MIRA

 

The edges of the Dowl shift-sphere were a frenzy of spacecraft. No order in their behaviour. No etiquette. Only panic.

Mira/Primo writhed in vein-sink, her senses deluged with information upon which her imagination piled fear. What have the Saqr done to Dowl? That and a hundred other questions prickled her subconscious. But only one found its way to the top. Insignia? Can we shift?

The biozoon hesitated. Dowl’s shift system is compromised.

Then we are trapped here!

I am not. We use your stations as an act of good faith—not necessity—and to protect our humanesque Innate. You do not need to use our shiftspace?

I do not need to use your systems. I am bred with Resonance ability. However, your stations are located at our optimum resonance points. I must use this space.

Then we can still resonate?

As I said... yes.

Mira’s relief translated into a surge of energy. Go, then.

Insignia slid precariously between the mêlée of stranded ships. Some were already changing direction, their auras exuding bursts of magnetic waves.

What are they doing?

They are opting for sublight travel. Maglev is still operating but unstable.

That meant someone on Dowl station was battling to keep maglev function available. Mira trembled at their courage. Insignia—go! Leave here!

A visual representation of the shiftsphere blossomed on Mira’s retina; a magnificent kaleidoscope of pulsing, spinning concentric rings. Then a low thrum started as Insignia unfolded her cephalic fins. Mira knew that the sound would escalate to something beyond her hearing range. Soon she would be immersed in the thing she had most longed for.

As they entered the outermost ring of the sphere, Mira/Primo lost all connection with her physical self. She became a force amongst other forces, an energy thrusting forward against returned energies.

It’s like swimming, she thought. I am swimming, not flying.

Yes, Insignia agreed jubilantly. We are. And it has been too long...

With each ring they traversed the hum-pitch rose and the opposing forces strengthened. Mira/Primo lengthened her stroke, absorbed in the rhythm and effort of her propulsion.

Then a faint disruption occurred, like a splash disturbing the perfect ripples of her movement.

A craft slid across their wake, travelling with ragged momentum.

What is it?

Desperation, replied Insignia. They are trying to shift.

But we are only partway in.

The ring ahead of us is designated for refuse ships.

They have a different shift point?

Yes. In case there is a spillage or an accident during resonance—so that ultimate shift space will not be compromised.

But they are not resonating at perfect pitch. How—?

Imperfect Shift is possible.

Insignia sent the equations and logistics tumbling into Mira/Primo’s mind. In less than an instant she understood. Imperfect Shift was possible, though high-risk, and if they were caught in the wake of it, they would be dragged into Failed Shift.

A warning from Mira’s Studium instruction manual flashed into her mind. The result of a Failed Res-shift is catastrophic and will have an irrevocable impact on humanesque tissue. Vibration calibration must be precise or molecules in die tissues will implode the flesh...

Insignia?

I am ahead of them still and I am able to accelerate but in doing so I will disrupt their accumulated speed. They may be forced into a Failed Shift.

What other option is there?

You know it.

Mira/Primo’s fingers clutched at the vein’s viscous cushioning, her eyelids fluttering—though she had no awareness of it. Death to them? Or Death to us?

Yes.

I cannot choose such a thing. I cannot!

Insignia had no sympathy for her. I can. It is very clear to me.

Oh?

If you choose the riskier option for us your baby will die.

An instant? Or protracted moments? Mira/Primo didn’t know which it was, but she felt Insignia’s satisfaction as she thought the words...

Us. Save us...