Dark Space (Sentients of Orion) Page 18

The chant rippled outward.

  Word spread through the crowd. A Pellegrini had been let inside when the whole of Loisa was out here starving. They latched onto a purpose and the focus gave them energy.

  A brawny, filthy man on her right shouted in her ear, ‘We’ll get yer little ‘un back for yer.’

  The crowd was still chanting. A roar. Mira watched parts of the fence-line ripple under the force of their pushing. Any moment it would buckle and then people would be trampled in the surge. Perhaps some had already. She slapped the big man on his shoulder. ‘They’ll be crushed,’ she screamed into his, ear.

  He stared down into her face. ‘Too late.’ He gripped the fence, adding all his strength to that of the others.

  The guards fired warning shots as the fence rippled again but people were already climbing up it. The guards retreated and Mira glanced at the sky. An AiV lifted from the top of the Carabinere workshop. She strained to see who was inside but the windows were shaded. Intuition told her that Trin was in there—but what of Djeserit and the korm? And what had he done with Vito?

  In the next ripple, the chains on the gate broke. Propelled by the bodies behind her, Mira had to run across the yard to avoid being crushed. The doors to the building were barred but in moments people were being hoisted through broken windows.

  The crowd divided. Some charged to the back of the compound while others inside unlocked the building’s doors. Mira fell and the brawny man hauled her up on her feet before he vanished into the mob.

  Mira stumbled towards the launch pad where one remaining vehicle sat. Others had the same idea as her and they swarmed for the airlifts. The guards sprayed fire down at them and the man next to Mira collapsed, his throat blown wide open. She fell to the floor alongside him, appalled, caught between her instinct to escape and the paralysing horror of his wound. How could the Carabinere fire on their own? How could they do this? The bones of his neck, his blood, and his breath...

  She wanted to cry, and to hide from it all, but booted feet jabbed her thighs and stamped uncaring across her back. She forced herself to her feet and circled around a group who were trying to get a land barge started. The pad was empty now—the AiV had left and the airlifts had been abandoned. She climbed onto one and sent it upward to get out of the crush.

  All that the Carabinere had left behind on the platform was a pile of worn track-liners and a smashed crate. Mira sank to the floor and stared down at the melee. It would not be long before they realised there was nothing here for them. And then what would happen? Would they leave the town or would they go back to their casas and wait for the Principe to send help? If his Carabinere had deserted it would be a false hope.

  Then a faint chittering sound caught her attention. Somewhere close.

  ‘Korm?’ Her heart beat faster as she glanced around her. Behind the AiV track-liners? Crawling over to them she found the alien ragazza lying on its side, fluid seeping across the mat of its fur. The korm raised its head slowly and stared at Mira with solemn recognition.

  ‘a,’ the korm chittered softly, trying to form a Latino word.

  Mira touched its forearm. ‘Where’s the ‘bino? And Djeserit?’

  In answer the korm rolled heavily away. In the space between its body and the floor lay Vito.

  Mira cried out in relief. She patted the korm and snatched the ‘bino against her shoulder. A shudder travelled the length of his tiny body as he settled against a familiar touch.

  ‘Djeserit?’ she asked the korm again.

  The korm gestured to the sky.

  Mira let out a weary, defeated breath. Why her? Why did he take her?

  She patted Vito for a few moments while she tried to think. The crowd was beginning to thin out. Most ‘esques, she guessed, would move along the viuzza to the next public utility building, or seek out the Duca’s chambers. ‘Come.’ They helped each other to stand and moved over towards the airlift.

  The korm made a series of sounds that Mira didn’t understand. She hoped the alien’s injuries weren’t serious but she knew only a little about their anatomy.

  When the airlift touched the ground, Mira saw that all but one of the TerVs had been taken. A small group of ‘esques in inferior heat-protection gear clustered around the tracks. One of them stood guard with a rifle seized from a fallen Carabinere.

  Mira walked towards their huddle. ‘Please take us with you.’

  Heads turned towards her and the rifle swung to target her head. ‘I have some engineering knowledge. Flight engineering. It might be useful,’ she said.

  One of the ‘esques stood. He wore his hood open and his crimson skin was as unlined as her own—not yet baked by dust and sun. His expression, though, was openly hostile as he wiped his nose with his hand. ‘Don’t see no AiVs around here.’

  ‘Some things are the same.’

  What d’ya want?’ he said, with a distinct miner’s drawl.

  ‘To return with my... bambino to Pell.’

  ‘How is it you didn’t leave with the rest of the aristos?’ His stare roamed her body in a way that made her stomach clench. ‘And why should we take you? Your kind deserted us. Your Carabinere killed some of our people.’

  She couldn’t think how to reply. The fallen bodies were all around them and Mira could see the fallen man’s open throat, glistening with darkening blood.

  The man with the rifle slowly shook his head. ‘I’m thinking you might be trouble, aristo. Besides, we ain’t saving no ginkos.’

  The door to the TerV cabin banged open and a woman climbed down, helping a toddler. ‘We’re all in trouble here, Innis. This woman gave me food earlier. Now for Cruxsakes fix this thing so we can get out of here,’ she said.

  Mira recognised her from the crowd—remembered the toddler grubbing on the ground for pane.

  The woman stepped forward, pushing the rifle aside. ‘Don’t mind my... er... what’s your word for it... fratella. I’m Cass.’ She held out her hand. ‘You gave me your last food. I wouldn’t have taken it if I’d known you had children of your own.’

  Cautiously Mira extended her hand and they touched palms. ‘I am Mira Fedor.’

  ‘Baronessa Fedor?’ She slapped Innis’s shoulder. ‘She’s from the Cip pilot familia—only damn ones that can fly the biozoons.’

  ‘So?’ he said sulkily.

  Cass turned back to Mira. ‘What happened to you? Your kind have all left.’

  ‘My villa was destroyed by a bomb—mia sorella, everyone. I need to return to Pell.’ To find Insignia.

  ‘Pell, love? Well, Ipo’s as far north as we’ll go. But you’re welcome to come if you want.’ Cass beckoned to her. ‘Now bring the korm around here.’

  Mira followed her to the back of the TerV. On her urging, the korm climbed in awkwardly and lay down. Its wounds seeped still.

  ‘I am not sure how serious its injury is,’ said Mira. ‘I am not an expert on their physiology.’

  Cass gave her a sideways glance. ‘You talk formal. Heard the women were more so than the men.’

  ‘You have never spoken to... one of us?’

  Cass shrugged.

  ‘But you know Latino?’

  ‘Most of us do. But we know a few other words too.’ She grinned. ‘Now, if the korm lies still it can control its bleeding.’

  ‘It is an orphan. It may not know that. It had no mama to teach it.’

  ‘Instinct will guide it. Besides, we’re all orphans now, Mira Fedor.’

  The truth of the woman’s simple statement gave Mira a sharp pain in her chest. As if sensing her distress, Vito stirred in her arms and gave a hungry cry. His lips quivered piteously. ‘The ‘bino’s name is Vito.’

  Cass slipped her tunic from one shoulder and bared a soft, limp breast. ‘I’ll give him what I can but I’ve heard they don’t suck too well, these Pagoins. Funny mouth.’

  Mira had to look away from the woman’s immodesty but in spite of it gratitude welled inside her. Cass was the second woman to help Vito in a matter of days. Mi
ra stood there, not knowing how to say thank you.

  ‘Baronessa, love,’ Cass said quietly, ‘you said you had some learning. Go see if you’ve got any clues to help them fix the damn mover or we’ll all die here.’

  * * *

  Mira stared over Innis’s shoulder into the TerV’s tracks. Her knowledge of electric motors was entirely theoretical but the problem seemed self-evident. ‘The copper contactors have melted,’ she said.

  Innis scowled. ‘So what?’

  She gave him a puzzled look. ‘There should be replacement components here.’

  An ‘esque crouched to one side of her tilted his head up. He had a broad face with flat, plain features. ‘Can you recognise them?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Mira.

  He stood up. ‘I’m Kristo. I’ll come and help you.’

  They searched the workshop shelves for a replacement component with Innis hovering closely behind them.

  ‘These,’ Mira said after a time.

  Kristo took them back to the TerV and began refitting them. Innis glowered over his shoulder while an ‘esque they called Marrat worked to fix the rifle to a mounting on the roof of the TerV.

  Shots outside made Mira jump.

  ‘You scared, pilot?’ said Innis.

  She knew he wanted to say more, that he had disliked her from the first moment but Marrat burst into the conversation. ‘Ginks outside know we are fixing it. Reckon they’re gonna come and try to take it from us.’

  Innis pushed Mira aside. ‘Kris?’

  ‘Load the spare solar panels and anything else you can find,’ said Kristo. ‘And get everyone in the barge.’

  ‘But there’s only four of us, and four bambini. We could take more,’ said Mira. What sort of people were these? No worse perhaps than the familia who had abandoned them.

  ‘We decide that, aristo...’ Innis tapered off. ‘Now get up the front there where I can see you.’

  * * *

  Innis drove out of the hangar with Mira alongside him. Cass, Kristo, the korm and the bambini were in the back. Marrat was on top with the rifle.

  ‘Esques leaped at the sides of the TerV but Marrat fired at them. Seeing a woman in the cabin, a desperate mother lunged for the running board, hoisting her ‘bino towards the window. ‘Please take me and my child,’ she screamed.

  Mira leaned out to help her but the ‘bino slipped from her grasp as Innis veered the TerV sideways. She watched, stunned, as the infant fell under the barge’s tracks. The mother’s scream pierced right through her.

  Innis leaned across the cabin and hauled her back from the window. ‘We take no one else!’

  The crowd fell away behind the mover, screaming in shared anger.

  Innis relaxed his grip on Mira as they tracked over the fallen fence and cleared the confines of the compound. ‘This is no aristo world anymore, Baronessa. The rules are ours.’

  Mira could think of no reply. In the rear-view mirror she could still see the mother bent over in grief.

  TRIN

  Dodging between smoke pillars, the Carabinere AiVs flew a close formation towards Pell. Below them on the parched ground Trin glimpsed food barges overturned, their contents spilled and crates of spoiled food left to dehydrate.

  Loisa wasn’t the only place in trouble. The Carabinere transceiver band fired off numerous reports. Dockside was overrun and Station Central was lost. Trin listened as Christian repeatedly tried to contact Malocchi.

  Trin glared across at the pilot. ‘Tell Montforte that Malocchi has gone already. I know it.’

  ‘It’s possible he’s right,’ said a voice behind him.

  Trin strained to see who had spoken but the bonds around his neck and chest held him tight. He couldn’t see Djeserit though he thought he could hear her crying softly.

  ‘Ragazza... are you well?’ Trin demanded.

  ‘Si, Don Pellegrini.’ Djeserit’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Panic prickled the length of his body. ‘She needs medic. Untie me so I can see her.’

  The pilot shook his head. ‘Can’t trust you, Pellegrini.’

  Trin sagged against his seat with frustration. ‘Then tell Christian I said Malocchi’s gone or dead already.’

  ‘Do it.’ The voice behind him spoke again.

  The pilot shrugged and opened the Carabinere frequency. ‘Capitano, Pellegrini thinks he knows something. Says Malocchi will have gone.’

  ‘The beacon is on, calling us in. Jus Malocchi would never desert. You know the procedure for a crisis. That’s where we will go. THE BEACON IS ON.’

  Trin strained against the restraints again. ‘Let me talk to him.’

  The pilot glanced over his shoulder for endorsement. After a moment he held the toggle to Trin’s mouth. ‘Speak.’

  Trin took a breath. He had been thinking about this since Villa Fedor and it was a relief to be able to say it. He must convince Christian, though—or they would all die. ‘If you were going to invade a world, what would be the first thing you would counterbalance?’ he said.

  ‘Any opposition force.’

  ‘Si—and Centrale is the heart of our force. Capitano, we are not equipped to fight a war—expel unwanted ginkos and maintain basic order, perhaps, but not halt a well-organised invasion.’

  Silence.

  ‘Why do you call this an invasion? What do you know?’ said Christian.

  ‘No more than you, but I know acts of terror. I see our food burned. If I wished to create panic and fear then I would do the same. Now there are reports that Dockside has been overrun by ginkos—these creatures that are hatching from the ground. If that is true then we are captive on our own world and we must retreat.’

  Silence again.

  The men waited, as he did, for Christian’s answer. He sensed their attention, even approval.

  ‘Capitano?’ the pilot prompted.

  ‘We go to Pell headquarters first,’ said Christian. ‘There will be no more discussion.’

  Frustrated by Montforte’s stubbornness, Trin strained harder. The cords around his neck and body abruptly loosened. ‘If you are right, then what would you propose?’ asked the voice behind him.

  Trin took a moment to think as he slapped the circulation back into his arms. He must be right in what he said or they would follow Montforte. He twisted, trying not to stare anxiously at Djeserit. She huddled in her seat, eyes closed, shrinking as far away as she could from the men alongside her. Her neck gills barely moved at all. ‘If Dockside and Pell are overrun with these creatures then our best option is to retreat to the underground mines,’ Trin said.

  The man who’d asked the question held out his hand. He bore the blunt features of the lower familia and had a wide, generous mouth. ‘I am Juno Genarro. What are these creatures you speak of?’

  Trin clasped Genarro’s hand. ‘They are hatching out of large globes buried in the ground. I saw them in the viuzzas. Mir—I believe, from my learning, that they are a creature called the Saqr.’

  ‘What harm can they do us?’

  ‘I have seen them suck the fluid from a live body. They are primitive—with no ability to reason.’

  ‘So we shoot them all.’ Genarro laughed. ‘Easy enough, I say.’

  ‘Their chitin is impervious to most forms of attack.’

  ‘There are others ways.’

  ‘You miss the point, Genarro—they are a tool. Unknown to us, someone has brought them here and buried them in our soil. Someone has bombed our cities and set fire to our grain silos. This is planned. Carefully planned.’

  Genarro’s eyes lost their cavalier humour. ‘What do you suggest, Don?’

  ‘Survival. And information. We regroup in safety and find our stragglers—work out a way to gather food. Some of the underground mines run for mesurs. We can cover much ground and send out night-time searches.’

  ‘The Capitano said you weren’t worth the spit necessary to say your name. Maybe he just had a dry mouth at the time.’

  Trin managed a tight smil
e. Some renewed energy suppressed the shivering fatigue in his muscles. He looked to the others who had stayed silent. ‘Where are your familia?’

  They all named areas of lower Pell. Only Juno Genarro had left someone behind in Loisa.

  ‘I’m not Carabinere—you have your tradition and your training. But I know where I would lead you.’

  Genarro nodded slowly. ‘Let us see how things are first.’

  TEKTON

  Miranda turned out to be the most irritating of travelling companions. Not only was the cabin not lavish enough, according to her, but she bitched long and loud about the appalling state of the ship’s cuisine while stuffing copious amounts of it into her mouth. It seemed almost as if her chins acted as repositories for the food, freeing her tongue to do what it did best—complain. Tekton spent the journey to Scolar in a state of deep regret, at the same time experiencing mounting trepidation about his impending tryst with Doris. What would she make of Miranda?

  But in the tradition of the countless generations of males who had gone before him, Tekton had got it wrong. From the moment Miranda and Doris laid eyes On each other under the Kant chandelier in the lobby of The Sternberg, it was lust at first sight.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but what fabulous chins!’ gurgled Doris. ‘You must sing divine opera?’

  ‘Oh... well, not really... but, well, it has been said...’ Miranda dissembled. ‘And your bosoms are outstanding. Le Feuvre corsetry?’

  ‘What an exceptional eye you have!’ Doris cooed. ‘Tekton would never have noticed it. You must see where I bought it. Divine little boutique on the corner of Chomsky and Heidegger.’

  The pair departed The Sternberg without further ado, leaving Tekton to find his way to the suite alone. His ménage fantasies dissolved along with the epithelium he desquamated in his lotion bath and he consoled himself with the knowledge that he would have plenty of time to find the planet he sought.

  After a fine meal of bison pate and plum quosh he strolled the cherry-blossomed Boulevard Voltaire to the Orion Institute. Ensconcing himself in a vreal booth, he lost a good part of the day and night on a faux tour of the sector on Jo-Jo Rasterovich’s recording—all to no avail. There was no sentient settlement of any note on record.