Chaos Space - Marianne de Pierres [5]
Insignia made a hissing noise that could have been laughter. When we fuse again you will learn much more about me. For a pilot you are naive.
‘I am studium-trained only. I am also the first woman born into my line to bear the pilota gene. It made it difficult for the Principe. He was not disposed to encourage me.’
Woman? I hear your people use that term frequently. What does that mean?
Mira left the wash compartment to lie down on the bed. ‘I am the female of our species. Male—female. Surely you comprehend that?’
You are different to my other Innates—yes, I see that. But the humanesque nuance of it escapes me. Our sexuality is diverse and subtle.
Mira’s thoughts circled to Trinder Pellegrini, his breath suffocating hers, and his brutal thrusts. His men with their hands bruising her shoulders. She rolled to her side and brought her knees up under her breast. ‘We are not a subtle species.’
I need several of my own kind to reproduce. It is our way of keeping our species strong. Unlike you who have genetically limited yourselves to a single choice.
And sometimes none, Mira thought bitterly.
You are not happy to be bearing life?
How did you know I was?
This time there was no mistaking Insignia’s amusement. How could I not? Your blood, your neurology, they are as my own when we are immersed.
Mira pushed herself upright. ‘You must not tell anyone,’ she cried aloud.
And how would I speak of it, Innate? You are the only one with which I can directly communicate.
But what of the person in Secondo?
You are the only one with which I can directly communicate, repeated Insignia.
A gentle burst of energy crackled over Mira, running down the lines of her body to her toes. The panic within her subsided and she sank down into the bed again. What was that?
Thought is not always an adequate way of communicating. I emitted a calming scent.
Mira lay still, fighting the fog that was sliding across her thoughts. Can you tell.. . do you know .. . i-is the baby well?
Yes.
It is a boy. A statement, not a question.
Perhaps after I have had further time fusing with your unique biology I will be able to tell.
It will be a boy. That is what he wanted; an heir.
You are not pleased?
I had no choice. I-is choice important to your kind?
Indeed. I chose this symbiotic role. However, when I contracted to the Cipriano Clans I did not expect such dreariness. I wished for enrichment.
Mira’s heart thumped out of rhythm, rousing her drifting concentration. ‘Contracted? You have a contract?’
Yes, Innate Fedor. And I should inform you that you have an irritating habit of repeating thoughts. The contract was for schika—two hundred Araldisian years. I have only a short time left.
‘And then?’
Insignia paused for an age before answering. Even then Mira was not sure if she had dreamed it, for exhaustion began to pull her down to into the dark.
That depends entirely on you.
TRIN
Sleep had become Trin’s hell: a semi-consciousness that harboured fear and contrition. It was in that state that Mira Fedor was with him most often; her dust-caked skin and exhausted eyes, her overly thin body, the thick-ridged tight pressure of her virginity as he took it from her.
You must understand... he told her over and over while he slept... understand why I did it.
But the Mira in his dreams did not understand. She thrashed against him, outraged and desperate. At times she transformed into his mother and he was the one who cried and begged to be left alone.
‘Principe! Wake up! Trinder, what is it?’ a voice whispered.
Joe Scali was on the floor next to him in one of the mine’s labyrinth of tunnels. The central shaft ran for over a hundred mesurs with mined shafts cutting off it at short intervals. Many of the worked shafts were partially or fully blocked where the machines had scraped the seam of mineral and collapsed the tunnel behind them. It was a primitive way of mining which left sunken trenches at ground level and played havoc with the ventilation.
Trin couldn’t see his friend’s expression in the