Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [112]
For a moment his head lifted and his face lit with a smile that transcended his scars and apprehensive expression. Mira saw a glimpse of the beautiful, passionate young man she’d rescued from the OLOSS ship. Had she contributed to the ruin of his life by bringing him aboard Insignia? He’d been so ill-prepared for the wider worlds - worse, even, than she.
And now he had killed a man to save himself.
As if attuned to her thoughts, his smile faded. ‘Though I am grateful for your perspective, Baronessa, I cannot allow myself to adopt it. When I left Scolar I was a Jainist. I had sworn to adhere to those non-violent tenets, and yet I’ve done nothing but cheat on my beliefs since I left Scolar.’
‘Ideals are seldom practical, Thales.’
‘That does not excuse me.’
She shrugged. ‘We must each console our own consciences. Mine does not find shame in survival.’
‘Nor should it,’ he said. ‘Your inner strength is inspiring.’
He said it in such a heartfelt manner that Mira was silenced, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t consider herself to be strong-minded, and felt only irritation at her own limitations.
And yet his simple statement lifted her spirits.
‘Then let us inspire each other,’ she eventually replied. ‘How can I get to the summit meeting?’
‘If we convince Samuelle of your story then I’m sure she could arrange it.’
Mira thought for a moment. If the woman he spoke of, Fariss, had shouldered the blame for the death, then it should be safe enough for Thales to move about Intel station. ‘Can you make contact with Samuelle without using station comm-sys?’
He straightened his posture, as if gaining some purpose. ‘I can try, Baronessa.’
THALES
Fear and excitement lent Thales energy, but did nothing to assuage the trembling that had set in from the instant he’d discharged Fariss’s pistol into Macken. Even for the last few hours when he had lain in the bunk above Mira Fedor, his body had been plagued by uncontrollable movements and periodic fits of shivers.
Now, as he crossed the early-station-morning plaza to the station Directory booth, his trembling had subsided to a low, manageable tremor that he hoped would barely be noticed. Action - movement - was a relief from sitting in the confinement of the tiny sleeper unit.
From watching the station comm-news while Mira Fedor had rested, he’d learned that the summit was scheduled to start in just a few hours, watched on farcast by most of OLOSS Orion. Traffic around and inside the station had already been restricted, but once the proceedings had begun, a full curfew had been scheduled. He had to find Samuelle before then, or Mira Fedor’s hope of presenting what she had seen to the joint meeting would disappear.
On his request, the Directory kiosk displayed the complete ball-and-flute design of the station. It reminded Thales of one of Rene’s precious crystal vases. It also explained the nature of each location he placed his finger upon, and the most direct route there. It was a completely different configuration from Edo - the only other station he’d spent any time upon. Here, on Intel, the circular plane of the docks fed into the narrow neck of the flute, like a skirt flaring stiffly from a woman’s narrow waist. Immediately above it was the lower stem, which housed a food plaza and short-term accommodation, and beneath it, in the bulb of the station, were the reactors that kept Intel spinning.
The permanent residences and retail outlets nestled in the mid-flute section, whilst station admin spread across the entire expansive top section. Like Edo, Intel had a central lift shaft but it was complemented by smaller conduits that ran up the sides of the flute at regular intervals.
Thales studied the pictures and tried to think practically, like Mira Fedor. In normal times, he expected that station visitors and general travellers would be lodged in the short-term accommodation, but for something so important, with