Hex (22 page)

“By an inhabitant, yes.”
Andromeda's voice was scratchy, and Sean adjusted the gain on the transceiver slung beneath his arm.
“Are you in any immediate danger? From them, I mean.”

Sean looked around. The
arsashi
stood nearby, with one of the males silently watching the female leader as she conversed with Kyra. He didn't like the way they towered above her, but they didn't appear to be hostile. The other male had returned to their sledge; the sunlight was reflecting off the cab windows, so Sean couldn't tell what he was doing.

“I don't think so,” Sean said. “It was a . . . a misunderstanding. I think they know that now. Kyra didn't have a chance to tell Sandy that it's unwise to clap your hands around
arsashi
, because in their culture it's a signal to attack. And since Cayce had his hand on his gun . . . well, one thing led to another.”

Yeah, I bet you do.
“Your first officer told me you're docked in a hex some distance from here . . . where we are, I mean. Any chance you can pick us up?”

“Sean, I'm just like you. I haven't a clue where we are.”
A short pause.
“No, that's not quite true. There appears to be some sort of maglev system that runs from one hexagon to another. I'm standing on the tram platform of the hexagon . . . or habitat, as the
danui
call it . . . where we've docked, and it appears to be marked by a set of coordinates. They look like geometric shapes . . . dots, squares, triangles, diamonds, and so on . . . but Tom D'Anguilo thinks they're
danui
numbers. If you can reach the tram system in your habitat, and figure out how to plug in these coordinates, maybe you can get here.”

“Maybe.” Sean's fist tightened around his hand mike. “So I take it the answer's no.”

This time, his mother's response was not immediate. Sean looked over his shoulder. Mark and Cayce lay upon the snow-covered ground, and Sandy stood above them, staring at their covered bodies. He couldn't see her expression through her airmask, but Sean had no doubt that she was still blaming herself for Cayce's death even though both he and Kyra had taken pains to assure her that it had been only an accident.

When his mother spoke again, her tone was noticeably harder than it had been just moments before.
“Sean, you're on your own. I don't like it any more than you do, but you can't count on our coming to your rescue . . .”

“What a surprise,” he said dryly.

He knew that she must have known what he meant by that, but she let it pass.
“So I'm putting you in charge of your team,”
she went on.
“Your job is to get them out of there and lead them to where the
Montero
is docked. That's your first and only priority. Do you copy?”

Sean stared at the handset as if his mother were about to jump out of it. It never ceased to amaze him just how callous she could be. Pragmatism was one thing, but . . . “Affirmative, Captain,” he said, regretting that she wasn't there in person so that he could give her a sardonic salute. “Is there anything else?”

Sean knew that she was right. Their predicament would be even worse, if that were possible, if Kyra weren't with him and Sandy, or if Tom D'Anguilo wasn't with his mother and her people. “Affirmative. You said something about some coordinates?”

“Yes. Report back as soon as you reach a tram station, so I can describe what I've found. It may be the key to understanding how the trams work. And Sean . . . ?”
Her tone softened a bit.
“Take care of yourself. I want you back, safe and sound.”

Tell that to my father.
“Affirmative, Captain,” he replied, deliberately cool in his response. “Survey team over and out.”

He shut off the transceiver and folded the antenna, then walked over to Sandy. She was still staring at the bodies and didn't notice him until he put a hand on her arm. “It's all right,” he said quietly. “You didn't . . .”

“I know. ‘It's not your ‘fault' . . . Everyone's said that already. Including them.” She glanced at the
arsashi
, then raised a hand to her head as if to wipe tears from her eyes. Her fingertips bounced off the goggles, and she mumbled, “Damn, can't I do anything right?”

“Take it easy.” It wasn't doing Sandy any good to be there, so Sean led her away from the bodies, over to where Kyra was talking to the two
arsashi
. Sandy was reluctant to approach them, but she'd have to get over that. The biopod belonged to its inhabitants, and Sean knew that he'd need their help if he and his team were ever going to get out of there.

Kyra turned to him and Sandy as they came closer. “Did you talk to your mother?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. I'll fill you in later.” Sean cocked his head toward the
arsashi
, hoping that this wasn't another common human gesture they'd misinterpret. “Have you learned anything?”

“Quite a bit, actually.” Kyra pointed to the female. “Allow me to introduce you to Lusah Sahsan . . . all one name, incidentally, so don't use just one or the other. She's the matriarch of one of the major tribes living here. Their tribes are more like extended families than political groups, so that makes her an important . . . um, woman.”

Lusah Sahsan stared at Sean with unblinking yellow eyes and favored him with a nod that was surprisingly humanlike. “The males are two of her husbands,” Kyra continued. “She hasn't bothered to tell me their names, but that's normal.” She dropped her voice a little. “Men are chattels in their society and are regarded as being good for breeding, fighting, and lifting heavy objects, and not much more. Or at least that's what I was told at the university.”

“Sweet.” A new thought occurred to him. “So when Sandy clapped her hands . . . ?”

“They recognized her as being a female, yes, and assumed that she was in charge. And since the lieutenant was a male and also armed . . .” She hesitated, glancing again at the
arsashi
. “They reacted the way they normally would,” she finished, reluctant to say anything that might offend Lusah Sahsan.

Apparently the tribal leader understood what Kyra said, because she spoke to her husband in her own language. He raised his right arm, and once again Sean saw the row of slender six-inch quills nestled within the fur between his elbow and his wrist. Evolution had provided
arsashi
males with a natural weapon; they could hurl these needlelike quills from their bodies with a single flex of their forearms, and since
arsashi
menfolk practice from childhood, the best of them could hit the smallest of targets at a distance of fifteen paces or more. Killing Amerigo Cayce had been no challenge at all . . .

“She says she's . . .” Kyra began.

“Aye yam sorree,” Lusah Sahsan said. As before, the low growl of her voice was translated by the
hjadd
-made disk around her neck into a heavily inflected form of Anglo that Sean could barely understand. “Aye dint meen ta keel yer leeder. Et wuzza meesunnerstanning, an eye howp yew wall forgeev yus.”

“She said . . .”

“I got it, thanks.” Nevertheless, Sean was glad that Kyra had carried on most of the conversation and not he. He looked straight at Lusah Sahsan. “We apologize as well,” he said, speaking slowly and hoping that the translator worked better for her than it did for them. It was
hjadd
technology, so it probably would. “It was not our intent to trespass on your territory, or to cause any damage to your . . . uh, habitat.”

He figured that Kyra had probably said this already, but it couldn't hurt for him to reiterate the apology. Particularly not if Lusah Sahsan was now aware that human males weren't drones and could even occasionally be tribal leaders themselves. The
arsashi
female slowly blinked, then her long tongue spilled out of her mouth again and she gave the same gulping
hyuk-hyuk-hyuk
laugh they'd heard when she and her husbands had first emerged from their sledge.

“Et es nawt ah prowblem,” she replied, apparently amused by something Sean had just said. “Yew arr straynjurs hare, an yew havnut larned yer way bout or tha roolz ov tha wold.” She paused, then pointed to the sky. “Ass yew see,
tanaash-haq
heels etselve, ass et always duz.”

Tanaash-haq
. . . that must be their name for Hex,
Sean thought.
But what does she mean by learning the rules, or the bit about this place healing itself?

Again, he looked up at the sky. The upside-down tornado caused by the
Reese
had disappeared, and even the clouds that had been formed by it had faded away. Only a deep blue expanse remained; beyond the immense ceiling, the hexagons of countless other habitats formed a vast pattern across the sky. He wished he'd had a chance to find a pair of binoculars and have a closer look at what had happened up there; he suspected that something had instantly reacted to repair the gap in the ceiling before too much of its atmosphere could escape.

“Tanaash-haq
heals itself, as it always does.” That's what she said . . . but what did she mean?

“I've also spoken with her about finding a way out of here,” Kyra said, “and she's willing to help us.” A quick smile, then she dropped her voice to a near whisper. “Frankly, I think she'd be only too happy to see us go.”

“I'm sure she would be,” Sean murmured. “We're probably nothing but trouble.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, her husband . . . her other husband, I mean . . . has returned to their sledge to call for assistance. She told him to request a vehicle that can lift the lander high enough for us to open the cargo hatch and unload the gyro.”

“That would be great.” Sean breathed a sigh of relief. If they could retrieve the gyro, and it wasn't too damaged to fly, it would save them a long hike to the tram station his mother had instructed him to find. “Thank you,” he said to Lusah Sahsan. “We would appreciate that.”

The tribal leader nodded, then turned to point to the southwest. “Ta leeve hare, yew need ta gow datway, t'ward tha cornah ufda habbydat. Ah twam es dere, atta toppa da ramp.”

“The tram station is located at the top of a ramp?” Sean repeated, making sure that he correctly understood her. Lusah Sahsan nodded again. “How far?”

The
arsashi
growled something that the translator was apparently unable to interpret; all that came from its grille was a disjointed string of consonants. Apparently it wasn't programmed to interpret
arsashi
units of distance as miles. “Um . . . yes, I see,” Sean said, trying to be polite. He looked over at Sandy. “Better start packing up,” he said, pointing to the boxes and the equipment they'd already pulled out. “We're going to need to put everything aboard the gyro as soon as . . .”

Another growl from Lusah Sahsan. “Noh weponz. Yew may noht tayk yer gunz. Dey muhs bey leff hare.”

“She said . . .” Kyra began.

“I know what she said.” Sean shook his head as he looked at Lusah Sahsan again. “I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Why don't you want us to take our weapons?”

She stared at him with the square pupils of her yellow eyes. “Noh weponz ar'lowd in
tanaash-haq
,” she said, her scowl becoming even more menacing when she showed him the fangs at the corners of her large mouth. “Dis issa rule dat cahnot bey browken.”

“Whose rule?” Kyra asked. “Yours?”

Lusah Sahsan shook her hairy head. “Noh.
Danyew'ee.
Noh rayce hare may hahv weponz.” She pointed to the open case in which the fléchette pistols were plainly visible. “Leev dem. Wew'll depohz ov dem foh yew.”

Sean understood what she meant, but nonetheless he was puzzled. “The
danui
say that no weapons are allowed here?” he asked. “Why?”

Lusah Sahsan didn't respond but instead looked away from them and toward the nearby forest, as if seeking answers from the strange, ice-covered trees that grew along the banks of the frozen river. “Yew muhst noht hahv spohken ta
danyew'ee
,” she said at last, more a statement than a question. “Yew wuhd noh dis ef yew deyud.”

“No,” Kyra admitted, “we haven't spoken to the
danui
. . . not directly, at least. The person on our ship who has isn't with us, and he doesn't know much more than we do.”

The
arsashi
leader gave her a sharp look. “Deyud da
danyew'ee
envaht yew hare?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Buht dey tol yew nuthen bowt
tanaash-haq
?” Her eyes slowly blinked, as if disbelieving what she'd just heard.

“No, they didn't,” Sean said. “We were only told that there was a habitable world in this solar system, and that we were free to colonize it.”

For the first time during the conversation, Lusah Sahsan turned to look at her husband. The nameless
arsashi
male stared back at her as if in amazement. Then they laughed again, their long tongues curling upward from their mouths in undisguised hilarity.

“Glad to see that we're so amusing,” Sandy muttered. “Maybe we can show them a few card tricks next.”

Kyra shushed her, but Sean was becoming annoyed. The
arsashi
were beginning to remind him of hillbillies who'd come across city dwellers lost in their neck of the woods: hospitable to a certain point, but also willing to enjoy a laugh at their expense. “Sorry,” he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice, “but it looks like this is their idea of a practical joke, and we've fallen for it.”