Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [116]
Thales stared at the floor. The matting was clean, but worn with use by countless, nameless occupants. Had any of them talked of murder before? he wondered. The tremor came back. He’d killed a man.
When he looked up again, Samuelle was staring at him.
‘Seems,’ she said, ‘that you’ve got an introduction to make.’
MIRA
The uniformed men who came to the door of the sleeper unit bore the same air as Randall, Catchut and Latourn. They were not mercenaries, but soldiers with strong bodies and watchful eyes. For an instant she thought they were Station Security, until the tallest one spoke.
‘Samuelle wants ta speak with ye. Brought you something to wear to get ye past Sec.’ He looked her up and down and grunted. ‘She didn’t say nuthin’ about ye bein’ preggers.’
He pulled a pack free from his back and fished out a hooded uniform and boots. ‘Put this on. Stuff some-thin’ down the top. Make ye chest look big ta hide ye belly. Come out when ye ready. But hurry - we ain’t got much time.’ There was no leer in his voice, no curiosity, just a businesslike urgency.
With shaking fingers Mira donned the garb, tucking the pants into the too-large boots. She wrapped the bed sheet around her chest until it equalled the girth of her stomach and then she donned the shirt, pressing the seams tightly together. The mirror showed her as a stocky, short figure, not a pregnant one. She pulled the hood up and tucked her hair under it.
Then she stepped outside, acutely aware of the pants rubbing between her legs. She had never worn such clothing before, and it felt strange and uncomfortable and . . . obvious.
‘Stay between us, and don’t walk like a lady. Don’t speak either,’ said Samuelle’s soldier. ‘We’ll handle the rest.’
Station Sec stopped them several times. In the plaza, leaving the lift well up-station, and then again entering the top level of station space.
Each time Mira kept her shoulders square and willed herself to appear as one of them. She tried to remember Randall’s swagger, the way she stood with her legs apart and her chin high.
When they finally arrived at their destination, Mira’s own legs were trembling with the strain of keeping up her disguise and the effort of walking at the soldiers’ pace.
The person who opened the door they stopped at wore a black, quilted suit made of material that Mira had never seen before. The face and body encased by the suit was old and female - humanesque. The suit made a faint sighing noise as she lifted her arm and waved them all inside. Thales stood behind her, his hands clasped together.
‘Any trouble?’ said the woman after she closed the door.
The soldier shook his head. ‘Luck more’n anythin’, Sam. So many people comin’ and goin’, Station Sec can barely cope. They’re lettin’ the likes of us through quicker. Didn’t look too close. A good thing, at that.’
The old woman nodded. ‘That’s what I figured. Now catch some downtime.’ Then she added, ‘Go by Fariss first, see if they’ll let her have visitors. Tell her I said that this is only short-term.’
The soldier raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He nodded to the others and they left.
When they’d gone, Thales stepped into the space between Mira and the woman. His eyes were bloodshot but he seemed calmer than when he’d left her. ‘Baronessa, this is Samuelle.’
Mira pushed back the hood and shook her hair free.
Samuelle stared baldly at her lumpen body. ‘What in the Crux’re you carrying in there, girl?’
‘If you would excuse, I will remove the extra padding I wore to disguise my pregnancy.’
Samuelle’s mouth dropped open. ‘Pregnancy?’ She glared at Thales. ‘You didn’t say nothin’ about pregnancy.’
‘I-it seemed i-inconsequential to the i-important matters,’ stammered Thales.
Samuelle made a snorting noise and pointed Mira towards the small adjoining bathroom. ‘I have a meeting to git to, Baronessa. Move it.’
Mira didn’t miss the sarcastic way Samuelle used her title. She hastened to the bathroom and removed the sheeting from around her chest, feeling her breath come easier as she resealed the shirt.