Dark Space - Marianne de Pierres [99]
MIRA
Mesquite was folding a pile of underliners when Mira returned to the dorm. She spared no moment for courtesy. ‘What did I tell you, Mira Fedor?’
Mira avoided the older woman’s gaze. ‘I had a weapon—a knife—but no knowledge of how to use it. I do not wish that to happen again. I want the other familia women to understand how to defend themselves. Can you call them together?’
‘Si. But how do you think you will persuade them?’
Mira unwound the neck-folds of her fellala. The dark bruising was a stark contrast against her vivid cerise skin. ‘I will show them this.’
Mesquite swallowed hard, blinking tears from her eyes. ‘I will set up the meeting for tonight, here. But remember this: you are not the first person to be bruised by a man, Mira Fedor. Some will not care about your plight.’
* * * *
After the mid-evening meal sittings, most of Ipo’s women packed into Mesquite’s dorm, sitting on the floor where they could, or standing and leaning against the walls. Mira stayed on the opposite side of the room to Cass. She couldn’t find it in her to relinquish her anger. Innis had tried to kill her and she held Cass in part responsible for her fratella’s actions.
Mesquite stood in the centre of the room and called for quiet. But the women had their own ideas.
‘When’s this gonna end, Mesquite? We’re low on detergents. Soon we’ll be washing by hand. It’ll be more damn primitive than the early days,’ called out a tall, thin woman.
‘What about the food?’ another said. ‘It can’t last. We should fight the ginkos, or we’ll starve.’
Nods from many.
Mira watched them, trying to sense their mood. They were mostly humanesque, with a small proportion of lower-caste familia: Galiottos, Cabones and Genarros. The familia women clustered together, distinguished by their traditional dress and their diffidence. They did not look comfortable crushed alongside the miners’ wives and they held their bodies stiffly.
‘It’s not safe to be out walking on your own. These men are getting damn restless,’ piped up another. ‘This week I had two of my women attacked near the north-end dorm.’
Mira reached automatically to her throat. Now was the time. She threaded her way between the women to join Mesquite at the centre of the room. As she unwrapped the neck of her fellala and turned a slow circle, she could barely control her fluttering hands.
Those closest gasped. Others strained forward, unsure what it was she had revealed.
Mira glanced across to Cass and read the pain on her face. It seemed the smallest, meanest of retributions.
‘Baronessa Fedor was attacked by a man a night ago. If the mercenary and her people had not come, she would have joined the many who have already gone to their graves,’ said Mesquite.
Upturned faces regarded them both, waiting.
‘I think we should take up weapons,’ Mira said quietly.
The room stilled. Above all, she sensed Cass’s surprise.
‘You mean…fight?’
Mira couldn’t see who had spoken but she answered anyway. ‘We do not know what the Saqr want. We do not know how long this will last or what it will do to our world. I have to protect my—my ‘bino and I have to protect myself. I have my wits but that is all. Knowing how to use a weapon may not save me—but then, it may.’ She sat down again on the nearest bed. The short explanation had exhausted her.
Around her the conversation of the others buzzed. Some of the women were unimpressed—the miners’ wives to whom weapons were no taboo. And yet, as Mira dropped her hands from her face to look around, she saw the flicker of something in the faces of the rest. As palpable as Mesquite’s heavy breath, Mira felt their minds open to possibility.
‘Who will teach us?’ called the young woman who had minded Vito.
Her question prompted a range of expressions on the other women’s faces: some puzzled, others disapproving. A handful looked keen—the younger ones, mainly. How easily youth married with change. Thank Crux.
Cass Mulravey’s reaction fell somewhere in the middle. She was hesitant, Mira could tell. She stood to speak, commanding attention. ‘You think it might