well-pruned bushes. ‘Quiet as you can,’ she said. ‘Don’t want those inside knowing you’re here.’

  Thales opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but he shut it again. The woman was nothing if not decisive. Like Fariss.

  ‘Hold hands,’ she ordered. She grasped Thales’s fingers, her own cool and dry against his. He reached out for Fariss, and she engulfed his hand with her huge grip. The woman inched into the dark shrubbery along the side of the house.

  They stopped and started a few times, bumping into each other. Branches brushed their legs, and the ground became uneven.

  Finally, she stopped and let go of Thales’s hand to kneel down in front of a large shadowy object.

  Thales could hear rather than see her push the bushes aside from
it: the soft crack of the breaking twigs, her even softer cursing. And then faint scraping noises as she turned some type of pump handle.

  Fariss was still holding his hand. Her grip tightened when lights flooded the yard. She pulled Thales down into the cover of the bushes in the time it took him to comprehend what had happened.

  Voices drifted around the side to them, clear and curt. ‘We’ve not seen your runaways here, Politic.’ The voice sounded honest and anxious—an older man.

  The woman had done the right thing by not taking them into the house.

  ‘Stand aside while we inspect your yard,’ said the robe in reply.

  ‘Mind the garden,’ said the homeowner. ‘We supply the Sophos offices with lilies. Wouldn’t do to damage them.’

  ‘Where’s your wife?’ asked the robe, ignoring the man’s warning.

  ‘She’s at work. Won’t be home till the dinner’s cleaned up.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘The Mount Clement clinic.’

  ‘Scrubber?’

  The man didn’t answer immediately. ‘Galley supervisor,’ he said eventually.

  Thales felt a tug on his arm, then the woman’s mouth close to his ear. ‘Get... down... in here.’ Her words were so faint he barely heard them.

  He pulled his hand from Fariss’s and reached forward. The soil crumbled away and he felt a smooth edge of catoplasma.

  ‘Hurry,’ she whispered again.

  Thales contorted his body round and slipped his legs over the edge as the Robes left the veranda. His feet dangled for a moment before connecting with a ledge, and beneath it another ledge—a rough stairway of some kind built into the catoplasma, leading to an underground chamber.

  He climbed down as quickly as he could, not wanting Fariss to be left in the open. Within moments, her large feet were following him. As soon as her head was below the catoplasma lip, the opening closed, and they lost all light.

  They both landed in a tumble on the dry floor. Neither of them spoke as they disentangled their limbs from each other and listened.

  Silence from above.

  ‘OK, hon?’ whispered Fariss eventually.

  Her concern had its usual anaesthetising effect. Somehow, it meant more to him than any of Rene’s slightly patronising attentions ever had.