Transformation Space (15 page)

Trin put a reassuring hand on his lieutenant’s arm. ‘As we all might, Juno. Everyone is needed for a task. I will walk around
the summit at approximately this level, returning from the west side. I would estimate only a few hours. If I am not back
by early light, do not attempt to come for me until the next night. I’ll
take pods and roots.’ He reached across the slab and took a collection of edibles, including several pods, slipping them into
the pockets of his ragged fellalo. He filled the robe’s water-sleeve and checked the drinking tube. Its end was damaged, allowing
precious water to leak out if he did not hold it upright. He pinched the valve between his fingertips.

‘You need both hands to climb,’ said Juno.

Trin tied the tube in a knot to make his carabinere happy. ‘I will see you before light.’

Djeserit walked with him until they were out of sight of the caves.

‘Take care, love,’ she said. It was the first time she had used an endearment.

He peered into her face. Her tight skin, a tribute to her mixed heritage, had aged in the harsh environment. She looked more
mature than the girl he had first lain with, in the dry-gardens of Villa Fedor. He touched her hair. Despite spending less
time in the water, it still felt stiff, as though the sea didn’t want to relinquish its effect on her.

At least she was cleaner than the rest of them. How long since he’d washed with a cleanser? How long until he would? ‘And
you, Djes. Let the korm and Tivi carry what you catch. Don’t tire yourself by doing too much. Or overuse the pods.’

Her thin lips parted in a smile. ‘You, also.’ She slipped her hand into his pocket and shook the pods.

Her touch near his groin sent a shot of pleasure through his body. Though they lay together every day when she returned from
fishing, neither had the energy for more than the comfort of being close. In addition,
Trin found the proximity of the others inhibiting in a way that did not seem to bother some of the other men.

He took her hand from his pocket and drew her further away from the caves. Above them was the sheer rock of the summit; below,
the line of brush clinging to the dirt.

‘Trinder?’ she whispered.

Without answering, her steered her to a spot among the bushes and then pulled her close. His lips tasted of her briny skin
and his hands felt the taut lean warmth of her muscled body.

She responded by pulling away and slipping her robe off, to stand naked before him. She pointed at the ground, but he shook
his head and turned her from him, bending her over. The ground was too rough for her bare skin. He would not risk injuring
her, so he pressed himself inside her this way.

She stiffened at first but he stroked her back and murmured gentle reassurances. Her body began to soften in his grip. Instinctively,
she started to move in rhythm, arriving at her climax before him.

His success in pleasuring her quickly fuelled his own fervour, and he reached release almost straight away. He stood, hugging
her to him, his hands cupping her narrow waist.

‘Trinder, there is—’

‘Hush,’ he said. ‘Do you hear something?’ A crackling sound, at odds with the island’s night noises.

Djes slipped from his embrace and pulled her robe on. ‘No. But I must go and fish now.’

‘Si,’ he agreed.

They pressed their lips together, and then she cupped his face. ‘I’ll think of you.’

He smiled, turning his lips to the palm of her hand, feeling the webbing between her fingers scraping his cheek. Perhaps he
had not lost her to the sea yet.

They climbed up from the brush to the rock line, where she left him to return to the caves. Trin stood for a moment, savouring
the solitude and the physical release from their moment of intimacy. He and Djeserit had paired under the worst of circumstances,
yet their regard for each other sustained itself. And now the passion had returned. For a moment he felt content, a ridiculously
impossible feeling under their circumstances but real enough.

Another noise in the brush behind him shattered his moment of peace. He scanned the shadows but could see nothing other than
the shapes of stunted trees. Perhaps there was an animal in there.

A sense of uneasiness crawled into his stomach.

Keep moving.

Mira stared at Linnea. ‘It’s a girl. It must be. There is no—’

‘Not according to this thing.’ Linnea had placed the baby in a bubble crib by the bed and was watching the diagnostic display.

Another cramping pain struck Mira before she could reply. Not as intense as the birthing contractions, but deep even so.

‘Afterbirth,’ pronounced Linnea. She left the crib and slid more absorbent film underneath Mira’s thighs. ‘One more push now,’
she said, as she pushed down on Mira’s stomach.

With the final effort, the pain left her.

‘Good ’n’ healthy one, far as I can see, but small. Mine was all threaded. Too long in the womb.’

Mira heard the door open.

Linnea deftly wrapped the baby leftovers up and transferred them to a large receptacle. Then she pulled a sheet up over Mira’s
lower body.

Dolin was first to enter the room, hurrying to the crib. He pored over the readouts before, finally, lifting his gaze to Mira.

She sipped on a sweet juice Linnea had produced for her and wondered at the expression on his face. He seemed confused.

‘I want to hold my baby, Dolin,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Just a moment.’

More clinicians arrived, crowding around the crib.

‘What? What is it?’ Mira demanded.

Finally Dolin lifted the baby from the observation bubble and passed her to Mira.

As she took her child in her arms, an overwhelming swell of emotion and responsibility surged through her. She had brought
this child to life, and now she must ensure her survival.

Mira pressed her lips to the baby’s tiny wrinkled forehead and studied her features. Fine dark hair covered her peeling scalp,
and her lips were pursed in a red slash that gave colour to the palest of little faces. She hadn’t cried or uttered a sound,
and her eyes were open. She stared back at Mira with open curiosity.

‘She can see me,’ said Mira, startled. ‘Her eyes are focused.’ She knew enough of babies, from Villa Fedor, to know that humanesques
did not focus their eyes immediately. It could take weeks, sometimes longer.

‘Yes,’ said Dolin. ‘The baby has some unusual characteristics, as we suspected.’

‘Please stop saying that and explain.’

‘Baronessa, there is no other way to say this than plainly. Your baby doesn’t have reproductive organs of either sex.’

‘My baby is a eunuch?’

‘I’m not sure … We need to do further tests to determine exactly.’

‘What sort of tests?’

‘Genotyping, and more … neurological and body scans.’

Mira took a deep breath. She could deal with anomalies in the baby’s reproductive organs. But neurological anomalies … What
had the Post-Species done to her child? ‘I will be present during the tests,’ she said decisively. She did not trust even
Dolin to take the baby from her sight.

‘The tests will take time, and you must be tired. We can take the child and feed—’

‘No!’ Mira held the baby close. Something told her not to trust the seemingly benign scientist. ‘I will feed her myself. And
I will be present at the tests.’

Dolin glanced at the others. ‘Very well.’

‘Is my baby sick?’

‘No.’

‘Is she in danger of dying from her prematurity?’

Dolin scratched his head. ‘Remarkably, no. The gene accelerant seems to have worked better than we could have hoped.’

‘Thank you for saving her. But please leave now, while I acquaint myself with my daughter. Your other tests can wait that
long, at least.’ She stared Dolin down, until he nodded and motioned everyone out of the room again.

Linnea stood at the foot of her bed with her arms crossed. ‘You’ve got a way with you for someone so thin and pale. What’d
you do, swallow a whale’s backbone?’

Mira wasn’t sure that she properly understood the woman’s meaning. She shrugged and lifted the baby to a more comfortable
position on her lap. ‘Please. Could you show me how to feed my baby?’

Linnea’s mouth dropped open, and she burst into a loud laugh. When she finally stopped, she shook her
head and wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘You just stared down a roomful of our most high and mighty scientists,
but you don’t know how to feed your own baby. Where the hell was it that you said you came from?’

‘Araldis,’ said Mira, her face warming.

‘That the place where those aliens landed and killed everyone?’

‘Si.’

‘Been all over the ’casts. So you’re the one that escaped.’

Mira nodded.

The woman gave a heavy sigh. ‘You’ve been through a lot, love. Here, let’s teach you some mothering things, before the fermenters
come back.’

‘Fermenters?’

‘That what we call ’em. Ferment anything in a dish, they would.’

Linnea put the baby back in the crib and helped Mira to wash, finding her some clean lab overalls to put on. She also got
some absorbent film from a drawer for the residual bleeding. When she was dressed, Linnea helped her back on the bed.

‘Bleeding might go on for a few days yet. Just keep yerself changed and clean, and there should be no problem. Like I said,
the placenta looks healthy enough.’

Then she showed Mira how to hold the baby in the crook of her arm and manipulate her breast so that the baby could attach
its mouth to her nipple. Mira found it easy to overlook her natural modesty with the woman’s practical ways, and after several
painful tries the baby began to suck.

‘Now, all yer gotta do is relax.’ Linnea laughed again. ‘Damn easier said than done. Nothing like a hungry babe working its
gums to put you through the roof.’

Mira smiled through her discomfort. Something about Linnea soothed her.

‘What you gonna call this babe? Can’t be going too long without a name. Not good for your bonding. Yer got someone you c’n
name her after?’

‘My sister Faja. Or her friend Estelle. They died on Araldis.’

‘What about the father? I’m assumin’ if you’re from that planet, you still choose fathers the old fashioned way.’

‘They choose you,’ she countered abruptly.

Linnea pulled a face, but was smart enough not to pursue it.

Mira stared down at the baby. The infant looked back at her, even though it was feeding, and its tiny fingers curled and uncurled
against her breast. How could her child be so alert? It seemed unnatural.

Milk blew in little bubbles from the corner of the baby’s lips, and Mira thought of Vito’s solemn face and quiet manner. Her
heart contracted. Linnea was right: she must name her child.

‘I’ll call her Nova. Because she is new and fresh.’

Linnea shrugged and nodded. ‘Seems to fit. Now, time to swap over.’

The galley supervisor helped her move the child to the other side, and went through the same steps. But Nova fussed, and kept
pushing Mira’s breast away.

She lifted the baby so that their faces were close. ‘What is it, little one?’

The blue-grey eyes blinked with intensity, as if trying to tell her something. Mira stared into them, remembering how active
Nova had been in the womb, especially in times of danger.

The next moment the doors swung open and the clinicians returned, led by Dolin. He stopped alongside the bed and held out
his hands for Nova. ‘It is time.’

Mira refused to hand her over, sliding her feet onto the floor. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘I would simply paste a little trace substance in her mouth.’ He waved at the wall. ‘The nanites will transmit their analysis
here, and we will be able to verify your daughter’s health and many other things.’

Mira hesitated. Did she really want to know those other things?

Nova flailed her small fists in the air, her fingers curling and uncurling again. She seemed irritated, but that was ridiculous.
A newborn could not be that way.

‘Can the nanites harm her in any way? What will happen to them when they’ve done their job? Do they remain in her system?
What if she is allergic to them?’

‘They are completely benign, medical-grade, and will degrade and be excreted within a short time.’

Mira sought Linnea for reassurance, but the scientists had pushed her to the back of the room.

‘Very well,’ she said. She stood on shaking legs, and pushed determinedly past the observers to stand in front of the screens.
‘But I will administer it, and you will explain everything to me as the nanites transmit.’

Dolin hesitated, glancing around the group.

Mira wondered why he’d been appointed spokes-person. Was it because they thought she would relate best to him, because of
his biozoon experiences? Had they hoped to make her more sympathetic to them?

Dolin moved closer to her and produced a small tube from the pocket of his coat. Detaching a small applicator from the lid,
he squeezed some paste out onto it.

Mira took it from him and held it near Nova’s mouth. The blue-grey eyes stared at her again, and the little lips pursed.

‘Come, little Nova. Just this once, so that we can better understand you.’

To Mira’s astonishment, the baby’s lips parted in compliance. She tilted Nova towards her to hide the extraordinary behaviour,
and slipped the applicator in her mouth, sweeping the nanite-infused paste across her gums.

Nova screwed up her face and dribbled, poking her tongue out at the taste.

Almost immediately, the walls came alive with a flood of data, and the observers spread out, examining it.

‘This section analyses cell integrity. This one examines organ function. Endocrine. Vascular. Musculo-skeletal. Neurological.’
Dolin pointed to different displays.

Mira watched the interplay of information and felt more comfortable. It was similar to being in the Autonomy function on
Insignia
. She rocked Nova. The baby settled in her arms, eyes closing, and she relaxed with it, tiredness creeping up.