Mirror Space - Marianne de Pierres [8]
‘Rasterovich!’ Rast bellowed into the ship-cast. ‘Get your dismal carcass down here, we need to talk. This giant whale’s freakin’ out.’
Jo-Jo opened his eyes, rolled onto his side and drained the flask he held tightly. The white-haired bitch was right; the biozoon was stressed. He’d been listening for hours to the little noises that weren’t normally there. And there was something about the smell of the ‘zoon that had changed.
Jo-Jo got up, swaying as blood searched for brain, and tottered over to the wall. He pulled away the cabin wall drapes and swiped his fingers across the ridged flesh. It felt slimy and grainy.
Something dropped into his hair. He glanced up: thick goo had begun to seep through the ceiling covers. Fuck.
Jo-Jo pulled on his pants and went looking for the mercenaries.
They were in the cucina drinking beer and eating slices from a giant, stinking wheel of cheese.
‘Something die in here?’ Jo-Jo asked.
Randall stabbed cheese onto the end of her fork and offered him some. ‘Over-matured heartbreak. The food storage enviros are screwed. One minute they’re hot enough to broil pig-fat, the next they’re like a damn freezer. Some of the soft stuff’s complaining.’
Jo-Jo folded a chair down and sat on it. ‘You think the ‘zoon’s sick?’
‘Ailing,’ said Rast.
‘Gutted,’ volunteered Latourn.
Jo-Jo glowered at Latourn and grabbed a knife. He cut himself a large wedge of cheese and nibbled it. It tasted sour. ‘Shit.’
‘I suggest you eat up.’ Rast tossed him a beer; a clean skin tube, another one of Carnage’s finer brews.
Jo-Jo belched and guzzled half of it down. It tasted refreshing after the whisky. ‘Why the rush?’
Still seated, Rast slid her legs off the table to the floor, lifted up a box of beer tubes and dropped it where her feet had been. Then she put her legs across the top of the carton. ‘Other than the loony ‘zoon . . . just a small case of us heading, uninvited, into Extro space.’
Jo-Jo paused mid-guzzle. ‘You’re shittin’ me?’ He placed the tube back on the table in front of him. He thought he did well not to tremble. ‘How long we been doing that?’
The mercs broke into harmonised guffaws.
When they’d finished, Rast wiped her eyes. ‘How long? Three days. Right about the time you were puking up your third bottle of No Label malt.’
Jo-Jo felt the cheese lurch around in his stomach. ‘Three days. Anyone noticed us yet?’
‘Hard to say. The traffic’s insane out there. It’s a while since I’ve been to the Saiph system but I don’t recall seeing it like this before. Seems like everyone’s going somewhere in a real hurry. Being in a ‘zoon we should be OK. ‘Zoons trade with everyone. Even the Extros.’
‘Thought Saiph was off-limits - other than Rho Junction, I mean.’
“Tis. For OLOSS craft. Not much there though, just a bunch of dry rocks and a skinny sun. The real Extro worlds are somewhere else. Saiph works like an airlock for them. They let traders in from time to time if they come through Rho Junction, but the door stays shut to the real system.’
‘What’s the wave analysis show?’
Rast stabbed her knife into the centre of the cheese wheel and left it there. She pressed her thumb and forefinger to her forehead. ‘Can’t say. ‘Zoon’s not being very agreeable. Pings me every time I go near the buccal.’
‘What about going into Autonomy to get us out of here?’
Rast dropped her hand from her face and stared at him with a deadly serious expression. ‘No frickin’ way am I going to try and pilot a crazy, heartbroken ‘zoom’
‘I can do it,’ said Jo-Jo. ‘I owned one.’
She stared hard at him.
‘It was a hybrid,’ he admitted. ‘AI-compatible.’
‘No frickin’ way am I trustin’ you to do anything of the kind.’ She gave the table a kick to emphasise her words.
Jo-Jo’s tube rolled onto his lap. Instinctively he grabbed it and the amber fluid squirted all over him.
The mercenaries fell into their synchronised laugh again.
Jo-Jo’s years of staying out of ‘situations’ flew right out of the egress scale. Maybe it was the booze. Or the fact that he was still