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Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [18]

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would have it. I am seeking information, and so are you. A perfect set-up for ... a negotiation.’

Farr sucked in his cheeks for a moment before he spoke, lending his face a skeletal appearance. Then suddenly he smiled. ‘Or I could just torture you to find out what I want.’

The unsteadiness Tekton had been feeling began to border on dizziness, but a surge of anger came to his rescue. He would not be bullied as if he were some ordinary ‘esque. ‘What? Risk an incident that would have ramifications across Orion? And’ - he waved his hands towards the entrance of the marquee - ‘your own world.’

Farr gave a short laugh. ‘You mean your eager audience out there? You have a high opinion of yourself.’

‘I know my worth. There is an immense difference, Commander.’

‘And I know what I am capable of doing, without consequence.’

Tekton’s heart fluttered. He had never been overtly threatened by anyone significant before - at least, not physically - and it spawned a curious mixture of excitement and dread within him. He felt his akula swell and himself stiffen.

He longed for the Hunter device he’d been forced to relinquish before boarding The Last Aesthetic. Yet killing Lasper Farr outright would achieve nothing except problems. He needed, instead, to use him. ‘Such aggression on your part must surely mean I offer threat, and I have little desire to do that. My request is simply a fair trade.’

‘What do you want?’

‘In exchange for everything I know about the creator of the virus, I wish you to undertake to support the reclaiming of the mining world Araldis.’

‘Ah, Araldis. Again. Again.’

‘In my conversations with the young scholar and your sibling, they informed me that you had an agreement with the unfortunate Baronessa Fedor to restore the world to its legal ownership.’

‘You know the Baronessa?’ asked Farr.

‘I did not have the pleasure of her acquaintance, and now I believe she is in the company of the Extropists.’

Farr’s expression became tense and wary. ‘Not company she chose, but even so, it does call into question my agreement with her.’

‘Well,’ said Tekton sanguinely, ‘our choices often define the choices we are left with - if you understand me.’

‘Like you and I, here today.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So tell me why your information is worth me embarking on such an expensive and risky venture.’

‘You said yourself that your laboratory is the best in Orion. Which, I would surmise, means you control most of the bio-trade. A new player of this credibility on the scene might upset things for you. You also have a personal investment on Araldis worth protecting. A niece, I believe. I would also surmise that you have some interest in why Araldis has been so aggressively overrun, and by whom. If you don’t already know, that is?’

The tension left Farr’s face, and a small smile played at his lips. ‘You are clever enough, Tekton. I would expect nothing less of a tyro from Belle-Monde. But can you play well to the end?’

‘That sounds like a challenge, Commander.’

‘I’m a competitive man. It would be wise not to forget it. I’ll consider your offer and we shall speak again soon. Enjoy the remainder of the Fest and your new-found fame.’

Without any obvious instruction from Lasper Farr, a soldier presented himself at Tekton’s side and escorted him from the tent.

As the soldier drew back the flap, a sprinkle of spontaneous applause broke out and voices called again for autographs.

Tekton stepped graciously into their midst and gave a little bow.

The applause grew louder, as did the ribald comments.

The attention went a long way to salving the irritation and upset that Commander Farr had caused him.

MIRA


Since their conversation, Wanton-poda’s behaviour had become erratic. At first Mira put it down to her ignorance of its nature, but each day she noticed a slight deterioration in its colour and physical integrity. The translucent skin had developed darker patches and its normally ever-moving fringe seemed sluggish and stiff.

The Siphonophores returned regularly, often when Mira was asleep. She knew because Wanton-poda’s pitiful high-pitched

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