Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [101]
‘You?’ Thales managed to get the question out, but his voice sounded so distant, so foreign, he wasn’t sure if he’d even spoken it.
‘I shouldn’t have left you with him. I shoulda known.’ Her brow creased in intense frustration so that her wide face seemed full of anger. She pulled him to her in a rough hug and then pushed him away.
He watched her stride off between the rows of containers.
‘Get yer arse in here, mate.’ The ‘esque was behind him, pointing to an open refrigerated carton used for food transport. ‘I’ll leave the cooler off and the vents open. The automons’ll move you out in a few hours to the quarantine area. Intel likes to spray everything down before they convey ‘em to the refill depot. Get out before they fumigate.’
Thales nodded dumbly. He climbed into the carton and a moment later was in complete darkness.
MIRA
You will soon be removed to the station quarantine area. It is my recommendation that you vacate before the fumigation process. The Omniline will not recognise your status should you be discovered in the quarantine area. Farewell, Innate.
The Omniarch’s mental presence had already started to diminish in her mind. As a servitor jostled the mound of milk bladders out of the biozoon’s pelvic cavity and into a shuttle, Mira felt it drop away altogether to be replaced by Insignia’s fury.
What have you done, Mira Fedor?
I have made an agreement with the Omniline.
You heedlessly risk the life of our child?
It is not heedless, neither is it our child, she corrected.
You made an agreement with me.
Mira clenched her jaw. And I will keep that promise. But I have to warn OLOSS, otherwise I will have failed at everything. Don’t you see? It’s not just Araldis at risk now. The Post-Species threaten our existence.
Several jolts shook her as she was lifted and stacked ready for transport. Then stillness followed while the shuttle covered the short distance from Ley-al to station quarantine.
Your higher ambitions don’t concern me, Insignia persisted.
They are not higher ambitions. I was the only one who could bring help to little Vito and Cass Mulravey and the korm. Do you know how it feels to have left your bambino to die?
The child you call Vito is not your baby.
Not my own flesh, but as dear to me.
That doesn’t make sense.
Mira clenched her jaw in frustration. How can you be so self-interested?
How can you be so irresponsible?
She fell silent. Insignia did not - would not - see her viewpoint.
A second series of jolts sent Mira tipping forward onto her knees, as another automaton collected her from the shuttle and trundled down a steep incline. When it evened out, she was tipped back, jarring her spine. Cramps beset her legs and feet, and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. She massaged her legs with her fingers and prayed for the servitor to hurry.
Finally, all was still again.
She waited for a while before she allowed herself to prise open the bladder’s flexible seal.
The quarantine area was a large, gloomy, flat expanse littered with cartons and containers and divided by conveyors. Automons ducked in and out of rows, unstacking and ordering and placing things on the maze of stationary tracks. A soft pulsing noise filled the air. She glanced upward, noticing the large, fat pipes protruding from the ceiling. When the time came to spray the incoming cargo, they would extend down to the middle of the warehouse. Already she could see the hydraulic hoses flexing.
Hampered by her thicker robe, she took long minutes to wriggle out of the sour-smelling bladder. The exertion made her light-headed and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stave off sickness. It seemed that every time she placed a demand on her body it reacted with nausea or fatigue. The ‘bino drained her.
She threaded her way between containers, stopping to peer around each one, fearing discovery, but the quarantine area seemed fully automated