Transformation Space - Marianne de Pierres [81]
‘No harm in knowin’ what’s going on around you.’ What else was there to say?
She stared at him again. ‘What’s going on here, then? Why did Jancz bring a ship full of dangerous hungry Saqr to this world to wipe out the Latinos? And why has a fuckin’ great drum of Extros turned up here?’
Jo-Jo swallowed, his settling stomach beginning to churn again. ‘I say we load this AiV up with some of them crates of food and try and find these survivors. Mebbe they’re the ones who can answer you. I only came near this planet following that crazy bastard Tekton.’
The intensity and the heat went out of Randall’s stare, her mood swinging on a word or a thought. He knew he should be used to it, but it still startled him.
‘We’ll do it your way. Take one AiV, leave this one here in case. I say we swap the fuel cells though. This one’s got more.’
Jo-Jo nodded. He didn’t see any reason to object.
Randall belched up the stench of sterilising alcohol. ‘Now let’s get moving. See if any of these Latinos made it.’
MIRA
We have contact from a humanesque on Araldis.
Insignia’s thought woke Mira from a light doze. She lay on the bed with Nova cradled in her arms, and Wanton just a short reach from them both. ‘Which ’esque?’ she asked, sitting up carefully so as not to disturb Nova. Then she saw that her child was awake, head rolled towards the Extro.
Nova?
Wanton is dying, Mama.
Si, Nova. Do you understand what that means?
Nova’s head rolled back, and the tiny face stared at her, the blue-grey eyes serious. For Wanton it could mean many things. More an extended limbo than death as we know it.
Mira floundered to find a way to respond. Nova’s escalating mental maturity scared her. And how did she know that the Extro was dying?
I’ve spoken with it.
Y-you’ve spoken to Wanton? But it wouldn’t respond when I tried.
Wanton apologises. It must conserve energy.
But how—
A different way that does not involve base-level cognition. It has reconsidered, and would like to tell you that the substance it needs to repair itself is quixite.
Quixite? Why wouldn’t it tell me before?
It didn’t want to interfere with your decisions. It thought that you might endanger yourself finding a source. As you have chosen to come to a place where there is a source, Wanton has reconsidered its position.
Oh. Mira thought for moment. That is very selfless of Wanton.
Wanton has much respect for you, Mama. It says that you were caring when its own kind were not. It wishes you peace.
Caring? Mira was surprised to see that even among the Post-Species compassion had its place. But had it been true kindness on her part, or had she simply manipulated the situation so that she could escape? She hardly knew what drove her now, only what she must do – find Vito and the korm, and whoever else had survived.
Mira, you are required to respond to the shortcast. They have threatened aggression if you do not. Insignia’s interjection held a tinge of frustration. The biozoon was not privy to her conversation with Nova.
I’m coming.
She took Nova to the buccal with her, and sank into Primo with her baby resting on her chest. It felt reassuring to have Nova’s heartbeat so close to her own.
Open the ’cast, she told Insignia. ‘Who is this?’ she asked in her stiffest manner.
‘That’s my question,’ said a rough flat voice.
Mira recognised the tone despite the time that had passed since she’d heard it. When the carabinere had chased her under Franco’s orders, she had taken refuge on a hybrid biozoon named Sal. The captain, Jancz, had found and threatened to kill her. In the end he left her in Loisa with an agreement that she would forget their meeting. But she had not. ‘What role have you taken in the destruction of my world, Captain Jancz?’
‘Who are you?’ His voice hoarsened. ‘Tell me, or I’ll have one of those carriers you’re busy dancing around up there trash yer arse. Only reason yer still here is cos you’re in a ’zoon.’
‘My name is Mira Fedor. Baronessa Mira Fedor.’
The ’cast fell silent as Jancz grappled to place her name. He might not remember her