Transformation Space (4 page)

A trap!
yelped Tekton’s free-mind.
This whole summit meeting was designed to bring OLOSS
leaders into one place. It could be the Post-Species’ first target.

After a few extra moments of consideration, his logic-mind was in complete agreement.
Dastardly simple and effective.

‘They’re coming here,’ Tekton told Hob. ‘The Extros are coming here first.’

Hob stared at him unhappily. The sirens had settled into a high-alert pattern. ‘I’m thinkin’ you be right, Tekkie,’ said the
old Stain Wars veteran. ‘I gotta get to the bridge.’

Tekton gave Hob’s shoulder a light squeeze. He was not inclined to friendly physical displays, but the occasion seemed to
call for it. Though their acquaintance had been brief, the grubby pilot genius had saved his life and extended him compassion
and kindness. Tekton had never needed those things before; never cared for them nor offered them to others. The halls of the
Tadao Ando studium and the corridors of the Belle-Monde pseudo-world had not been places for such things.

To say that the scales of selfishness had fallen from Tekton’s eyes was perhaps overly dramatic, but his perspective had altered,
he allowed, on some counts.
And now he wanted an opportunity to explore his newfound compassion, see how it affected his decision-making and the outcomes
of events in his life.

These arrogant and infuriating Extros, who were planning to annihilate every sentient species in Orion, did not serve his
new frame of reference at all.

‘Lead on, good fellow. Show me the way off this ship,’ he said, gently pushing Hob out of the cabin door. ‘But just let me
pee first. I’ll be but a step behind you.’

The pilot nodded and stepped outside.

In a trice Tekton had snapped up the small black box on Lasper Farr’s com-sole and stuffed it inside the seal of his nanosuit.
Sammy would be furious to loose her spare combat gear, but there was no time for bargains or explanations. The suit adjusted
around the DSD, leaving only the faintest telltale bulge over his belly.

Let’s see how Lasper Farr goes without his Dynamic System Device, thought Tekton. And let’s see what I can do with it.

He hurried out of the door to join Hob. They moved quickly along the corridor to the lifts.

‘Ship’ll be in lockdown soon. You c’n use the Commander’s uplift to get down ta cargo. Should be able ta still get out through
the hold. They’ll be loadin’. In that suit they’ll think you’re Sammy. Shouldn’a be too many questions. Jus’ look like you
know where you’re going. Good luck, Tekkie. We’re gonna need it – all of us.’

Hob used his ident to open the door to the private lift and ushered Tekton in. Then the door slid across, and Hob’s battered
old face was gone.

A ridiculous pang of loss stung Tekton as the lift plummeted to the cargo area of the ship. He might never see
the old fellow again, depending how things panned out.

For Crux sakes, suck it up
, free-mind barked with passionate concern.
We’ve got to get out of here. No time for blubbing.

Concentrate
, proffered logic-mind more moderately.

With his Sole-altered minds badgering him, he had no time to dwell on loss. The doors at the other end opened, and he stepped
into the ship’s large and gloomy cargo bay. No one took any notice of him; automatons and crew hastened around the hold, shifting
and securing payload.

Tekton slipped into a gap between crates and crouched down, Sammy’s suit making slight wheezing noises with his movements.
The loading ramp was still open, but not for much longer, he guessed. He must leave now or face being stuck on Lasper Farr’s
ship.

That realisation brought an unfamiliar surge of adrenaline-fuelled determination, and Tekton ran with suit-enhanced speed
towards the ramp. One of the crewmen saw him and shouted. The ramp light flashed its closing sequence, and the connecting
section began to retract.

Heart pounding painfully, legs burning with the effort, Tekton sprinted up the inclining ramp and leapt the distance to the
Intel loading facility. He landed heavily, jarring his legs and falling forward onto his hands and knees.

He looked back. Relief lessened the pain. The ramp was almost closed now, and the disorder out on the docks meant that no
one would chase him.

Disorder? More like an apocalypse!
Free-mind was aghast.

Like an anthill that’s been kicked over, thought Tekton. Scramble and scurry.

But logic-mind gave only questions and warnings.
Don’t fall in front of that loader! Look for the exit! Which ship is leaving next? Check the signage.

Tekton scanned the leader boards for each dock, but the ship names and codes meant nothing to him.
Something commercial. A captain who’ll accept money and ask few questions
, logic-mind instructed.

He walked purposefully through the crowd, his suit lending him agility and speed, praying to avoid an accidental meeting with
Commander Farr or Samuelle. Soldiers in a host of differing uniforms swarmed, waiting to be let aboard their ships. Tugs descended
to pull the bigger ships to the launch bays. As soon as one left, another replaced it, and the loading continued at a frenetic
pace. Tekton could barely make sense of the endless broadcast announcements.

To avoid Farr’s soldiers, he headed to the furthest dock, stopping only to ask random ’esques where they were going, hoping
to find a non-military ship. His enquiries were met with either garbled panic or ignored.

‘I’ll pay double your normal fare,’ he begged one harried ship’s bursar.

‘I told you there’s no room, mate. I don’t give a crap about how much you can pay. We’ve got the entire Matamon government
aboard, and not enough res buffers to fit them. You come on here, and you’ll likely rattle to death. That’s if we even get
out of this damned system in time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The fucking Extros are coming, mate. That’s what I mean.’

Tekton stepped back from the bursar’s sweaty vehemence. The man was almost harassed enough to pull
his holstered pistol and shoot the next person who asked to be taken aboard.

With a growing panic fingering his insides, Tekton watched as the bursar shouted closing instructions for the hold and headed
up the ramp.

What will I do? he asked his minds. Wild and dangerous options danced across his thoughts.

Then, unexpectedly, the bursar stopped and ran back down.

‘Look, there’s a ’zoon hybrid scheduled for berth as soon as we pull out. It’s one of the last coming in. Everyone else is
in the shift queue or gone in-sys. Hang around this berth and you might get luckier with them.’ He checked his hand-com. ‘Ship’s
name is
Salacious
.’

Tekton nodded his appreciation.

‘Good luck, mate,’ said the bursar and hurried onto his ship.

Tekton’s minds considered options while he waited for the trader ship to slip dock. He could go to the station master and
request assistance, but with the station in utter chaos it was unlikely he’d be heard. That option also meant he risked an
encounter with Farr.

Or he could pay his way onto this hybrid and take what fate brought him. If the Extros were indeed coming, a biozoon might
be a safer option than an OLOSS military ship or a mercenary vessel. Biozoons were rumoured to trade with the Post-Species.

All he needed was to get himself, and the DSD that pressed so uncomfortably against his ribs, out of this system. He could
make different travel arrangements from the next place he docked. He would wait. Yes. That was best.

Stepping back near the frame of a loader, he grasped its hydraulic arm and held on. The structure shook as ships peeled from
their moorings in quick succession, hurrying from the station.

In an absurdly short amount of time, Tekton was alone on the dock and the vibrations had stopped. It was eerie and surreal;
just him and the rows of automated loaders.

He wondered, irrationally, if he was the last left here.

Ridiculous
, snapped logic-mind.
Not enough ships to get them all off.

How can you be sure?
challenged free-mind.

Tekton let them bicker while he concentrated on his breath and attempted a meditative manner.

At inhalation three hundred or so, he heard a noise. Glancing up, he saw the scarred grey belly of a biozoon descending through
one of the docking channels. It set down heavily into the mooring, as though worn out with the effort.

For the briefest flicker Tekton thought it was the Baronessa Fedor’s biozoon, the one he’d seen docked at Rho Junction, but
upon inspection it was smaller and less impressive. The restrained cephalic fins and generally degraded appearance confirmed
the bursar’s statement that it was a hybrid. From what Tekton knew of biozoons, hybrids tended to lose their condition, especially
those who fell into the hands of less considerate operators.

Tekton quickly reached inside his suit and shifted the DSD so that the telltale bulge lay at his back.

The egress scale peeled open, and an ’esque climbed out onto a set of rungs crudely pegged to the biozoon’s skin.

Wait
, both minds warned him simultaneously.
Don’t approach him.

He listened to them. Samuelle’s combat suit could be interpreted as threatening, and he noted that the ’esque carried a weapon.
Tekton didn’t wish to test the suit’s weapon resistance ability. It was, after all, Samuelle’s spare.

The ’esque stopped just short of him, giving him a slow appraisal. At the same time a grey-skinned Balol emerged from the
egress scale and began to climb down.

‘You the welcoming party?’ asked the ’esque.

Tekton slid back the suit hood and showed his face. He and the ’esque were of similar height and both lightly built. Tekton,
of course, had the advantage of wearing combat protection but even so the man’s casual demeanour unnerved him; his pale eyes
were not unlike Lasper Farr’s.

‘Of a sort, sir,’ Tekton said. ‘It’s been recommended that I seek passage on your ship. I’d be happy to pay a generous fee,
of course.’

The man scowled. His skin was as pale as his eyes, giving him the look of one of the nocturnal races or that of a perennial
space traveller.

‘Recommended by whom?’

‘The last ship leaving,’ said Tekton a little ruefully. ‘My decision to leave my own billet was rather last-moment. It seems
that passage has become rather hard to acquire, due to … circumstances.’

‘Circumstances!’ The ’esque snorted out a laugh. ‘Ilke, you hear that? These are
circumstances
.’

The Balol sauntered up and stopped alongside her
companion. Unlike him, she was stocky and muscular, and wore no clothing other than her natural grey skin plating to cover
the fact that she was female.

Tekton couldn’t help but examine her with interest. He had heard that Balol females made energetic, though often violent,
lovers, if you could ignore their odour.

The ’esque noticed Tekton’s scrutiny and laughed again. ‘What’s yer name?’

‘Tekton,’ said Tekton. ‘From Lostol.’

‘Well Tekton-from-Lostol, I’m called Jancz, and we’re picking up some urgent payload. If yer credit checks out, then maybe
we can offer you a ride. Where would ye be heading?’

‘Primarily, away from here, but if the reports of imminent invasion are true then I would be seeking transportation to Mintaka.
Or thereabouts.’

The ’esque nodded as if giving the request serious consideration. ‘That’s a fine combat suit you’re sportin’ there, Tekton.
Only seen one like it before.’

‘I … err … borrowed it from a friend. She was concerned for my protection in these uncertain times.’

The ’esque exchanged smirks with the Balol.

Tekton didn’t mind if they danced naked together as long as they took him off this doomed station.

‘Got some things to attend to,’ said Jancz when he’d gotten through being amused. ‘Ilke will check yer credit and take ye
aboard.’

Tekton stifled his misgivings as Jancz moved on. After all, lowbrow types like this wouldn’t have enough imagination for anything
sinister.

Mira?

Si?

We are close to Scolar.

Mira worked to get her eyelids open. She’d slept the entire sub-light leg from the shift station to Scolar orbit, and her
body craved more. Still.

Baby?
She moved her hands through the viscous protection of vein-sink and touched her stomach.

Our baby will be born soon. Its survival is now dependent on the humanesque medics
,
Insignia
commented.

Mira shifted, and Primo responded by buoying her up and withdrawing its receptors from her skin. She swung unsteady legs onto
the floor of the buccal, wiping a layer of goo from her face and blinking rapidly.

As her hand fell back to cup the small curve of her belly, she watched Thales, sedated in Secondo, his face relaxed in sleep.
Less ravaged.

She felt a flowering of tenderness for him. He wasn’t the person she’d first imagined him to be, but he had his own strengths,
his own sense of honour. She was glad to have seen to the true heart of the man.

Thales?

He is recovering. But diverting attention to his medical needs has been … distracting.

Mira wanted to smile at
Insignia
’s annoyed tone.
The biozoon didn’t welcome relationships with ordinary humanesques. It cared only for itself, her and her baby.
Thank you for caring for him. Where is the soldier?

Eating. The humanesque female has an insatiable appetite. There is only a small stock of food left. My stores have not been
replenished for some time. Nor has my nutrient supply. My own health is at risk.

Insignia
’s last statement brought Mira fully awake. The biozoon had not received an amino acid boost since visiting Akou.
I will negotiate for refugee aid on Scolar.

It is possible that you will not be well received on that score.