Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [58]
We have been given a place in the queue. Will we have company?
No. Thales and Fariss aren’t joining us.
Mira sank gratefully down into Primo and laid Nova on her chest.
Insignia’s sensors reached out, and the vein surrounded them both. A sense of belonging engulfed Mira. She could rest now, for a time. Not long, but enough. Enough to do what would come next.
Mira, the Post-Species creature has been asking for you.
Wanton? Mira had not thought of the little Extro at all over the last days. What is wrong?
Its mycose supply is running low. Its need is urgent.
Mira dragged herself to her feet and carried Nova to their cabin. Wanton lay where she had left it, surrounded by the dwindling mycose.
She sank onto the other end of the bed, careful not to sit too close. ‘Wanton?’
It took a while for the Extro to answer. When it did, its audio projection was faint. ‘Mira-fedor, Wanton is glad to see you.’
‘Please tell me how I can help you.’
She waited again. This time its voice seemed strong, as if it was making more effort – a very humanesque notion, she knew, that probably didn’t apply.
‘I am close to a critical point. Even sealing my protective layer will not keep integrity. I have only one option.’
‘What is it?’
‘I must meld consciousness with the Non-Corporeals.’
‘D-do you wish to do that?’
‘Wanton had thought itself unable to experience fear, Mira-fedor, but Wanton was wrong. Wanton does not wish to cease existing.’
‘Where are the Non-Corporeals that you would need to meld with?’
‘Mira-fedor would know that better than Wanton. I will accept if that is not possible. And thank Mira-fedor for her … friendship. I must conserve energy now.’ The Extro went quiet again, and Mira noticed another mycose bubble subsume into the casing. There were only a few left.
With a heavier heart, she returned to the buccal.
Where do you wish to go, Mira? The Pod would accept us. Or we could try to make for one of the fringe OLOSS worlds. The Post-Species will not bother with them; they are too poor and inconsequential. The Pod believes they will concentrate on the political worlds. Alnitak, Scolar and, as we already know, Mintaka.
Mira settled back into Primo, sliding Nova to one side so that the baby was tucked against her shoulder. She waited until her breathing steadied and her heartbeat slowed to sync with the pulse of the vein.
The decision had been easier than she thought. The pieces fitted. All she needed was courage. She would be placing Nova and Insignia at terrible risk, and yet she was filled with a sureness that she hadn’t felt during her pregnancy. This was the right thing, the only thing. This was the point where she must embrace her fears and be the person inside, the person who would not be propelled by circumstance or the whims of others. She had chosen. We will go to Araldis.
This is your humour?
No, Tasy-al. It is not. Mira used the biozoon’s real name to emphasise her sincerity. I’ve been told that the station is functioning again. When we get there, we will find a way to land.
What is your aim?
To take Wanton to its kind. To help the survivors. To find Djeserit and Vito and Cass Mulravey.
They will be dead.
No. She sent Insignia a very firm thought. And we had an agreement. You will assist me to help those on Araldis, and then I will go where you wish.
The biozoon didn’t reply.
Mira waited patiently while they lifted from the landing port, left Scolar’s atmosphere and followed the fraught trajectory that took them to their place in the frantic shift queue.
In the moments before committing to res-shift, Mira spoke again. Give me your word, Insignia, that you will take me to Araldis.
Functions and data streamed across her consciousness as Insignia immersed her. This time, however, something was different: another presence, a brilliant clear orb, moving through the data streams, radiating curiosity