Valhai (The Ammonite Galaxy)

by Gillian Andrews

  Once she got onto bare planet she realized that this alibi would only work if no-one came outside to check. Her footprints were still clearly visible in the sand, and each journey could be reconstructed by them! It would take time before the signs of her passage were erased. She gave a shrug. As far as she knew, nobody had been out here for generations. It didn’t seem likely they would start now. She would use the painting excuse if they discovered them, say that she occasionally needed to step physically on to the planet to paint, and had needed different perspectives.

  Once at the lake she lost no time, but knelt down beside the orthogel and placed her hands on the surface, signaling a ‘hello’ to see if anyone were listening.

  “Hello!” The answer was immediate. And the area of the lake nearest to her gave a sort of heave, causing thick ripples across the otherwise smooth surface. Grace had to force herself to stay still, not pull her hands sharply away.

  “Who are you?” Her fingers laboriously picked out the various letters. She needed practice at this!

  “What’s your name?”

  “Grace.”

  “Are you Sellite?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then how can you help me?”

  “I don’t know . . .” She thought. “But at least I can talk to you. If you want.”

  “It is good to talk. I had not realized . . .” The pulsations trailed off.

  “What can I call you?”

  There was a long pause, as if her interlocutor were thinking about the answer. “I don’t have a name.”

  “You must have.”

  “No. I have none. You can call me whatever you wish.”

  This seemed strange to Grace. Surely all the apprentices from the Sacran worlds were named? She thought for a long moment.

  “I would like to call you Arcan, which means a secret or a mystery.”

  The lake rippled. “Arcan. Yes that will be a good name for me.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I can’t tell. It feels like I have been here forever. But I am just learning how to speak. It is most strange.”

  “You are speaking Kwaidian. You must be Sacran, at least. Don’t you remember where you came from?”

  “I can only remember being here, Grace I have been here for a long, long time. But I am not unhappy. I have nothing in my memory to measure it by.”

  Grace frowned. This batch of donor apprentices had only been on Valhai for about a year. How was it possible for this person’s memories to have been wiped out in such a short time? Or could one of the previous batch still be in the lake? She shivered. She didn’t know if it would be worse for them to be dead or to be alive – having been kept so for the last forty years.

  “Will you help me to learn about things?” The pressure was lighter, somewhat hesitant.

  “Of course. Anything you want.”

  From the lake in front of her, a fountain suddenly erupted, reaching a heady five metres in height before collapsing back into the surface.

  “How did you do that?” Grace signed.

  “I thought it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I!” And bubbles of frustration belched out of the lake. “I just think it and it happens!”

  “How long have you been able to do it?”

  “Always. I just didn’t. I had forgotten a lot of things. It started again when I could talk to two of the apprentices. It all started then,” said Arcan.

  “Which two? Can I speak to them too?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, I can help you to talk to them, if you want. They are Six and Diva. Diva is Coriolan and Six is Kwaidian.”

  “Good. Yes, I would love to talk to them, but maybe later on? It is nice to find out more about you for now, Arcan,” Grace decided.

  “And about you,” came the reply. “Tell me about yourself, Grace.”

  Grace tried to explain, and was surprised at how quickly Arcan understood everything.

  “You live in one of the high buildings?” he asked.

  “Yes, the 256th.”

  “What height?”

  “I live on the 48th level, just my mother and I now, since my father died.”

  “I see.” Then there was a brief pause before Arcan went on. “Do you need air to breathe, like the others?”

  “Yes, of course, all the animal life on both systems needs air. We are all developed from common ancestry.” It was a strange question to ask her.

  “What happens if you have no supply of air?”

  Grace was perplexed. “We die.”

  “You decay?”

  “Exactly.”

  Suddenly the surface of the lake for hundreds of metres around her turned a different shade, and began to boil with bubbles for as far as she could see. Her hands were sucked out and down, trying to pull her after them. With an effort, Grace snatched her hands away and leapt backwards, screaming. The sound of the bubbles was deafening, especially after the normal silence of the whole valley. Even through the mask she could smell sulphur, brimstone.

  Grace ran as fast as she could, back to the safety of the skyrise. Whoever Arcan was, he scared her to death. She had no intention of going out there to the lake ever ever again! Her heart was thumping and her breath was so ragged that the mask pack was struggling to feed her enough air. The effort to run was causing sweat to run down her face too, and she was forced to stop after a few hundred metres to rest. She couldn’t see where she was going.

  She tried to make sense of what had happened, but couldn’t. This whole thing was much too big for her to grasp. She concentrated on regulating her breathing, so that she could get enough oxygen from the mask pack. Even that took several minutes, as she was shaking and still very disturbed. By the time she climbed the metal ladder back to the ground floor she was utterly exhausted. She stumbled onto the terrace, held her hand up to the biolock and then lurched into the back lift, thinking that she needed a long soak in a hot bath to get her body back into some semblance of equilibrium.

  It was when she was in the lift that she got the biggest shock. She had pressed the buttons for the 48th level, and was leaning back against the orthogel wall when she felt a movement again on her fingers. Grace gave an involuntary cry and jumped into the middle of the lift. Nothing happened. Gradually she made her way back to the wall and stood in front of it, this time putting her hands flat out against the surface.

  “Grace?”

  “Y . . . Yes? Arcan?”

  “I am very sorry. I would like to explain. Will you listen?”

  “All right.”

  “I need to tell you. I need you to understand. I didn’t know . . . I was too young . . . I am sorry I frightened you. I will try not to frighten you again, but when I feel so much it seems to come out.”

  Grace took a steadying breath. “What do you need to tell me?”

  “They made me kill them.”

  She pulled her hands away from the wall, and then made herself put them back. Arcan, whoever he was, had not hurt her yet. She would listen to what he had to say.

  “Kill who?”

  “All those young people. All the donor apprentices. I didn’t know. I only found out now. They cut the air supply off.”

  “Who did?”

  “The Sellites, the ones in charge of the donor program.” Grace gave a gasp of horror.

  “They cut the air supply off?”

  “Yes. I was too young, I didn’t know. I just kept them.”

  “Arcan, I don’t understand what you are trying to tell me.”

  “I should have done something.”

  “What could you have done? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I can’t explain to you now. I will have to think about it. I am sorry, Grace, for frightening you.”

  “How are you talking to me now, in my lift?”

  “I don’t know that either, I just needed to talk to you and I found you. The lift is made from the lake.”

  “From orthogel, I know. But how are you t
ransmitting to here?”

  “It is new, too. I still don’t know how. Can we talk again?”

  “Sure.”

  “I am glad.” And with that the conversation finished, the lift drew up to the 48th floor with a slight hiss and Grace was able to stagger into the family chambers and sink into a deep bath. She finished and then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep on her bed, unable to think about anything until she had rested for a while.

  Chapter 9

  DIVA WAS FURIOUS to discover a tear about to fall onto her cheek. She opened her eyes further to prevent that from happening and gazed stonily into the column from which Atheron was regarding her very solemnly.

  “I tried my best,” she said, defensively.

  Atheron sighed. “Yes, I think you probably did. And that is the problem, you see. You shouldn’t have had any trouble with this topic. Quantum mechanics is not considered a difficult subject at your level. I really don’t know what to say to you.”

  “That’s the seventh time I have repeated the exam. I just don’t understand the subject. It isn’t my fault, is it? It’s probably the way you teach! All this quantum entanglement stuff. You just don’t explain it right!”

  He took her comment at its face value. “That is not possible, I’m afraid. The others have all passed this subject.”

  “I bet Six didn’t pass it first time!” But she made it into a question with her intonation.

  “No, he didn’t,” Atheron admitted. “But it didn’t take him seven tries, either.”

  Diva massaged her forehead with her fingers. Her head ached. “Do I have to take it again?”

  “The laws are very strict. All candidates must pass all levels. Any unsuccessful students are removed from the program.”

  “I am NOT unsuccessful. I have never been unsuccessful at anything in my life!”

  Atheron shook his head. “It is very strange. Your progress has been slower than the other students from the start. At first it was only a little, and I put it down to your missing your family, to your being unsettled. In recent months, however, since we reached university grading, the difference has been quite palpable. You are simply not capable of learning at the speed necessary.” He held up a hand to stop her angry protest. “I am merely making a factual observation,” he said unhurriedly. “I will consult with Xenon, but I think you must continue to take the exam until you pass. You will not be accepted as a candidate unless you do that.”

  He disappeared, an unusual event.

  Diva contacted Six. “I am having problems with the quantum mechanics test.”

  “You didn’t pass?”

  “No, he has gone to ask Xenon.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Let me know what happens. I will keep one hand on the orthogel, in case.”

  “Thanks. Not that a no-name like you would be able to help me.”

  “You never know. At least this little no-name passed his quantum mechanics test, my lady!”

  “I will pass their silly test when I want to, not when they think I should!”

  “Sure. And I believe you!”

  “Oh go away, stupid.”

  “As her ladyship wishes.” Diva, whose eyes had been closed with the effort of conversation, opened them to find Atheron looking down at her from the column, his eyes staring at her hands. Sacras! She hoped he hadn’t detected the small pressures which signified they were exchanging finger signals.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Xenon requires you to resit the entry examinations. He wants to make sure there was no error in the original exam.”

  “Of course there wasn’t!” And then her heart sank. She could still visualize her father’s face as he told her the exam results. Now she thought about it she could see a look of complacent triumph that worried her. Surely he would never have . . . have doctored the results?

  She shook her head. No, her father was far too morally upright to do such a thing. She must be mistaken.

  “I . . . I need a doctor to see me,” she told Atheron. “I can’t take your silly test until I feel better. I think I have some sort of bug.” What would too much Atheron be called? Atheronitis?

  The grey face was instantly suspicious. “You said nothing before about feeling unwell.”

  “Well, hey. I don’t tell you everything. Surprise!”

  “There is absolutely no need to be sarcastic, Diva. I will arrange for the doctor to visit you.”

  “You do that.” She smiled sweetly at his image in the column and cut the connexion.

  The doctor was not elderly, as she had expected, and had a concerned look on his face as he came into the bubble. It didn’t fool her, though. These Sellites were only interested in themselves. They weren’t going to be worried by the minor ailments of one of the donor apprentices. She had been in a similar situation herself on Coriolis. Fleetingly the memories of begging children camped out by the Elder’s palace floated into view. They had irritated her. They made a noise, and smelt bad, and she now realized that she couldn’t have cared less what happened to them as long as they went someplace else, and left her palace in peace. In fact they had been evicted by the guards, and she had never thought of them again until today.

  “Open your mouth, please,” he said pleasantly, removing a portable quantum scanner and synthesizer from its black protective case. “This will not hurt at all.”

  “Well of course it won’t. I do know that,” she snapped.

  “Irritable?”

  “What do you mean – ‘irritable’?”

  “You seem rather tetchy.”

  “I’m always like this.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Really? Not a symptom then?”

  “Certainly not.”

  He smiled in her direction and made himself comfortable. “What are your symptoms, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Diva detailed a few invented problems, carefully selected so as to be difficult to confirm.

  He examined her eyes and throat carefully. He took her pulse and temperature and listened to her heart. He finished a very thorough examination and then pursed his lips thoughtfully.

  “You have a slight bacterial infection.” His eyes slid to the column, where Atheron was still watching. “You need a few days rest in bed, and you will be excused classes for that time.” He smiled. “I am certain you will feel better after a short rest, but I wish you to take one of these pills every eight hours for the next 72 hours.”

  Atheron frowned. “She needs to rest for all that time?”

  The doctor got to his feet. “It would be most beneficial. There is no point her taking the pills if she doesn’t rest up well at the same time. Surely a couple of days will not hurt the schedule?”

  “It is . . . unfortunate,” the grey face replied. “But if it can’t be helped . . . Thank you, Vion.”

  “My pleasure. The young lady is otherwise in perfect health.” The full smile he gave her left the young lady in question wondering if he had diagnosed a false illness deliberately or by mistake.

  “Do you think your father changed your marks?” Six signed to her later that night, after hearing all about the day’s events.

  “He might have,” she acknowledged. “He might have wanted . . . well, just to be sure . . . you know.”

  “No I don’t know. I thought your sort was above cheating.” He jabbed at the orthogel crossly. “I thought it was only my sort that stole, robbed and cheated.”

  “It was not cheating. He may have . . . exaggerated the result.”

  “Oh, exaggerated, that’s all right then. Nothing wrong in that, is there? I’m all for a little exaggeration from time to time. I might have known. People like me cheat, people like you ‘exaggerate’.”

  “Oh, stop it Six,” she signed snappily. “What can I do?”

  “That’s easy. Pass the test.”

  “And if I don’t make the grade?”

  “How should I know? They have kept you here for over a year, I shouldn’t think they would throw yo
u out of the program now. Anyway, what difference would it make to them? They only want to impress the prospective customers, and you are pretty good at impressing people.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.” Six remembered the first time he had met her himself, and shuddered. “But I will say one thing for you, people don’t forget you easily. That’s for sure.”

  “You see, you can say nice things if you really try.”

  “Unlike some.”

  “Now, now. We can’t all be famous.”

  “You’ll be famous all right when it comes out that your father cheated to have you accepted as an apprentice.”

  “That won’t come out. Anyway, it didn’t happen.”

  “You hope!”

  A stiff silence was all he got for an answer.

  Chapter 10

  GRACE FELT VERY silly getting into her back lift with the intention to talk to it, but did so anyway. She took it down to the ground floor, and then began to signal.

  “Arcan? Are you there?”

  She had nearly given up when the orthogel under her fingertips quivered. “I am here, Grace.”

  “Have you thought about things yet?”

  The orthogel vibrated gently against all her fingers. “Yes. I am beginning to understand. It is hard to explain. But I will try.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am this . . . this thing you are touching.”

  The orthogel! Impossible! “You mean you are the substance that the lift is made of, that the lake is full of?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is nobody else . . . err . . . speaking through you?”

  “No, Grace. I am speaking for myself.”

  “Then the orthogel is alive!”

  “If you mean as opposed to dead, decayed, yes.”

  “And you can think for yourself?”

  The orthogel hummed. “It seems so. This is very new to me. I . . . lived before in a different way . . . not interacting.”