Transformation Space by Marianne de Pierres Page B

dough.
    He relieved himself, sparing a moment to wonder whether being suspended in Extro goo had any lasting repercussions for his
     body. So far everything seemed to be working as usual, although he hadn’t had a crap since leaving
Insignia
, and that couldn’t be a good thing. The
Medium
had nourished them during travel, but how well, and with what consequences, he couldn’t tell.
    He stripped off his clothes and activated the water flow in the handbasin. Then he washed as much of himself as he could fit
     under the spray. Not bothering to dry, he took clothing from one of the bodies outside in the corridor, and was tying the
     waist cord on the robe when Randall and Catchut joined him.
    ‘A pretty fit, if it was made for a scarecrow,’ said Randall.
    Jo-Jo stepped back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His face was so gaunt underneath his beard that he barely recognised
     himself.
    They were all bone-thin, and paler than a living person should be. He stuck his chin out. ‘You could do with change of clothes
     yourself. I’m gonna look around.’
    ‘Just make sure you don’t set off any alarms. Don’t want something pinging down the port to the Saqr.’
    He nodded. ‘Where will you be?’
    ‘We’ll get cleaned up and meet you in the kitchen on the third floor. There’s some dried food left in the cupboards.’
    Jo-Jo searched the first two levels before fatigue ambushed him again. The lifts weren’t working, and he took care not to
     turn on any lights. That meant stumbling into overturned furniture, and having to feel his way through offices. The absence
     of bodies other than the ones in the corridor outside the bathroom made him curious. Had everyone evacuated before the Saqr
     came?
    He made his way to the third-floor kitchen and found Randall cooking up a pot of pasta.
    Jo-Jo stared at her with mild surprise. ‘You can cook?’
    ‘As needs,’ she said tersely, ‘and don’t get used to it. I’m powerful hungry; feels like I haven’t eaten in a year.’
    Jo-Jo was feeling the same. Now that he’d moved around a bit, hunger gnawed like a bitch.
    Randall strained the pasta and dumped it onto three disposable plates. ‘One thing you can say about these Latinos: they know
     how to stock a storeroom with food. Every building has a dining hall. Guess there’s no running out for quick food in this
     stinkin’ climate.’
    Jo-Jo sat himself down at the table next to Catchut. Randall had bandaged and braced his ankle, and they both looked cleaner.
    ‘No dead down below, other than the ones near the piss room,’ said Jo-Jo.
    Randall forked some steaming farfalle into her mouth and took a moment to savour the taste before she answered. She gestured
     up with her thumb. ‘Golook in the meeting room up there.’ Then she added, ‘Might wanna let your food go down first.’
    Jo-Jo wasn’t sure if she was serious, or just provoking him. Either way, he’d finish his exploration after he’d eaten.
    Between them, they ate the entire pot and drank another bucket of water. Meal finished, Catchut stretched out on the floor
     and fell straight asleep.
    Randall, though, got down on her hands and knees to search the bottom shelves of the cupboards. ‘Gotta be some … Knew it!’
     She slid out two big flasks. ‘The other good thing about Latinos. Araldisian red.’ She unscrewed the plug and drank deeply.
     Her satisfied glugging made Jo-Jo’s mouth water. How long since he’d had a drink?
    She belched, plugged the flask and threw it to him. ‘A few hours ago I figured never to taste this again.’ Her bloodshot eyes
     sparkled as she watched Jo-Jo twist the cap off. ‘Been in plenny of tight spots over the years, but never come so close to
     losin’ it as I did in that Extro ship.’
    Jo-Jo took a swallow and nodded. ‘Weird stuff, all right.’
    ‘I said I’d never forget the fact you got me out of there, and I won’t.’ She opened the other flask and sucked in some more.
     ‘Can’t