Hellhole (36 page)

Inside the survey office, the prune-faced manager scolded Vincent for returning early. “Given up already? Lots of ground to cover out there. Most explorers stay out
longer
than scheduled.”

Vincent looked away, but did not argue. “Sorry, sir.” He remembered times at the machine shop when Mr. Engermann upbraided him about a mediocre customer satisfaction response; he had always found it best to be stoic and sincere, which prevented any escalation in the lecture. He fidgeted but tried to stay calm.

It was obvious the manager liked to scowl. “And where’s your companion? Did something happen to him?”

“He’s in the vehicle, sir.” Vincent chose not to go into further detail. “We came back early because of the magnitude of our discovery. We encountered something that will interest the General.”

The man perked up. “What did you find? Show it to me.”

“It’s best if we speak to the General directly.”

The office manager gave an officious sniff. “We do have a chain of command here.” He called up a blank screen to fill out a form.

Vincent remained firm. “We made a significant find regarding the original alien race on this planet.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “A
significant
find, sir, and it’s imperative that we present it to the General in person.”

The manager seemed flustered. “I’ll contact him, but I make no promises.”

The news enticed Adolphus, as they had hoped, and Vincent was instructed to drive immediately to Elba. An aide admitted them as soon as they arrived. “The General is expecting you.”

Combing his hair and straightening his shirt, Vincent tried to make himself presentable, but Fernando-Zairic left his rumpled clothes and mussed wavy hair as they were, as if the alien part of his personality didn’t know how humans were supposed to look in the first place.

General Adolphus met them in the foyer with an unexpected expression of boyish optimism on his face. “Gentlemen, I understand you found something about the original race? A significant artifact?” His voice took on a warning tone. “I am not fond of hyperbole.”

Vincent cleared his throat. “Much more significant than any artifact, sir. It’s the piece of the puzzle you were looking for.”

“You have my attention. Show me this alien object.”

Fernando stepped forward. “Sir,
I
am the alien object.”

The General looked at Vincent guardedly. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“It may be hard to believe, sir, but this is not a joke. I witnessed it myself.” Vincent explained what had happened to his companion at the slickwater pool. Fernando-Zairic stood too close to Adolphus, which made the other man watch him warily. Since his immersion, Fernando had a different perception of boundaries and personal space.

Zairic’s voice came from Fernando’s lips. “I understand your skepticism, General Tiber Adolphus. From your records, you will conclude that the man Fernando Neron is neither reliable nor believable. Therefore, I must offer proof. I can answer questions and give vivid descriptions of Xayan culture, technology, and history, but those are mere words. In order to demonstrate my sincerity, therefore, I will lead you to a knowledge reservoir of the Xayan civilization – a vault of artifacts that I believe is still intact.”

Vincent was as surprised as Adolphus. He turned to his friend. “But you told me everything was obliterated in the asteroid impact.”

“Not everything – or so I hope. When we knew that the asteroid would destroy our civilization and virtually all life on Xaya, we tried to preserve our race within the slickwater. However, some Xayans offered an alternative. As a secondary measure, a small group of our people created a shielded museum bunker deep in the most secure mountain range. They hoped the protected vault would survive the impact.”

Though dubious, the General sounded cautiously interested. “That’s an interesting claim, Mr Neron.”

“I am Zairic, at the moment. And I am confident that I can locate the vault. It will require a significant excavation effort, but once you find the museum bunker, you will have all the proof you need.” Fernando-Zairic perused the objects that Adolphus kept in his transparent display cases. “And a treasure trove of answers.”

Adolphus wrestled with skepticism and hope. He searched Fernando’s face for some kind of deceit, but the expression remained impenetrable. He turned to Vincent. “What is your opinion of all this, Mr Jenet?”

Vincent drew a deep breath, gave his honest response. “I believe something amazing happened to him, General. Beyond that . . . I can’t say. Will it be worth the expense and effort to dig into the heart of a mountain? That’s something you’ll have to decide.”

T
he General had always been good at reading people, but these two were different. Unquestionably, when he arrived on this planet, Fernando Neron was a fast talker, a charmer . . . but this person who claimed to be an alien messiah was not at all the man Adolphus remembered. “Zairic” was eager to show the slickwater discovery, and Vincent Jenet did not seem to have an agenda or a get-rich scheme; he appeared to want a normal life – Hellhole style, anyway.

Maybe they had stumbled onto something interesting.

Whenever the General sent topographical prospectors out on the wide-open landscape, he hoped they would make significant discoveries. It was their job. Though this report sounded more incredible than most, he was obligated to investigate.

Over the next several days, Adolphus assembled a team of geologists and xenobiologists to study the slickwater springs. And he decided to go with them.

They flew in aerocopters out to the nearest settlement – a bauxite mining complex with rounded aluminum-walled shelters – where they set down on the small landing pad, then took overland vehicles into the wilderness. Arriving in the sheltered valley after the extensive journey, the General immediately sensed the pools’ eerie, otherworldly nature. In that aspect, at least, Vincent and Fernando had not exaggerated.

Adolphus walked ahead to the grainy shore of one smooth pond, which exuded a mysterious aura. The clouds gathering overhead had a resonant effect on the pearlescent water, yet the murky reflection seemed to be of a different time and a different sky. A shiver went down his spine. Despite his skepticism, he began to accept that this might be a real breakthrough about Hallholme’s original inhabitants.

Three scientists trudged up behind him, carrying satchels of equipment. “Don’t let the substance contact your skin,” Adolphus warned. “Keep your distance. I don’t want anyone else infected.”

“There is nothing to fear.” Fernando-Zairic made a welcoming gesture toward the slickwater. “It benefits both of our races. If
you
were to immerse yourself, General Tiber Adolphus, you might obtain the memories and experiences of a great Xayan leader. Together, you could become quite formidable.”

“I’m formidable enough on my own.” A frown furrowed his brow. “I’m not permanently saying no . . . just exercising appropriate caution. What happened to you was an accident, Mr Neron. Before I allow anyone else to be intentionally exposed, I want more information.”

If Zairic’s claim was to be believed, these pools of liquid organic database had recently bubbled back to the surface, waiting to be noticed. Adolphus could not forget how he had seen Renny Clovis swallowed up by a similar liquid at the bottom of the Ankor sinkhole.

The biochemists donned gloves and used telescoping rods to scoop up samples of the viscous liquid. Geologists took careful measurements, scraped packets of the dirt from the shore, studied the obsidian chunks all around.

The setting was beautiful and serene; the hillsides around the sheltered valley were carpeted with alien vegetation. “Exquisite Xayan cities once covered this area,” Fernando-Zairic said in a distant, wistful tone, as if he could still see them in his mind’s eye. “Lovely, delicate structures filled with people joined together in one belief and one goal: to evolve into something better.”

The General said, “None of our excavations have uncovered remnants of alien cities. Why haven’t we discovered any wreckage?”

“Xayan structures are soft, living entities, designed to remain manifest only so long as they are maintained. When our people died, the dwellings died with us and faded away. Everything we are, and were, is here.” Fernando-Zairic placed a palm against his own chest. He extended his hand to indicate the slickwater ponds. “And there.”

While the researchers studied the pools, the General’s security detail dispatched lighter all-terrain vehicles, called rollers, for a fast reconnaissance of the surrounding hills.

Several of the men served as his personal bodyguards because, even after a decade of exile, Adolphus could not shake the feeling that Diadem Michella would send assassins to eliminate him. He maintained his vigilance.

However, Michella was not blind to the widespread support his rebellion had received across the Crown Jewels, and those sentiments had not vanished during his disgrace and exile. An anonymous benefactor had even arranged deliveries of essential supplies during their initial turbulent year to keep the rebels alive. If General Adolphus were killed, the resulting uproar in the Constellation could be political suicide for the Diadem.

The sound of weapons fire on the other side of the hills astonished the General. Sharp reports cracked through the silent, dusty air, breaking the serenity like shattering glass. Adolphus activated his earadio. “What was that? Come in, Mr Jordan! Are we under attack?”

The hesitation in the response seemed interminable. “No, General, but . . . it’s the damndest thing you ever saw.” Craig Jordan, his security chief, was a man with a loud laugh, who blustered much but never lost his calm. “It’s better if we show you – we’re lifting it onto the flatbed now, sir. Ugh, this thing stinks!” Adolphus heard chatter, more discussion, and loud grunts of effort.

Within minutes, the buzzing engines of the rollers filled the air again, and the three ATVs crossed the ridge, rumbling pell-mell into the valley. As they approached, Adolphus could see a large object strapped to the back of one vehicle.

The General’s questions caught in his mouth at the sight of the large exotic beast slumped over the ATV’s bed. It was four-legged, reminiscent of an elk, its hide covered with patches of fur and scales like scabby lichen. A cluster of gray-brown tentacles protruded from its elongated head where a true elk would have worn antlers. A black tongue lolled from its open mouth. It had three eyes.

“It was just wandering there on the hillside, so we shot it on sight. Could have been a predator,” Jordan said. “We thought the xeno teams would want a specimen.”

“The biologists are going to get into fistfights over who dissects this,” said a second security man, red-faced with excitement. “Never seen anything this big on Hellhole. Took four of us to lift it into the cargo bed.”

Through the eyes of Fernando, the alien personality of Zairic stared at the creature with calm recognition. “Long ago, this was one of the most common herd beasts on Xaya.” He didn’t even try to speak the creature’s alien name. “Before the impact, great groups of them wandered the plains, eating the vegetation.”