Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [3]
‘Indeed,’ said Wanton-poda. ‘With the technology available on your home planet that is an accurate summation, but of course you are in a vastly different place.’
‘Of course,’ she acknowledged.
She thought for a moment, chewing her fruit slowly. If the Extros knew her home planet then presumably they had not kidnapped her in error. Perhaps Wanton-poda would reveal more if she simply remained quiet.
‘Preliminary investigation reveals that your foetus shows some interesting anomalies,’ it volunteered.
Mira could barely swallow the mouthful she had chewed. She sipped the water, hoping it would lubricate her nervous, dry throat.
‘It has inherited your telepathic bonding ability—’ Wanton-poda stopped and spun around, hastening over to the transparent wall. It hovered in front of it, uttering soft yelping noises.
Siphonophores appeared in the outer space, weaving through the sheets of shifting tissue and bubble-incubators as they proceeded directly towards them. They didn’t halt at the transparent wall but passed straight through it. Wanton-poda shot across in between Mira and them, expelling more gusts of foul odour from underneath its frill.
An exchange of animated noises told Mira that a discussion was going on. She concentrated hard, trying to decipher something - anything - but she couldn’t recognise any speech patterns or syllabic references.
She interrupted them in frustration. ‘Why have you brought me here?’
But the Siphonophores didn’t even seem to hear her. They turned in accord, leaving as quickly and silently as they’d arrived.
Mira attempted to follow them but the wall became solid as if she’d run into a sheet of rubber. She clawed at it in anger. The texture immediately hardened.
She took a couple of steps backward and then ran forward, trying to use momentum to break through. The wall repelled her with equal force, and she fell down.
Wanton-poda squealed. ‘Please desist, Mira-fedor. You’ll injure yourself and the pantomath.’
Mira climbed to her feet, clutching her hip and abdomen. She felt shaken and enraged, and fearful that she had hurt her baby. ‘You can’t keep me a prisoner!’ she cried. ‘And for Cruxsakes, what is a pantomath? Why did you call my baby that?’ Suddenly she didn’t care that her questions were direct and offensive.
Wanton-poda ascended to shoulder height and excreted a light spray from under its frill. Almost instantly Mira became tired; so tired that instinct sent her stumbling over to the bed where she could lie down before—
TRIN
Trin sat on the beach under Semantic’s glow, and stared out at the dark mass of water. Murmurs drifted down to him from the camp higher up along the tide line. The voices held optimism for the first time.
Many had perished in their flight from the Saqr to safety; some in the Pablo tunnels, but most had fallen to the nightwinds as they trekked to the southern islands.
Since then they had crept from island to island on stolen flat-yachts, sleeping by day and putting their lives in the hands of a young half-Mioloaquan girl.
Now Djeserit had found them an island upon which they might be able to stay, and put an end to this exhausting flight from the Saqr who’d invaded their world and devastated their towns.
Djeserit had their trust. With her unique hybrid biology she was able to fish effectively and provide them with the food they’d need for the two-day journey across the Galgos Strait. Djeserit was their hero and neither he, the new Principe of Araldis, nor Cass Mulravey, the women’s advocate, had been able to give their people as much hope.
Trin wrestled with this realisation, unsure whether it pleased or displeased him.
‘Trinder, darling, you’ve barely spoken to me.’
The voice belonged to his mother. Djeserit had rescued her from the palazzo on the Tourmaline Islands; another courageous feat that chafed at Trinder