Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [25]
Tekton went back to his rooms in a huff.
‘Moud. Tell me where Lawmon Jise is located. And how I might spy on him.’
The moud floundered for a moment. Could you give me more information, Godhead?
‘What privacy rules have been set in place?’
Each occupant may secure their rooms if they so wish.
‘How many do so?’
All—with the exception of you, Godhead.
‘Even Ra?’
Most certainly Godhead Ra, Godhead.
‘Has my room been entered by anyone?’
Yes. You did not set the privacy conditions.
‘Who?’ Tekton could not keep the shrill note from his mind-voice.
Sentient?
‘YES, sentients!’
Lawmon Jise, Dieter Seeward and…The moud took what Tekton imagined to be a deep breath. Ra.
‘Good Sole!’ mind-shouted Tekton. ‘What were you thinking, letting them in here?’
You did not stipulate your wishes. The default is programmed to an open room.
‘Why? What was this place before? A bordello?’ Tekton snapped.
The moud took another ‘breath’. Yes, Godhead. It was.
* * * *
MIRA
‘Remove the mask,’ said the man in clumsy Latino.
No hand extended to help her; no apology came for knocking her down. Breaking the seal on her velum, Mira folded it back and climbed shakily to her feet. Her shoulder blade felt bruised and her neck was already stiffening.
‘What are you doing here?’ The man spoke again. He stood on her left, the Balol on her right. The female’s musky odour was so strong that it overpowered the astringent scent of the objects behind her.
‘Please. I-I cannot see,’ Mira protested shielding her eyes from their flashlights with her hands. ‘I am here by mistake ... an accident.’
The man uttered a few discordant sounds and switched his light off. The Balol lowered the beam of hers to the floor.
Mira blinked several times to refocus her eyes. The pair stood close together. The man looked unkempt but not dim-witted. His blanched hair and elongated physique suggested that he had spent time in space, and she sensed that he was older than he seemed. His features were misaligned, crooked—not an easy face to forget.
The Balol wore no clothing over her amour-thick skin and bore many ridges of decoration scars on her chest and arms. Mira could not recall the significance of them: Balols were not a species she had chosen to learn about; their coarse habits had always made them an unattractive study subject. She had preferred the musically gifted uuli and the simple bellodina.
‘Then tell me, signorina, why is the entire Araldis Carabinere roaming the docking tubes in search of you?’
She tried to identify the man’s origins and could not. The humanesque diversity in the Orion system exceeded anything on Araldis.
He stepped forward unexpectedly and began patting her body for weapons.
Mira trembled under his rough, invasive handling. ‘This is not necessary—I am unarmed and I am unused to—’
His fingers halted on her bruised shoulder and gripped her until she cried out. ‘Not used to what? Trespassing? I could push you straight out of the lock for that, or inform the Carabinere that I have you. You think you can stand here and make demands?’ he snarled.
The pain robbed her of speech and she could not stop her body swaying under his grip.
Sensing that she was close to fainting the man let go of her and stepped back.
Mira bent forward and swallowed gulps of air while the Balol sent the beam of her light darting from ceiling to wall, searching for something.
‘What is your name?’ the man demanded.
‘Marchesa Silvio,’ Mira answered.
‘Try again, signorina. I know what Cips look like. You are too lean and angled. You could not be a Crown aristo.’
Mira felt anger rise up and subdue the fear in her belly. She straightened. She would not discuss her pedigree with a common humanesque. ‘You have expertise in Latino lineage?’ she asked coldly.
He hesitated as if her mild question had thrown him. Then the shortcast device on his wrist chimed and drew his attention. ‘I’m afraid your holiday is over,’ he told her softly.
Mira