Hex (20 page)

Sean started to nod in agreement, but then he happened to glance up at the sky. To his surprise, the tornado had vanished. Only a small swirl of filmy white clouds remained where the breach in the biopod ceiling had once been.

“I don't think so, Lieutenant,” he said quietly. “Something . . .”

“Will you two please shut up?” Kyra's eyes blazed as she glanced over her shoulder at them. “I'm trying to work things out, and you're not making it easy.” She stared at Sean and Cayce for another moment, then returned her attention to the
arsashi
.

While that was going on, though, the leader had unbuttoned a pouch on the right side of her belt. Pulling out a disk-shaped pendant, she hung it by a slender thong around her neck; a small headset came next, with a mike wand that looped in front of her mouth and an earpiece for her right ear. When she spoke again, another voice came almost simultaneously from a small grille in the pendant's center.

“Heh-yo?” she said. “Can woo hear me?”

“Hot damn!” Sandy exclaimed. “She's got a translator!” Delighted, she started to clap her hands.

Kyra cried out in horror. “Sandy,
no
. . . !”

Too late. Seeing this, the two male
arsashi
immediately darted forward.

“Down!” Cayce yelled, then he knocked Kyra aside. But he'd barely laid a hand on his fléchette pistol before both warriors reacted.

Quicker than the eye could follow, each of them flung his right arm forward in a rapid motion that resembled a baseball pitcher throwing a fastball. One after another, Sean thought he heard thin, reedy sounds—
phutt! phutt!
—then Cayce suddenly staggered back, hands clutching at his right eye and neck. A quiet, agonized gasp as blood spurted from between his fingers, then his legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed upon the snowy ground.

Sean rushed to his side, but there was nothing he could do for him. The quills had gone in deep, one piercing the goggles to penetrate his brain, the other burying itself in his neck.

Within seconds, Lieutenant Amerigo Cayce was dead.

M
ELPOMENE WAS STILL SHOUTING ZEUS'S NAME WHEN Anne reported another text message. It appeared on the wallscreen a few seconds later:

It wasn't until then that it occurred to Andromeda that the node contained some sort of gravity-nullification field. It made sense; otherwise, ships like the
Montero
would be unable to dock safely. She barely had time to return to her seat before weight returned to her. The ship groaned as its sixty thousand tons settled into the tentacle-like mooring lines wrapped around its hull, but the cables held the
Montero
as if it were in a cat's cradle, and a few moments later, everything was quiet and still.

Andromeda let out her breath, then pulled up the lapboard and reactivated the exterior cameras. Once again, the wallscreen revealed the node's vast interior. No sign of the service pod, but sometime in the last minute or so, a tubular walkway had been extended from the docking bay to the ship's starboard side, where it had attached itself to the Deck Four airlock.

“They're nothing if not efficient,” Jason said quietly.

Andromeda was too worried about Zeus to be impressed. “Anne, ask them where . . .”

“I already have, Captain.” The com officer shook her head. “No response, except that warning about gravity.”

“And that's truly amazing.” There was admiration in Rolf's voice; catching the look on Andromeda's face, he shook his head. “Sorry, skipper, but . . . look, it's one thing to have a field generator to give a ship artificial gravity, but another entirely to be able to nullify centrifugal force at will. The
danui
really have some very advanced technology . . .”

“Right now, I don't care. I just want to find out what they've done with my man.” Shoving aside the lapboard, Andromeda stood up from her chair. “Jason, you've got the conn. Anne, I want you here with him. Everyone else, you're with me . . . We're suiting up and going out to find Zeus. Bring your sidearms.”

Melpomene and Rolf nodded and rose from their stations without comment. D'Anguilo was more reluctant. “Captain, this is a delicate situation,” he said, remaining seated. “It's not going to do any good to charge in there with guns blazing. There must be an explanation for all this . . .”

“I agree. And you're going to help me find it.” Andromeda glared at the Janus executive. “This isn't a request. This is an order. On your feet and down the ladder . . . now.”

For a moment or two, they stared at each other. D'Anguilo was the first to look away. A frustrated sigh, then he stood up and followed Andromeda to the access shaft.

The starboard docking port had skinsuits in its ready-room lockers, but Andromeda decided that they would take too long to put on and were probably unnecessary anyway. When Rolf entered the airlock and checked the atmosphere gauge, he confirmed that the gangway had been pressurized with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and that the biosensors picked up no obvious contaminants. But merchant marine regulations specifically stated that EVA gear was to be worn whenever a landing party entered an alien environment for the first time, so the captain had everyone don pressure suits instead. The bulky garments were more cumbersome than skinsuits, but they could be worn over their clothes, and their life-support packs could supply them with purified air for six hours. Enough time to find out where they were and what had happened to Zeus, or so Andromeda hoped.

Once everyone was suited up, Andromeda took a minute to make sure that their com systems were linked to the
Montero
and that Jason and Anne were in the loop. She wasn't so successful when she checked to see that everyone was armed. Melpomene and Rolf had brought their fléchette pistols; like Andromeda, they had clipped the holsters to their utility belts. D'Anguilo had left his gun in the command center. Andromeda had accepted his argument that if he was going to negotiate with the
danui
, it would be best if he did so without a pistol at his side, but she was still reluctant about it. Zeus's disappearance had done little to ease her misgivings.

“If we get in trouble out there,” she said, “don't count on us to defend you.”

“Very well.” He calmly regarded her from behind his helmet faceplate. “And if you get in trouble because you decided to carry weapons, don't say I didn't warn you.”

Rolf snorted, and Melpomene peered at him. “What makes you so certain we're not in danger?” she asked. “Have you been asleep the last few hours?”

D'Anguilo's face turned red, and Andromeda had to bite her lip. Melpomene wasn't the sort of person to scold someone, but her tongue could be sharp when she wanted it to be. She was probably more worried about Zeus than anyone else; Andromeda mused that she'd naturally be concerned about her lover's fate.

“I just think it's a mistake to assume hostile intentions,” D'Anguilo replied. “As I said, there's probably a reasonable explanation for all this.”

“Very well. Let's see if you're right.” Andromeda motioned to the open airlock. “You first.”

D'Anguilo hesitated. “Captain's privilege,” he said quietly, then stepped aside to let her be the first one to leave the ship.

The gangway was a tube with opaque grey walls that appeared to be made of some sort of plastic. Its floor had a certain spongy texture that gave slightly beneath the soles of their boots, and dim light came from concentric rings spaced at regular intervals between its ribs. The gangway led straight away from the ship for about a hundred yards and came to an end at a circular door that opened like a sphincter at their approach.

Walking through it, they found themselves in a bare room whose walls, ceiling, and floor appeared to be made of the same stony material as the rest of the node. Another sphincter door was on the other side of the room; a large screen was set in one wall, and near the entrance door was a large window through which they could see the
Montero
.

The entrance swirled shut as soon as they were inside. An instant later, a narrow ring lit up upon the walls near the ceiling. The ring slowly traveled down the walls, its beam touching the four people gathered in the room, until it reached the floor, then it moved back up to the ceiling before disappearing.

“I think we've just been scanned,” Rolf murmured.

Andromeda nodded, but before she could say anything, the screen on the nearby wall lit up, and a human face appeared on it. Obviously a comp-generated image, the face could have belonged to either an effeminate male or a masculine female, and the voice that accompanied it was just as androgynous.

“Welcome to
tanaash-haq
,”
the image said, smiling as it spoke perfect Anglo.
“Scans indicate that three people in your group are carrying weapons. Inhabitants are not permitted to bring in weapons of any sort. Please surrender them immediately, or you will not be allowed to enter.”

A panel opened within the wall beside the screen, exposing what appeared to be a disposal chute. Andromeda glanced at D'Anguilo; the astroethnicist didn't say a word, but there was no mistaking the smug grin on his face. She grimaced, then nodded to Rolf and Mel before unclipping the holster from her belt. They did the same, and the three fléchette pistols went down the chute.

“Thank you,”
the image said, its expression annoyingly beatific.
“Scans also indicate that all persons in your group are wearing pressure suits. They are permitted, but you should be aware that they are not necessary within the habitat you are about to enter. You may remove them and leave them here. They will be returned to you later, along with your weapons.”

Andromeda's heads-up display showed that, like the walkway, the room contained an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, its pressure just above one thousand millibars. She opened her helmet faceplate, took a deep breath. The air tasted fine.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I have a few questions of my own.” The image said nothing as it continued to smile at her. “While our ship was docking, one of my crewmen disappeared after he left our ship to investigate. What happened to him?” The image remained silent. Andromeda waited for an answer, then went on. “My ship's controls were overridden by some sort of remote system, and we were brought here against our will. Why did you do that?” Again, no response except for the same maddening smile. “You called this place
tanaash-haq
, and said that it's a habitat. What did you mean by . . . ?” And then the screen went blank.

“Talkative, isn't he?” Rolf said.

Andromeda slowly let out her breath. She was stymied, and the time had come to stop being stubborn and ask for help. She turned to D'Anguilo. “All right, I'll admit it . . . We should have listened to you about the guns, and also about not letting Zeus take the pod outside. My apologies. Now . . . do you have any other insights you'd like to share?”

“Believe me, Captain, I'm not keeping score. And as far as insights go . . .” D'Anguilo shrugged. “We've already offended them once by carrying weapons. I think we'd only offend them again if we continued wearing these suits. If we remove them, it may go a long way toward establishing some sort of mutual trust.”

“Trust?” Melpomene stared at him. “Do you seriously think we should . . . ?”

“Ms. Fisk . . . Melpomene . . . I realize that you're frustrated, and that you feel like I'm asking a lot of you. But you have to remember that we're not dealing with other humans, but
danui
. They're reclusive, suspicious, argumentative, and obviously powerful enough to do whatever they damned well please. We're going to have to demonstrate that we're trustworthy if we expect to get any sort of cooperation from them . . . and that begins here and now.”

Melpomene continued to glare at him. Andromeda stepped between her and D'Anguilo. “Mel, I want to find out what happened to Zeus, too . . . and my son. But he's right. This is their game, and we've got to play it their way. So let's get rid of these suits, and . . . well, see what happens next.”

The helmsman reluctantly nodded, then reached up to unlatch her helmet from its collar ring. Andromeda turned to gaze out the window.
“Montero
, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear,”
Jason replied.

“Good.” Andromeda gave him a quick rundown of everything that had happened, tactfully leaving out the part about the latest disagreement with D'Anguilo. “We've got a transceiver, so we won't be out of touch for long. Sit tight. Understood?”

“Roger that, Captain.”
Jason's voice was tense.
“Be careful.
Montero
over.”

“Thanks. Over and out.” Andromeda switched off the comlink, then went about removing her pressure suit. Once everyone was back in shirtsleeves, they proceeded to the inner door.

It opened without a problem, and they found themselves on a platform within what appeared to be a long, narrow tunnel. A cylindrical craft was parked in front of the platform. With a blunt nose, rectangular windows, and a single hatch at its front, it bore an uncanny resemblance to a subway car.

The hatch bisected in the middle, allowing them to enter. Andromeda hesitated. “A tram?” she asked, speaking to no one in particular. “Is that what this is?”

“Looks like it.” Rolf shrugged. “Makes sense. Hex is a pretty big place, after all. You'd need some form of rapid transportation to get around.” He got down on his hands and knees to examine the bottom of the car. “Can't tell for sure,” he said, straightening up again, “but I bet there's a maglev rail down there.”