Chaos Space (Sentients of Orion)

by Marianne de Pierres

‘Msr?’ The uuli escort appeared from inside the chamber.

  ‘There is talk of a shooting in the Heijunka district. Where can I find out more about it?’

  The uuli took some time to reply. ‘There is a public viewer outside the chamber should you wish to access public news.’

  ‘Show me.’

  The uuli slid ahead of them, back through the small antechambers and out into a heavily trafficked section.

  Jo-Jo ran past it to the closest ‘cast node but the queues wound back for half a mesur into the CBD.

  Catchut was breathing in his ear. ‘What in fuckin’ cruxsakes are you—’

  ‘Another one, I need another ‘cast.’

  ‘There is another one behind the water tower,’ volunteered the uuli. It had caught up with them and was contorting in and out of shape, as if agitated.

  Jo-Jo, followed by Catchut, ran the short distance to the node behind a large cylindrical tank. He thumbed the shortcast into action and began searching the feeds. The story was logged in Gal, between unverified reports that the Arrivals Bell was being closed while The Families investigated the flood of Extropists onto the mesa-worlds, and a notice that the TAFTers’ Convocation was in progress.

  Jo-Jo opted for audio only and peeled an earpiece from the dispenser. He listened carefully to the report and then placed a query.

  The reply was quick. ‘The identity of the archiTect is not public information at this time.’

  Jo-Jo cued up the unverified sources. ‘Potential identification?’ he asked.

  They all returned the same educated guess. ‘Tekton of Lostol.’

  Jo-Jo reeled back. ‘Well, fuck me, Carnage Farr. Did your System Device predict that?’

  Then a thought slapped him across the head. He blanked out the feed and stepped away from the ‘caster. Farr hadn’t shown him a tool for forecasting at all—he didn’t want to predict the future, he wanted to shape it. It was a Bifurcation Device. And where in Crux had he got the technology for that?

  Realisation became a throb in his temple. There was only one possible answer—

  ‘Rasterovich!’

  It was Catchut, with Rast Randall standing beside him.

  ‘Saw the Capo on the other side of the node.’

  Jo-Jo glanced around. ‘Where are Beth and the Baronessa?’

  Rast hesitated. There was a shifty look in her eyes that could have been guilt. ‘I got called away to do some business. Sent ‘em back straight back to the ‘zoon. Only...’

  ‘Only what?’ Jo-Jo demanded.

  ‘Only I just tried to ‘cast them. Can’t get a reply.’

  MIRA

  According to the tourist guide in Mira’s ear, the markets that populated the Rho Six docks never closed. Vendors replenished their stocks from flat-backed automons which meandered down the rows with arrogant lack of concern for the passing foot traffic.

  Mira was overwhelmed by the collision of pungent smells and the colours and shapes of the myriad sentient forms. She found herself wanting to reach for Bethany’s hand like a child afraid of losing its mother in a crowd. She had craved to see such a place but now, confronted by it, she was terrified.

  ‘Siphonophores. Incredible,’ breathed Bethany as a group of nearly transparent creatures passed by them. ‘Their feet are so fluid it’s as though they are floating.’

  Mira glanced at the pale suckered rippling flaps of skin that flowed across the floorspace. ‘They look amphibious.’

  ‘Probably were,’ said Rast Randall. ‘The Extros would have modified them when they stole their bodies.’

  ‘Then it is true?’ exclaimed Mira.

  The mercenary stood aside from them a little, watching. ‘What? That they are body stealers? Yep. They poach bodies like we change clothes.’ She looked down at the borrowed Cipriano robe that she had worn over her grey garb almost constantly since Araldis. ‘Well, most of the time, anyway. And they don’t care too much about the organism they’ve used up, either.’

  ‘In their defence, they normally pick a sub-sentient species,’ said Bethany.

  ‘“In their defence”?’ Rast didn’t attempt to hide a sneer. ‘Why would you be defending them?’

  Bethany flushed and shrugged. ‘Just a comment.’

  Rast had been restless and antagonistic ever since they had left Insignia. As if the mercenary was preempting trouble.

  ‘How long do you think Thales will be?’ asked Mira.

  ‘Shouldn’t take long to give him the shot. Might be Rasterovich that takes the time.’ Rast frowned. ‘Seems like a lot of Extros on the docks and up there.’ She pointed to the high part of the dome where extraordinary butterfly-like creatures glided about.

  ‘They are Extropists.’

  ‘I’m guessing,’ said Rast.

  ‘I’ve seen them like that in the war, only far less innocent. Those ones were carrying lots of military fruit.’

  Mira was entranced by the grace and shining transparency of their wings. ‘It’s hard to imagine.’

  ‘I’ve tried to tell you this before, Fedor. Never underestimate an Extro in any form.’

  They moved on slowly. ‘What are those?’ Mira pointed to large once-white catoplasma tubes stacked alongside each other like bits of a flattened hive.

  ‘Cheap sleeper units,’ said Bethany. ‘Not everyone can afford proper accommodation in these places.’

  ‘But there must be barely enough room to roll over in them,’ said Mira.

  ‘Space comes at a price in these places, Baronessa. You planet people never really get that.’

  ‘Why? Were you born in one of these?’ asked Mira innocently.

  Rast guffawed and for a moment Mira was almost enjoying herself.

  Then a thickset ordinary male humanesque detached himself from the milling crowd of buyers and touched Rast’s elbow.

  The mercenary twisted his fingers backward in a cruel and deft move.

  Mira stepped back at the look of pain on the ‘esque’s face. With her other hand Rast patted the weapon under her robe.

  She spoke a couple of quiet words in the man’s ear and let him go. He hastened back to the throng.

  Rast glanced across at Mira and Bethany. ‘You know which docking tunnel we came through?’

  ‘Si.’ Mira pivoted and pointed to the Tau Crux symbol above one of the many tube ends.

  ‘Berniere should be well on his way to his errand now. When it’s done we need to dust this place. Finish up your gawking and get back to the ‘zoon. Don’t let anyone other than us on board.’

  ‘Why? Where are you going?’ Bethany asked anxiously.

  Mira’s stomach knotted. Rast was leaving them alone. She had foolishly expected the mercenary to be dependable. Since that moment aboard Insignia when she had bared her soul Rast had been different. So she had thought.

  ‘Got some business to attend to that can’t wait,’ said

  Rast. She strode away towards the fast-trak without another word.

  ‘So much for our protection,’ said Bethany. She looked less composed now, her face a sheen of perspiration. ‘What is she up to, I wonder?’

  Mira guessed what it was. She had seen the satchel outlined beneath her robe beside the mercenary’s—weapon—but she did not share her knowledge with Bethany. She was Lasper Farr’s sister. Like Trinder and Franco Pellegrini, familia traits often ran deeper than appearance. Even Rast didn’t deserve that kind of betrayal.

  ‘I think we should return to Insignia. I am not sure that we are altogether safe alone,’ Mira said. Her imagination was already at work. The crowd seemed to have closed in on them without Rast there, as though the mercenary exuded some sort of personal power that demanded space.

  ‘Yes,’ Bethany agreed.

  They began to retrace their route to Insignia but within a few steps of joining the main stream of traffic they were engulfed by a group of the towering transparent jelly creatures. Bethany and Mira were separated. Mira reached through the gelatinous wall for Bethany’s hand but what ha
d appeared to be fluid flesh was now as rigid and impenetrable as steel. She let their motion propel her along, fighting off the sensation of suffocation. They will pass me by and I will be free of them. They will pass...

  But a few steps later black ink squirted through the siphonophores’ bodies and they lost all transparency.

  Mira tried to call out to Bethany but her voice was dry with fear.

  Then she felt her body lifted up by their momentum and the light faded to something terribly, terribly dark.

  JO-JO RASTEROVICH

  ‘You what!?’ Jo-Jo’s fists balled in anger and fear lodged in his throat. If Rast had endangered Mira Fedor he would rip the mercenary apart.

  Rast saw his expression and squared her shoulders. She stuck out her jaw. ‘They were a few hundred mesurs from the docking tube. They’ve probably gone off sightseeing. Never seen such a pair of gawkers.’

  ‘Msr Rasterovich. You’re required to return to the Convocation.’ It was the uuli. It stayed outside their tense huddle, twisting its torso nervously.

  Jo-Jo swore in every way he could. He had to finish the Convocation discussion to keep trouble away from Berniere—but right now there were only two things he wanted to do, and he wanted to do them at the same time. Find Mira and hunt down Tekton. He cut his losses and turned to the uuli.

  ‘Show’s over, mate. A friend’s in trouble.’

  The uuli’s skin flushed a rainbow of colours, which Jo-Jo expected meant that it was pissed off. ‘It is not appropriate to leave Convocation before dismissal—’

  ‘Tell Convocation that they’ve got more things to worry about than my interrupted story. This place is crawling with Extros and I don’t think it’s for the sightseeing. I’d say you’ve got problems. Jo-Jo turned his back on the uuli then and faced Rast. ‘You’d better go and find her, hadn’t you?’

  For a moment Rast looked like she might argue but Jo-Jo let his expression become ugly. Rast might be an experienced fighter but he had reason. Reason was worth shitloads. So was a ‘nothing to lose’ attitude.

  Rast read all that there and nodded. ‘I’ll take Catchut. And you?’

  ‘Where is Berniere?’

  ‘Heijunka section near The Hoes. Factory unit is in FF. Will be a medi-lab, I would reckon.’

  Heijunka was where Tekton had been reported. Jo-Jo pictured the tourist map. ‘Bell One. I’ll find Berniere and get him out of there. I’ve got a bad feeling about these Extros. They’re everywhere.’

  Rast nodded. ‘That’s why I was looking for you. I think we should pull out.’

  ‘Agreed. See you back at the ‘zoon. And Randall—it better be good news.’

  The two exchanged looks and walked away.

  * * *

  The fast-trak to Bell One only increased Jo-Jo’s agitation. It was crowded with strange Extro-inhabited creatures, many of the floating gelatinous kind but others as well, including a group of small, almost humanesque-shaped bodies who had what looked like bones protruding through their skin. The rattling as the bones clattered against each other was the most reassuring of their attributes. They bore no facial characteristics on the segment of their body that should have been their head but Jo-Jo noticed a bulbous pod under each arm that was coated in several layers of translucent tissue and was ringed by fine spines. They kept their arms permanently lifted, as if airing their sides but Jo-Jo wondered if it was to allow them to see. They were utterly silent and utterly alien.

  By the time he reached the exit conveyor for Bell One, Jo-Jo was drenched in sweat and strung out with worry about the various possibilities. What if Tekton had left the area? What if he was still there? What if he couldn’t find Latourn and Berniere? What if Mira Fedor was in trouble? What if Mira Fedor—

  ‘Rasterovich!’

  Jo-Jo jumped at the sound of his name. Latourn was standing in the up-queue waiting to get on the fast-trak. He glanced around for Berniere but couldn’t see the scholar. He threw up his hands in a questioning gesture.

  Latourn dug his hands into his pockets and narrowed his eyes in a mirror of Rast’s action. Jo-Jo took one stride to the dividing barrier and punched him in the solar plexus. Latourn howled and doubled over.

  Jo-Jo hauled the bigger man over the barricade, barely feeling the weight. On either side of them ‘esques and aliens scattered to give them room but he shoved Latourn down the conveyor and out of the main stream of pedestrians until he had him backed up against a structural pylon. ‘What fucking game are you and your boss playing? You’re supposed to be with Berniere.’

  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 suffere
d 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.’