THALES

 

Gutnee Paraburd lied to me. That thought obsessed Thales. I could have been imprisoned. If I hadn’t lost my temper at Sophos Mianos... if the Baronessa hadn’t sent her man back to help me...

He found it impossible to reconcile the notion that his aggression, his loss of composure, had been the thing that had saved his life. Jain taught that self-control was the only way to attain moksha—true realisation of the soul.

Thales nursed his revelation all the way back to the biozoon and into the ribbed space that the Baronessa called the cucina.

The five of them convened around a table over a variety of recomposed meals. The Baronessa sprang up and took a container from the unfolded shelves.

She handed it to Thales. ‘Risotto without meat,’ she said. ‘I hope this is suitable.’

He smiled and thanked her.

She looked weak with fatigue.

‘Sit and eat,’ Rast ordered her.

The Baronessa resumed her seat near the mercenary. She broke off a tiny amount of bread and put some to her lips. ‘It was them,’ she whispered.

Rast shovelled in large mouthfuls of beans. ‘Too late for conscience now, Fedor. We survived. Most of them survived. Coulda been worse.’

Thales didn’t understand the meaning of their exchange and knew it pointless to ask. He’d become caught up, unwittingly, amongst fugitives, and in truth he did feel some sympathy for the plight of the Baronessa’s world. But he had too many of his own concerns.

His shaken faith, for instance; Paraburd’s DNA, the state of his own world, and Rene, of course. What must he do to win her back?

He knew that the people he sat eating with thought him to be naive and senseless. But naivety was a phase soon passed, and senseless he was not—although it seemed useful for now that they thought of him as such. Their tongues would be less guarded if they did. They would take less notice of him.

The God-Discoverer Jo-Jo Rasterovich interested Thales the most. Though obnoxious and uncouth, the man had knowledge of Belle-Monde and the Entity. Tonight, at the Trade Fest, he would seek out his company...

‘Will Lasper Farr support me?’ Mira Fedor asked Randall.

The mercenary scraped a fork moodily across her empty plate. ‘Carnage won’t do anything that doesn’t suit him. Course, there’s one thing in your favour.’ She shot Mira a look. ‘His niece is on Araldis. That might be enough.’

Latourn, the one who had brought Thales from the OLOSS ship, stood up and belched. He had not been with them. ‘I hear we’re goin’ to the Fest, Capo?’

‘Reckon we might be due some downtime, Lat. Not much work around for a team of three.’

Latourn nodded. Then he gave the Baronessa a lingering look. ‘Reckon I’ll go rest up, then, ready for the show. Never know what Luck might bring me.’

Rast and Catchut laughed at that. Leaving their plates and cups piled at random, they followed Latourn from the cucina.

In the silence that followed Thales was surprised to find the Baronessa staring at him.

‘Will you go out this evening, Thales?’ she asked after the others had gone.

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps, Baronessa. It seems there is little else to do.’

‘I am sorry for the way things have happened. And I have had little time to thank you for what you did. I fear Sophos Mianos would have imprisoned me.’

Thales was unsure how much he should tell this woman. She seemed educated enough, but something irrational lurked within her, something stronger than she could control. She lacked the centred calm of the truly sane. ‘Sophos Mianos has a habit of doing such things.’

‘You seem unsuited to the job you have undertaken.’

‘Bio-courier?’

‘Si.’

Embarrassment warmed Thales’s cheeks but he decided to continue. He badly needed to unburden himself a little. ‘M-my circumstances changed. I was wrongfully accused of sedition. My world has become a reactionary, oppressive place.’

The Baronessa nodded thoughtfully. ‘I am distressed to hear that, Msr Berniere. At my Studium we were taught that Scolar was Orion’s ethical and ideological centre—her soul.’

Thales felt the passion rising in his breast, loosing his tongue. ‘It is no longer what it should be. It is like a malaise that has crept unheard and unseen upon us. My colleagues have embraced Pragmatism and, worse, I fear that the Sophos have ceased to encourage honest discourse.’ He thought of The Children of God and Villon. More than that, they have murdered it.

The Baronessa watched him with an intent expression on her face.

He stopped. ‘My apologies—I am speaking of things that mean nothing to you.’

‘No, no,’ she said. ‘Please continue. Although I am not a philosopher I am educated and I have a love of learning. It is... invigorating to listen to a man with such meaningful comprehensions.’

Thales blushed again. He had not been called a man before—not by a woman.

‘I had heard that your culture did not encourage women to be...’ he searched for words that would not be offensive ‘... reflective or informed.’

The Baronessa smiled and her face lost the tiny age lines that should not have been there. ‘You have a most refined manner... may I call you Thales?’

Thales nodded. ‘Of course, and should I continue to address you as Baronessa?’

‘Mira,’ she said. ‘And you are partially correct. The women of higher castes in my culture are educated in a certain way. It is expected that we should have a full comprehension of Latino history and we are encouraged to be familiar with literature and art and with alien genera. I am unusual in that I have acquired learning in aerospace technologies.’

Thales put a mouthful of the recomposed potato to his lips and sucked at it. ‘This is part of your Innate Talent, I suppose?’

Mira’s smile faded and he saw bleakness replace it. ‘In part, I suppose. But much was from my own initiative. Women are not supposed to possess an Innate Talent. It has not been that way before.’

‘It was difficult for you, then—in a patriarchy.’

Her face took on a gaunt appearance. ‘They sought to take my Talent from me.’

‘How so? I am not trained as a biologist but I imagine it would need something akin to gene transference.’

She bowed her head. ‘Si. And afterwards... what would be left?’

They sat in silence then for a while.

‘Would you accompany me this evening? I am uncomfortable with the mercenaries,’ Mira asked.

Thales thought of Rene and felt a pang of guilt. ‘I—er—of course, though you may be safer in their company.’

The Baronessa shivered. ‘I do not think so.’

 

* * *

 

Thales escorted Mira from the biozoon a little before the Edo bells heralded star-set. He wore a robe called a fellalo that the Baronessa had found him in one of the myriad of cabin spaces.

She had also changed from her simple shapeless dress into something ornate but equally as shapeless. Thales wondered that Latino men could find attraction in their women under such voluminous garb.

Still, he felt a slight stirring as she placed her arm in his. He was unused to being so long without physical contact with a woman and the Baronessa’s crimson colouring was not unattractive but exotic in a way. Scolar was home to a variety of humanesques, but he had not previously known a race with such vivid skin tones.

The Lamin creature was waiting for them on the docks. ‘Commander Farr has sent me as your guide.’

‘But how did—’

The Lamin clacked its fingernails together as if pinching something. ‘It is customary for us to know our guests’ movements.’

Customary? Thales suppressed a bitter laugh. Words could not disguise hegemony in any place or time. Was this Lasper Farr no better than Sophos Mianos?

The Lamin hustled them into a preprogrammed taxi which transported them up and away from the docks across an arched viaduct. The biozoon became a miniature of itself as they arced high, and then down again towards a complete wall of darkness.

Thales was astounded to see the gloom separate into compacted metals thousands of mesurs high. The viaduct connected directly with a tunnel that passed through the metal wall, much like the chute they had navigated through to land. As the taxi slid purposefully onwards, Thales glimpsed tunnels branching off in many directions. Some were lit while others appeared disused; easy to become lost in, he imagined.

After a time the vehicle entered a huge shaft, the diameter of which extended well beyond their line of sight. The Lamin instructed the vehicle to halt alongside a block of a dozen airlifts.

‘Please leave the vehicle and enter the closest available lift,’ it said, flicking its tongue across its lips.

Mira Fedor had spoken few words since leaving the biozoon but Thales could see her escalating curiosity.

‘What are the proportions of this metal wall?’ she asked.

The Lamin appeared to ponder over an answer.

‘The wall, as you call it, is one of Edo’s wings, and it stretches three thousand mesurs high and a thousand mesurs wide.’

‘A wing?’ The Baronessa frowned. ‘Planets do not have wings.’

The Lamin laughed: a moist, wheezing noise. Tiny droplets of spit sprayed from its mouth, causing it great embarrassment. It snapped a handkerchief from the pocket of its sleeveless suit and dabbed at its face. When it was satisfied with the result it continued. ‘Edo is not a planet, Baronessa Fedor. Edo is a Self-Made Object comprised entirely of amalgamated refuse.’

Mira’s mouth opened. ‘But how—’

‘The core is magnetised.’

Thales had a sudden and overwhelming sense of unease, his imagination firing in many directions. ‘Why would anyone make a planet of refuse?’

‘The core of Edo is a disbanded mega-space station. One of the first large objects to be brought here. As you may have noticed on your arrival, Akouedo is a hazardous system through which to navigate. The Savoires sometimes spill contents in the disgorging process. Over time the magnetised core of the station began to attract much of this loose material. And, of course, gravity makes its own.’ It cleared its throat. ‘As the process was entirely random, and influenced by the strength of the core, more accumulated in certain locations. Think of Edo as a unique diminutive spiral galaxy surrounded by an outer halo,’ said the Lamin. It lifted an arm in a dramatic fashion and then proceeded to groom the long, fine hair of its armpits.

Thales wondered if the creature was anxious or merely had no sense of delicacy. When, a moment later, it began to lick the same area, he decided it was the latter and turned back to his observation of the scenery.

As they descended in the airlift the Baronessa remained quite animated, pointing out and listing things. What had seemed to be merely a grotesque and ugly mass now began to take on more recognisable shapes.

By the time they reached their destination, Thales could make out the gigantic trusses bedecked with barrel-shaped habitation modules. He saw innumerable sheets of broken solar arrays sandwiched between broken-backed service modules, and unit nodes speared through by abandoned robotic arms and bristling antennae.

The airlift stopped along the route and their capsule rotated inside another shaft before continuing downward until it reached a cavernous space illuminated by banks of light arrays. Mira Fedor pointed out the arms of the original space station branching out from the bottom.

The sight of the bones of such an ancient object thrilled Thales more than he would have thought possible. Thousands of years old, at the very least. Stations had been artificial spheres for that long at least—not these gangling elongated things.

‘Beautiful,’ breathed the Baronessa. ‘Like a starfish.’

The Lamin hustled them to another vehicle which transported them into and along one of the arms.

‘Are the airlifts part of the original station?’ asked the Baronessa.

‘Only the lower section,’ the Lamin said. ‘The lift well has grown as Edo has grown.’

The station arm was wide enough to allow several lanes of medium-sized transport in either direction, each one separated by islands filled with racks that the Baronessa told Thales would have housed payloads and experimental equipment. Periodically they passed small central parking nodes that had been converted into kafes. ‘Esques sat at tables eating and drinking, oblivious to the traffic.

Some way along the arm the vehicle veered into a side bay.

‘We must walk from here,’ said the Lamin.

They followed the creature through a series of medium-sized compartments, jostling alongside other pedestrians, until they reached the entry to a grand bulb-shaped chamber.

‘This must have been the recreation module. Each arm had one,’ the Baronessa panted. She was breathing heavily for the light exercise they were engaged in. ‘It is larger than the Principe’s palazzo.’

Thales had no idea of a palazzo’s dimensions but the chamber could easily have accommodated several of the Pre-Eminence buildings.

This was not, however, aesthetically manicured like the boulevards of Scolar. In this chamber, silvery chaos reigned: mesurs and mesurs of foil streamers and balloons hung from the roof. Beneath the decorations,

liquid-metal fountains interspersed the hundreds of lots where the bartering of recycled refuse was conducted.

On a circular dais in the middle of the chamber an array of weird and spectacular sculptures teetered.

Thales pointed. ‘What in Scolar are they?’

‘Installation art. Many of Orion’s most famous sculptors sell their products at trade time,’ said the Lamin.

‘Artists? Here?’ Mira Fedor sounded shocked.

‘Commander Farr is an entrepreneurial genius. He has requested that you join him on the dais for refreshments.’

The Lamin proceeded to thread a path for them towards the bizarre towering displays, its head constantly turning to make sure they were close behind.

Soldiers ringed the dais, and a sombre tattooed Balol scanned the three of them before they were permitted to take the escalator to the top of the dais.

‘We have a few moments before we meet the Commander. You are welcome to observe the art but I would ask you to stay together. I cannot protect you if you are separated.’

‘Protect us?’ said Thales.

The Lamin showed a row of barbed teeth. ‘Everyone has enemies, Msr Berniere, most usually without knowing it.’

‘But I know no one here other than the Baronessa and her companions,’ Thales protested.

The Lamin closed his painted lips over his teeth. ‘Indeed.’

Thales’s insides twisted. What did the creature mean? He looked to the Baronessa for reassurance but she had drifted away and was not listening.

‘I have never seen such things,’ she marvelled as he joined her.

Thales regarded the nearest sculpture. ‘That is a dragonbee and those are sea membranes. I’m not sure what that is, though.’ He pointed to a moving shape in a large frame that seemed to be constantly folding in on itself like a whirlpool of living tissue.

‘Crux!’ exclaimed Mira.

Thales’s gaze followed hers to the centre of the dais where a huge shard of green glass thrust up towards the ceiling. Tiny lights glowed along the myriad cracks that it contained, some appearing to be moving up and down along the fissures. The whole sculpture shone with both reflected and internal light. Though scarred and irregular it was the most beautiful thing Thales had ever seen.

‘Spectacular indeed,’ agreed the Lamin. ‘This monolith of glass was damaged during the construction of the Floating Palaces of the Armina-Pulchra Raj. The artist transported it to his home where he continued to place the material under duress. It is said that he dropped it repeatedly. He then lowered it onto a deep ice-well and left it there for several years. When he retrieved it a silica symbiote had taken up residence in the fissures. It is now the most valuable recycled sculpture in Orion. Although shortlived. The symbiotes will eventually swell the fissures and then one day it will explode.’

‘But before that it will glow brighter and brighter,’ said the Baronessa.

The Lamin nodded. ‘The artist is already selling tickets to the final event.’

‘And what is that alongside it?’ Thales pointed to a small naked humanesque form reclining on a pedestal, unmistakably an aroused male. The sculpture’s expression alternated between lascivious and haughty. The height and strength of its erection also changed as the sculpture appeared to liquefy and re-form.

‘It is one of our few quixite sculptures.’

‘Few?’ asked Mira Fedor.

‘Quixite is a rare and expensive naturally occurring metal alloy which has many applications. Many think that using it for art is immoral.’ The Lamin bared its teeth. ‘It is certainly a sign of wealth and status. Only our most successful artists can afford it. This is called “The Travelling Companion” and is quite new, I believe.’

‘Quixite?’ said the Baronessa in a sharp voice. ‘Who is the artist?’

‘I am unsure. Now we must meet Commander Farr for refreshments.’

 

* * *

 

Commander Lasper Farr was seated in an armchair under a foil marquee decorated with small bouquets made from iron, brass and aluminium swarfs. The God-Discoverer, Josef Rasterovich, was on his right, and on his left an obese shapeless creature took up an entire couch.

‘Everything is so bright, so clean,’ said the Baronessa. ‘How is that possible?’

‘Commander Farr has very high standards.’ The Lamin nodded as he spoke, as if to emphasise that statement. ‘Edo laboratories have patented a rust-eating parasite. It is effective, but over-colonisation by the parasite can also weaken the material. It is a fine and lucrative balancing act.’

Farr stood when he saw them approach. He gave the Baronessa a brief bow. ‘I see you were admiring the Fest’s centrepiece. Please let me introduce you to the artist, Fenralia.’ He waved a hand at the large jelly-like creature with trailing tendrils and a rudimentary face. ‘And of course you have already met Josef.’

Fenralia’s body shivered as if it was preparing to move.

The Baronessa forestalled it with a curtsy and a series of quiet glubbing noises.

Fenralia stopped shivering and responded in kind.

The Baronessa rose. ‘I am hoping that you speak ‘esque as well, Fenralia. My Uralian is very basic and learned only from Studium simulations.’

The artist emitted an odorous liquid from underneath its body, which pooled on the couch and began to drip onto the floor of the marquee. ‘Well-enough-so.’

Thales could not discern the origin of the mechanism that Fenralia used to speak.

‘You are educated, Baronessa,’ said Lasper Farr. ‘And you will find Fenralia to be so as well.’

‘Flatter-Carnage-me-more.’ Fenralia’s ‘voice’ was high-pitched and unformed like that of a very young child.

‘May I say that your sculpture is magnificent,’ said Thales. ‘I have never seen the like of it. So powerful.’

The artist’s skin changed colour with pleasure. ‘Thank you, skin-pretty-hung-with-ugly-danglings.’

Shock and embarrassment burned in Thales’s face and the Baronessa averted her head, biting at her lip.

‘Now, Fenralia, do not tease the young ones. Not all are as liberated as you,’ said Farr. He pointed to a deepening queue beyond the dais. ‘Your fans are waiting for a chance to imprint themselves with your juices. Perhaps it is time to bestow reward on them.’

A guard rolled a small trolley over to the couch. Fenralia Undulated onto it with practised ease.

‘What in Scolar is that?’ Thales whispered as the artist was transported across the dais.

‘An uuli-skierin hybrid. They are quite rare and not long-lived. Most have brilliant creative minds,’ replied Mira.

‘You have met one before?’

‘I have studied species genera at the Araldis Studium. The skierin culture was one of my preferred choices.’

‘Wet, sticky place, Skiera,’ said Josef Rasterovich. He had left his seat and was standing behind Mira Fedor. His eyes were fixed on her face with a hungry expression that made Thales want to look away. The Baronessa, however, did not seem to notice.

‘I should be interested to hear of your impressions, Mr Rasterovich. If time will allow us,’ she said.

‘The time would seem perfect for that,’ said Lasper Farr. ‘Mr Rasterovich, could you entertain the Baronessa while Msr Berniere and I... discuss some things?’

Rasterovich paled, then frantically scanned the crowd. He was unable to hide his relief when he saw Farr’s sister, Bethany.

‘Beth,’ he called out. ‘Here!’

Not an invitation but a demand, thought Thales. The God-Discoverer did not wish to be left alone with Baronessa Fedor.

‘Msr Berniere?’ Farr was standing waiting for Thales.

‘What is it that you wish to discuss with me, Commander Farr?’ said Thales nervously.

Farr took his arm. ‘A matter of some delicacy,’ he murmured in Thales’s ear, ‘that would be best served up in private.’

Thales hesitated. It seemed impolite to refuse and yet he did not entirely trust the man. Gutnee Paraburd had been a liar. Was Lasper Farr any different?

‘Please,’ Farr said. ‘I will be brief.’

Thales allowed Farr to steer him through the crowd to a private but plain room some distance from the main chamber. It was pleasantly quiet after the cacophony of the Trade Fest but Farr did not invite him to sit.

‘I am not a man to waste time, Msr Berniere, so I will come straight to my point. Why do you have a barrier substance in your blood?’

‘P-pardon?’ Thales stuttered.

Farr lost some of his mild demeanour. ‘We have scanned your biologies. Your blood contains a barrier substance commonly used by bio-carriers. We cannot detect the DNA itself so we assume you are on your way to receive it, or have just delivered it. DNA warfare is still one of the most dangerous threats to sentient species, Msr Berniere. I do not like carriers on my world—unless they belong to me.’

‘I do not have to put up with an interrogation, Commander Farr. I mean you no harm. I am here on your planet through no fault of my own but because of a conspiracy of circumstance.’ Thales raised his chin stubbornly. 

‘Do all philosophers have such a shallow grasp of life?’

‘I may not be worldly, sir, but I am intelligent.’

‘Intelligence is admirable. But can you handle yourself?’

‘Handle?’

Without warning Farr tucked his head under Thales’s arm and spun. With the weight of his shoulder he threw Thales against the wall.

Pain radiated across Thales’s skull and down his spine. Dazed, he took some moments to climb to his feet.

The Commander faced him, arms dangling loose against his sides, his expression quite relaxed.

Thales glanced at the door but a balol guard was still there, its neck frill stiff with aggression.

‘H-h... d-d.’ Thales couldn’t make the words come unstuck.

Farr lunged at him and struck him again with a series of harsh blows to the soft parts of his body.

Thales retaliated, as he had aboard the OLOSS ship, lashing out with all his energy and strength. But this man was very different from a scant-trained OLOSS guard. The veteran warman hurt him in ways that made him gasp for breath until he slumped back to the floor, his hands raised, cowering.

Farr kicked his arms away. ‘Look at me!’

Thales obeyed, unable to think of what else to do. Let this be over.

Farr was neither perspiring nor out of breath; he was smiling, though, as if he was party to an amusing conversation. ‘There are many, many ways I can find out the truth, Msr Berniere, of which this is the most straightforward and the most civilised.’

Tears collected in Thales’s eyes. He let words tumble out instead. ‘I w-was employed to retrieve the DNA for a businessman on Scolar. A good deed in part to assist HealthWatch upgrades against influenza.’

‘HealthWatch upgrades on Scolar?’ Farr roared with laughter. ‘The planet cannot even organise its own refuse system. What was this man’s name?’

‘Paraburd. Gutnee Paraburd.’

‘And why would you be such a philanthropist?’

Thales told him haltingly about Rene, and her father, and his own imprisonment.

Farr’s expression became solemn. He withdrew a film from inside his suit jacket and spent some time staring at it. Finally, he held it in front of Thales. ‘Is this the man?’

Thales blinked several times and nodded. It was Gutnee Paraburd with less hair and smaller ears. ‘Do you know him?’

‘You are worse than a fool,’ said Farr. ‘Scolar has a dire future if they are breeding more like you. Gutnee Paraburd is Gutnee Fressian, a bio-merchant of the most immoral kind. Did you really believe that the DNA you were to collect was legal? That Paraburd was an honest businessman?’

‘He seemed so.’ Thales tried to suppress his memory of the torn uniform and the peculiar travel arrangements, and find a way to salvage his pride. ‘I might have been naive to trust him, but at least there are some of us left who would do a thing for the good of it.’

‘For the good? Or to improve your kudos with your wife?’

Thales fell silent at that; demoralised by the truth.

But Lasper Farr was not finished with him. ‘Where were you were to receive the DNA?’

‘On a place called Rho Junction.’

‘Where are your instructions?’ said Farr.

Thales took the packet from the vest under his borrowed robe and handed it over.

The Commander left the room for a time but the balol remained, guarding the door. Thales stayed on the floor, nursing his physical hurts and his shame at his mistakes. He sought the peace of a meditative state but his Jainist learnings and beliefs seemed to belong to another person, from another place and time.

When Farr returned Thales was unable to rouse himself from his morose state of mind. So mired was he in his troubles that Farr’s simple statement took some time to register.

‘Do you wish to die?’ the Commander asked.

When the meaning sank past the layers of self-pity Thales sat up straighter, his heart thudding.

Farr continued. ‘It is my assumption that you do not. If that is the case then you will continue to your rendezvous on Rho Junction and receive the DNA but instead of returning to Gutnee Fressian on Scolar you will return here. My laboratories will decant it and you will be cleared of any penalty and will be free to go.’

Thales felt a flicker of outrage. ‘I have committed no crime. I deserve no penalty. My life is not yours to govern.’

Farr produced a small tube from his pocket. He did not call for the balol guard but simply took Thales into his arms and held him as an adult would a small struggling child. He squeezed the contents of the tube into the corner of Thales’s eye.

‘I have introduced a bacterium into your body that will break down Gutnee Fressian’s barrier substance within a matter of months and kill you. If you return here in a timely manner with Fressian’s DNA in your system, I will administer the vaccine and all will be well. The choice, Msr Berniere, is entirely yours.’ Farr released Thales and gave a pleasant smile. ‘Now, please, feel free to enjoy the rest of the Trade Fest while I arrange your transportation to Rho Junction.’