Hex (34 page)

“You won't come with us?” D'Anguilo asked.

“No. My race cannot become involved in this matter. I can speak with the
danui
on your behalf, but nothing more.” Heshe turned toward Andromeda. “Captain Carson, I beg you to reconsider. If you undertake this, you will put your entire mission at risk, along with the lives of yourself and your companions.”

“Thank you, emissary,” she said, trying not to sound cold. “I appreciate your advice.”

A breeze drifted from the tunnel, signaling the approach of a tram. Again, Jahd's head shifted back and forth in an affirmative, then heshe raised hisher left hand.
“Sa'tong qo,”
heshe said. “May we meet again.”

Andromeda nodded. D'Anguilo reciprocated the gesture with his own left hand.
“Sa'tong qo,”
he replied. “I hope . . . I expect . . . we will before long.”

The tram rushed forth from the tunnel, slid to a halt beside the platform. Its right-side door was directly adjacent to the booth in which Jahd stood. Heshe turned to watch as the booth's walls expanded upon heretofore invisible seams until it mated with the tram, forming an airlock through which heshe could safely pass. A moment passed, then the tram doors and the rear wall of the booth simultaneously opened. Without another word, Jahd entered the tram; heshe didn't even look back as the doors closed behind himher.

The tram had barely left the station when Andromeda reached down to the transceiver slung beneath her arm. “We've got to work fast,” she said quietly. “The next tram will be here any minute.”

“What are you . . . ?” D'Anguilo began.

Andromeda shook her head as she raised the antenna. Stepping closer to the window, she boosted the gain to its maximum, then slipped on her headset. “Survey Two to
Montero
,” she said. “
Montero
, respond immediately . . . This is a Priority One transmission. Over.”

Anne's voice came through her earpiece almost at once.
“We copy, Survey Two. What's up, skipper?”

“Patch me through to Nueva Italia and relay the signal to Survey One.” Despite what Anne had told her, it was possible that Sean might receive the signal. “Patch in the logbook, too,” she added. “I want this on the record.”

A few seconds went by.
“All set, Captain. Logbook on vox mode. Go ahead.”

“All stations, this is a Priority One transmission,” she said. “As commanding officer, I'm authorizing and taking charge of an attempt to rescue Survey Team One. The following orders are to take effect immediately.”

She paused, waiting for a response.
“Roger that, Captain,”
Jason said after a moment, speaking from the base camp.
“Standing by for your orders.”

Hoping that she'd hear from Sean, Andromeda waited a few more seconds. When his voice didn't come over the comlink, her sense of urgency increased. Taking a deep breath, she went on. “All personnel are to evacuate Nueva Italia and return at once to the
Montero
. Once aboard, they will disengage from the docking node and prepare for immediate departure.”

“Don't question my orders, Mr. Ressler. Just follow them.” Andromeda didn't like adopting a formal tone with her first officer, but she had no time to waste on discussion. “Once the
Montero
has left the docking node, I want it to assume a stationary orbit above Hex, where it will continue to monitor this frequency for further messages.”

She turned toward D'Anguilo and Zeus. They stood nearby, astonished by what she'd just said. “In the meantime, Survey Team Two will proceed by tram to Survey Team One's last known location, which we've been informed is a habitat belonging to the
taaraq
race. Once we arrive at that habitat, we will transmit a signal on this frequency. When the
Montero
receives that transmission, it will lock onto its source and use it as a beacon to guide it to the nearest adjacent docking node.”

D'Anguilo seemed baffled by this, but a smile slowly spread across Zeus's face. “Oh, I get it,” he said quietly.

Andromeda nodded. Removing her ship and crew from Nueva Italia accomplished two things. It gave her additional men and resources for the rescue mission. More importantly, though, they would also be safe if the
danui
objected to what she planned to do and decided to retaliate by jettisoning Nueva Italia.

“Once the
Montero
is docked with the
taaraq
habitat,” she continued, “the chief engineer will leave the ship and locate the nearest tram station. He will note its coordinates and relay them to Survey Two, which in turn will use them to return to the ship. Note that tram coordinates are always read from right to left. At that point, the chief engineer and the helmsman will join Survey Two for a sortie into the
taaraq
habitat.” Andromeda was reluctant about having Melpomene leave the ship during a crisis, but she'd need all the help she could get once she reached the hex.

“Affirmative, Captain.”
Now that he understood what his CO intended to do, Jason's tone was less puzzled.
“Do you want any special equipment from the ship's stores?”

“Yes. We'll need airpacks for everyone in the party, along with . . .” She paused to make a quick mental inventory of the ship's expedition supplies. “Rope, machetes, a first-aid kit . . .”

“Don't we have an inflatable boat, too?” D'Anguilo asked.

Andromeda nodded. “Tom suggests that we may need the inflatable,” she added. “Bring that, too, along with its motor.” Another thought occurred to her. “And see if we're still carrying any explosives. If so, I want ten pounds, along with detonators.”

D'Anguilo stared at her. “Captain, you can't . . . !”

Andromeda angrily waved off his objection. A plan was beginning to come together in her mind. During a recent mission, the
Montero
had transported a supply of plastic explosives to an asteroid mining operation in the
soranta
home system. If she recalled correctly, the shipment had been larger than necessary, so not all of the material had been off-loaded at its destination. If that were so, some explosives might still remain in
Montero
's cargo hold. With any luck, the airlock scanners in the
taaraq
docking node would not classify them as potential weapons. And they might be useful . . .

“Roger that, Captain,”
Jason said.
“Anything else?”

Andromeda felt a breeze coming from the tunnel. A tram was on its way. “Negative. Get everyone out of there and back aboard ship, then launch and await further orders. Anne?”

“I know you haven't heard anything from Survey One. But are you getting any sort of signal, or is his transmitter completely dead?”

“Good.” Andromeda sighed with relief. Sean's transmitter was still active; for whatever reason, he was just unable to use it. “Very good. Once the
Montero
is in orbit, I want you to try to get a fix on his location. With any luck, it won't be far from where I show up. That'll help us find Sean and his people.”

“For now, yes. Survey Two, over and out.” Andromeda switched off the headset but left it in place and didn't switch off the transceiver. Her timing was excellent, for it was at that moment that a tram hurtled into the station. As it came to a halt at the platform, she bent down to pick up her pack. “The clock's running, gentlemen. Let's get out of here.”

Without question, Zeus moved to follow her. Yet D'Anguilo was hesitant. “Captain, this is . . .”

“Tom . . .” Stopping at the tram's open door, Andromeda glanced over her shoulder at him. “I know you're reluctant about this, and I respect the reasons why. But, I swear to God, if you don't get on this thing right now, I'm going to leave you here.”

That put an end to any further argument. One look at her face, and D'Anguilo knew that Andromeda wasn't kidding. Once he'd followed her and Zeus onto the tram, Andromeda pulled out the
danui
scroll.

She walked down the center aisle to the control panel, where she carefully entered the coordinates just as she'd erroneously given them to Sean. The tram doors silently closed, and with only the mildest vibration, it began to move. Saying nothing to the others, Andromeda took a seat on the nearest bench.

Hang tight, son,
she thought.
I'm coming for you.

T
HE NIGHTMARE BEGAN AS SOON AS THEY WENT ASHORE.

Sean had no choice. The boats that emerged from the brush moved to either side of the one he, Kyra, and Sandy were in, and the sharp-tipped javelins of the creatures in them left little doubt as to what they wanted the intruders to do. By the time he and Sandy had paddled their boat to the narrow beach, it seemed as if the domes had emptied themselves of their denizens. They swarmed the beach as a solid mass of six-limbed bodies, their twitching antennae resembling a vast field of tall grass.

Kyra had identified them as
taaraq
, but she didn't get a chance to say anything about them before Sean beached the boat. The moment its keel ground against the rough sand, the creatures rushed toward them. Sandy squawked and raised her paddle above her head; she swung it back and forth, trying to ward off the inhabitants.

“Get outta here!” she yelled. “Go away! Scram!”

“Sandy, no!” Kyra started to rise from her seat. “They don't . . . !”

The nearest
taaraq
was knocked off its hind legs by Sandy's paddle. It sprawled across the beach, multiple-jointed limbs thrashing at the air. Chittering angrily, it hopped back up with astonishing agility and hurled itself at Sandy, this time joined by two of its companions. Sandy screamed and lashed out at them again, but the creatures were ready for her. Dodging the paddle, all three of them grabbed Sandy before she could strike again. The paddle was yanked from her hands, then they dragged her from the boat. Sandy was screaming incoherently as she tried to fight them off, but more
taaraq
were on her in seconds.

“Stop it!” Sean jumped out of the stern, boots splashing down in calf-deep water. Paddle gripped tight in both hands, he charged the beach. “She didn't mean to . . . !”

Something jabbed the left side of his ribs, causing him to yell and look around to see what it was: the javelin wielded by one of the
taaraq
who'd met them on the river. Their boat had come ashore, and its three passengers stood beside him in the shallows. The
taaraq
were his own height, perhaps an inch or two taller; in the four black compound eyes of the one who'd jabbed him, he saw his own reflection, multiplied dozens of times. Their javelins—tipped, he now saw, with serrated barbs that appeared to be carved bones—were only inches from his chest, and the pain he felt at his side told him that one had already drawn blood.

Sean dropped his paddle, raised his hands. Hearing a scream, he looked around to see three more
taaraq
hauling Kyra from the boat. He started to move toward her, but an outthrust javelin barred his way. Another sharp jab, this time in the butt, and Sean got the message. Hands still raised, he sloshed through the lukewarm water, doing his best to keep away from the spears.

Taaraq
surrounded them as soon as they were together on the beach. Indeed, it seemed as if each and every one of the creatures wanted nothing more than to lay its claws upon them. Reddish brown exoskeletons pressed in upon Sean, Kyra, and Sandy from all sides; elongated heads, mandibles in constant motion, craned forward on thin necks as multifaceted eyes peered at them without any visible emotion. Their claws—two long pinchers, with a smaller third one acting as an opposable thumb—continually darted toward them, stroking, pinching, grabbing, retreating for a moment when they were batted away only to come at them again. Their voices were a cacophony of chitters, clicks, squeaks, and snaps, so loud that it was almost deafening.

One of the
taaraq
grabbed at Sean's airmask, started to pull it from his face. He snarled and shoved the creature away, only to have the one beside it tug at his oxygen line. Hearing Sandy yell again, he saw her fighting off two more
taaraq
, who'd also tried to remove her mask.

Then something slid from his right shoulder, and he looked around just in time to see his transceiver vanish into the crowd.

“Back to back!” he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the crowd noise. “Put your backs to each other's and watch your sides! They're stealing everything they can get their hands on!”

“No kidding!” Sandy yelped. “They've already snagged my light! And my knife!”

Sean glanced down at his utility belt. His own knife had disappeared, and so had his flashlight. He'd just fought off a pair of claws that had yanked at the straps of his airpack when someone bumped into him from behind. It was Kyra, putting her back against his own.

“Think you can get through to them?” he yelled. Although he couldn't make out her expression, the look in her eyes told him what she was thinking:
are you crazy?
“C'mon! You're supposed to be the expert! How do we talk to them?”

“Do you see any translator disks?” Kyra demanded. “I don't either . . . and without them, I'd have just as much luck trying to talk to a skeeter back home!”

Sean suddenly realized that he had seen few indications of civilization, and no signs of advanced technology. Some of the
taaraq
wore sashlike belts across the smooth carapaces of their chests, and a few had polished pebbles hanging from their necks by woven strands of grass, but otherwise they were naked. The only tools in sight were the javelins and an occasional scimitar-like knife. The boats were obviously handmade, and even the massive domes of their city appeared to be crudely built. This was a primitive culture, or so it seemed; the
taaraq
might have stolen his transceiver and flashlight, but he somehow doubted that they'd know what to do with them.