Transformation Space (5 page)

Why so?

Planets have begun stockpiling supplies.

What do you mean?
Mira waited in silence. Insignia
? Please answer me.

The biozoon gave its grunting equivalent of a sigh.
It is best you see the farcasts for yourself. It will no doubt affect how you negotiate with Scolar.

Because she was no longer deep in vein-sink,
Insignia
broadcast the images in the space above her. For a moment she couldn’t make sense of the images blinking in and out of existence.

What is it?

A sampling from the OLOSS ’casts from Dowl and Intel stations.

Mira studied the images again. At Intel, craft fled the system in panicked disorder. Dowl was a different matter. The station
space was studded with traffic and the unmistakable signatures of Geni-carriers.

OLOSS is trying to close shift stations across Orion, but that means a halt to all trade. Some worlds won’t survive
without it and are objecting. It’s maybe too late for many, anyway. Geni-carriers have already been reported in dozens of
systems. The Pod has been informed that the Melal, Sharmet and Keoskie systems have been attacked.

Mira wasn’t familiar with the places that
Insignia
listed.
Are there casualties?

The Pod estimates several billion lives lost between the three.

Billions! Mira found it almost impossible to comprehend that kind of devastation.
What about Scolar?

The bulletins report that the Scolar Sophos are advising OLOSS
.
There has been no change to the status of the system.

Advising? Isn’t it too late for that?

Not entirely. Your pre-emptive warning has allowed many of the OLOSS leaders to escape. Another few hours, and they would
have all been trapped at Intel.

Has station master Landhurst been mentioned? He drew all the leaders to Intel. He wasn’t surprised when I told the summit
what I knew. I think that—

He has been connected to the Post-Species?

Si.

The Pod has been suspicious of that, also.

The tiny consolation Mira felt that she might have averted the deaths of some OLOSS leaders was overwhelmed by the knowledge
that so many souls had already been extinguished. She should have done more.
What can OLOSS do?

Insignia
took another pause before replying.
I’m not experienced in aspects of war but if res stations are being disabled then the Post-Species have already divided us.
Farcast will be our only communication outside our worlds. The Pod believes if this situation persists then, in
time, the sentient species on the isolated OLOSS worlds will die.

No!

Many are not self-sustaining, Mira. It is the simple truth.

Insignia
’s prophecy galvanised her.
I’ll wake Thales.

You must move slowly, or the amniotic fluid will flow again.

Mira left Primo and shuffled across the buccal to sit on the edge of the Secondo vein. Her clothes were sodden with
Insignia
’s secretions, her hair matted, and she felt a rivulet of warm fluid leak onto her thighs.

‘Thales.’ She touched his shoulder lightly.

His eyes opened wide in fear, then relaxed when he saw her face. He licked his lips before speaking. ‘Baronessa. We are alive?’

‘Si,’ said Mira. ‘Although dead people have felt better, I’m sure.’

He smiled weakly.

‘
Insignia
has healed your face,’ Mira added. ‘There is scarring still, but the colour is better. The necrosis has gone.’

He lifted his hand to his cheek and felt along the contour. This time his smile was wider, more animated. ‘Truly I am grateful.’

Mira nodded.

‘Where are we?’ he asked.

‘Scolar.’

‘Home? I am home?’ Gladness crept into his voice, colour to his skin.

Mira let herself enjoy his pleasure. ‘There are people I’m sure that you wish to see. I would only ask that
you support my request to be treated at the Mount Clement clinic.’

Thales jerked up a little. The vein responded by buoying him upright. ‘Of course. Baronessa, forgive me. How is your baby?’

‘
Insignia
has slowed my fluid loss, but I risk infection without proper care. I would ask your advice on how to contact the clinic
quickly.’

The colour deserted his face as he climbed to sit on the side next to her, the effort taxing him. ‘I must contact my wife.’

Mira stared at him steadily. ‘Sophos Mianos’s daughter, the one you spoke of in front of the summit meeting? Will she help
you?’

‘I – I’m not sure.’ He stared back at her just as intently. ‘But we have been through much together, you and I. I will do
my best for you.’

‘Give
Insignia
the details and she will attempt contact. Do you wish to bathe first?’

‘That would be preferable, or my wife may not recognise me.’ Mira heard the tinge of bitterness in his humour.

‘I would bathe also.’ She rubbed her hand across the small hard lump in her belly. It felt lower, as though it pressed on
her bones. ‘But I don’t have much time, Thales.’

He nodded. ‘I will hasten.’

They helped each other as far as the cucina, where Fariss appeared. The tall soldier’s face softened when she saw Thales.
‘You’re awake.’

‘Could you help him to a cabin?’ Mira asked her.

Fariss stuffed the biscuits she held into her mouth,
and scooped up Thales in her arms as if he weighed nothing. The young scholar sank against her with complete trust.

As Mira watched them disappear along the stratum, her heart tugged a little, not from jealousy but envy. She hadn’t experienced
comfort in another’s company since her sister Faja had died. Even
Insignia
and the nurturing of the Primo vein did not fill her need for humanesque intimacy.

She continued on to her cabin, where she bathed and brushed her hair, taking care to keep her movements slow and steady. When
she was finished, she located an absorbent wad in the cabin cupboard and inserted it into her fresh underwear.

Feeling more ready to cope with what would come next, she sat on the bed.

‘Wanton?’

The Post-Species individual was where she had left it, resting on her bed covers against the tiny blisters of mycose. The
pile had dwindled since her last visit to her cabin, indicating that Wanton was still in trouble.

‘Mira-fedor. Wanton is most pleased to hear your voice.’

‘H-how are you?’

‘The mycose has preserved my life. It is not an inexhaustible supply though. I would hope to heal the fracture in my casing
before it has depleted much further.’

Mira leaned closer to the small gelatinous object. Its voice sounded plaintive, but she was never sure if attributing humanesque
characteristics and emotions to it was appropriate. Did Wanton have feelings in the
way she understood them? The Extro had helped her to escape her Post-Species gaol, and had displayed a very humanesque sense
of self-preservation throughout their escape from the Hub world, but something was intrinsically different between them. Something
she couldn’t qualify.

‘We are in Scolar space,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Wanton. ‘The biozoon has been exchanging information with me.’

‘
Insignia?
’ said Mira with surprise. ‘And you?’

‘We have shared our knowledge of humanesques. It is surprising to see what information we both lacked.’

Mira sat back, annoyed and amused. Wanton and
Insignia
had been talking about her. ‘And what did you learn?’

‘Contradictory would seem the most appropriate word.’

Mira couldn’t control her defensive reflex. ‘I wouldn’t specify that as a solely humanesque trait. I have known you to be
evasive, and
Insignia
to be contrary.’

‘It is true that both biozoons and Post-Species Hosts display minor idiosyncrasies, but with humanesques it seems to be …
quintessential.’

‘What do you need to heal yourself?’ Mira changed the subject quickly. Together Wanton and
Insignia
, it seemed, would be impossibly superior.

‘I am not permitted to disclose the required healing substance.’

‘Then how can I help you?’

‘I will tell you when and how.’

Mira let out an exasperated breath. ‘Now who is being obtuse?’

Mira
, interrupted
Insignia
,
Thales is ready to contact Scolar.

Mira pressed her hand down into the bed to ensure that the mycose blisters rolled as close to Wanton as possible.

I’m coming.

The tyros filled the ménage lounge with chatter and the smell of fruit cocktails. Chief Balbao seated himself, stiff-backed,
in a lounge chair in the centre of the small bar and waited for them to assemble around him: Miranda Seeward, Javid Javiddat,
Labile Connit, Lawmon Jise, Ra of Lostol and the uuli pair whose names he could never remember.

‘What is so important, Chief, that you would brave us in our den?’ warbled Miranda Seeward.

The eminent dicter was perhaps the most irritating and repulsive of all the tyros, her rolls of loose flesh and superior attitude
a counterpoint to each other, as though one gave the other credence. Unfortunately, she was thick with Lawmon Jise, who Chief
Balbao had a great and wary respect for – the man who had sculpted the new OLOSS charter and was known for his diamond-cut
intellect. Labile Connit was the other one that made the chief nervous. Rumours had risen around Belle-Monde that the geneer
had dubious and powerful connections. Jividdat was less of a concern and kept to himself, and Ra was simply weird. Tekton,
thank Sole, had gone on practical absence leave – something about overseeing the manufacturing of a construction – and not
returned. On the one hand, the chief hoped that something terrible had befallen the tight-skinned hairless
fop. On the other, he wished the greedy back-biter was here. He had one enormous problem, and these idiot Godheads were his
best hope of a solution.

‘I have an announcement to make. Something unsettling and perplexing. I have …’ his Balol pride made it a struggle to get
the words out ‘… need of your expertise and opinion.’

That set off another round of chatter and calls for more drinks.

By the time the bartender arrived with another tray of deadly concoctions, the chief’s neck frill was stiff with anger. All
the years of scientific training and devotion to perpetuating the betterment and longevity of the sentients of Orion, all
that learning and civility, began to disappear underneath an unholy rush of pure Balol aggression.

‘Sit down and shut up,’ he roared, ‘before I rip your heads off!’ He bared his teeth for good measure.

The open-mouthed Godheads switched to playing meek children in a trice, each sipping their drink as carefully as if it were
their last.

The chief opened his mouth to explain his terrible dilemma, but shut it again as the holo-field near the bar flared into life.
They all swivelled their attention towards it. What was so important as to cause an impromptu feed?

‘It’s the OLOSS summit,’ groaned Miranda almost immediately. ‘How tedious. Turn it off!’

‘Quiet, Miranda,’ said Jise, picking up on something that the rest hadn’t. ‘Switch to maximum function,’ he told the station
moud.

Suddenly it was as if they were all at the summit
meeting, albeit off to one side, seated behind the untidy skieran contingent.

The chief recognised a number of highly important dignitaries, including Warrior Butnik, President Gan, JiHaigh the OLOSS
all prime, and the most infamous of all ’esques, Commander Lasper Farr.

A thin young woman stood at the open end of the U-shaped meeting table. Her head was bent, eyes to the floor, shoulders tense
as though she bore the greatest of weights upon them.

All attention seemed to be directed her way.

‘I know her!’ said Connit. ‘At least I’ve seen her. She’s the Latino woman who escaped from that horrible little backward
planet when it was invaded.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Miranda Seeward. ‘Some type of coup there by those ghastly primitive Saqr. Tekton knew of it. And I think …
maybe, that I had relatives in the area.’

‘Shh!’ hissed Jise again. ‘We’re missing it. Listen.’

The tyros fell silent again.

‘All very fascinating, Baronessa,’ said President Gan to the Latino woman. ‘And it would seem that the Post-Species are responsible
for the Saqr adaptation. But what is the significance?’

‘Goodness!’ Miranda Seeward exclaimed. ‘Those damnable Extros.’

The Baronessa replied. ‘I have sought to build a picture, President Gan, so that you understand the gravity of what I am about
to tell you next. As
Insignia
approached the shift sphere leaving Post-Species space, we came across a terrifying sight. Millions of Geni-carriers. Shifting.’

At the summit meeting a buzz of reaction broke out
from the attendees, but in the mélange lounge the silence was exquisite, and uncharacteristic.

The chief did not like the anxious expressions on the tyros’ faces.

‘Millions, Baronessa?’ Commander Farr finally spoke up, quieting the chatter in the Summit room. ‘An exaggeration surely?
There were only three in the Stain Wars. Manufacturing on such a large scale in the time that’s elapsed since then is impossible.’

‘My biozoon can verify this,’ said the thin woman.

‘Then instruct it to do so,’ ordered the OLOSS prime, JiHaigh.

‘I do not instruct my biozoon,’ she said quietly. ‘But I will request.’

After a protracted silence in which nothing happened, the convener of the summit began shouting accusations.

Chief Balbao didn’t recognise him, but one of the tyros did.

‘Landhurst,’ said Labile Connit. ‘He’s the station master at Intel.’

A guard stepped forward and seized the Latino woman and a commotion started, Commander Farr among the many voicing their displeasure.
It was the Commander, in the end, who drowned the others out.