Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [101]
Moud?
The craftsman has no HealthWatch. I would surmise that if he does not receive medical assistance within three to six minutes then the cerebral damage will be irreparable.
Where in Sole’s name can I get that?! shrieked Tekton.
Next door, said the moud calmly.
MIRA
Your abdomen is enlarged.
Mira lifted the folds of her night robe and stood in front of the mirror in her bathing cubicle to examine her belly. The bulge was still slight but was unmistakable now on her thin frame. Her robe would not hide it for much longer. Already she was taking care not to brush the material against herself for fear it would show her pregnancy. How would the men react? How would she explain it?
Mira felt a sharp pang for the loss of her beloved sister. Faja would have known how to deal with things. But Faja could not rescue her this time.
Not ever again.
Mira felt worn out with the burden of her secret. She longed for a familiar face from her life on Araldis. Estelle. Poor, dear Estelle. Even Marchella. Or Cass Mulravey. Cass would not be shocked by Mira’s pregnancy. She would be angry at the act that had produced it and then she would set about making preparations.
But those women were beyond reach—and Cass was the only one still living and breathing.
Did she dare trust Bethany Farr with her worries? Would the woman even care? Beth had her own concerns. And her brother, Lasper? How deep did the bond between brother and sister really go? How inbred was their need to manipulate others?
No. For the moment she would keep her secret close. Time enough for Thales Berniere to be appalled. For Rast to sneer. For Josef Rasterovich to lose his fascination with her. An unwed woman with child was a burden and an ill omen across most cultures and species. A woman who had been raped was worse.
You are pensive.
Mira sighed. Insignia had become increasingly skilled at reading her moods. Si. This errand for Lasper Farr wastes time. I don’t know if the little ones I left behind are alive. What has happened to the last of the survivors?
Perhaps there is no need to return — if they are dead? The biozoon had no empathy for her world. It had been eager to leave for Saif space.
‘No!’ Mira cried aloud. ‘Vito is alive and Commander Farr has promised to help Araldis.’
And these other humanesques? Soon the baby will hamper you. Will they help you as well?
They mustn’t know about the child. I must keep it from them at least until we return from Rho Junction . . .
Simple enough, Insignia conceded. Humanesques are imperceptive and self-absorbed.
Mira reflected on the irony. Insignia did not think greatly of humanesques and yet she had tied herself to one for her own reasons; her own needs. Which one of them did that make self-absorbed, she wondered?
What is your defence capacity? she asked the biozoon.
Without the Assailants, I am limited to the kinetic energy produced from my tail spine.
What is its range?
Far enough.
Mira did not pursue the matter. She had learned that the biozoon would only tell what she would tell. Persistence had little effect.
Instead, she smoothed the night robe down over her stomach and left the cabin to make her way to the cucina. The extra demands of the baby had begun to make her constantly hungry. Particularly, it seemed, during the ship’s designated sleep hours.
Insignia’s rhythms changed when the crew were asleep, as if the biozoon herself enjoyed a more relaxed state, the crackle of her biologies dampening to a whisper.
Mira didn’t need lighting to find her way along the strata. The ship’s channels were as familiar to her as the corridors of the Villa Fedor had been.
No more. She suppressed the pang. No more.
Lasper Farr had not skimped on replenishing their provisions. The cucina’s compactus was so crammed with foodstocks that it ran heavy on its tracks and Mira needed all her strength to roll the shelves apart.
She found the crisp dried-meat sticks between layers of compressed fruit and a large pail of nuts and slipped some into her sleeve, deciding she would eat in