Hellhole (40 page)

“Pritikin was always a nosy one.” She made a rude sound. Everybody in Helltown knew who worked for the Diadem. “He’s a pain in the ass, but not too bright. How could he have found out already?”

“Probably bribed someone down at the survey office who had heard something, but didn’t know anything worthwhile. I’m looking into the matter, but I’ll keep any real information from him until I decide what to do. I’ve started several other absurd rumors in the meantime.”

Sophie looked very concerned. “If Michella ever found out that you’re hiding such important information from her official inspectors, the old bitch would – ”

“I just gave him something else to chase after. He won’t know the difference until it’s too late.”

“You distracted him? How?”

Adolphus shot her a wolfish smile, then let the anticipation build. “Our topographical prospectors have made some fascinating discoveries on their travels – red herrings that I hold in reserve for times such as these.”

“Oh? Now you’ve got my attention.”

“For instance, there’s an exotic quartz forest growing out of the side of a canyon wall hundreds of kilometers northeast of here. It’s spectacular-looking, but not worth anything. I let Pritikin believe
that
was the discovery he’d heard about, so he dashed off to see for himself.” He leaned back, took a long breath of the fresh air. “We can’t keep the slickwater pools out of the gossip web, but at least I can divert the Diadem’s man, for the time being.”

Sophie smiled, amused at the General’s solution. Pritikin was a busybody who took his job seriously, snooping around. There were other official and unofficial Constellation employees here on Hellhole, but Adolphus had such a tight-knit and loyal community in any position of influence, he could easily deflect anything potentially damaging. Like a shell game, he had transferred the more troublesome spies and inspectors off to remote mining operations factories, giving them just enough breadcrumbs to follow. Some of the more pliable ones turned their eyes the other way when given a worthwhile bribe. Sonjeera was far away.

“Soon enough,” the General added in a low voice, “when the string-line network is done, nobody is going to be interested in a few alien ponds.”

The dusty overland vehicle pulled up in front of Elba after a long, direct drive from the mountain excavations. It was late afternoon, and the lumpy ferns in the flowerbeds had started to hunker down for the evening. Adolphus stepped forward along the path, feeling anxiety mixed with anticipation.

When the Trakmaster’s rear compartment opened, the four creatures that emerged were larger than he’d expected. Cristoph’s transmitted images did not at all convey their eerie
strangeness
. The Xayans looked soft and pale, as if composed of cartilage and gelatin rather than bone and muscle. From the waist up, they looked humanoid, as Cristoph had said, with a torso and a pair of rubbery arms, a smooth head, large eyes, and membrane over what should have been the mouth. Below the waist, though, their vermiform bodies scuttled forward on rows of stubby caterpillar legs.

Adolphus was so engrossed by their appearance that he didn’t at first acknowledge the three men climbing out of the cab. Standing like a bridge between the two races, Fernando-Zairic extended his arms. “This is a great moment for humans and Xayans. I have told my original companions about you, General Tiber Maximilian Adolphus, and they now understand a great deal . . . about us.” His voice modulated back and forth, occasionally allowing glimmers of Fernando’s bright, fast-talking human personality.

The four original Xayans skirted the lush patch of native ground-cover and glided forward to the porch of the residence. Adolphus noted slight differences in body build or coloration among the four, spotted patterns on the gelatin that formed their skin.

The foremost creature spoke in a thrumming voice from the mouth membrane. “I am Encix, one of the leaders of Xaya. I understand that we are the only Originals to have survived the asteroid impact.”

Fernando-Zairic took a step closer. “Encix was my . . . equivalent during the last days of our civilization. She helmed the preservation bunker project, while I oversaw the dissolution and storage of our race into the slickwater matrix.”

General Adolphus remained alert for subtleties in the conversation, but the alien emotions remained unreadable. He couldn’t determine if Zairic was implying that he and Encix were partners or rivals with two competing yet desperate schemes.

Cristoph de Carre cleared his throat. “General, thank you again for your faith in selecting me for this amazing project. We’ve only scratched the surface of what’s in the museum bunker. You might want to assign a large investigation team, and . . . I’d like to volunteer my services to supervise, if I may.”

Adolphus considered. “We’ll discuss that after I’ve had time to read your full report, Mr de Carre. I don’t want to send an army down there, and I hope the Xayans are willing to help us by providing explanations about their culture, science, and history – and advice?” He looked at the strange aliens.

“Our races have much to learn about each other,” Encix said. “And we can only learn by sharing what we know.”

When Adolphus spoke, he wondered if these creatures were accustomed to hearing speeches. “This is a landmark event, and I very much look forward to learning more about your race and the original civilization here on this planet. Would you like to come inside my home?”

The four Xayans extended their “hands” to one another, touching soft antennae-like fingertips as if to communicate. When they were finished, Encix withdrew and spoke for the four Originals. “Though this planet has been gravely wounded, it is still our home. We have been entombed for centuries. We would prefer to stay here under the open skies.”

“Very well, we’ll talk out here.” Adolphus sat on the porch step, and Sophie joined him. He had hoped to show these strange visitors his artifacts on display, to ask them to identify and explain the objects. Some other time, he decided. He needn’t worry about the artifacts when he had the actual aliens.

One of the companion Xayans – Cippiq – bowed, bending over from the waist in a fluid motion like a fern furling, before he straightened. “We offer ourselves as ambassadors from the archives of history.”

From the corner of his eye, the General glimpsed curious household staff members staring through the windows at the strange Xayans. Craig Jordan had taken extensive security precautions and stationed unseen snipers in the gables in case the aliens should prove hostile.

Lieutenant Spencer, looking nervous, emerged from the front door carrying a tray of synthesized iced tea for the humans. Sophie politely inquired of the aliens, “Are there refreshments we could offer you? We don’t know your physical needs.”

The four Originals moved from the walkway onto the thick, spongy ground cover. “You have provided all we need,” Encix said. “Thank you.”

The Xayans moved along the vegetation, their small caterpillar legs flexing and thrumming as they dragged their low bellies over the native plants. From underneath their soft abdomens, absorbent membranes crushed, processed, and absorbed the turquoise groundcover. The four aliens seemed to appreciate the feast; wet, gurgling sounds accompanied the digestion as they moved along, leaving swaths of consumed vegetation in their wake.

Adolphus found it strange and unsettling.

“It’s the way they eat,” Fernando-Zairic said. “But we will now nourish ourselves with a meeting of the minds, to discuss our changed situation.”

The General tried to maintain a businesslike demeanor, but he felt like an excited boy. He had been fascinated by the aliens for so long. “In all of the Constellation, you are the first intelligent alien race we have encountered, and I am honored to welcome you.” His voice grew husky. “When we began to colonize this world, we discovered a few remnants of your civilization, but we believed all inhabitants had been wiped out in the asteroid strike. I am, personally, relieved and delighted to see that something of your civilization has survived.”

“And you’ve barely seen anything yet,” said Fernando, smiling brightly.

Despite his excitement, Adolphus didn’t know how long he could keep the Xayan presence secret from the Constellation. With only a few months until D-Day, he could not afford to let the Diadem grow too curious about Hallholme. The last thing he wanted was a flood of scientists and politicians from the Crown Jewels.

The General sipped his tart iced tea to give himself time to contemplate, then raised the issue that had been bothering him. “After a decade and a half of difficult labor, we humans have established a colony here, a home, so I hope that you don’t want us to surrender the world and leave.”

Acting as spokesperson, Encix said, “We do not begrudge your presence here. We four are all that remain of our race. Biologically speaking, it would take us centuries to repopulate the planet, if that were even possible – but that is not our goal. So you see, we Originals pose no threat to the continued human presence on Xaya. This planet is not important to us – our
race
is important. We will gladly relinquish it to you . . . provided you help us.”

Adolphus was surprised to hear this. Their race was practically wiped out, their whole planet devastated. “How can we help?”

“Not everything was lost.” Fernando-Zairic drew upon the earnest emotions of his human personality. “It can return. Thanks to the slick-water, the Xayans can reawaken. Zairic’s memories now live alongside Fernando Neron’s. Through immersion in the pools, more people could bring back our friends, our comrades, our greatest minds. Together, humans and Xayans can be the best of both races – an incredible symbiosis. We want you to encourage your entire population to join us.”

When Encix spoke, her voice throbbed with intensity. “That is what we need most, General Adolphus. With your help and with the slick-water the Xayan race is not lost after all.”

T
hough he had buried the spy’s report about Ian Walfor’s off-grid activities, Territorial Governor Goler did not expect the information to remain secret for long. The Constellation had many eyes and ears, even in the Deep Zone.

When the Diadem’s demand arrived at Ridgetop, her stern summons was intended to make Goler tuck his tail between his legs and lower his head in shame. “Governor, present yourself on Sonjeera with all due haste, so that you may personally explain these rumors of an illegal black-market transportation network. I suspect General Adolphus is behind it.”

In a way, he was relieved that she had found out so quickly. Goler thought that Michella was being obtuse if she believed such things weren’t going to happen so far from the central government.

He’d already sent discreet overtures to Buktu, dispatching message drones along the spotty and discontinued stringline to that isolated planet, hoping that at least one of them would get through. He had written the messages to sound like indignant demands for explanations in the name of the Diadem, but worded them carefully, leaving doors open. He had hoped Walfor could read between the lines.

Indeed, the Buktu administrator had picked up on the cues and responded with a subtle, guarded offer of a substantial bribe if the Territorial Governor would turn a blind eye to his commercial activities. Since Goler hadn’t yet responded, or even decided, he could tell the Diadem honestly that he had no arrangement with Walfor.

The next stringline ship would arrive in two days. He asked Tasmine to help him pack for a trip to the capital. “I’ll need my best clothes for a meeting with the Diadem herself.”

Tasmine grimaced. “Do us all a favor and spit in her face.”

Sonjeera was breathtaking, bombastic, and exaggerated in all luxuries. Goler had once loved the nexus of government, but he no longer felt he belonged there. He rarely spent time at his office in the capital.

After his years on Ridgetop, he preferred the immense yet personal goldenwood groves, the elbowroom of open skies. The cultural options on Sonjeera, the performances, restaurants, and museums were simply too much, more than anyone required. Had he filtered it all out before? He did not regret maintaining his residence on Ridgetop rather than moving into government-provided apartments here.

His passenger pod landed at night, when the capital city’s lights made his eyes hurt. The sky never got darker than misty gray, and he spotted only a handful of stars. No wonder people in the Crown Jewels failed to think beyond their own petty needs: their night skies formed a cataract over their eyes, and they literally couldn’t see the rest of the universe.

Back on Ridgetop, the deep night was so full of stars that sometimes he felt he could just fall upward into the pitch-black emptiness . . .

Michella’s escorts met him at the spaceport. “The Diadem has prepared the Luminous Garden for your meeting. You will have all the privacy you require there.”

He wasn’t aware that they needed privacy. “I’m honored that the Diadem would change her schedule to meet me so quickly.” She wasn’t even allowing him time to refresh himself or stop at his office in the Bureau of Deep Zone Affairs.