A Night Without Stars (22 page)

Not mechanical then.

Pale-blue light spilled out. He frowned and peered into the small chamber it exposed. “Crud! That's a…”

The naked baby wiggled, her chubby face wrinkling up into a distressed frown as the cool night air washed over her.

“Take her,” Joey said.

“Oh, no. Joey, no. I can't. Not that.”

Teal nuzzled forward to see the baby. He barked excitedly.

“You have to,” Joey said. “She's alive now. I cannot care for her.”

“This is insane!”

“Wrong. This is the greatest dose of sanity to hit this world since we fell into the Void.”

“I don't know anything about babies,” Florian protested frantically.

“They're simple. Feed 'em, change 'em. Repeat. And she's going to need a lot of specialist richmilk. I synthesized a few bladders for you to start with.”

“What?” Florian could feel his heart hammering that way it always did when things got bad. His skin was growing hot—then icy. Breathing difficult. He always had to sit down for a while when these attacks came on…

“Shit! Kid, are you okay? Florian!”

Florian gulped, his throat constricting.

“I don't fucking believe this! Okay, this is from my medic kit. It'll help. Florian!”

He whimpered.

“Beside the baby. Look! See it?”

Something had risen up out of the white cushion-stuff the baby was wiggling about on. A gloss-green hemisphere three centimeters across.

“Put it on your neck, Florian. Do it now. It's medicine. Oh, crap, he's going to pass out. Florian, put it on your neck.
Now!
”

Florian sank to his knees in front of the opening. Shaking hands scrabbling for the little hemisphere. Eyesight blurring. Fingers grasped the object.

“Go on. Up. That's my boy! Flat side on, and press firm—”

It was like a mild pinch on his skin, barely noticeable among the horrible sensations shuddering through the rest of his beleaguered body.

Then—

Pure ice water blasted through every artery under immense pressure, streaking through capillaries, zapping every cell in his body to full power. He sprang to his feet. Wanting to run. Wanting to fight. Wanting to fuck. Tears flooded his eyes. “Crudding Uracus!”

“Good stuff, huh?”

His heart was still hammering, but for completely different reasons now. “What…”

“Okay. Take a breath. And again.”

Florian's hand scrambled around wildly for the green hemisphere, peeling it off to stare at it. “What
was
that?”

“Just a little pick-me-up. Welcome to Commonwealth medical technology.”

“I can't—That's amazing!”

“Right. Now let's focus on the problem at hand, shall we?”

Florian gave the infant girl a guilty glance; she was starting to snivel. “Oh, crud. Joey…”

“Don't worry. You're doing fine.”

He blinked and looked properly. The girl had something attached to the side of her head behind her right ear, a glistening oval of dark-red tissue, as if some strange organ had formed outside her body. “Is she ill?”

“That is the healthiest person on the planet right now,” Joey replied. “And you have to keep her that way.”

“But—” He reached out to touch the glistening tumor-thing, then drew his fingers away. “That's not right. I know it's not.”

“That's an organic secure store; it contains all her personality and memories. They flow into her as her neural structure grows.”

“What?”

“It's her fairy godmother. Let me have an input access to your lacunae. I can send over some files that'll make sense of all this for you.”

“My what?”

“Hell. What kind of semi-sentient are you guys running?”

“What?” Florian ground his teeth together.
Stop saying What!

“You know what macrocellular clusters are, right? The thing in your head you're using to talk to me with?”

“I know that,” he said defensively.

“Okay. So what runs them? Can you connect me to it, please?”

“Connect you to my routines? I don't see how.”

There was a long pause. Florian kept staring at the baby, terrified she'd start crying. If that happened, he'd have no option but to lift her out and try to soothe her. That wouldn't end well.

“Right,” Joey said. “Let's start at the beginning. The routines you have, where did they come from?”

“We've written them. They are shared among all Eliters.”

“You write your own operating code?”

“Yes.”

“But how do you—No, scratch that; the Void must have stopped Advancers from linking. You lost the original Commonwealth u-shadow operating software. Then why didn't Laura…Forget it! I have to work with what I've got now. Kid, I'm going to give you another gift. It's going to come into your head and start helping you understand a lot more about who you are and what you can do, okay?”

“Are you talking about code?”

“Oh, yeah. This is the biggest upgrade you're ever going to have.”

Florian gave the space machine a tentative smile. “I think I would like that.”

“Okay. Here we go. I'm going to keep the bandwidth down; I don't know your limits. When the package is in, it will run parameter tests on your secondary neural system—the macrocellular structure—and modify itself accordingly. It might take a while.”

“How long?” Florian could hear some strange whistling in the background, like a chorus of very high-pitched musical instruments, but discordant. At the same time, something flickered in his vision—rainbow specters he knew were there but couldn't quite focus on.

“Couple of hours, maybe,” the space machine told him. “Now let's concentrate on the baby, shall we?”

“Oh.” Florian gave her a guilty glance again. In his joy at the gift of sophisticated new code, he'd managed to forget that part.

“I've microfactured a couple of nutrient processors for her. When the bladders have run out, just chuck food in one end and they'll do the rest. There's an instruction file in the data I'm sending you, tells you what kind of food to use—the processors will help a lot there. There's another file tells you what to give her when she can take solids, but keep giving her the richmilk. Okay? That's important.”

“Er…I guess?”

“I'm kind of limited in the things I can synthesize for you, but I'll give you some protection. Nothing that's going to blow cities to shit, mind. Just something you can use to avoid trouble if they're closing in on you.”

“I really don't want any trouble.”

“That's good. Stay ahead of the hunters and you'll be fine.”

“Hunters?”

“The secret police, or whatever they're called here.”

“The People's Security Regiment,” he said automatically.

“Yeah. Figures. That type are always real imaginative.”

“Joey, I don't understand what you want. Why can't the government look after the baby?”

“Because they'll be scared of her. People are always scared of change. And nobody more so than undemocratic officials who can see their power and world being taken from them.”

“She'll do that?”

“If anyone can get Bienvenido out of this mess, it'll be her.”

The baby yawned, fat little fists clenched.

“But…how?” Florian asked in amazement.

“If I knew that, I'd do it myself. But this girl…Once you give her a problem, she will not stop until she's solved it. Not ever. Now come on, it's time for you to go. I've produced a backpack. Shove everything else in it, then take the baby and go.”

Quite how the padding in the chamber parted Florian never did catch. He just saw a simple dark-green canvas backpack slide up next to the baby. When he lifted it out, it didn't seem anything different from one you could buy in Opole—except, perhaps lighter? Next, a brushed-metal cylinder half a meter long appeared. He'd started to put it in the bag, surprised by how heavy it was, when another identical cylinder emerged.

“This is the richmilk,” Joey said as the space machine conjured up five plastic bulbs twice the size of his fist. “It'll last you until tomorrow morning. You'll have to start the processors after that to replenish them.”

Florian gave the space machine a questioning glance. He didn't know much about babies, but he was pretty sure one wouldn't drink that much.

“I can give you a medical kit, too. Your new files will show you how to use it.”

Florian frowned at the neutral gray oblong box that didn't appear to have any lid, but he stuffed it in the bag anyway.

“Wipes,” Joey went on. “Trust me, you're going to need a lot of those. Diapers. Very absorbent. Enough to last until tomorrow, then you'll have to improvise. Same with clothes. Use this shawl to swaddle her in. After that, you'll have to find some bigger bits of cloth.”

It seemed to Florian that Joey knew as much about looking after a baby as he did—and possibly even less. But he pushed everything down into the backpack without mentioning that.

“Now put this around your wrist.”

This
was a wide featureless bracelet made from some pearl-white substance that resembled wax. Florian picked it up, surprised to find it was quite flexible. He slipped it over his hand, then gave a start as it tightened around his arm above the wrist. It gripped tight but not painfully so—as if it had become part of his flesh. “What is it?”

“That's the protection I told you about. The new routines will give you full access when they're integrated.”

Florian held the bracelet up and gave it a suspicious examination. He'd been expecting some kind of gun.

“Now pick up the baby, wrap her in the cloth. And go.”

“That's it?” Florian asked. The rush from the drug had worn off. He was getting a headache now—an odd one, like a dull itch behind his temple. That had to be whatever code the space machine had given him. “That's all you're going to tell me?”

“You know this land. I don't. Look, I get that this is a huge ask, and I'm sorry. But fate brought you here—if you believe in such a thing. Just keep her safe. Keep moving, keep ahead of them. You can do this. It's only for a month.”

“What's going to happen in a month?”

“You'll see. Trust me. Now pick her up. She's going to need feeding soon.”

“Is someone else going to come and collect her?”

“Go, Florian. My sensors are showing me some kind of vehicles leaving that big house.”

“Crud!” Florian had forgotten the Ealtons. Very
very
carefully, he picked up the baby, terrified he was going to drop her. Then there was the delicate operation of putting on the diaper—which had sticky tabs on each side, so it wasn't too difficult. After that he had to wrap her in the square of soft cloth. She started to cry.

“Nooo!” he told her. “No, don't do that. It's all right.” He tried rocking her, like he'd seen mothers do.

“Whoa. Gently, kid!” Joey said. “She's not made of metal.”

“Sorry,” he blurted above the baby's cries, and slowed the motion down. He was sure the farm trucks pulling out of the yard must have heard the wailing, it was so loud! “Easy there; easy.” He held her a little closer, and carried on rocking her in a gentle swaying motion. By some miracle, the crying subsided.

“Thank you, Florian,” Joey said. “Remember, keep ahead of them. Keep her safe. Just for a month.” The hole in the side of the space machine closed up as silently and quickly as it opened, leaving them in the dark.

“What happens in a month?” Florian asked again, but there was no answer; the link was dead. The baby wriggled around. She was fully awake. He looked down at her, still not understanding how he had wound up holding her, how he'd agreed to any of this. It was madness.
I should wait until the sheriffs get here, give her to the authorities.
But he knew he'd never actually do that.

“What now, friend Florian?” Mooray asked.

Florian took a look at the headlights from the farm trucks. One set was heading down the long larch tree avenue. The other was driving along a track that would bring them close to the little hillock where he was standing.

“Now we leave. I'll think what I'm going to do with her later.”
Aunt Terannia will know what to do.
And if she doesn't, she knows people who will.

They set off back down the small slope, heading to the boat. After a minute the baby started crying again, and no amount of soothing and rocking would stop her.

“Is it in pain?” Mooray asked.

“I don't think so. She might be hungry.” The high-pitched wailing wasn't helping his headache. “I'll feed her as soon as we get to the boat.”

“Should we not use the boat to speed from this place?”

“Yes, but I don't think she really wants to wait.”

“Throw away your fear. I will propel us.”

“Thank you.” Florian had never asked Mooray to give the boat a push; the whole idea was too much like hitching a horse to a cart. Mooray wasn't a farm animal. It would be demeaning. But the baby was getting even louder.

Florian settled himself in the boat and scrabbled hurriedly around in the backpack for one of the richmilk bladders. The teat had a twist cap protecting it, which took a moment for him to work out. Then he was proffering it to the baby. She seemed reluctant at first, too busy crying to start sucking. He remembered something he'd seen one of his cousin's friends do and squeezed out a few drops of the richmilk, rubbing the liquid on the rubbery teat, then put that in the baby's mouth. There was a surprised gurgle, and she started sucking fast. The sudden absence of crying was a blessed relief.

Mooray, meanwhile, had slipped into the water. His tails were flicking about with deceptive force, pushing them along with the current, traveling a lot faster than Florian had ever managed to row.