Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [12]
‘That is not information Wanton-poda may share.’
Mira nodded. She paused again as she chewed the last of the meat-flavoured cube. ‘What are the Post-Species non-corporeal like then?’
‘Wanton-poda does not comprehend your interrogative.’
‘What are their characteristics?’
‘You may experience difficulty with Wanton-poda’s explanation. They have no comparative humanesque characteristics.’
‘Is that deliberate, or a product of their interface?’
Wanton-poda hesitated before answering. ‘Deliberate.’
‘Are they misanthropists?’
The Extro began spinning in its thinking way, but instead of replying, it passed out through the wall into the tissue room and did not return.
Some things, Mira surmised, would be hard to find out.
TRIN
They sailed smoothly through the night, accustomed to it as they were, and covered a third of the journey without incident. But as Leah prepared to make its burning journey across the sky, the winds rose. On the far horizon from which they’d come, Trin saw the telltale pink glow of sunrise climbing the air. North and south of them was the open sea of the Galgos and ahead the shimmering shape of the island they sought.
‘Where does this wind come from, Principe?’ asked Joe Scali. They sat close together under the weed-strapped cover of spine bush. It felt as though the sun beat directly on them despite the shade and their fellalos.
‘A dust storm is brewing on the mainland,’ said Trinder. Fear gnawed around the edges of his stomach and he spoke calming words to himself. The dust will not affect us here. But the winds? ‘Juno!’ he called to his Carabinere scout who sat under scant cover on the flat-yacht’s bow.
‘Si, Principe?’
Trin pointed east. ‘A storm perhaps?’
Juno turned his attention from the island and squinted towards the land horizon. ‘I hope not, Principe.’ Dragging the brush cover with him, he crawled along the deck to Trin and Joe Scali.
He pushed back his hood a little so that Trin could see his face. His crimson skin was almost black from sun exposure. ‘The winds could break these yachts apart. I’ve seen it before.’
‘On the islands?’
He nodded. ‘I flew guard for your father one time, across the island belt. The winds forced us down on an island across the Galgos, but further south than here. We had to tie the AiV to rocks. Even so, it flipped and got carried away to sea. The wind and the water tore it apart like it was made of gauze. We waited two days for rescue.’
‘I never heard that story,’ said Trin thoughtfully. How many things did he not know about his father? he wondered.
‘Franco did not like people to hear of his mistakes.’
‘My father did not make mistakes as far as he was concerned.’
‘Mistakes are the province of sons not fathers,’ Juno said. ‘We should alert the other yachts.’
Trin nodded. ‘Everyone must be tied on.’
‘But what if the yacht breaks apart, as Juno says?’ asked Joe anxiously.
‘Better strapped to something that floats than not.’
Juno nodded his agreement. ‘I will wave the warning cloth.’
‘When Djeserit comes, I will ask her to go to the other yachts and tell them.’
‘That would be best, Principe.’
While Juno crawled along the crowded deck to the stern, Trin moved to the edge and let his legs trail in the water. If Djeserit was nearby she would come.
And she did, surfacing like a beautiful, elegant sea creature, her hair streaming. She rested her arms against him, blew a spray of water from her neck gills and took a land breath. Her breathing adaptation between air and water was so perfect, thought Trin. An accident of birth that turned out to be flawless. Or perhaps her parents had been truly clever and had it geneered that way. They’d taken her to a hybrid clinic, so she’d told him.
‘Principe?’ she rasped. When she had been underwater for a while her vocal cords took time to stretch.
‘Can you see the eastern sky, Djes? We fear a windstorm.’
She craned her head in the direction he pointed. ‘The sea is disturbed. I can