“What… did you say?” the elder asked.
“Professor Longaard sent us,” Nal’ai responded desperately. “We’re students at Hub University! We mean you no harm!”
The chamber had gone deathly silent. The elders exchanged glances, sneers giving way to obvious confusion.
“Longaard the non-organic?” Eyxyx asked.
“Yes,” Nal’ai said, still clutching Kolli. “He’s my… academic supervisor.”
Eyxyx said nothing. Then they uttered a single word, one which Nal’ai didn’t recognize. There was a cracking sound, and a burst of white light. The elder abruptly clenched their fist. The remaining retractable section of the hoverplate shot away beneath them.
Screaming, Nal’ai and Kolli fell.
“Rude,” Kolli said, scowling furiously as she tried to brush the static-induced tangles out of her long, black hair. “That’s what that was. Totally rude.”
“It could’ve been worse,” Nal’ai pointed out. “They could have dropped us without any electro-netting. Now that would’ve been rude.”
Kolli grunted, giving up on her hair. The hatch they’d been waiting outside had opened. Wordlessly, a single martian solider gestured them inside.
Nal’ai half expected to find herself back in the amphitheater. Instead they entered an altogether smaller room. It possessed the same standard prefabbed Mars properties all martians seemed drawn to, from the curving walls and ceiling to the spartan gray surfaces. Its only adornments were two chairs, a desk and some shelves, the latter two stacked with data pads and a couple of strangely shaped ornaments. Incongruously, all the furniture was premade EKKA blackwood, the kind that decorated Hub Uni student blocks, stuff Nal’ai could’ve found in any downstack home-hab store or charity seller. It was a nod, she assumed, to the Borreal enclave’s adopted home, a little statement of independence. No Nova Hellas loyalist would be seen vaporized with anything other than Mars-sanctioned and approved DIY.
Besides the martian who had ushered them in, the only other occupant of the room was Eyxyx. The elder was still clad in their vacc-suit and gossamer cape. While they might have been happy enough to use Hub City furnishing for the rest of their office, they clearly wanted something more familiar for their own chair – they were reclining behind the desk in a floater pod, its smooth, spherical underside pulsing gently. The elder leant back further and steepled their bony fingers as the hatch portal sealed behind Nal’ai and Kolli.
“Sit,” they instructed, staring at the two students without blinking. They both obeyed hastily, the cheap blackwood chairs opposite the desk creaking. A few seconds of silence passed. There was a slight squeak of vulcanized rubber as the martian soldier, who had remained by the door, shifted. Eyxyx still hadn’t blinked. Nal’ai could make out her reflection in their glassy black eyes.
“You come into my enclave unannounced,” Eyxyx said finally. They spoke in martian. “And you claim to have been sent by our old enemy, the non-organic Longaard.”
Nal’ai wasn’t sure which part to process first. She cleared her throat before speaking, carefully using the formal intonations of speech she had painstakingly learned over the past few years of research.
“Apologies a hundred times over, wise-valiant elder, but I fear you are recalling the wrong being. Professor Longaard is an academic at Hub University, an expert in the study of the glorious cultures of Mars. He is no enemy. In fact, I believe he has spent time at this very enclave, performing groundbreaking-research.”
“Researching our weaknesses,” Eyxyx said, their fingers still pressed together. “Finding every employable advantage in our defenses.”
“What?” Nal’ai said, her protocols of address breaking down. “No. He’s just a dedicated researcher. Why would he be researching your defenses?”
“To sell the information to our misguided kindred in Nova Hellas, for a start,” Eyxyx snapped. “Or the Archons? Hub City’s brutish Arbitrators? Insane Sanctum preachers? Logos tech-thieves? The Strixian Cartel? The Brotherhood of Five? The Black–”
“Professor Longaard hasn’t shared anything classified with anyone,” Nal’ai interjected. “He takes his non-disclosure agreements extremely seriously. I should know, he made us sign enough forms before sending us here.”
“Sending you here,” Eyxyx said, placing their palms flat on the desk and leaning forward in their floater pod. “Now we come to the crux of the matter, krxix. Just why did the robot send you here? Be truthful, and I might be able to convince the other elders to spare your lives… for a while longer.”
“We are here to conduct our own research,” Nal’ai said, trying to choose her words as carefully as possible.
“So you are his spies?”
“No! We’re just students! I am interested in martian culture. My studies would go much better if I was able to experience it first-hand.”
Eyxyx leant back again, as though assessing the truth of her words. Nal’ai got the strange impression that she was undergoing some perverse parody of an academic supervisor meeting. She wondered whether the martian had learned the style off Longaard.
“Your interests are non-hostile?” they asked slowly. “You do not intend to mount an invasion of Borreal or its inhabitants?”
“No,” Nal’ai said firmly. “Kolli and I aren’t an invasion force. We both respect your people and the Borreal enclave as a whole. We wish to understand your ways, so we can teach other species that same respect. We have no interest in your defensive capabilities.”
Eyxyx watched them closely for a minute more. Kolli looking from them to Nal’ai, clearly not understanding a word that was being said, but sensing that their fate hung in the balance.
“How long would these studies take?” Eyxyx asked.
“A few standard day cycles,” Nal’ai said. They’d been scheduled to stay at the enclave for a week, but she had no intention of pushing her luck. Only the fear of causing offense was stopping her from leaving the very next day.
“And the research itself…” Eyxyx left the sentence dangling.
“Interviews,” Nal’ai answered. “With just a few subjects. Basic things about daily routines, attitudes towards other species and the wider Hub City community. Perhaps discussions about Nova Hellas.”
Eyxyx’s black eyes narrowed at the mention of the loyalist martian capital, but they said nothing as Nal’ai continued to offer a potted description of the research goals and interview questions she had agreed with Longaard. Eventually they held up one hand.
“I see you plan thoroughly, krxix,” he said. “That, at least, is to be commended.” He paused to allow Nal’ai to offer the proper thanks for the compliment before carrying on. “I am not fully convinced by your cover story, but your presence here may yet serve a… certain purpose. We will allow you to stay, for three days. I shall see you provided with quarters in the East Barracks. In turn, you will be allowed to interview a single member of our enclave.”
The elder indicated the diminutive martian guarding the hatch, waving them forward.
“This one’s name is Klixx,” Eyxyx said, as though the soldier subspecies wasn’t present in the room with them. “They will be available to answer all your questions. In fact, they will be at your side constantly. Is that understood, Klixx?”
The martian snapped to attention, but said nothing.
Nal’ai thought about arguing. The same suicidal urge that had gripped her in Longaard’s office almost overcame her. But the precariousness of the situation eventually won out. She forced herself to nod her head, mandibles clenched.
“You have my thanks a hundred times over, wise-valiant elder,” she managed to say. Eyxyx nodded magnanimously.
“Klixx, show these… visitors to their new quarters,” they ordered. “You will both provide me with the results of your research before you depart, so that the council might review it. Until then, I wish you a prosperous campaign.”
“And a prosperous campaign to you too, great elder,” Nal’ai said, making eyes a
t Kolli as she stood and clasped a fist to her chest carapace, the traditional martian salute. Klixx ushered them out.
“What the great gack was that all about?” Kolli hissed as they returned to the corridor.
“Not now,” Nal’ai responded as Klixx gestured to them both.
“Ul-yex,” they said.
When the hoverplate’s base had swept away from beneath her, Nal’ai couldn’t exactly say that her life had flashed before her eyes. She was too busy screaming and imagining the wicked teeth of the martian hounds snapping up from below.
When she’d hit the electro-net engaged by the elder’s gesture, she had assumed she was dead. The shock had knocked her out, limbs splayed in the air, rigid. She had come to in a sparsely furnished barrack room next to Kolli, and then been ushered to Eyxyx’s office.
Now they found themselves in an almost identical-looking barrack dorm. It was a long, low, vault, ranked with row after row of metal bed bunks that were lit by the recessed floor lighting. Most didn’t have any sheets or blankets, but Klixx led them to a pair that had been hastily made up.
“Where is everyone else?” Nal’ai asked the martian in a half-hearted attempt at brokering a conversation.
“Away,” Klixx replied tersely. They were greener than most of the other Borrealians Nal’ai had seen, their skin almost an emerald hue. They wore the enclave’s standard white vacc-suit and purple armor though, and kept a ray gun holstered at their hip. Their sharp features and monochromatic black eyes seemed perpetually drawn up into a scowl or sneer. Then again, that appeared to be the standard expression favored by most of the martians Nal’ai had seen so far.
“My name is Nal’ai,” she began to say, but the martian interrupted her.
“I know,” they said in a reedy, nasal voice. “You are a krxix from the Hub University. And your compatriot is an elf named Kolli.”
“You speak the standard tongue?”
“I prefer not to,” Klixx replied in martian.
Nal’ai and Kolli shucked their rucksacks onto their assigned beds. Nal’ai discovered a handful of sealed food bars beneath her pillow. She read the labels.
“Ration sticks?” she asked Klixx. The martian nodded.
“Dinner,” they explained.
“Lovely.”
According to Klixx, it was late evening outside. It sure felt like it. Exhaustion caught up with Nal’ai almost as soon as she sat on the edge of her bed.
“If it’s all right with you, we can begin the interviews tomorrow morning,” she said to Klixx, still standing in the aisle beside the bunks.
“As you wish,” the martian said, without moving.
“Are you going to stay there all night?” Nal’ai asked. The martian’s grimace turned even more severe at the suggestion.
“I have been told to stay with you at all times… I will take a bunk at the far end of the row.”
They stalked off down the vault, vacc-suit squeaking. A few moments after they disappeared from view, the lighting dimmed to sleep settings. Nal’ai changed, hastily and self-consciously, into her PJs. Kolli seemed content to stay in the Hub Uni scrumball hoodie she’d stolen from the first team’s center forward last semester.
Nal’ai chewed down one of the ration sticks and settled into the bed, turning uncomfortably. She struggled to sleep in anything that wasn’t her own webrest. She briefly considered spinning a web above the bunk, but decided it would be too much effort. Besides, she didn’t want to cause offense. Even after all her studies, nothing could have prepared her for how prickly martians were in person. And these were the liberal ones.
Every time she rolled over, the whole bunk frame rocked and squeaked. Eventually she heard the sound of feet on the ladder rungs, followed by a rustling noise as Kolli clambered in beside her. She’d brought her own blanket.
“Hey,” Nal’ai said.
“Hey,” Kolli answered in the half dark. They shared the silence for a while before Kolli spoke.
“So, I’m guessing field trips aren’t always this crazy?”
“I’m guessing not,” Nal’ai said. “Today has been… interesting.”
“That’s an interesting word to use,” the elf agreed. “Dropping us in a fang pit, then electro-webbing us. Not my usual weekday lecture routine.”
Despite her words, Nal’ai could sense how tense and stressed Kolli still was. She put two arms round her shoulder, letting her rest her head against her carapace.
“I think they were just trying to intimidate us. See if we were really a threat.”
“Well count me intimidated. And what was all that about back there? I’m guessing that lanky thing was the boss of Martian town?”
“It’s called the Borreal enclave,” Nal’ai said sternly. “And yes. They’re willing to let us spend a few days doing research. Plus, presumably, spare our lives. You’re lucky I paid attention during my language courses.”
“A few days doing research,” Kolli repeated incredulously. “We should be leaving, tonight. I almost got eaten alive earlier!”
“We both did,” Nal’ai corrected. “But I don’t think trying to leave straight away will do us any good. For a start it would likely cause serious offense, and an offended martian is a dangerous martian. Plus, it would seem to confirm Eyxyx’s suspicions that we’re some sort of spy team.”
“Spy team,” Kolli almost shouted. Nal’ai batted lightly at her face with a free hand, indicating for her to keep her voice down.
“How in gack’s name do you mistake us for spies?” the elf whispered. “Are they all insane?”
“They’re martians,” Nal’ai said. “This is how they function, Kolli. They’re a hyper militarized race. Their whole society is based on warfare. Add to that a dose of rampant xenophobia–”
“Xenowhatnow?”
“They hate outsiders. Anything non-martian is inferior. The groups that have deserted Nova Hellas, like the Borreal, are supposedly a little more easygoing, but their exile also makes them wildly suspicious. Eyxyx thinks Nova Hellas is out to get them, even though in reality the loyalists would rather just ignore rogue groups like this one. They seem to think we’ve been hired to spy on them.”
“But if martians hate non-martians, why would Nova Hellas hire us – a krxix and an elf – to spy on a rogue faction like Borreal?” Kolli asked slowly.
“Exactly.”
“They all seem super-dumb, just saying.”
“There’s an old saying that… well, to paraphrase, martians always seem super dumb until you see them on the battlefield, exterminating everything in their way. Then their dumbness tends to make a lot more sense.”
“Let’s hope we don’t experience that, then.”
“Agreed.”
Neither of them slept well. At one point, Nal’ai woke to what she thought was the sound of a vacc-suit squeaking past the bunk. She peered over the edge, but saw nothing.
Next morning there was no sign of Klixx. After washing and getting dressed in the barrack’s adjacent bathroom block, Nal’ai discovered that fresh “breakfast” bars had appeared on the pillow of the lower bunk. She was still chewing unenthusiastically on one when their martian handler reappeared in person.
“I have been ordered to attend you,” they said grudgingly. “I am to… answer your questions regarding the enclave.”
Nal’ai already had a record-stick, notepad, scriber and translation box in each set of hands. Kolli rolled her eyes, swallowing the last of her ration bar and fishing in her baggy hoodie pockets for a fresh wad of popgum.
“Is there somewhere better suited to a Q and A?” Nal’ai asked. Klixx shrugged indifferently and led them to a side room off the main barracks vault. It looked as though at one point it had been a storage locker, though it had been mostly cleared out – only a few tape-sealed crates and cardboard boxes remained. There were a couple of low stools that the three of them squatted on – they were the perfect size for Klixx, and Nal’ai could just about manage, but Kolli looked borderline ridiculous
, knees drawn up almost to her chest. She affected a distant, bored look as Nal’ai began questioning Klixx in martian.
“War,” Klixx said, “is the natural state of all beings in the universe. It is the basis of existence which lesser societies attempt to cover with illusions of cooperation and charity. It is how all cultures begin, and it is how they all end.”
Nal’ai was scribing furiously with two limbs on two pads at once – pop-out quotes and her own notes.
“You’re quoting the philosophy of the revered martian elder, Hobyx,” she said as she wrote. “But how does that mindset survive here on the Crucible? There hasn’t been a major war in… forever, at least not one outside of the campaigns waged by Nova Hellas. A thousand intelligent species and subspecies, all living together in peace. Doesn’t sound like the natural state of all beings to me.”
“You don’t see it out there?” Klixx asked, gesturing as though to the city beyond the surrounding dome. “Perhaps my use of the term ‘war’ was too complex for a… creature such as yourself. Conflict may be a better term. This city, this derelict, disorganized mess, is a place of constant conflict, constant tension. The struggle to exist in a place like this is, in itself, a form of conflict. Conflict in its endless different forms is the business Hub City wakes up to, and the reality that carries on even in its sleep.”
ABSTRACT THINKER, Nal’ai was busily writing in her secondary notepad. She shot a glance at Kolli, but the elf appeared to have dozed off.
“How would you describe life as a martian soldier?” Nal’ai asked, deciding to change tack rather than risk a disagreement so early on.
“Solitary,” Klixx said. “Socially deprived, vile, cruel, and brief. Not that any of my subspecies would realize it. We are the slaves of the elders: expendable, easily replaced.”
Nal’ai paused for a second, taken aback. Nothing had prepared her for that level of frankness. Klixx returned her gaze levelly.
“Is that why your enclave left Nova Hellas?” she asked. “You realized the other elders didn’t care about the majority of the martian race?”
Tales From the Crucible Page 8
