Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [13]
Not that Mira or Faja’s egalitarian viewpoint altered outsiders’ perspectives: Araldisian aristos were arrogant and ignorant, or such was the common opinion.
Everyone, even the aristos themselves, knew that wealth drew others to Araldis—the lucre to be made on the small mineral-rich world on the far edge of the Orion system.
As Mira drew closer to the launch pads, the Fleet hangar became distinguishable from the rest by the clan crest on its vast roof near where it adjoined the main landing terminal. Inside the entrance was a manned checkpoint. Mira set the TerV to park itself in the nearest common bay and climbed out.
The acrid smell of solid-fuel waste that never quite escaped through the exhalation nanos of the preserv-field, choked her. It was hotter down here too, the climate control almost negligible compared to the manufactured fresh breezes of the Studium menagerie. Her lungs cried out for gentler, cooler air and she engaged the breather in her velum. Beneath the faint hiss of filtered air she listened for Insignia, but the ship had become strangely silent.
Another AiV swooped in low, this one bearing Carabinere symbols.
Mira hurried to the entrance. The door opened automatically into a long corridor. According to the signage, one way led to the public docks, the other to the Fleet facility. She turned in the direction of the Fleet and a soldier in Fleet colours stepped out from the security cubicle. His fellala was crumpled and loose as if he had been sleeping in it, and he wore no hood. ‘What is your business, signorina?’
‘Marchesa Chocetta Silvio. I-I have a pre-arranged research visit to the Fleet.’
‘Pardon, Marchesa. I will confirm this.’ He returned to the cubicle and scanned his deskfilm. When he could not find mention of any research visit he reached for the shortcast.
Mira quickly stepped around to the entrance of the cubicle and laid her gloved fingers on his wrist. ‘My Studium assignment is late and graduation is soon.’ He would not know it had been today surely?
The soldier smiled at her. Mira read much into that smile—a tincture of boredom and the desire to brag to his amicos that he had escorted one of the famous Silvio Marchesas around the hangar.
‘I suppose we could call it an oversight, Marchesa, perhaps?’
She nodded slowly, making her eyes smile in return. ‘I will need to see the Insignia.’
He halted in the process of entering the release codes. ‘Aaah, then you are out of luck, Marchesa. Insignia was relocated but an hour ag—’
A siren blare drowned out the rest of the soldier’s words. With quick fingers he reversed the unlocking process and ran outside.
She followed him as far as a pair of dust-coated doors. Beyond them a large AiV was disgorging a troop of Carabinere. The Fleet soldier stood to attention. Several Carabinere approached him and after a quick exchange he gesticulated back inside.
Me. They want me. Panicking, Mira hurried down the corridor towards the public docks but the corridor ended in opaque double doors that refused her entry. She pushed up her sleeve and tried her biometric stripe.
To her relief the doors slid open, letting her into another corridor which branched into a myriad smaller passageways. Each tributary harboured a dozen tube entrances. Lights flashed above each, announcing the tube’s number and status: arrived, holding, departing.
At the distant end, past several checkpoints, the central passageway opened into the general embarkation station.
Mira hesitated for a moment: the embarkation station would be crowded and better for concealment, but the Carabinere would expect her to go there. She imagined them clamouring down the corridor behind her at any moment, could almost hear their boots and the clatter of their rifles.
Mounting fear drove her