MIRA

 

‘Cryoprotectants?’

‘Surely even on your backward planet you’ve heard of them?’ ‘I-I...’

‘Who opposes OLOSS, Baronessa?’

‘The Extropists, of course—’

‘OLOSS has been trying to destabilise them for years because they won’t sign the charter. One of the ways they’ve done that is to make the cryoprotectants that the Extros use in their transformation processes illegal—outside approved consignments for OLOSS use.’

‘They are illegal?’ Mira’s heart thundered.

‘Not just illegal, Fedor. Do you know what they do to ‘esques caught trafficking them?’ Rast’s eyes were so narrow that Mira wasn’t sure if they were even open. ‘They don’t bother to put them in jail. They just box them up and cremate them,’ she said.

‘OLOSS would not be so barbaric.’

‘Would be and are,’ Rast said flatly. ‘Crux, Fedor, you’ve just had a close-up view of what humanesques can do to each other. Why would OLOSS be any different?’

‘But the charter—’

‘Prevents lawlessness but doesn’t stop cruelty.’

Rast impatiently tapped her fingers on the conductor pad while Mira digested what she had learned.

‘But if you knew I was going to an OLOSS planet—why would you risk such a thing?’ Mira said slowly.

Rast’s glance flicked to Catchut—so quickly that Mira wasn’t sure whether of not she’d imagined it. ‘You were going. Not us. We—ah—intended to... stay aboard. Didn’t figure the suspicious bastards would come out and search us.’

Is that the truth, Rast? Mira wondered. She examined the mercenary’s face but Rast’s expression showed nothing, neither guilt nor discomfort nor fear.

Insignia, how long until the OLOSS ship reaches us?

Exactly?

Approximately.

Less time than it takes you to dress.

‘They are too close now. We cannot avoid them boarding—you must hide it,’ said Mira decisively.

Rast reared up out of her seat and grabbed Mira’s arm. ‘No, we must run.’

‘We cannot run,’ Mira cried. ‘I have to tell them about Araldis.’

‘They won’t believe you—’

Mira stood impassively in Rast’s grasp and summoned her most imperious tone. ‘Hide it. And send Latourn to attend me at the egress scale.’

‘A-attend you!’ Catchut spluttered. ‘Why, y-you—’

But Rast cut him off with a decisive hand movement. ‘Play your game well, Baronessa. Your life depends on it.’

Mira took that warning back to her cabin where she hurriedly changed into a Pellegrini ceremonial robe.

The bodice and skirt were too large for her thin body but the headdress fitted well enough. She bundled her hair behind the wimple and tucked away a couple of stray wisps. The mirror showed her strained eyes and faded skin colour. She turned sideways and stretched the fabric across her belly. There was no hint of her secret in this voluminous dress.

Insignia, contact the OLOSS ship and explain that they are welcome aboard but that one of the survivors has a quarantine-level illness. And—

Mira?

– Why did you not tell me that Rast had brought cryoprotectants on board?

I am not interested in the minor activities of your species.

You mean... only when it suits you.

There was a long pause before Insignia replied.

The OLOSS ship has requested that your delegate comes to their quarantine area.

Mira let out a relieved breath.

 

* * *

 

Latourn was waiting for Mira at the egress scale. His dark hair was slicked flat and he wore an ochre-coloured everyday fellalo over his grey garb. The robe was a little short but he looked well enough in it—as though he could be Latino.

Mira felt the force of his stare. ‘I do not need you to speak, merely to act as my attendant. Stay behind me,’ she said.

Latourn nodded, and smiled in a way that made her uneasy. There was no warmth in it, only a strange kind of hunger. It was a risk taking him to the meeting but preferable to the others.

She heard a dull thud.

‘That’s them,’ said Latourn, turning to face the rough, thickened flesh of the egress scale. ‘Lemme go first. Might be that someone’s nervous in there.’

Mira shook her head. She would let no one risk themself on her behalf. ‘No. Stay behind me,’ she repeated.

“He shrugged and gave a mock bow. ‘Whatever m’lady wants.’

The docking connection is complete, Mira.

Let’s proceed.

 

* * *

 

The OLOSS ship’s entry chamber was as grey and functional as the corridors of Intel station. Mira was forced to sit on a bench close to Latourn as they were screened for contamination. Finally, a strong astringent scent filled their nostrils.

‘Anti-bac spray. It cakes your pores. Gives you a rash,’ Latourn muttered. Then he added, ‘Let me know if you need a hand to wash it off.’

A masked guard in an olive OLOSS uniform entered before Mira could react to Latourn’s suggestion. Two more joined him a moment later, carrying a chair and a fold-up table. When the table and chair had been set in front of Latourn and Mira, all three guards took up positions on either side of the door.

Latourn mimicked their action, settling himself against the wall opposite. Mira clasped her fingers together to keep them still and sat stiffly, waiting.

Finally, an affluently robed male with thin patrician features and soft skin entered. Something in his manner reminded Mira of the Principe Franco: confidence born of authority. And not just authority, she sensed; self- belief as well.

He held out his hand in greeting. ‘Sophos Mianos, OLOSS designate on Scolar.’

Mira half rose from her seat and returned the soft- fingered touch. ‘I am Baronessa Mira Fedor of the Cipriano clan on Araldis.’

The man stumbled over her use of her title, she thought, but he quickly arranged his expression into sympathetic lines. ‘Now, Baronessa Fedor, tell me quickly of this tragedy that brings you in such haste across Orion.’

Mira began hesitantly but found momentum in the reliving of her story and the presence of a sympathetic ear. She told Mianos most things—except for Marchella’s part in the events and Trin’s final act. When she had finally exhausted herself she sat, hunched and miserable, wishing for sleep or any type of oblivion.

Sophos Mianos took her hand and patted it for long moments until she grew uncomfortable and withdrew it.

‘Would you care for refreshments, my dear?’ he asked gently.

‘Th-thank you,’ Mira stammered. His refined manner was almost jarring after so long with the mercenaries.

They sat in an awkward silence until a menial bought a jug of iced water. Mira drank hers quickly but Latourn refused, frowning at her.

When the menial had removed the tray, another one appeared with a plate of meats and pastries which he placed in front of the Sophos. With a sigh and an innocent smile, Mianos tucked a serviette over his robe and began to eat. Between mouthfuls he began to ask questions.

Mira could not concentrate due to the smell of the marinated meats and the look of the honeyed cakes.

Her exhausted mind struggled to answer Mianos, for his questions seemed designed to trip up her logic and confuse her recollection.

She began to realise that though his skin was soft and his eyes gentle, Sophos Mianos was neither of those things. He continued to eat with a fastidiousness that could only have been intentional—fussing over the tiny scraps of fat and drips of meat juice, never once offering food to Mira or Latourn.

‘Tell me again, Baronessa, why the Principe’s heir provided you with transport to escape, while he stayed on?’ he asked.

Behind the Sophos one of the masked soldiers moved restlessly as though he too was impatient with proceedings.

Mianos turned and scowled at him: a fierce, quelling look.

Mira forced herself to speak. ‘I have explained, Sophos Mianos. The young Principe Pellegrini chose to stay to lead the survivors to a safe place. Our fleet had been destroyed—only the biozoon remained. He told me where it had been hidden. He knew—’

‘He knew what, Baronessa?’

She hesitated before continuing. ‘He knew that I was the only one who could fly her.’

Sophos Mianos put his fork down on his plate and blinked. ‘Are you telling me that you—a woman—have the Innate gene?’

Mira clung to her erect posture despite the dreadful fatigue flooding her body. ‘Si.’

‘But you cannot—’

‘Si, Sophos. But it has happened—a freak of nature, perhaps, but undeniable.’

Mianos threw his napkin down on his meat scraps and stood. He paced a few steps as if the knowledge of Mira’s talent had somehow changed things.

He turned to her. ‘What is it that you expect OLOSS to do?’

‘Trinder Pellegrini said that you would lend humanesquetarian aid. That the OLOSS charter meant that you would intervene on behalf of the Ciprianos.’

Mianos paused, plucking at his soft hairless chin. ‘Indeed, our accord protects worlds from such atrocities—but these things are never simple matters. An investigation and recommendation will need to be made to the OLOSS secretariat before any intervention can occur.’

‘But how long will that take?’ Mira cried.

‘I cannot answer that precisely. You will be notified when a decision has been reached. In the meantime, OLOSS will need to isolate and examine the biozoon. We will of course provide supervised accommodation for you on Scolar while the decision is pending.’

Isolate the biozoon. Supervised accommodation... Blood thundered in Mira’s ears. ‘No!’ She rose hastily from her seat and stepped back towards the connecting matrix. Latourn did the same.

‘Politic!’ snapped Mianos at the three guards.

Two of them reacted immediately, bringing their weapons to bear on Mira and Latourn. The other, though, pulled his weapon from its holster and threw it towards his fellow guards. The impact when it hit the ground caused it to discharge and one of them fell to the floor, wounded.

The now-unarmed guard cried aloud—a childish, frightened noise. Then he rushed at the standing soldier, knocking his weapon from his hand.

‘Flee!’ he shouted at Mira.

But she was riveted by his clumsy movements and obvious desperation. She saw his ill-fitting torn uniform. Who is he? Why does he help us?

‘Please go!’ he cried again. ‘Do not trust him.’

As Latourn dragged Mira into the connection matrix, the uninjured guard grappled with the inept dissident and ripped the visor from his face.

Mianos gasped. ‘Thales! What in Kant’s name are you doing—’

‘You would imprison this woman as you did Villon? As you did me?’ The young man’s voice was impassioned. Wild.

The guard caught the dissident’s arm and jerked it hard behind his shoulder, twisting it to dislocation point.

The dissident roared with fury rather than with pain. His shouted words became incoherent angry sobs.

Mira’s heart beat harder at his distress, but Latourn showed no such concern. He was pounding at the egress scale.

Mira stayed where she was in the centre of the connection matrix. ‘Help him,’ she said.

Latourn stared back at her, incredulous. ‘No,’ he barked.

‘Insignia will not open the egress scale until I tell her,’ Mira told him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Help the dissident and I will instruct Insignia to open it.’

Latourn’s eyes widened. ‘Capo said not to go with you—she said you were loco.’

Rast had said that? Mira kept her expression impassive. Perhaps she was. ‘You are a fighter. So fight for me.’

Latourn made an infuriated noise. He unbuckled the belt around his fellalo and plunged back through the matrix into the other ship’s link chamber.

Mira followed him.

The uninjured guard thrust the dissident aside roughly, bent swiftly to retrieve his weapon from the floor and turned it on Latourn. But the dissident threw himself against him, spoiling his aim before he fell sprawling.

In a deft, quick move Latourn looped his belt around the guard’s throat and twisted hard, snapping the man’s neck. He pulled the dissident upright and tossed him from the link chamber into the matrix. He landed almost at Mira’s feet.

Mira ran to the egress scale. Open for us, she instructed the biozoon.

The scale peeled back and she scrambled through first. A moment later the dissident followed with Latourn behind him.

Insignia’s presence filled her. She felt stronger and lighter. Thank you.

Then Rast had her, pulling her to her feet by her throat, shaking her into the present.

‘Whatisit!’ The mercenary demanded. ‘What’s happening? And who the fuck is this?’

Mira peeled Rast’s fingers from around her neck. Pushing back her disordered wimple she glanced down and saw the dissident’s face clearly for the first time. She did not think she had ever seen a more beautiful man.

Insignia, break away from the other ship. She looked back at Rast. ‘I really do not know.’