Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3 (38 page)

“My studies indicate that a simple geomagnetic realignment of your planet’s poles would suffice to bring the electromagnetic radiation into acceptable limits for my cell structure.”

“A … a … you mean you would like us to reverse our north and south poles?”

“That is correct. I would find staying here much easier. It is most kind of you to offer.”

“… I-I am afraid that such a feat is beyond our capabilities at this time …” Indomita searched around for the right thing to say. “However, I shall immediately put our best efforts into finding a way to do this.”

“That won’t do much good,” rumbled Arcan. “I shall just have to wait.”

“We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you.”

“I suppose you are. You will be long dead before any progress is made.”

“How true! I hope that this will not cause you concern?”

“Should it?”

“Not at all. I expect our lives must seem very short to you.”

“Yes.” Arcan shimmered. “You are all transients. There don’t seem to be any more lifeforms like me.” He sounded wistful.

“I am sure you will find some one day, Arcan. Even if you have no close family, it seems most unlikely that you should be the only living organism privileged to enjoy quantum travel.”

“That is true.” Arcan flashed blue in appreciation and Diva’s mother breathed a sigh of relief.

BACK ON KWAIDE once more they joined the rest of the rebels. Under Cimma’s relentless drilling, the untouchables became fitter and harder. Even the young refugees were harried by the Sellite woman into makeshift ranks, and taught the rudiments of fighting.

“They will need it,” she said grimly. “Things are not over yet on this planet. The Elders will try to have the final say, and everybody in this camp should be ready for them.”

The refugees adored Cimma. She towered over them, fierce eyes flashing, dagger at the ready, and they let her shout and scream and bully them into submittance. They even seemed to revel in it.

“Makes me feel I am back in the birth shelter!” said one Kwaidian no-name.

“I know. I was actually homesick for Benefice until I joined her class!”

More refugees were flooding in, eager hands wanting to build a free future. The news of the revolution had travelled around the planet quicker than the autumn rains, and no-names from every corner had been fired up into dropping tools and setting out on the perilous journey north. The Elders had been caught unawares at first, although lately intelligence was coming in that they had given orders to their sycophant army to imprison any untouchables found on the roads. The refugees were having to make their way through thick undergrowth to avoid being captured. Those that were caught by the sycophants were thrown into makeshift prisons, and left to starve.

Six had already formed two small bands of armed volunteers. He and Diva took command of one each and roamed the countryside to find the makeshift prisons, break their inmates out and escort them out of the Elder-ridden areas around the flatlands. They were beginning to become legends amongst the freed refugees. The exploits of the wild Coriolan meritocrat and the Kwaidian liberator were whispered from one mouth to the next, always with a careful hand over the face, to protect the stories from the straining ears of the Elders.

HAD SIX KNOWN that Atheron had been on the planet for the past two weeks he might have been more worried. As it was, there had been many small successes, and despite the dire warnings of Cimma, he and Diva couldn’t help but feel triumphant at the way things were working out. Even though the sycophant army of the Elders was very well-trained, its operatives could not move fast enough to capture small bands of rebels who were in and out of their areas too fast to track.

So when the message came for Six he acted without even considering back-up. He could have contacted Cimma, and asked for support. He could have called Diva, and invited her to go with him. He did neither. He touched fingers with the courier who had brought the note, and thanked him. He then instructed his group to continue without him, and disappeared, the crumpled message safe in his pocket.

By trekking at a relentless half-run right through the night, he was able to reach Rexel before dawn on the following day. He made his way towards the Eastern Gate of the city, but stopped short of passing through the stone portal. Instead he headed for the main route between Rexel and Benefice – the starting point of the export of the rexelene blocks which had been hewn out of the ground inside the city gates. There he waited impatiently, well-hidden in the surrounding woods.

The note had told him that Eight had escaped from Benefice, and was waiting for him in hiding in Rexel. Six trusted nobody, and knew that the note could be a trap for him, so even though it had been in Eight’s own hand, he was extremely careful in his movements. He determined not to move so much as a footstep from his hiding place unless he could positively recognize Eight, and find out whether or not she was alone, and uncoerced. She had promised to escape the city hidden under one of the rexelene export platforms, and had begged him to come to meet her to go with her up to the rebel base camp. She was too scared to travel all that way on her own.

The day passed interminably. Six was light-headed with exhaustion and lack of food. He cursed that he had not thought to bring enough. He couldn’t move now. Sacras was well up in the sky above him, and any movement might be detected. He began to feel that he had acted a little hastily. Perhaps he should have alerted Diva and his group. He gnawed on his lip.

At last the gates opened and the first of the rexelene supplies came trundling out on the specially-made platforms brought to Kwaide by the Sellites. They were huge juggernauts, driven by complicated engines which ran on a fuel brought in by cargo shuttle. They were the only mechanical vehicles in use on the planet, and were unwieldy monsters only made to traverse the straight line from Rexel to Benefice, and the spaceport there.

The first crawled noisily past him, making the ground shake as it went, and belching out an acrid black smoke which made his eyes water. Six squinted against the early morning rays from Sacras, but saw no movement underneath them. His heart was in his throat. It was incredibly dangerous to try to hide under one of these things. The wheels reached as high as a Kwadian’s head, and were as thick as his body. They moved slowly, certainly, but the danger of dropping down into the road and running between the wheels was still extreme.

Another of the giant machines lumbered past him, and another, and another. Their drivers, sitting perched up so high above the road, looked like small puppets from where he stood. He found he was holding his breath, and released it slowly. Still nobody.

There was an intense silence after the initial group of trucks had gone past. He dared not move, for without the rumbling of the engines every sound could carry to a listening sycophant’s ears. He could hear his own heart thumping, in the stillness could feel the blood pumping through his veins.

Then he heard another drone of engines, and smelt a tinge of fuel in the air again. The second group of platforms was about to emerge through the Rexel gate. Six concentrated on the underside of the platforms as they drew alongside his position, and peered through the smoke to catch any movement.

There! At last he saw a slight flash of colour. He froze at the sight of a slim body dodging under the mammoth wheels, and thought that his heart might stop.

The figure teetered right under one of the huge black tyres and Six forgot to breathe. Then it was through, and dipping quickly across the remaining metres to the relative safety of the trees.

Six found his feet and ran across to the position of the figure, dodging in and out of the trees. He needed to find her and get her away from this dangerous area while the sound of the platforms still covered their escape.

When he reached the figure it was almost doubled over, catching its breath. He skidded to a stop and looked at the figure carefully. Then it straightened up, and he saw without a doubt that it was his sister.

He ran towards her, and smiled into her face with a feeling of absolute euphoria at being reunited with her. Her own face was serious, he saw, and she was shaking. She must have been frightened half to death by the experience. He grabbed one wrist, and signaled to her that they should move quickly away from the scene, while the engine noise still covered their escape. She nodded her understanding, and then gestured for him to give her a quick hug first.

Six smiled, and felt his heart well over with happiness as he held the thin figure at last.

He hardly felt the sleeping dart as it entered his neck. The pin-prick made him slap at an imaginary insect. Then the realization filtered into his brain, and he slumped to the ground.

SIX LOOKED AROUND. He was on some sort of a spaceship.

“You can’t keep me here,” he said, although he seemed to be alone.

“And why not?” the voice that answered him was that of his non-favourite teacher, Atheron. Six looked again, more carefully this time, and his eyes found the camera and speakers where the voice of his old teacher had come from. He remembered when he had been taken as a donor apprentice and realized that he was on an orbital platform. He was being held in one of the cells. He groaned. “Not you again!”

“You didn’t enjoy the years of learning we shared? How disappointing! I must make a mental note to make my classes more interesting to the students, mustn’t I?” Atheron managed a smug kind of chuckle.

“Well, don’t think you are going to teach me anymore. I absolutely refuse to learn one tiny bit more from you.”

“How interesting. You are rather assuming that I … err … might be interested in teaching you something. And I am afraid that is no longer the case. My energies are fully engaged elsewhere at the current time.”

“Thank Sacras!”

“Dear me. Your association with so many perturbed people seems to have left its mark on you.”

Six narrowed his eyes. “You remind me of the Elders,” he said.

“Why thank you, Six.” Atheron’s voice sounded rather metallic through the speakers, but he appeared gratified by the comment.

“It was not a compliment.”

“Really? How strange.”

“Why are you holding me here?”

“You are safely stowed where your great friend Arcan will be unable to get his hands on you.” Atheron was pleased with himself.

“There is nowhere in the system where you can keep Arcan from finding me.”

“I am willing to bet you are mistaken there. I don’t think your new friend can travel to places he can’t see. And I have taken great care to make sure nobody knows where we are.”

“I am on the orbital module above Kwaide!”

“Quite so. But your extra-system friend will have to move very quickly if he is going to find you here.”

“You underestimate him.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. He is, after all, only a non-Sellite.”

“And I suppose you think the Sellites are superior to the rest of us?”

“And you don’t?”

Six stared at the speakers. “I hate the Sellites! What have you done to my sister?”

“I? Why? What should I do to your sister? She played her part very well, don’t you think?”

“Are you trying to tell me that she was the one who drugged me? I don’t believe you!”

“Believe what you want.”

“Why are you holding me here?” Six demanded.

“It seemed a good idea at the time,” the voice from the speakers said slowly. “Though I am beginning to regret it. It might make more sense to kill you directly.”

“Just you try!”

Atheron sighed, “I would advise you to keep a civil tongue in your head. You are hardly in a position to do otherwise.”

“Yeah? Well, I just might not take your advice, old man!”

“How very boring you young people are. All that hot-headed air to vent!”

“Why don’t you crumble into dust remnants, dodderer? At least we could put you to good use as a fertilizer!”

There was no answer to that and Six was left glowering around at the otherwise empty cell, powerless to escape through the iron bars and absolutely furious with himself for having allowed himself to be captured. He began to pace angrily up and down the restricted space. The last time he had been in a cell like this was when he had met Diva, over two years ago. He knew that it would probably be a very long time before he saw her again. From what the Sellite had said it seemed likely that he would be transferred to a space trader almost immediately. He closed his eyes. Had he really been betrayed by his own sister?

DIVA WAS GLARING around her, arms akimbo. “What do you mean – you can’t find him?”

The walls surrounding her gave a shiver of the deepest blue, running from one side all the way to the other. “He has vanished. If we had known of his disappearance sooner – but the trail is cold.” Arcan said. To Grace’s ears, he seemed apologetic.

“Six saved your life not so long ago!” Diva said.

“I am aware. But I have not been able to locate Six. I will continue to look for him, of course.” The walls flickered again, and then went back to their usual colour.

“We will find him ourselves,” Cimma said. She looked around at the two girls, one eyebrow raised. The girls both nodded. “Where shall we start?”

Diva bit her lip. “I spoke to the courier who brought him the note,” she said. “He swears that the man who gave him the note was not a native Kwaidian. And from the description he gave, it sounds horribly as if Atheron has a hand in all of this. It seems pretty clear that the message was related to Eight. They set a trap for Six, and the dumb nomus fell right into it. Honestly, he has less sense than a warthog! Trust him to fall straight into an ambush!” She spread her elegant fingers out wide as if to set them about the absent Six’s neck and strangle him, and went on, “They won’t have left him anywhere where Arcan can find him easily, they know he can move anywhere in the system instantaneously. Their only hope is to hide him, a long way away from any orthogel.”

“Or kill him.” Grace’s face was set white.

Diva nodded, “Or kill him.”

Cimma put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “They won’t do that,” she said with conviction. “They are Sellites. They like to have counters to barter with. They will keep him alive, and use his life as an exchange for something they want.”

“Are you sure?” Diva asked.

The elder woman nodded, “Sellites only kill when there is no further use for a person.”

Diva looked grim. “I am one of those useless remnants, then,” she said. “They would have killed me if it hadn’t been for Grace.”

“They thought you were worthless after your operation,” Cimma said evenly. “Their mistake.”

“As you say,” Diva got out through her teeth, “their mistake. I hope to make them pay for it.”

“But you think they will see a use in Six, Magestra?” Grace asked her parent.

“Now, yes. While he would have been of little use to them after bio-extraction he is now a very useful bargaining counter. His friendship with Arcan is well-known, and I am sure they will keep him alive and well.” Cimma gave a shrug. “All we have to do is find and rescue him.”

“Oh,” said Diva, “piece of cake, then.”

“No sarcasm, please. It interrupts my thought processes.” Cimma raised a hand sternly. Diva and Grace exchanged a look of disbelief, but subsided into silence.

THREE DAYS LATER Diva threw her backpack down in despair. “No sign of him there, either,” she growled. “Atheron – if it is Atheron – has managed to hide him well.” She massaged the back of her neck wearily. All the travelling was having an effect on her. “Where will we try next?”

Grace gave a shrug. “I have no idea,” she said. “We have tried all the places I can think of. There is no trace of him anywhere.”

Cimma raised one hand. “Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “we haven’t been up to the orbital station, have we?”

“How on Cian could they have got him up there?”

“Atheron must have got here somehow,” Cimma snapped back.

Diva looked over at the Sellite woman, warily. “You’re right,” she said, “we should have thought of that before.”

Cimma bowed her head. “I am tired, or I probably would have.”

Diva looked at the woman in front of her. She had big black circles under her eyes, and she was looking very fragile. “You are doing too much,” she said firmly. “It is too soon after your operation. You need to rest.”

“And who will look after the thousands of refugees here!” Cimma pulled herself up to her full height and glowered.

“You must stay here, Magestra,” Grace agreed. “But you do need to rest a little bit more if you can. Remember that you are still recovering. I know it is over six months now, but V-Vion said it would take you a full year to get your strength back. ”

“You two can’t go on your own. It is too dangerous. We can’t afford to lose all of you.”

“You have taught us very well.” Diva was conciliatory. “We are more than capable of defending ourselves now. Please, Cimma. It makes no sense for all three of us to go chasing around the system. Stay here, keep everything running smoothly and try to get your strength back. Please.”

“Oh very well,” Cimma said. “Though don’t come screaming to me when something awful happens to both of you.”

Diva and Grace exchanged glances, brimful of amusement. “We won’t,” they chorused. Then the girls pressed the orthogel bracelets which Arcan had given them, and disappeared.

Cimma gave a disgruntled look at where they had been standing and then let herself relax back into her orthosupport. Truth be known, she was feeling exhausted. Not that she wouldn’t be able to carry on – she was up to anything! It’s just that she was feeling nostalgic for a long lie-down in the sarcophagus she had left behind in the skyrise on Valhai.

THE GIRLS FOUND themselves standing on the old orbital station above Kwaide, for Diva vaguely reminiscent of her journey to Valhai almost three years before. It was cold, abandoned and metallic. They began to explore, warily, each slipping a mask pack on because the station was in lock down and the air was bound to be unbreathable.

“No sign of any life up here,” Diva said.

“Nothing. He isn’t here either.”

Still, they made their way carefully right through the installations, checking to see if there were any sign of Six. It wasn’t until they reached the lower parts that their efforts paid off.

“Diva! Look!”

“What? Yes, you’re right. That belongs to Six.” Diva held up the kris blade that Six habitually carried. “He is here!”

Grace shook her head. “He
was
here,” she corrected. “They have taken him away. They must have had some space traders and space freighters tied up here. They will have spirited him away in one of them. They know it would be almost impossible for Arcan to find him in space. They will keep him somewhere away from all the systems.” She spread her hands apart. “What can we do now?”

For once Diva looked at a loss. “I have no idea,” she confessed. “He could be anywhere in the system, and Arcan has no possibility of finding him.” She kicked out at the metallic console in front of her. “We could check out the other orbital platforms from time to time in case they put in at one of those, but if they stay in deep space then we won’t find them. All we can do is wait. And I hate waiting!”

SIX WAS FEELING caged-in. He strode up and down the tiny cell in the Sellite space trader like a Cesan catumba in front of a vaniven. There was absolutely nothing he could do about his situation. Even if he escaped from the holding cell, which seemed an impossible task, he was still a captive in outer space on a small starship. He was going nowhere. He gave an ironic smile to himself. At least last time he had been able to sign to Diva, in the same situation.

This captivity was almost unbearable though. If the last one had been bad, this was ten times worse. They had given him nothing to do, no interscreen to teach or entertain. He had no idea how long he had been held here as the monotonous days had passed into weeks. He breathed heavily. It was a waste of time. He went back to pacing up and down, up and down, up and down. Instead of soothing him it jangled his nerves even more. What was happening out there in the worlds outside? Were the others safe? Better not to think about that. There was no way that even Arcan would find him now, trapped in a spaceship heading for the region of Nomus, the failed star.

There was the sound of scuffling outside the heavily barred door, and it opened slowly to reveal the unwelcome figure of Atheron in person, his white hair and beard not fully disguising the twitching inquisitiveness of his face. He was enjoying himself; that much was clear.