Chaos Space (Sentients of Orion)

by Marianne de Pierres

  Wait...

  And there it was—the map overlaid its final detail, bringing the freezing barren system to bizarre awe-inspiring life.

  Insignia: Akouedo.

  Rast: Home.

  Mira: Crux! What are they?

  Rast: The things we once valued.

  Huge glittering rings circled each of the twelve planets: moving bands of objects caught in an endless spin. Tugs darted in and out of them like firebugs braving the surf spray along the beaches of the Tourmaline Islands. Some reappeared towing a glittering mote to another location. Occasionally a gap in the ring would afford a better view of the planet beneath. Through it Mira saw swirls of brilliant colours: magenta, lime and burning gold.

  How beautiful.

  Rast: Poisonous gases. And refuse.

  Mira: Ohhh—

  Rast: Where else did you think it went?

  I didn’t—

  Rast: No.

  Insignia: I have heard of this system but had not imagined it would be so beautiful. It is not recommended to my kind.

  Rast: It was beautiful once. Wistful.

  You are a native? Mira felt the mercenary’s nod: a small, sombre gesture. Almost vulnerable.

  There are many of us now. That call Akouedo home.

  Rast? Where do we go?

  Rast’s energy shot to the seventh planet from the dying star. There. Take us there.

  JO-JO RASTEROVICH

  Mau, Bethany and Jo-Jo watched their approach to Akouedo’s seventh planet, Edo, on a tiny banged-up screen in an operator’s cabin next to the maglev gens.

  Shift had been more comfortable this time—apart from the imitation Oort whisky. Loker kept his distance but the crew were keen for God-Discoverer stories over an evening of cards. To oblige, Jo-Jo told the story of his flight from the woman with the suffocating thighs. That tale alone—and his method of escape—got some of the crew refilling his cup for the duration, while the rest slipped off to their cabins for ‘private’ contemplation. What had seemed most agreeable at the time had turned into a gigantic hangover.

  ‘How does anyone navigate through this circle of junk?’ he demanded tetchily.

  Mau shrugged.

  But Bethany watched the screen with glittering eyes. ‘Each planet has a designated “chute” area for entry. Ingenious, really, but it’s disturbing to think that we produced all this rubbish.’

  ‘Who are we going to see down there, anyway? The garbage chief?’

  Mau glowered at him. He pointed to a spot on the screen. ‘Here.’

  The Savvy catapulted toward that very spot, a gap into a narrow channel kept clear by an elaborate cable-net system that reminded Jo-Jo of the shark nets on the beaches of Cerulea. It twisted inelegantly through the thick band of floating rubbish, leaving Jo-Jo with fleeting impressions of damaged solar arrays, discarded twirling metal stairways from space habitats, and endless torn sheets of reflectives drifting like glitter motes in water.

  The view became brighter and brighter until the screen dimmed to compensate. Jo-Jo felt the Savvy straining against the acute angle of its dive and he found himself taking shallow breaths.

  Bethany seemed to be doing the same, punctuating hers with little grunts each time she exhaled.

  Apart from the thin sheen of perspiration on his cheeks and forehead Mau seemed unperturbed.

  Only when they broke free from the ring of rubbish did Jo-Jo begin to breathe normally. He closed his eyes then, waiting impatiently for the Savvy’s chorus of docking noises.

  When it finally happened he was deep in reverie.

  ‘Mr Rasterovich?’

  Jo-Jo opened his eyes. Len the kid H-M was at his elbow. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Captain Loker says for you to leave through the cargo hatch. Someone will be waiting for you.’

  That was it? No fond farewell?

  Jo-Jo nodded. The sentiment was the same from his side.

  He held out his hand to the kid. ‘Find yourself a decent Captain.’

  Len blushed and hurried away.

  * * *

  The three disembarked into a huge hangar that looked like a group of superseded docking modules that didn’t quite fit together. Everything overlapped and some things seemed to be duplicated. Jo-Jo could hear air blowing in from above but couldn’t see the vents in the dimly lit ceiling.

  ‘Ahem.’ A smartly attired Lamin stepped from the shadows to address them. Its tri-part nose quivered while it documented their scents and it pushed back a section of stiff black immaculately sectioned hair with fingernails that appeared to join straight to its wrist. Ridiculously cruel high heels attempted to flatter its stumpy shapeless legs.

  Lamins usually worked as highly paid PAs for OLOSS politicians. This thought-caster was a long way out of the loop. ‘Step this way.’ It gestured towards a booth with plax walls.

  As if to reinforce its demand two black-uniformed soldiers stepped forward. Each carried a lightweight firearm and wore a complicated blade kit around their waists.

  Mau shepherded Beth inside the booth and Jo-Jo followed them. He stopped to watch through the plax as a small tug hooked onto the Savvy and towed it deeper into the hangar.

  ‘What a beauty!’ exclaimed Bethany. She was standing next to him but looking in the opposite direction at a large flat-winged ship floating against its dock.

  Jo-Jo’s heart skipped: a biozoon like Salacious. ‘How much do you think?’ he murmured.

  Bethany gave him a fierce stare. ‘You don’t buy that kind of creature. If you are lucky, it might pick you as a pilot. It’s not a hybrid that’s been hobbled.’

  Jo-Jo looked back to the glistening scaled animal. ‘You mean it has an Innate?’

  ‘Yes, I would imagine so,’ said Bethany. ‘How lucky they are.’

  The Lamin cleared its throat to gain their attention. ‘Edo is a closed port. While Mistress Bethany and Petalu Mau are welcomed home, we are not yet satisfied with the reasons for your presence, Mr Rasterovich.’

  Home? Jo-Jo stared at Beth.

  ‘Lamin, he is here at my invitation,’ said Bethany.

  Part of the creature’s nose twitched towards her. ‘I am sorry, Mistress, but it is required that he be questioned.’

  She sighed and shrugged.

  The Lamin continued. ‘What is the nature of your visit? Please be precise and accurate or you will be considered an intruder and isolated.’

  Jo-Jo hesitated but the soldiers were inside the office as well now, gripping their weapons a little tighter. He could see little harm in the truth—in fact, he might be able to garner information from it. ‘Bethany wanted to come here. I helped her do that because she helped me. I don’t have business here as such. I am seeking a Lostolian named Tekton, an archiTect. We have some—err—business.’

  A delay again. ‘You were involved in a Hera contract with this ‘esque.’

  Jo-Jo took a breath, sensing Beth’s curious glance at him. Lamins made it their business to know everything. ‘Yes.’

  But to his surprise the Lamin pursued it no further. Instead it asked them to follow. With the soldiers bringing up the rear it led them through a labyrinth of corridors. Each one was made of a different kind of material: foul-smelling singed plastics, extruded metal, synthetic tissue and wood. All were patterned by spreading fungi.

  Jo-Jo realised after a while that the constant change was due to the nature of the building. The rooms along the corridors were actually giant packing crates cobbled together to simulate one mass.

  The Lamin opened a hatch on a seemingly random crate and pointed inside with its long fingernails. ‘Sit and wait,’ it said.

  It disappeared, leaving the soldiers guarding the door.

  Jo-Jo crossed the interior of the bare crate and sat on a low shelf. Glancing upward he noticed that the light was coming in from under the unattached roof. Then the wall moved under his back, sending him straight to his feet again.

  Beth came over and prodded it. ‘Cartilage. It was a popular building mater
ial for a while but was prone to bacterial infections. Modelled on the biozoon idea. People started to get sick from it, though. It was banned on OLOSS planets.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Jo-Jo between gritted teeth. The place had him on edge. He was already hungry and he needed to pee. It didn’t seem like the kind of place where you could do either of those things without a map and a day’s food supply, so he dug his hands into the pockets of his poker-won Savvy jacket and fell to thinking about recent events.

  Their escape from Dowl still made him want to crap all the time; the closest he’d ever been to death and his bowels wouldn’t let him forget it. The terror of drifting in the black and the thoughts he’d had... they were with him still in the moments—like this one—when he let himself remember.

  He looked across at Beth. She’d hauled him in on that tether, kept on talking to him, urging him to stay alive.

  Did that make her a friend? Did he want her to be?

  He wasn’t sure. He’d always thought himself perfectly happy without close company but she had put a tiny nick on the hard edge of his beliefs and now the whole damn thing had begun to tear. Nothing seemed as solid as it had.

  The door opened again and the soldiers beckoned them back into the corridor. They were forced to walk between them this time, twisting and turning down the makeshift corridors again until they stopped in front of another crate. The walls on this one looked organic as well—but catoplasma this time, grown and modified.

  Inside the crate/room a group of ‘esques sat around a low table. The ‘esque at the table end was flanked by more soldiers. Jo-Jo thought him unremarkable at first—an older man despite obvious rejuve, with cropped silver hair and a lean body.

  Then he got close enough to see the man’s eyes. They were overly large for his face, and grey: dispassionate, intelligent eyes.

  ‘Beth?’ said the man softly. He did not stand or make any other change in his casual posture.

  Beth blushed but met his gaze.

  ‘Lasper,’ she said.

  Jo-Jo identified two of the other four people at the table as mercenaries. That left a soft-faced pretty young man who plucked at his sleeve with nervous fingers, and, lastly, a young woman. She was a small slender type like Bethany but dark-haired and fine-featured with vibrant crimson skin. She sat stiffly in a formal robe.

  ‘Are you going to introduce your friend, Beth?’ asked the grey-eyed man.

  Jo-Jo didn’t much like his attitude. ‘Josef Rasterovich.’

  ‘I know who you are, God-Discoverer, but I don’t tolerate poor manners. My sister seems to have forgotten that.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s possible that your sister’s got things on her mind,’ said Jo-Jo curtly. ‘Things shitty enough to bring her to you looking for help.’

  Bethany froze. The robed woman stared at him. In fact, everyone in the room seemed suddenly on edge as if he’d crossed an invisible line of protocol.

  The grey-eyed man leaned his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. ‘Seems like you’ve found a champion, little sister.’

  ‘A friend,’ Beth corrected him. She balanced on one foot like an awkward kid. ‘You’ve always said I don’t have enough.’

  Her brother’s mouth twisted into something that should have been a smile but wasn’t. He settled back in his seat. ‘Sit, please.’

  It was not a request.

  ‘Mr Rasterovich, meet Baronessa Fedor and her companions. She is one of the last remaining royals from the planet Araldis—or so she would have me believe.’

  The young Baronessa held out her hand to Jo-Jo. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.’

  Jo-Jo couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he walked over and shook it.

  Something appalling happened when his skin touched hers. The worst of things. Perhaps it was the incredible softness of her hand. Or the way her erect posture seemed to be a brace against the hard life she led. Or maybe it was the deep, deep look of desperation in her eyes. But in that moment, the something that had glued Jo-Jo together for his entire life came unstuck. He found himself stranded between diffident and nervous—a place he had never been before. ‘J-josef,’ was all he managed to stammer.

  ‘Now, Baronessa, continue your story,’ said Bethany’s brother.

  ‘But it is not the business or the interest of these people,’ replied the Baronessa.

  ‘I think it is. Now continue.’

  The woman glanced at the soldiers. There was no mistaking the grey-eyed man’s imperative.

  She took a breath. ‘My planet, Araldis, has been invaded by a tardigrade species known as the Saqr. A mercenary by the name of Ludjer Jancz, we think, is responsible for it. Mia sorella was killed in an explosion set by him. All the bambinos that she gave shelter to died as well: babies, barely able to suckle. The invasion is widespread with only a few survivors, who are in hiding. We did not bring this upon ourselves, nor are they likely to survive much longer if I do not bring help.’ She drew another shaking breath. ‘My bambino, Vito, is still there.’

  Her bambino? Jo-Jo looked at her fingers and ears. She wore none of the traditional emblems of legal marriage.

  ‘Tell me about the survivors. Did you see a young girl alone anywhere? A part-Mio. She’s my daughter,’ Beth implored the woman.

  The Baronessa frowned. ‘I don’t know how many are left alive in all. But there are some. The young Principe led them into hiding. That is why I am here. I must find a way to get help to them.’

  ‘Fedor is right. It’s a crap shoot down there. We only got out because she could fly the ‘zoon,’ added one of the mercenaries.

  Jo-Jo took a sharp breath. ‘You’re an Innate?’

  The Baronessa gave a faint nod.

  ‘Rare and intriguing,’ said Beth’s brother. ‘The Baronessa is a very special woman.’

  Bethany took a step closer to her brother. ‘Lasper, we were there too—at any rate on Dowl station—when the creatures came. We missed the evacuation and tried to escape on a Sawy but the Saqr followed us to the dock. We had to go EVA on a lug. A Sawy picked us up.’ She shuddered.

  ‘You say your girl is on this planet, Beth. What of her father?’ asked Lasper.

  ‘He’d already gone with his ship. Left us there. I would have joined her on the planet but...’ This time she stared straight at her brother. ‘You were right. And I was wrong, Lasper. And I need your help.’

  His grey eyes filled with an intense look of satisfaction. He stared at the crimson-skinned young woman. ‘And you, Baronessa?’

  ‘I went to OLOSS first. They wanted to impound both myself and the biozoon while they investigated the matter. They gave no indication that they would give aid. My... companion indicated that you might be sympathetic to our plight.’

  The white-haired mercenary seated next to the Baronessa let out a sudden hoarse laugh. ‘Sympathetic was not the word I used, Lasper.’

  ‘Indeed, Rast Randall. I would not imagine it.’

  ‘Rast?’ said Petalu Mau suddenly. He had not sat with Bethany and Jo-Jo but had positioned himself at the wall alongside the soldiers. ‘It’s Petalu.’

  The mercenary twisted around in her seat to stare at him. She held out a hand which Mau stretched across to slap.

  ‘Mau? I didn’t recognise you under all that fat.’ Rast gave a laugh, and then offered Lasper an explanation. ‘We grew up next door to each other on Edo Lesser. Went our separate ways. I went to work for myself, and he... came to work for you.’

  He came to work for you. Jo-Jo ransacked his memory. Who was this man? He’d been in enough bars, heard enough rumours, enough crap talked, to work it out. But the Baronessa’s proximity seemed to have numbed his mind.

  ‘There is always an opening in my ranks for someone like you, Rast Randall,’ said Lasper. ‘You were with us in the war. Did a good job, I heard. Dren speaks highly of you.’

  The mercenary with the stark white hair nodded her thanks. “Predate the offer, Carnage. But I don’t like to
lock myself into things. You know.’

  Carnage? Carnage Farr! Jo-Jo’s balls jerked up inside him and refused to come down: the Commander of the Stain Wars? Even in the direst farouche bars Farr’s name inspired fear talk.

  ‘Ahem... my name is Thales Berniere.’ All attention shifted to the nervous young man who had finally summoned enough courage to speak. ‘I do not want your help. I have been brought here against my free will and I wish only to leave.’

  The Baronessa sent the young Thales an imploring look that caused Jo-Jo an irrational stab of jealousy.

  ‘Let me guess, Mr Berniere. You are from Scolar, perhaps? A Jainist or Buddhist?’ asked Carnage Farr.

  Thales’s shocked look made Rast Randall laugh again.

  ‘The Baronessa had agreed to take me to Scol station after I—’ Thales began.

  ‘After you assaulted an OLOSS dignitary and jumped ship,’ finished Rast. ‘You’re lucky to have your skin on.’

  ‘W-what do you m-mean?’ stammered the scholar.

  ‘I mean that you should be grateful we hijacked your plans. If Scol security had caught up with you and the set of “instructions” you are carrying, you would have been imprisoned without trial. Maybe executed. I haven’t met a sanctioned bio courier yet. Whatever you’re collecting’s gotta be illegal, no matter what they told you.’

  Thales swallowed hard. ‘You’ve been through my room!’

  But Jo-Jo’s curiosity wasn’t piqued. His thoughts were racing ahead. Why are we all here—together? What is Carnage Farr planning?

  As if sensing Jo-Jo’s paranoia, Orion’s most infamous man stood. He placed his fists, knuckles forward, on the table, displaying the faint scars from old military augmentations. ‘While I am neither a Jainist nor a philosopher of any one doctrine, I am a believer. And this is what I believe. There is a pattern in everything and a reason for it. I have on one side of the table a woman desperate to raise an army, and two mercenaries who will work for her if the price is right.

  ‘I have on the other side my own sister whose child is lost on the very planet the Baronessa wishes to save, and an entrepreneur—a God-Discoverer—who has unfinished business with a Lostolian academic under the new god’s tutelage—an ‘esque, as it turns out, who had recently visited the Baronessa’s planet.’