Hex (36 page)

He then remembered how Mark Dupree's and Amerigo Cayce's bodies had been dissolved by microassemblers when laid upon bare ground in the
arsashi
biopod, and how Lusah Sahsan had told him that they'd been claimed by
tanaash-haq
. So if Hex broke down waste matter, then it only made sense that there would be pits much like this one, where its inhabitants could safely dispose of their garbage. Or their dead.

Or even unwanted visitors.

“Stick to the wall,” he said, scrambling backward to keep himself out of the trash as much as possible. “Try to stay on top of the trash and don't let yourself get dragged down.”

“Why?” Sandy asked. “What did you . . . ?” Then she looked at the center of the pit, and suddenly she understood. “Oh, God,” she breathed, her eyes going wide. “Oh God, oh God, oh God . . .”

The three of them planted their backs against the sloping funnel wall and backpedaled with their feet, struggling to keep on top of the morass even as it continued to sink beneath them. But the funnel wall was slimy with sewage, with more coming in from the openings above their heads; there was almost no traction to be found, and every time Sean looked up, it seemed that the pit's edge was getting farther away.

Inch by inexorable inch, they descended into the pit. Sean's legs were getting tired; to make matters worse, he and Kyra had to hold up Sandy, who couldn't support herself because of her wounded leg. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to exhaustion, but he also knew that if they stopped to rest for even a moment, they'd fall into the garbage and wouldn't be able to pull themselves free before they were dragged down into the hole at the bottom of the pit.

Sean gradually became aware that the light was fading. Although he couldn't see the biopod ceiling, he realized that it was beginning to polarize. In only an hour or so, night would come to the
taaraq
habitat. Even if he'd managed to keep his flashlight, it wouldn't have done them much good; indeed, Sean wondered if it wouldn't be better that they didn't see the end when it came.

By then, only a couple of
taaraq
were still present. The rest had disappeared, as if indifferent to the fate of their captives. The two that remained behind as guards stood at the pit's edge, javelins in hand as they quietly observed the three humans struggling below. Again, Kyra tried to make them understand, as best as she could with hand signals, that she and her companions meant no harm and that they'd come in peace. There was no sign that the guards understood . . . or if they did, that they even cared. As twilight set in, all they could see of the guards was two strange silhouettes against the dark grey sky.

Sean's thighs and calves felt as if they were made of lead; it took all his strength just to keep them moving. He'd pull himself an inch or two up the funnel wall, only to slide back down again. Next to him, Sandy's breath was coming in ragged gasps; she'd gone uncharacteristically quiet, but the occasional snuffle from behind her airmask told him that she was weeping. And although Kyra bravely continued the fight to stay on top of the refuse, he knew that she was just as exhausted as he was. And just as scared.

This is it,
he thought.
We're going to die. No one will ever know how, or even where. Maybe the Corps will remember us as three more explorers lost in the line of duty, but . . .

From somewhere not far away, an abrupt rumble of thunder, close enough that Sean heard it reverberate off the pit's far wall. A storm must be coming. Which only made sense; it was humid enough . . .

An instant later, another thunderclap. This time, though, it didn't sound natural. More like a bomb going off. Kyra heard it, too, because she looked up. “Did you hear that?” she gasped, her voice ragged. “Some sort of explosion?”

“I heard it, yeah.” Sean peered up at the edge of the pit. As the echoes of the second explosion died away, he heard the guards chittering to each other. Then they disappeared from sight, as if running off to see what had happened.

Oh, please,
he thought.
Let this be what I think it is . . .

A handful of seconds went by, then he heard motion just beyond the pit's edge. At first he thought it might be the guards returning. Then a flashlight beam suddenly lanced down into the pit, traveling across the funnel walls until it found the three humans trapped below.

“Sean? Are you all right?”

The voice that softly called to him was his mother's.

U
NTIL SHE ACTUALLY SAW HIM, ANDROMEDA WASN'T SURE Sean was in the pit. The radio direction finder that Rolf had found among the Corps supplies in the
Montero
had made it possible for Zeus, D'Anguilo, and her to track the location of Survey One's transceiver, but she'd known that it was always possible that Sean might have lost it. So it wasn't until her flashlight beam revealed him and his companions at the bottom of a pit half-filled with muck that Andromeda allowed herself a moment of relief.

She quickly tamped down her emotions. So long as they were still in
taaraq
territory, they were all in grave danger. “Sean?” she called down to him, trying to be as quiet as she could. It wasn't hard; the airmask she wore muffled her voice. “Are you all right?”

For a second or two, he simply stared back at her, apparently astonished to see her there at all. It wasn't until Sandy made an excited whoop, and Kyra hastily shushed her, that Sean responded. “We're okay,” he said, then seemed to change his mind. “No, we're not. Sandy's injured, and this pit . . .”

“We're sinking.” Kyra was also careful to keep her voice low. “There's a hole in the bottom, and everything down here is falling into it. We need to get out of here.”

“We're working on it.” Still kneeling beside the pit, Andromeda looked to her right. “Tom . . . ?”

D'Anguilo had been at her side only a few seconds ago, but he was no longer there. Peering over her shoulder, she saw him scurrying toward one of the trees at the edge of the jungle through which the two of them had just hacked their way. He was carrying the long coil of rope they'd brought with them from the ship; as she watched, he looped it twice around the base of the tree's trunk.

“Mother?” From the pit, Sean called up to her again. “Whatever you plan to do, you'd better hurry. We're running out of time.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, too quiet for him to hear.
At least he's no longer calling me “Captain,”
she thought, although the realization gave her little satisfaction. As she waited for D'Anguilo to finish knotting the rope, she touched her headset mike. “Zeus, do you copy?” she said softly. “We've found 'em. Where are you?”

“Back where I dropped you off.”
The chief petty officer's voice was a whisper that she had to strain to hear.
“I've planted another charge, right where you told me to.”

“Good,” she replied. “Don't blow it until I give the word. Stand by.”

Andromeda had gambled that two half-pound plastic explosives would draw the inhabitants' attention. After Zeus had dropped D'Anguilo and her off on the riverbank about a quarter of a mile from the source of the transceiver signal, he'd crossed the river and, after tying up the boat, made his way through the jungle to plant the charges across from the
taaraq
settlement. He had set them off by radio detonator once Andromeda had located the pit where Survey One was being held captive. The third charge was a precautionary backup she hoped they wouldn't have to use.

She turned her head to peer at the waterfront. The place looked as if it was on fire. The bombs had ignited the dense foliage on the opposite side of the river, and silhouetted against its rising flames were the insectlike forms of the
taaraq
. They appeared to be in a state of confusion, even panic; clicking and chittering madly, they ran back and forth, trying to make sense of the calamity that had just struck their home. The river would prevent the fire from reaching their village, of course, but the
taaraq
hadn't yet realized that. So far as they were concerned, this was the wrath of whatever gods they worshipped.

They were distracted from the pit, which was what Andromeda wanted. Nonetheless, the
taaraq
were only a few hundred feet away, and there was still some daylight remaining in the biopod. If any of them happened to think about checking on their prisoners . . .

Hearing something move toward her, she looked around again to see D'Anguilo returning to the pit, crouching low as he laid out the rope behind him. Andromeda took the rest of the coil from him and yanked at the length he'd tied to the nearby tree. Two sharp tugs were enough to convince her that it was firmly anchored.

“All right,” she said, quietly calling down into the pit again, “we're going to drop you a line. Who's coming up first?”

“Sandy, you better . . .” Sean began.

“No.” Sandy's voice quivered with fear, yet she was adamant. “You first, then Kyra. I'm in no shape to climb, and they're going to need both of you to help drag me out of there.”

“But you're hurt. You need to . . .”

“I don't care which of you comes up first,” Andromeda hissed, “but hurry the hell up.”

That was a lie; she wanted Sean to be first out of the pit, if only for selfish reasons. Andromeda dropped the rope over the side, and watched as her son reached out to grab it. He hesitated, then gallantly offered it to Kyra, murmuring something that Andromeda couldn't hear. The young woman shook her head, and he reluctantly turned his back to her and braced his feet against the pit's sloping walls. Bending almost double and pulling at the rope with both hands, he began to climb upward.

Although he had only about fifteen or sixteen feet to climb, it took a long time for Sean to escape from the pit. He frequently paused to catch his breath, and Andromeda could tell that he was exhausted. The last seven feet were the worst; there the funnel ended and the vertical walls began. By then, though, Sean seemed to have tapped some inner reserve of strength; he started climbing hand over hand as fast as he could.

As soon as he was near the top, Andromeda lay flat on her stomach and reached down to him, with D'Anguilo pushing down on her ankles to keep her from falling in. She first managed to grab hold of his forearms, then his shoulders, and finally his belt; her son clambered the rest of the way out, his mother hauling at him every inch of the way, until they lay beside each other, panting for breath.

“Sean . . .” Andromeda started to reach for him, wanting nothing more than to take him in her arms.

“Thanks.” He allowed her the briefest of hugs, then impatiently sat up and, squatting on his knees, pulled the rope out of the pit. “Didn't anyone ever teach you how to do this?”

“Sorry.” Andromeda stared at him, mildly irritated. “Some of us didn't get Corps survival training.”

“You should just be happy she thought to bring a rope,” D'Anguilo added.

Sean didn't reply. Instead, he twisted the end of the rope around and tied it off to form a loop. “Put this around you, Kyra,” he said as he dropped it over the side again, then he looked at his mother and D'Anguilo. “Get ready to pull her up.”

It took only a few minutes for the three of them to haul Kyra from the pit. Once she was with them, she helped the others bring Sandy up. She was nearly helpless; as soon as Andromeda saw her leg, she knew that it was infected. They'd need to get her to the ship as soon as possible if they were going to save it . . . But just then, that was the least of Andromeda's concerns.

“How did you know where to find us?” Sean asked as he pulled the rope from around Sandy.

“We met a
hjadd
who—” D'Anguilo began.

“It's a long story,” Andromeda interrupted. “I'll tell you later.” Bending down to pick up the machete she'd dropped next to the pit, she pointed to the tree where D'Anguilo had anchored the rope. “The path we cleared is that way, and we've got a boat waiting at the other end.”

Sean nodded, then reached down to help Sandy to her feet. “Let me do that,” D'Anguilo said, moving to the young woman's side. “You go with your mother.”

Sean hesitated, then moved to join her. Andromeda had an impulse to take him by the hand but restrained herself. “C'mon. Let's get out of here before your friends find out you're missing.”

“They're not our friends,” he muttered, and Andromeda almost laughed out loud at that, but he followed her anyway. Leaving the rope behind, the five of them moved as quickly and quietly as they could for the jungle, with Andromeda and Sean in the lead.

The light was getting dimmer by the minute, but Andromeda could still make out the path. Pushing aside broad-leafed fronds and massive ferns, she hurried as best as she could with an injured person in tow; she didn't want to use her flashlight unless it was absolutely necessary, for fear that the
taaraq
might spot its beam. The path took them away from the settlement, but they could still hear the angry voices of its inhabitants; they moved in silence. Every second counted; she knew it was only a matter of time before the
taaraq
discovered that their captives had escaped.

The path abruptly left solid ground and merged with the floating moss that apparently made up most of the biopod's interior. Andromeda paused to look back at the others. “We're going to have to spread out a little,” she whispered, “or else we might break through the moss and get stuck. Go single file, if you can.”

“What about them?” Sean motioned to Sandy and D'Anguilo, who were bringing up the rear. He was right; the floating moss might not support both of them so long as Sandy continued to rely on Tom for support.