ARC: Under Nameless Stars (16 page)

“But Groom Treth,” Fane yelled back. “What of the words in the Book of–”

“Shut up this talk,” Pokt screamed shrilly. “Cease this nonsense talk, I say.” And he loosed another bolt of plasma over their heads. “Come out now and be done.”

“I need a better angle,” the Captain said quietly to Treth. “When I move, you take the others back down the corridor.”

“No, Captain. You are not trained in arms. Let me–” But the Captain was already in motion, firing as he ran for the opposite wall. Pokt didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the doorway, raised his stick and fired. It caught the Captain square in the chest, the super-heated bolt hurling him out of Zenn’s sight, leaving behind a small blizzard of colorful feathers that drifted and swirled where a second ago he had stood.

“Captain!” Treth cried.

Pokt now strode into the corridor. Behind him, the two Khurspex loomed into view. In the saloon beyond them, Liam appeared, looking shaken, his face drained.

“You see the product of your foolishness?” Pokt said, shaking the plasma stick at the Captain’s limp body. “Take them to the bridge and hold them there,” he instructed the two creatures, pointing to Zenn and the others. “And take care the Martian girl is undamaged.”

“No!” Treth threw herself out from behind the crates, diving to where the Captain had fallen. A second later, she crouched with his pistol in her hand.

She fired. The energy beam burrowed into the hind leg of the leading Khurspex, scorching the limb and toppling the creature to the floor. Then, the Khurspex… broke in two. The front half, supporting itself on its long tendril-arms, withdrew its thick tail section from a cavity in the back half and heaved itself clumsily to the floor. The wounded back portion of the creature then stumbled away from the forward section, trying to raise itself on its three good legs.

Before Zenn could quite process this bizarre sight, Fane was walking past her, exposing himself in the corridor, deliberately placing himself between Treth and the aliens.

“This is sacrilege, blasphemy. It cannot be allowed.” He held his arms outstretched to either side, moving ahead as if in a trance, calling to the creatures. “Shepherds forgive us.”

“Fane, don’t,” Treth hissed.

Pokt gestured to the other Khurspex next to him. The creature raised its arm-tendril. Attached near its waving tip was something like a shell. It gripped the Khurspex’s “wrist” with an array of thread-like filaments. The shell split open. From inside, a long, thin rope of living tissue like a chameleon’s tongue whipped out toward Fane. It tapped him lightly on the side of his neck, then recoiled, the shell snapping shut around it.

Instantly, the Sacrist collapsed, dropped by the touch of the thing.

Anger twisting her features, Treth looked up from Fane’s fallen body, raised the pistol. But Pokt had already taken aim. He fired, the stream of lightning licking across Treth’s forearm. The pistol spun from her grasp. Clutching her arm, she staggered back against the wall.

“You see?” Pokt hooted. “It is useless.” They all stopped where they stood as he approached. Stepping over Fane, he nudged his body with one boot. “This one will recover. The whip-whelk poison does not last long. It is the favored weapon of the Spex. Activated by the merest thought. So simple, so effective.”

He leered at Zenn.

“You have been long sought, human. And much trouble. But now we have you. And what you carry.”

Zenn saw motion behind Pokt. It was Liam, in the corridor, running at them, fast. The boy tackled Pokt from behind, squeezing a loud grunt of pain from the Skirni and sending them both sprawling onto the floor.

“Go!” Liam yelled as he scrambled to his feet, scooping up Pokt’s weapon as he stumbled toward them. He turned, fumbled with the plasma stick, tried to aim it at the Khurspex coming down the corridor. “How does this… Where’s the damn trigger?”

Grimacing in pain, Treth pushed away from the wall, snatched the weapon away from Liam. She twisted the handle to maximum force and fired – not at the approaching creature, but at the ceiling of the passage. A massive, forking lightning pulse erupted from the weapon, atomizing the ceiling panels in a cascade of fire, fragments and acrid, black smoke. Nothing of Fane, Pokt or the Khurspex was visible through the choking cloud.

“Dolphin, Novice! This way,” Treth yelled. Jules strode out into the passage. Liam ran to where Zenn crouched, helped her to stand.

“Fane,” Zenn cried. “What about Fane?”

“We cannot help him,” the Groom shouted, shoving Zenn and Liam down the corridor ahead of her. “Run!”

Zenn didn’t argue. She ran.

SEVENTEEN

They plunged on through the frigid air of the unlit corridors for what felt like hours. Down deserted passageways, up through stairwells, along yet more endless tunnels of corridor, not speaking, breathing hard, footfalls echoing. At last, Zenn had to rest and said so. Reluctantly, Treth whispered, “Five minutes. No longer.”

The Groom squatted down on her haunches. Zenn and Liam both dropped to sit on the floor. Jules parked himself nearby and busied himself redirecting the mist-jets on his walksuit.

“Captain Oolo… I can’t believe that he’s…” Zenn’s voice broke, the words refusing to come. Her shock quickly turned to anger. “Why? Why would they do that? What do they want?”

Treth raised her gaze to look at Zenn, the Groom’s eyes hunting something.

“They want you, Novice. The Skirni said as much.”

“But why?” Even as she spoke, Zenn felt a surge of guilt, then fear. She suspected she might know why. Should she tell the others? No. She could be wrong. It was crazy. Yes, she was probably mistaken.

“Treth, your arm,” she said instead, standing up. “Here, let me see.”

“It is nothing,” the Groom said, but she allowed Zenn to examine her. The Skirni’s weapon had cut a thin line of charred flesh across her upper arm. Zenn slipped off the straps of her field kit, dug in it and located what she needed. After cleaning the wound, she applied a coat of antiseptic and sprayed on a dermal bandage.

“That should protect it until the skin grows back.”

Treth flexed her arm, nodded in approval.

“Thank you, Novice,” she said, then turned and walked off to scout the route ahead.

“Scarlett,” Liam said from where he sat against the bulkhead. “Sorry. About your friends.”

“The Captain was just… trying to protect us,” Zenn said, sitting down again beside him. Her throat tightened.

“And the Procyon kid,” he said. “Do you think he’s…”

“He’ll be fine,” Zenn said. “I think he’s just paralyzed, like Pokt said.” Her hand rose to her neck. She was certain the shell-like thing the Khurspex used on Fane was the same thing Pokt had used to paralyze her that night in her cloister dorm room. “The neurotoxin will wear off in an hour or so. He’ll just be a little sore.”

“Well, that’s good to know. And I’ve got something here that might cheer–”

Zenn felt something brush her cheek, and she pulled back reflexively from Liam. Then she felt pressure on her arm, but saw nothing. Something was on her, poking at her… something alive!

A purple-and-cream blur distorted the air, and then a rikkaset materialized into view, her snout poking out of Liam’s shirt, gold-green eyes blinking at her, small black hands reaching out to her.

“Katie,” Zenn cried, her eyes filling with tears. Katie sprang into her arms, and Zenn held her tight, smelled her wonderful rikkaset smell. “Katie, Katie, Katie,” The rikkaset licked her nose and signed up at her.

“Friend-Zenn – Katie alone, alone. No friend-Zenn came back right away. Not so nice. Not nice!”

“Katie, I’m so sorry.” Unwilling to release her grasp on the animal for even a second, she forced herself to speak slowly so Katie could read her lips. “I… I couldn’t come back. I tried to find Katie but… but you’re here now.” She pressed her face into Katie’s warm, silk-soft fur, then looked up at Liam. “Where did you find her?”

“I was about to tell you – she found me,” he said. “After they took us all off the
Helen
, everyone was herded into a big cargo bay. Next thing I knew, she was rubbing against my leg and begging for food! And then–”

“Silence,” Treth whispered urgently, coming back down the passage toward them. “I heard something! Just ahead.” The Groom knelt against one wall, the plasma stick raised. Zenn opened the top of her jumpsuit and pushed Katie down inside.

“Is it those Ghost-Spex?” Jules asked.

“Quiet,” Treth snapped at him. They all pressed themselves into the shadows and strained to see up the black tunnel that stretched before them.

The sound that came from the darkened corridor made Zenn jump, adrenaline pouring into her system. Then she realized it was the sound was of someone, something, laughing.

“Hoo-haha…” The voice was thick, gravelly, with an odd, lilting accent. “Spex? You think I’m Khurspex? I think not, thanky very much.”

“Come out,” Treth ordered, weapon at the ready. “Show yourself.”

“Show myself?” the voice said. “Show me that burn-rod pointing elsewhere! Then maybe.”

Treth considered for a moment, then lowered the weapon.

“See?” she said. “Now come out.”

A figure shuffled into view, stopping just beyond the shadows, appearing ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. The creature was a little taller than Zenn, two short legs, two long arms. Its apelike face was masked with grime, and its outlandishly long cheek whiskers and eyebrows drooped forlornly, the once-white muttonchop sideburns tinted a grimy brown-gray. It was a Loepith.

He – Zenn guessed it was a male although it was hard to tell – wore several headlamps and a magnifying glass attached to a band around its head, and a tiny signal dish protruded from one ear. Strapped to its body – or hanging from multiple crisscrossing web-belts – was an assemblage of mashed-up electronic gear, miscellaneous hand tools and a variety of pots, a tin cup and what looked like wineskins. Net bags bulging with food and other odds and ends hung from shoulder straps. The overstuffed pack on his back had a rolled-up blanket tied to it. His ragged clothes had numerous pockets, but the outfit was so shredded and dirty, Zenn couldn’t even guess the original color.

“Who are you?” Treth said. “What are you doing down here? Away from the others?”

“Who am I?” the Loepith snorted. “And who is she to ask us questions?” He glared at Treth. “Eh? Who are you to ask, rude and groomish?”

Zenn saw Treth’s jaw tighten.

“Her name is Treth. And yes, she’s a groom,” Zenn said quickly, standing and moving closer so the Loepith could see her. “We mean you no harm. We’re just trying to get away. From the Khurspex. We’re from the
Helen of Troy
.”

The Loepith pulled the head-mounted magnifying glass down over one eye, making the eye suddenly appear huge as he examined her.

“That was the
Helen
just got snagged?” the monkey-like anthropoid said. He seemed to relax a little, pushed the glass away from his eye. “The
Helen
and all its many-many. Bad luck, but there it is.”

No, not monkey, more like a mix of human and orangutan, Zenn thought, considering his lanky frame and powerful, overlong arms that reached well below his knees.

The Loepith’s big brown eyes glistened from deep sockets, his gaze darting about the corridor as he spoke.

“So, then – sampled some Spex hospitality, have ya? Hospitality, heh heh.” The Loepith laughed a cackling laugh and displayed a smile packed with large, tea-brown teeth the size of dominoes. Zenn guessed he was middle-aged for a Loepith, mid-eighties or so. He spoke with what she thought might be a Lunar Settlements accent.

Treth slowly approached the Loepith.

“You’re an engineer?” she said, leaning down to examine the creature more closely. The Groom was looking at something on his shoulder – a patch sewn onto his shirt, barely visible through the grime. “From the Zeta Reticuli Lunar setts?”

“Yes. The Moonish one, me.” He pointed to the patch, tapping it, his gaze restless, as if reluctant to make eye contact with any of them. During the past century, Loepiths had migrated to the Zeta system’s lunar mining settlements in large numbers, from their Ophiuchi homeworld. Their legendary reputations as nimble, ingenious mechanics made them welcome throughout the LSA. If a “Loeper” couldn’t fix it, the saying went, you might as well scrap it.

“How long have you been here?” Treth asked.

“Long enough for this.” He picked at his shredded shirtsleeve. “And this.” He pulled out a matted strand of cheek whiskers and let it drop. “Years on top of years.” His voice dropped. “What does it matter now? Not much, eh? Hardly.”

“What was your ship?” Treth squatted down next to him.

“Oh? And who are you to know about me?” Suddenly suspicious, the Loepith stared at the Groom, eyes no longer darting about but keenly focused. “And what’s my ship to you, groomish?”

“Please,” Zenn said. “We’re just trying to figure out what’s going on here. My name is Zenn. She’s Treth. This is Jules. And he’s Liam. Can we know your name?”

The Loepith regarded her solemnly for a moment.

“Charlie, I would be,” he said. “Charlie Iph, as called by some. But not lately. No one calls, you see?”

“Yes. We see. Charlie,” Treth said, making an effort to speak more softly, “are you all alone here? Are there others like you?”

“Alone? Us? Yes. Alone entire, actually.”

“And you live here?” Treth asked. “On the
Nova
Procyon
?”

“Oh, on the
Nova
. On some others. I go here. Go here and there.”

“To other ships?” Treth said sharply. “You’ve been on other ships in this… structure?

“Some other ships. Here and there.”

“Charlie,” Zenn stepped in closer to the Loepith. “Have you seen a man on any of the ships, a human from Enchara? A man named Warra Scarlett? He has red hair like mine. And a red beard.”

Katie poked her head out of Zenn’s jumpsuit. She stretched out toward the Loepith, crinkled her nose and pulled back.

“Needs a bath!” she signed up at Zenn.

“Katie, shush.”

“One man? With a name?” Charlie stared at Katie, extended a long, inquisitive finger at her. Katie sniffed once, sneezed and burrowed back down out of sight. Charlie shrugged his shoulders at Zenn. “Many, many men. On all the ships! Men and not-men. Who can say what names men have?”

“He would have come recently,” she told him. “Maybe from the
Helen
.”

“No way to know, is there? None. We only know what we know, eh?”

Her heart sank. She consoled herself with the fact that the structure was vast, and this Loepith might not be the most reliable witness to the comings and goings on it.

“What was your ship, Charlie?” Treth asked again, then added, “If you wish to say.”

The Loepith squinted at her, then seemed to decide it was safe to answer.

“She was the
Belle Savage
. A good old ship, her. Not so good now. Stripped down. All the good taken off her.”

“The
Belle
?” Treth said. “That ship vanished fifteen years ago.”

“Fifteen, is it? So it was. Fifteen years and one month extra.”

“Can you tell us,” Treth said, “what the Khurspex are doing this for? Why are they taking the stonehorses, building this structure?”

“The Spex? Those crab-heads? They wanna go home,” Charlie said matter-of-factly. “They take the Indra boats to sail em home again.”

“Home? They’re taking all these ships to get back to their native planet?”

“Have to, don’t they?” Charlie said. “It’s a long sail. Other side of the g’laxy. They need every horse they can get, don’t they?”

“The other side of the galaxy? Truly?” Jules said, coming up behind Zenn.

“How soon?” Treth asked. “Do you know how soon they’re going to… go home?”

“Oh, soon soon. From what I see,
Helen’s
Indra is the last one, the last stonepony they need. Then they’ll hook all those ponies into that giant trip-ship in the middle and make that long g’laxy tunnel.”

Treth put her hands on the Loepith’s shoulders and lowered her face in front of his. “Charlie,” she said, speaking very slowly, “how soon is soon? When will they go?”

“Days, I’d say. Could be less.”

“How do you know?”

“Food’s run out, hasn’t it? Spex food. Charlie’s food. Indra’s food. That darkly matter, most all gone. And when those crab-heads are gone on that center ship, then the rest of us are gonna have to stay. Stay right here. Forever, mostly.”

“Maybe not, Charlie,” Treth said. “Maybe we can help each other. If you would help us, maybe we can find a way for you and the all the rest to go home. How’s that sound?”

“Help us all get back homeward?” The Loepith grinned at this. “You could do that, groomish?”

A loud bang echoed from the passageway behind them. They all froze, listening. Zenn strained to see into the darkness.

“Spex,” Charlie whispered, and when Zenn turned back to him, he wasn’t there.