MIRA

 

‘Take us to the Rigel system,’ Rast badgered Mira again.

‘If help does not come to Araldis quickly, it will be too late. I must find an OLOSS representative first.’ Mira stayed resolute despite her churning stomach. Rast will not kill me. Not yet, she told herself.

They sat, all four of them, in the ship’s cucina, eating diverse fare: a freeze-dried porcini risotto for Mira, while Catchut was feeding Latourn soup between swallowing mouthfuls of rehydrated stew. Latourn had recovered from the worst of his injuries but his strength was slow in returning. He still could not walk without help.

Rast played with her pistol as though it was a favourite toy. But her expression was filled with suspicion. ‘What else is going on, Baronessa, to put you in such a hurry? Rigel is only two shifts away. A few extra weeks and you would be rid of us.’

Mira hesitated. Rast had sensed her tension; she could see no option but to tell the mercenary. ‘The biozoon’s contract with my clan has nearly expired. It may not choose to renew.’

Rast spat a mouthful of kranse back onto her plate. ‘What in fucking Crux do you mean by that?’

‘I mean... there was... an agreement between

Insignia and my ancestors. When the biozoon considers that agreement fulfilled, it may choose to do something else.’

‘It?’

‘I—I’m not sure of Insignia’s gender.’

‘Thought you Inbreds were supposed to know everything about them?’

Mira wasn’t in the mood for Rast’s provocation. ‘Innate. You were in vein-sink as well as me—what do you think?’

Rast stabbed the half-chewed lump of kranse with her fork. ‘I don’t recall sensing any hard-ons, so I’d go with female.’

Catchut sniggered.

‘You are wrong. They do not have a clear distinction between male and female,’ said Mira.

‘Self-fuckers?’ said Catchut.

Mira winced at the crudity. ‘Not hermaphrodites. No. They need several of their own kind to reproduce. Two are not enough.’

‘Bonus.’ Rast smirked. She slouched and slung her arm along the back of Mira’s chair. ‘We could learn something from that.’

Mira shifted forward to avoid any physical contact. The mercenary loved to goad her. ‘Will it be so humorous if the biozoon decides not to allow us to stay aboard?’

‘What’s it going to do? Dump us?’ Rast touched Mira’s neck as if brushing away an insect.

She refused to flinch. ‘That is possible.’

Rast stopped her teasing and returned to shovelling in the last mouthfuls of food. When she finished she pushed the disposable container away, belching. ‘You’re shittin’ me. Right?’

‘No,’ Would Insignia harm them? Mira didn’t know. Right now the biozoon murmured comfortingly, almost lovingly, in the background of her mind. ‘Insignia is a highly evolved tetrapodomorph, not a humanesque. I have no way to predict its actions.’

Rast exchanged looks with her companions. ‘So what does the ‘zoon want to renew the contract and not spit us into the vacuum?’

Mira hesitated again, not wanting to sound ridiculous. ‘Insignia was bored on Araldis. I think it seeks... stimulation.’

Rast guffawed. ‘Now you are definitely shitting me.’

‘It had not realised it would have such a long period of inactivity.’

‘It’s like living inside a cooked ribcage. Even smells like it.’ Rast stared at the densely fleshed ceiling and ribbed walls of the cucina. ‘Can it hear me?’

‘If it so chooses.’

‘Frickin’ creepy,’ muttered Catchut.

Latourn began to cough, his body racked by the effort. When the fit passed he laid his head on the table in exhaustion.

‘Get him out of here, Catchut,’ said Rast. ‘He’s hawking spit all over the place.’

Catchut hooked Latourn’s arm over his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. He gave Rast an unreadable look and shuffled Latourn out.

The mercenary leader watched them leave, then turned to Mira. ‘So when does this so-called contract run out?’

Mira suddenly wanted to slap Rast for her indifference to what they had left behind on Araldis. Surely even a mercenary had regrets for her own dead team.

And yet, in the same moment, Mira could not help but envy her. No male would ever force himself upon Rast. ‘Insignia has not said—other than that it is soon.’

‘Ask it then.’

Mira listened for a moment to the background hum. ‘It does not choose to answer.’

Rast made an impatient noise. ‘Well, then, Baronessa, I suggest you get to know your tetrapodo-whatever a bit better so that you can bargain with it. Whatever its tastes are, I can probably get hold of it. Even the bizarre—’

‘No!’ Mira stared at Rast in disbelief. How could the mercenary think that way?

Rast saw her expression. ‘What, then?’

‘I will... see,’ Mira said.

Rast dropped her hand onto Mira’s shoulder and squeezed it hard. ‘Thing is this, Baronessa. I don’t fancy your exploding eyeballs being the last thing I ever see. But, one way the other, it will be, if you don’t make a good deal with your ship.’

 

* * *

 

Rast kept away from Mira en route to Scolar after that, other than to check regularly on their progress. Catchut found a library of entertainment sims in one of Insignia’s many cabin spaces and the mercenaries spent their evenings drunk in one another’s company.

Mira spent her time in the biozoon’s buccal, enduring her early-pregnancy nausea. Although she avoided total vein-sink, she let the Primo vein sucker adhere gently to her skin, massaging her body. The connection allowed the biozoon to help subdue her illness—mainly with distraction.

Insignia projected her own external views upon Mira’s retina. Without the benefit of full immersion, Insignia’s version of space appeared as a translucent corduroy tapestry, ridged and furrowed, and impregnated with fiery pinpricks of light. Some of those lights passed in a blurred instant while others seemed to burn for ever. And all the while the biozoon rose and sank with the gigantic waves of the solar winds, leaving Mira hollow with awe.

‘I had no idea it would be like this,’ she said. ‘No idea.’

But even her witness to the biozoon’s marvellous abilities couldn’t lighten her inner misery. And the misery made her angry. How could she allow Trin Pellegrini’s act of violence to defeat her when so many Cipriano women had suffered as she had? They had not died inside from it. They had not been rendered impotent with resentment. They had accepted and moved through it.

Yet while the memory of hard male fingers on her body remained, Mira was caught on a pendulum of emotions.

She wondered how Cass was faring. And if it was Djeserit or she who was caring for Vito? Did he have enough to eat? Had Trin Pellegrini eluded the Saqr and led the survivors to the islands?

Insignia, is there any news of Araldis?

Constant reiteration, Mira Fedor, is a trait of the inferior mind. I would have told you had there been news.

When can you farcast to Scolar?

I have explained this already as well. My farcast relay is not functioning at optimum length. It will be possible after the next shift—perhaps.

Mira rolled unhappily onto her side in Primo vein. The biozoon could be so intractable when it chose. She must find a way to get closer to it.

What had you expected when you came to Araldis with my grandfather? She focused on the steady, unhurried rhythm of its biologies as she waited for an answer.

Learning. Although we were a nomadic race, our vanzoons knew that we must keep a reproductive core separate, to ensure the longevity of our species. I was born into this Core Mass. When it was my turn to be allowed to rove I dipped into our collective store of memories. That area of the galaxy is little known to us.

But you must have realised that our clan were destined to be planetbound?

It was my understanding that my Innate and I would be permitted to rove when the new world was settled. But the Latinos proved unreliable. When your father died, I lost my emissary to your Principe.

Mira wanted to speak more of her father but she sensed their conversation would be better served in another direction. You enjoy wandering?

‘Wander’ suggests lack of purpose and I have a deep purpose. We call our roving rafa.

Mira liked the sound of rafa. ‘And what is your purpose when you... rafa?’

I don’t share my purpose! it said in an offended tone.

Embarrassment further warmed Mira’s skin. The biozoon reactions were so difficult to predict. I apologise for my ignorance. It can make me seem... impertinent.

Yes.

The vein temperature cooled abruptly and uncomfortable sensations prickled her skin.

Insignia?

The vein remoulded itself, forcing Mira into an upright position. The biozoon was forcing her out.

Reluctantly, she left the buccal to return to her cabin but Rast intercepted her in the high stratum. The mercenary was staggering, drunk or stoned.

‘Haven’t seen much of you lately, Baronessa. How are our contract negotiations coming along?’

Mira flattened herself against the stratum wall to avoid touching her. ‘They are... progressing,’ she lied.

‘Progressing, huh? Well, we’re getting bored and, let me tell you, that ain’t a good thing.’ Rast suddenly swayed across and leaned her body against Mira’s. She dropped her head to Mira’s neck, brushing her lips against the bare skin.

‘No!’ Mira cried out and pushed her away, running a couple of steps before Rast caught up with her.

‘Whoa there!’

Mira wrenched her wrist free, shaking, and unable to calm herself. ‘You have no right to—’

‘Fuck it, woman, what’s your problem?’ Rast held her hands up in a placatory gesture. She glanced up and down the stratum, embarrassed.

Mira didn’t answer; she fled to her cabin. When she reached it, she struck the pucker with her fist as if it were Rast. When it retracted she ran inside and fell onto the bed.

Mira? Insignia’s thought was filled with concern. Changes in your physiology show distress.

I am... I do... not want the mercenary’s attention. It is important that she understands this. Mira climbed off the bed to enter the washspace. I wish to wash my face.

Water flowed through a skin fold into a cavity on the wall.

You are angry? asked Insignia.

Mira was surprised. ‘With you? No. Why?’ she said aloud.

It is important that I understand your needs. I am in a position to protect you in some ways but I must know when it is necessary to do such a thing.

‘O-oh,’ Mira stammered, speaking aloud again. ‘Thank you.’

She washed and returned to the bed. Lying on her back she stared at the silken canopy that disguised the lumpy flesh of the ceiling. ‘The mercenary is no threat to me. At least... not if I comply with her wishes.’

But that is not how you behaved.

Perhaps, then, it is time that I shared this... Mira took a breath and let the painful memories break the surface of her mind. Somehow the biozoon’s presence sharpened the images until she became lost in them again...

 

* * *

 

‘Listen. We will retreat to Chalaine-Gema. If the Saqr are there we will cross the southern range to the Islands and wait for help,’ Trin had said.

‘What else do you want?’ Mira had replied. ‘What does that dogged face you present to me mean?’

He’d hesitated then as if listening to an inner voice. ‘There is no manner in which I can make this less brutal, Mira. I have thought it through.. You can resist or you can accept.’

‘Accept what? To go to OLOSS?’

‘No. That is decided already... I wish to make a bambino. Now. An heir.’

The fear had come to her then. ‘Loco!’

‘I am truly,’ he’d agreed. ‘But there will be another Pellegrini and he mil be Cipriano. You are the only patrician blood left.’

She had tried to flee him but Seb and Vespa Malocchi had wrestled her to the ground and held her there. One of them had pushed the filthy hem of his fellalo into her mouth. It had tasted of iron and sweat.

Trin had forced her robe open and himself inside her. His tears, as they fell on her face, had meant nothing to her. Nothing at all...

 

* * *

 

That appears to be an unnatural violation. But we are very different from you humanesques. Respect for each other is intrinsic in us.

Insignia’s voice jerked Mira roughly out of the past. She swallowed several times and licked her dry lips. Remembering had only made her misery grow. No peace came from reliving it; no amity. Among my kind it is accepted that a man will decide when he will be fertile. This occurs between marriage partners, though, and is not forced upon acquaintances. She wiped wetness from her eyes and rolled on her side, tucking her knees to her belly to relieve the ache that had settled there.

Insignia remained quiet for some moments. And now you do not wish to be touched.

‘I do not wish to be vulnerable.’

What of the foetus? Do you care for it?

Mira huddled on the bed, wondering what the child inside her would be like: a Fedor or a Pellegrini? ‘I do not know,’ she whispered. ‘I do not know.’