For once Jessika’s composure deserted her. ‘I . . . don’t have any information on that.’
‘Neána biotechnology is remarkably similar to Olyix biotechnology,’ Callum said. ‘And how did the Neána know about the enclave and its properties? They either visited before they dispersed into their abodes, or just maybe they were there when it was under construction.’
Everyone looked at Jessika.
‘I have no answer,’ she said meekly.
‘I’m calling bullshit,’ Alik said and grinned at Kandara. ‘If the Neána had ever been to the enclave, they’d know where it is. Equally possible the neurovirus extracted some information from a quint or onemind about it being a slowtime zone.’
‘And the biology?’ Callum asked.
‘Terrestrial-style planets will probably follow the same evolutionary route at a biochemical level,’ Yuri said. ‘That’s the theory the Connexion exobiologists always favoured. Sure, the further along the evolutionary timescale you got, the more fantastical and divergent the animal life would look to us. But if a planet has the same elements available, the basic cell chemistry would be similar. Occam’s razor.’
‘Damn,’ Kandara said in frustration. ‘I really like my conspiracy theory.’
‘Keep at it,’ Jessika said, her humour bouncing back. ‘Time on this trip is going to need filling.’
‘I disagree,’ Callum said directly to Yuri. ‘Our composition is due to a million acts of chance and random mutation. That’s why we have our distinct biochemistry. We have no idea what natural Neána biochemistry is like.’
‘Of course you disagree,’ Yuri grunted.
‘That’s the spirit, boys,’ Kandara said. ‘I can see our time in here is going to pass so quickly.’
Alik groaned in dismay. I wonder if I can simulate some artificial humans in here for proper company?
FinalStrike Mission
Flight Year 15
At first Yirella didn’t even have the strength to moan in dismay. Waking from suspension was always a struggle, but at least it meant she was alive. Every time before she opened her eyes, she always had the same thought. Who’s there? Would it be Del, one of her other friends, or an Olyix quint waiting for the chamber lid to open?
She felt the umbilical tubes withdraw from her abdomen and forced herself to open her eyes. A face was slightly out of focus on the other side of the transparent casing. Human. That was a good start. With nausea strumming away at her stomach, she squinted up. Protocol was always to have a good friend greet you when you were coming out of suspension. She recognized the face – Matías, one of the other squad leaders. Nice enough guy, but hardly in the ‘good friend’ category.
The lid slid down, and she slowly sat up, the cushioning rising in tandem to support her.
‘You okay?’ Matías asked.
Yirella just remembered in time not to nod her head. She held up a finger and croaked: ‘Getting there.’
Matías waited patiently until she was ready to climb out. She gritted her teeth and managed to raise a leg. He offered an arm as she finally swung both legs over the edge of the chamber. That’s when she saw Rafa, one of Matías’s squad members, standing a couple of metres away. For the first time in years, she felt self-conscious about being naked. Then she noticed the sidearms they both wore and did her best not to smile.
She stood on the decking, gripping the rim of the chamber to prevent herself falling. An embarrassed Matías handed her a robe.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked. Data in her optik was telling her the Morgan was at half lightspeed already and still just under a lightyear out from the neutron star.
‘You’re needed at the Captain’s Council.’
‘Okay. I’ll have a shower and get along there.’ It was malicious, but she couldn’t resist.
Rafa coughed.
‘It’s urgent,’ a miserable Matías said. ‘We’re to escort you straight there as soon as you’re dressed.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Look, I’m sorry, Yirella. All I know is that they need to consult you. It’s very urgent.’
‘Seems about right.’ She gestured at the oily fluid still beading her skin. ‘But first, the shower.’
Rafa was about to say something, but Matías said: ‘Of course.’
She took her time in the washroom and used her databud to order chicken soup from the food printer. As the water sluiced the oil off her skin, she used her interface to check on her cyborg. It was sitting in standby mode where she’d left it seven years ago, in one of the many empty compartments on a lower deck, not far from where the squads used to have their idiot bare-knuckle fights. According to the log, none of the crew had noticed it – not that they patrolled the Morgan looking for intruders. For a moment she was tempted to bring it up out of standby mode, just in case. But that was silly, because there was no physical threat. Having it accompany her to the council would be the equivalent of comfort food. And as soon as she stepped out of the shower, a remote rolled up carrying her chicken soup. So . . .
The cup the soup came in seemed inordinately heavy as she carried it with her on the interminable walk around to the captain’s quarters. They had to stop five times for her to sit and rest. She obstinately refused Matías’s offer to summon a remote medical chair for her.
Kenelm was sitting at the head of the table in hir reception room. The stern expression sie wore would have been intimidating at any other time. Today, Yirella found it hard not to smirk right back at hir. Alexandre was sitting halfway along the table, and hir gesture invited Yirella to sit. She accepted gratefully and drank some more of the soup. Every limb was shaking from the exertion of the walk. Directly opposite her, Tilliana gave her an anxious glance.
Cinrea and Wim occupied the seats on either side of Kenelm. Then there was Napar, captain of the Collesia; and Illathan, who commanded the Kinzalor.
