Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [111]
Cass stirred the men from where they sat near the trough to keep watch over them. Marrat and Kristo walked to opposite ends of the camp but Innis refused to get up.
‘Why do they get to sleep?’ he complained.
‘Everyone will take their turn,’ Cass said with tired patience. ‘Tonight, though, these women need to rest.’
Mira listened to their conversation from where she lay on the edge of the canopy. She had not been able to settle, even though her body ached with fatigue. Vito slept next to the korm’s roost, a frail bundle of bones that appeared barely to breathe. She could not bear to watch him. ‘I will go.’
She climbed to her feet and went to a third point near the barge. As her eyes adjusted to the deeper dark, she could just make out the scrapings of the grave. She rubbed her fingers together, trying to rid herself of the lingering viscous feel of Davina’s brain tissue.
Without warning, Cass appeared next to her. She handed the rifle to Mira. ‘It is best that you have it. You or Kristo.’ She did not have to say any more.
Cass turned and climbed up onto the barge’s huge metal tracks, peering not at the graves but up at the night sky.
Mira shifted her own gaze upward to Tiesha, wishing she were there. Araldis’s moon looked so serene.
‘Where do you think we should go?’ asked Cass quietly.
‘Mar— Mesquite said we should head south of Pellegrini B, to the Pablo underground.’
‘Back in Ipo you called her something else.’
Mira shrugged. ‘Marchella Pellegrini, her real name. She had only just told me.’
They sat in silence while Cass digested the information. ‘Franco’s sister?’
‘Si.’
Cass gave a low whistle. ‘Why underground?’
Mira considered how to answer. Cass was no friend of the Pellegrinis, nor was she loyal to the familia, and Mira knew that Marchella would have had good reason for giving the directions she had. ‘We will find out when we get there.’
‘You would go there on faith?’
‘Si.’
‘And what if Franco’s sister is wrong? Pellegrini B is over three hundred mesurs from here. If the winds stay down we might make it. Food is the main problem.’
‘How many are we?’
‘You brought forty-two. I had forty-six. Then there are the men.’
Forty-two. Marchella had given her charge of fifty. When their groups had mingled near the parking bay, it must have been closer to a hundred. Forty-two out of a hundred. ‘Are there any other survivors?’
‘Marrat is listening on shortcast for any news but we can’t afford to use the cells for long at night.’
Silence fell between them again.
Mira’s thoughts fell to food. The plains were devoid of most anything edible. The terrain ahead of them would be fine powdered dust, thorn scrub and, along the mapped roads, the occasional water bore. There would be no hunting for fresh meat, or collecting edible plants. Vito could have Mira’s ration of bread but the korm would need meat.
‘Go and sleep,’ said Mira, suddenly tired. ‘Or I will.’
Cass nodded and climbed stiffly down from the tracks. ‘I’ll make sure someone comes to relieve you. And I’ll check Vito and the korm.’
‘Vito needs more fluid,’ said Mira.
Cass nodded again and disappeared.
Mira settled with her back against the barge and hunted through her mind for thoughts that might keep her awake. She settled eventually on the enigma of Marchella. If she truly was a Pellegrini then what had brought her to Ipo? Mira tried to recall all she knew of the woman. Faja had called her the Villa Fedor’s benefactress. Franco’s sorella was known for her eccentric ways. She had not been seen in Pell for some time. A rift had occurred between her and the Principe—a rift that would now never be mended.
Mira felt the familiar ache rise in her chest, the one that told her how much she missed Faja. She pressed her hand to the soreness.
* * * *
‘Baronessa?’ Josefia woke Mira from a doze with a gentle shake of her shoulder.
Mira blinked and peered around in the dark. Semantic was high now but dawn was