Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3 (87 page)

SIX AND DIVA looked around the deserted spaceport with a feeling of desperation. They were far too late. Atheron and Xenon were long gone, although there was at least some comfort knowing that they must still be somewhere on Xiantha. The Xianthan hosts who had brought Six and Diva this far were tracking backwards and forwards around the perimeter of the spacefield, but the truth was that they had no idea which direction the Sellites had taken, and nobody knew if Grace was still alive or not. They both got down from the sled dispiritedly, and stared at the slots where the space shuttles had been. Six tossed a stone across the empty expanse, and they listened as it skittered aimlessly to a halt.

“What now?” Diva’s voice was listless.
 

Six gave a sigh. “We keep looking, of course.”

“Well, du-urr, dummy! Of course we keep looking. Where exactly, oh wise one?”

“If your munificence doesn’t know, then how do you expect a lowly no-name to figure it out?”

“True. Very true.”

The voice which interrupted both of them was hot with anger. “Perhaps I could be of help?”
 

“Ledin!” they said in unison, turning to look at the speaker. Six walked quickly over to the Kwaidian pilot, and clapped him on the back, hardly noticing the rest of the group which had arrived with him.

“I let Grace go off with both of you,” Ledin said tightly, catching Six’s arm and holding it in a vice-like grip. “And you were supposed to take care of her. What in Sacras happened? What were you thinking of?” 

Six narrowed his eyes. “You ‘let’ her go? I don’t think so, my friend. You couldn’t have stopped her if you had tried. And you made no effort at all to keep her on Kwaide.”

Ledin dropped the arm, and glared. “Of course I didn’t. She wouldn’t have listened to me if I had. But I did assume that you would be looking after her, First Six!”

“Don’t call me that! I told you! And I wish you well of looking after her. Grace is almost as independent as Diva here.”

“Excuse me? You said that like it was a bad thing!” said Diva, putting her hands on her hips and staring pugnaciously at the two men. They both looked skywards and ignored her.

“What autonomy have those sled things they are using? Do they need servicing, or fuel, or what?” asked Ledin.

“Apparently not,” Six was morose. “The damn things can run for thousands of kilometres without refueling. As long as they stay in northern latitudes, that is, where the magnetic lines run almost vertically, they could be anywhere. If they head south I gather they will use up fuel much more quickly.”

“Yes, but there aren’t really any places they would want to go to in the south of Xiantha, are there? You know what the Sellites are like!”

“Don’t I just! You are right. They won’t go and hide in a shack, for sure. And if they want to get rid of Grace they will still want it to look as if it could have been an accident, even if everybody knows that it wasn’t.”

“So they will want somewhere public, a place where accidents can happen, a place …” Here Ledin trailed off, because they all knew exactly where that place was. Their eyes tracked over towards the north pole, towards the gigantic mole which soared up through the clouds.

“The Xianthes!” shouted Six. “They have taken her to the Xianthes!”

“What are we waiting for, then?” demanded Ledin. “How long will it take us to get there?”

The others had come up to them during this last exchange, and Arcan shimmered. “No time at all,” he said. “Cimma has visited them, so I can see where to take you all.”

Diva put up a hand. “Wait, Arcan! Since you have brought all these other canths, could you pick ours up too? Six and I left them just outside the Donor Headquarters.” She showed him where, and moments later two very surprised canths appeared, snorting at the change. Then the entire group, canths, magsleds, Xianthans and all, disappeared again. They were heading out to the Xianthes.

BACK ON VALHAI, the plan that Atheron had been waiting to put into effect went operative. He had decided to leave his next attack until he himself were off the planet since his last, failed attempt had left him under suspicion. Although nobody had openly challenged him about his possible participation, he had felt some uncertainty towards his persona on the part of the people nearest to Mandalon 50. This time he had been determined not to leave himself exposed to accusations. No, this time he had made sure that there could be no possible link to him!

The one guard who had steadfastly held loyal to him had been briefed over and over again, and knew exactly how he was required to act. Everything had been calculated down to the last detail, and Atheron had allowed for all contingencies. If, as he hoped, the orthogel entity tried to intervene, the plan would be doubly successful. Word of Arcan’s rescue of Mandalon in the tunnels beneath the Valhai Voting Dome had reached his ears, and he was determined to thwart the alien’s plans this time around. Before he had left Valhai for Xiantha he had triple-checked each last little detail.

The guard had hung behind as his shift finished, and then had managed to secrete himself inside one of the large state wardrobes which housed the ornate garments deemed necessary for important occasions. Even though Mandalon 50 was only a boy, the idea of him appearing in public without the lavish robes due to his position was unthinkable. As soon as his father had been killed, an army of tailors and seamstresses had been set into motion on Cesis to make sure that his apparel was of sufficiently high quality. The robe he was to wear for the Second Valhai Votation, for example, would take ten embroiderers two full years to make, for the whole garment was to be embroidered with orbs and sceptres in fine gold thread. Such clothes needed great care, and they had their own wardrobes, where the garments were tended to and nurtured as if they were small children. 

Gorgamon, the guard, waited patiently inside the wardrobe. He occupied his time thinking about this usurper to the position of head of Sell. He hated the very thought of a young child leading Sell! How could a brat of ten know what decisions had to be taken? No, Sell needed a man at its head who was erudite, educated and able to think faster and more clearly than anybody else in the system. And Gorgamon knew exactly who that person was; he had been watching his progress for years, helping the great man on his way whenever he could. Gorgamon breathed a content but silent sigh. Only Atheron knew how much one particular guard had been able to help! Only Gorgamon had stayed loyal to Atheron after the debacle of the meeting in the Valhai Voting Dome! Other, newer allies had come and gone, but Gorgamon was the first and most trusted aide. And Atheron had promised him head of the security house. This was to be a new skyrise, one which would concentrate on keeping Valhai free from undesirable influences once Atheron had taken control of the planet. The guard found himself grinning in the dark at the prospects that appointment brought. Not only would he and his family have a new and prestigious skyrise, but he would have the most technologically advanced equipment at his disposal. There would be nothing that happened on Sell which he wouldn’t know about. It was a dizzying prospect, and one to be striven for at all costs. Tonight’s work was just one more step along the road to his vindication as a leading Sellite, and he was looking forward to putting a definitive end to the short life of this young meddler. He squeezed his huge fingers into fists and then relaxed them again. The puny boy would be no match for him! He let the hours wash by him, lost in the pleasant anticipation of his very just rewards.

It was not until five hours had passed that Gorgamon allowed himself to move. He went without a sound to the door, and pushed it ajar. It moved with no noise, because he had taken the trouble to oil all of the doors the week before. He had enjoyed that too; Mandalon had thanked him for his consideration, and the guard had experienced a frisson of anticipation that had almost made him lick his lips. He shuddered slightly now, simply remembering it, and his hands clenched again, involuntarily. He looked down at them fondly. They would soon have work to do!

He crept towards the bed, and was onto the sleeping boy before the child could even move. It was a simple matter to clasp his huge hand over the mouth which had opened futilely to scream. Any sound was cut off by Gorgamon’s flesh which completely covered the lower part of the boy’s face. Mandalon’s eyes had snapped open, and the boy was absolutely terrified, Gorgamon noted with a sense of self-importance. It was gratifying to see that one was finally recognized as a source of power. His days as a mindless subordinate were over, he realized with a thrill of fulfillment. It was like coming home, he found. At last his place in Sell History was about to be defined! He had been waiting for this day for a long time.

He was so carried away by the visions in his mind, that he tightened his hand over the boy’s mouth and nose, and cut off his air supply altogether. By the time he looked down again the boy had slumped into unconsciousness, and Gorgamon hastily lightened the pressure. He did not wish the boy to die before his time! Atheron had been most insistent on that point. The boy must die by accidental means. Atheron had emphasized over and over again that he did not wish his right-hand man on Valhai to be incriminated for this deed. Gorgamon smiled to himself. Atheron was a man who knew the true value of loyalty!

He picked the slack figure up in his arms, and was through the side door down to the servant’s quarters within seconds. Once there, he let the limp boy drop into the large laundry cart on wheels which he had provided earlier, and covered him with another layer of clothes. Now he would need to use the ortholift, and although it was clearly impossible for the orthogel to follow the use of all ortholifts, there was no point in deliberately drawing attention to oneself, Atheron had told him. There was something else in the laundry cart; something which Gorgamon bent to retrieve, and attach quickly to a special belt he was wearing under his clothes. Now he was invincible!

He pushed the cart before him into the lift, and made his way down to the ground floor of the 1st skyrise. Here, he trundled his way from the back ortholift along the outer passage until he reached the terrace. Leaving the laundry cart in the outer passage, he picked up the boy and carefully dressed him in a bodywrap, leaving a pre-used and empty mask pack dangling around his neck.

He was pleased to see that the boy was beginning to come round. It would never do for him to die before his time!

At last the guard was ready. He had only to carry the boy through the airlock and throw him out onto the terrace. Once there, the atmosphere of Valhai would take care of him within a minute. It would be a quick and most effective way to die, thought Gorgamon to himself. And quite typical of a youngster who wanted to try out a new sensation! Naturally he would wait until his bodyguards were asleep! Boys were always pushing themselves one step too far, and nobody would be surprised that the young leader had failed to provide himself with sufficient mask packs. It would simply be thought that he had been overcome by lack of oxygen, and had torn off the used mask pack in a last, delirious attempt to save himself.

With a grunt, he picked up the boy, and opened the first airlock. Then he pulled the boy close to him in the enclosed space, and waited for the first airlock door to close. Turning, he held his hand up to the sensor on the rexelene door which led bare planet. The biolock clicked in approval, and the outer door opened. He flung the boy out onto the terrace, and turned to the biolock immediately. He was only planning to be exposed for about four seconds.

MANDALON 50 HAD been conscious for about a minute by now, and was waiting for a chance to contact Arcan. As he was thrust out of the airlock he put his bodywrapped hand into his mouth and bit down as hard as he could on his little finger, three times. He just hoped that it would be enough to get Arcan’s notice. He thought the bodywrap would absorb much of the impact.

He had not long to wait, Arcan’s figure appeared almost instantaneously alongside his own, and he felt himself almost pushed through the airlock to the other side, where he was able to sink down to the floor gratefully and take a deep breath of oxygenated air.
 

At the same time Gorgamon had spotted the arrival of the orthogel entity, and with a huge roar of anger had pulled something out of his belt. Arcan, in the second he was rescuing Mandalon, had no time to pay attention to the guard, and by the time he turned towards the Sellite, it was too late. There was a bright flash of orange, and everything went instantly black.

Gorgamon turned back to the biolock with immense satisfaction. Everything had worked out beautifully to plan. True, the boy was untouched, on the other side of the airlock, but he was collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. It would take but a moment to catch him and put him back out on the terrace. A weak boy would be no match for him! He put his hand up to the inside door with a feeling of triumph. Atheron had thought of everything!