Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3

by Gillian Andrews

  She had added her mother’s paintings of Xiantha, her own canvases, and a few odds and ends which she thought might come in useful.

  Arcan deposited her in the shack she was to share now with Diva, and hung around as Diva and Six helped her to distribute her few belongings.

  Grace was appalled when she saw the Spartan conditions. Her mother’s living quarters had been positively luxurious in comparison.

  “Goodness, Diva, this is worse than I thought!”

  “I know. Not exactly a home from home, is it?”

  Grace shivered. “And it feels like an ice-box in here.”

  “That? You’ll get used to that. Six thinks it keeps us from getting soft!”

  “No kidding! We will be frozen hard as rocks in here!” giggled Grace, watching as her fingers started to turn blue. “A really fun place, then?”

  “A laugh every minute,” promised Diva. “I am not sure I will be able to fit you into my busy agenda. As you can see, we are out wining and dining every moment.”

  “Yeah. Even the orthobubbles are beginning to look good, aren’t they?”

  “Warmer, certainly. You see those wide cracks over there, in the wall?”

  “Hard to miss them.”

  “Six put those there, just to make sure the north wind could visit us every night. It is the Kwaidians idea of ‘air conditioning’.”

  “I did not! Not my fault if the timber was warped. Nothing to do with me!”

  “I saw the smirk on your face, no-name!”

  “That must have been a twinge of pain because of my arm,” Six informed her, holding his injured arm towards her like a bird with a broken wing.

  “When warthogs fly! Your arm is perfectly all right now, you – you malingerer! You were delighted to see that sleeping here would be practically impossible!”

  “I may have thought that it would help you adjust to adverse conditions, is all.”

  “Sure. And you may just have to adjust to some adverse conditions yourself if you don’t wipe that smug grin off your face!”

  “You wouldn’t hit an injured man!”

  “Only to try and get my circulation running again.”

  He shook his head. “No staying power. No sense of enjoying sleeping rough.”

  “Rough I can cope with. It is the frostbite which bothers me.”

  “Frostbite! What an exaggeration!”

  Grace looked at her blue finger, and gave silent thanks that she had thought to bring a couple of full bodywraps. They could sleep in them. Diva pummeled Six in the good shoulder, and they all turned to Arcan.

  “So what happened at your ‘first contact’, Arcan?” said Six.

  “They have proposed that I visit their homeworld,” Arcan told him. “I am considering whether to accept or not.”

  Six frowned. “That might be dangerous, don’t you think?”

  A shadow passed through the bubbles Arcan was using as his physical presence. “That, Six, is the reason why I am thinking about it.”

  “Perhaps we should come with you?”

  “That might be a wise precaution. I intend to question the visitor about the type of planet I would find there. It would be a very great occasion for his people.”

  “And yet you are only a 2b!”

  “Indeed. I can’t help thinking that their system of nomenclature is ill-founded. It is clear to me that quantum transportation must be ranked much higher than mere quantum communication. I have suggested to the visitor that they consider inverting the classification.”

  “Quite right too. And tell them to up our category too, while they are about it!”

  “I am unable to see what is wrong with your classification.”

  “They have us down as 3b. We should be ‘a’ too!”

  “In your case I cannot help but agree with their conclusions. You have, unfortunately, remarkably few accomplishments.”

  “You are wrong. Even Diva here is very talented.” Diva looked like a snake that had swallowed its own tail, unsure of just how to take that ‘even’. Six went on regardless. “I think you should beware of these new alien friends. We don’t know anything about them.”

  Grace agreed. “I do know that your so-called traveler is only a collection of brain cells floating about in a tank of nutrients,” she said.

  “There you are then,” said Six. “You want to be a bit careful, if you ask me, mate.”

  “I do not ask you.”

  “Well, perhaps you should!”

  “I will let you know what happens,” Arcan told them. “How is Vion, Grace?”

  Everybody looked at Grace, who blushed, much to her annoyance. “He is fine,” she said, pretty unconvincingly.

  “Only I have seen very little of him recently. I know he has been helping out here, but that is all. I shall always be indebted to him for his timely warning about the attack Mandalon was planning last year. I would have been badly damaged if it had not been for him. I trust he is well?”

  “Spiffy.”

  Diva looked curiously at Grace, and then across at Six. Of one accord, they began to distribute Grace’s few belongings around the bleak shack.

  THE NEXT MORNING Grace struggled out of the bodywrap and made her way over to her mother’s class, to join the rank and file of the rebels who were preparing for the next armed combat. Her mother looked tired, but was no longer using the orthosupport Arcan had fashioned specially for her. She gave a welcoming smile to her daughter, and then treated her no differently to the rest of her pupils. Grace was grateful for the anonymity. She just wanted to fit in and be unobtrusive.

  She found the exercises very relaxing, very warming too. At last she could feel her blood running through her veins, instead of seeping slowly through them in a lethargic reaction to the cold. She was paired off with a nice no-namer who was quite skilled with the Kwaidian dagger he wielded. He made her fight very hard to maintain her position, but was not given to talking. She smiled her thanks to him.

  She had been there for about an hour when an envoy came running in and skidded to a halt in front of Cimma.

  “If you please, Magestra, First Six is to come immediately to the conference centre.”

  Grace caught her mother’s eye and nodded. She went to find Six, who was still in the intermediate class because of his injuries, and gave a sign to Diva, who was with the most advanced group. They all left to make their way to the conference centre.

  Grace looked at another bleak shack, identical to the one she and Diva now shared. “Conference centre?” she queried. “Somebody was a bit optimistic there, weren’t they?”

  Six glared. “It is a case of protocol,” he assured them. “All self-respecting cities must have a conference centre.”

  “Oh, protocol. That’s all right then,” Grace assured him, rolling her eyes secretly at Diva, who giggled.

  “Come on you two! It must be important if they have pulled us out of exercise time.”

  They hurried up the timber steps and opened the ill-fitting door to the shack. Six stopped in the doorway, blocking the progress of Grace and Diva.

  “Shift over, no-name, I can’t see … oh!” Diva, too, stopped.

  Grace saw that there were several people sitting around the small room. She recognized two – Jalana, Six’s sister, and her husband Calab. She crept into the room behind Six and Diva, and leant with her back against the wooden wall.

  Six’s sister looked up as they came in.

  “I have come to beg you to stop all this stupidity,” she said, with a cool tone. “I am empowered to tell you that if you stop now the Elders will grant a full pardon to all those who are implicated in this illegal rebellion.”

  “Saving Kwaide is not a stupidity,” Six told her grimly. “You of all people should know that, Seven.”

  “And don’t call me Seven! I am no longer a no-name!”

  “You will always be a no-name to me. I looked after you for ten years, remember?”

  “As if I could ever forget! They were cold an
d bitter years.”

  Six went pale. “We survived. We were only children.”

  “And now that we have made something of ourselves, you want to take it away from us.”

  Six shook his head. “I just want justice for the untouchables. Surely you can understand, Jalana? Surely you can’t be with the Elders on this?”

  “My son is an Elder, Six. Remember that. You are taking his heritage away from him. You are ruining his life.”

  Diva stepped in front of Six, as if trying to protect him from enemy fire. “You sure don’t take much after your brother, do you?” she demanded.

  “What do you mean, Coriolan?”

  “Nothing,” Diva said lightly, “it just seems to me that he must have got the majority of the brains going around when you all were conceived.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Just stating a fact.”

  “You are calling me stupid!”

  “Well, let’s face it, you have about the same brain power as a Xianthan turkey bird!”

  “I do not!”

  “No, perhaps not. After all, they are considered to be quite intelligent avians.”

  “You … you …”

  “Not a patch on your brother.” Diva turned away, to examine the wall with some interest.

  Grace threw her an exasperated look. “She … err … doesn’t mean that.” A slight sound from Diva belied that sentence, but Grace battled on. “You really need to come to us. You are in dreadful danger in Benefice. If the Elders are in collusion with the Sellites, then they might hand you and your son over to the Sellites without a qualm. I urge you to come over to us.”

  “To live as an outlaw in some isolated camp with no heating? Or bring my son up in a place he can’t go outside? I thank you, no. You are quite wrong. We are both safe in Benefice. We are established members of the Elder community now.”

  Diva made another noise.

  “Tell that rude girl to go away!” said Jalana.

  “I’m going,” Diva snapped. “And your brother is worth a thousand of you, you silly thing. Just don’t think we are going to come running over to rescue you when your ‘wonderful’ Elders break down that front door of yours and drag you out of your heated flat, because we are not!”

  “I don’t need your help – or your advice. Who do you think you are, anyway?”

  Diva glared. “Divina Senate Magmus of Coriolis,” she informed the girl haughtily.

  “From Mesteta?”

  Diva inclined her head.

  “Huh! They encapsulate people in Rexelene blocks in your town, lady, so don’t come the enlightened bit with me! I have lived in Rexel, you know. We know where the Rexelene goes, and why.”

  “Whereas now, ‘lady’, you live right next to the effluent conduits in the wastelands of Benefice, in a flat about the size of handkerchief, you slab-faced daughter of Sacras! A real aristocrat!” Diva’s lip curled.

  “Slab-faced? Slab-faced?” The girl spluttered. “I’ll give you slab-faced you—”

  “Stop it! Both of you!” Grace held up her hands. “You are both being really stupid.”

  Diva swiveled around, and treated Grace to a furious flash of her eyes. “Keep out of this, Grace. Let me finish!”

  Grace touched her arm, and signed her to be quiet. “Shush, Diva, you are really not helping. It is not the right time. Let’s hear what she has to say, shall we?”

  Diva grumbled under her breath, with less volume. “Anybody can see she is only here to make things worse,” she said.

  “I will say not one more word until this infidel has removed herself from my presence,” snapped Jalana. “I will not accept insults from foreign agitators!”

  Diva straightened herself up to her full height. “You needn’t bother,” she said. “I wouldn’t waste any more of my precious time helping someone who so clearly doesn’t want my help.”

  “Of course I don’t want your help!” Jalana snapped back. “I have a husband, and in any case I can take care of myself very well, thank you very much. I certainly don’t need to ask a foreigner for anything.”

  “Fine,” answered Diva, “just fine!”

  Grace gave a tug on Diva’s sleeve. “I don’t think this is going very well, Diva—” she began.

  “I’ve met Cesan mules who are more tractable than this … this … person!” Diva’s teeth grated audibly together.

  “And I have met puffer eels who are less inflated than you!” interposed Jalana quickly, determined not to be outdone.

  Grace blew a sigh. “We are sorry to have bothered you,” she said. “Please excuse our intrusion.” And she pulled a rather unwilling Diva with her as she retraced her steps out of the shack. Diva was unrepentant.

  “Let me stay,” she begged. “Let me stay! All I need is a dagger and half an hour, and I will soon show her how we “foreigners” can be very handy in a tight spot. Of all the self-satisfied, stupid, overbearing …”

  “… overbearing, eh?” muttered Grace, “a bit of ‘pot calling the kettle’ – if you ask me,”

  Her friend simply stared at her in disbelief.

  Grace held up her hands, “Don’t fight me now, Diva! I know just how much help you can be, remember?”

  Diva gave a wry laugh. “I’m sorry, Grace, you are right. It’s just that I couldn’t stand there and listen to the way she spoke to Six. It was simply too much!”

  “I know.”

  “And the other one was there too. Did you see her?”

  “That was Eight?” Neither of them look anything like Six, do they?”

  “She is not Eight anymore either. Goes by the name of Samaliya now, if you please, now she is an Elder!”

  “So why have they come? They can’t really believe that Six is going to stop the revolution just for them. Not that he could now”

  “I don’t know, but I just bet they are planning something devious. There is something more to all this than simply trying to make Six feel bad.”

  “Yes. I hope they aren’t trying to lead him into another trap,” mused Grace.

  “Oh Cian!” Diva looked rueful. “My stupid tongue has got in the way again. Now neither of us is in there hearing what is going on. I’m truly sorry, Grace. Why don’t you go back in? Don’t worry – I’ll head back to my practice group.”

  Grace slipped back inside the conference centre. She didn’t seem to have missed very much. The other girl, the one she now knew was Six’s other sister had been speaking, and was in the process of sitting down again.

  Calab stood up.

  “You have heard my wife speak,” he said. “Now I would like to take this opportunity to explain just what is going to happen to you all if you do NOT do as she has suggested.” He put a hand on Jalana’s shoulder tenderly. “The Elders will not tolerate this treason any longer. This should have been an internal fight. Now you have forced us to make other arrangements. The Elders have been in contact with the Sellites, and I must tell you that a treaty has been signed with the acting head of Sell, Atheron, authorizing the Sellites to participate in any future battles,” He looked up and around the room, “using nuclear weapons.”

  Grace bit back a gasp. This was terrible news. That the Elders could sign a treaty with the Sellites had been expected; that they should authorize the use of nuclear weapons upon their fellow Kwaidians had not. She closed her eyes. And how on Sacras had Atheron got the other Sellites to agree to the use of nuclear power? It was unheard-of in Sell history. Nuclear weapons had always been considered only a deterrent. How was it possible that their use had been authorized? She felt sick. She would have to do something about this. The rebels would be easy targets. There would be no chance of escape for them. Grace’s head swam for a moment, forcing her to lean back more strongly into the wall to keep her balance. She turned her attention back to Calab, who was still speaking.

  “… Naturally we would prefer not to resort to such—” he paused, and then smiled as he found the right word, “— definitive armament, but you leav
e us no choice. Your actions in declaring part of Kwaide as independent are illegal and totally unacceptable. You are traitors to your country, and if you do not rectify the situation we will obliterate you from the map.”

  Six stepped forward. “When do you want an answer?” he asked, his voice thick.

  The man stood up, and the whole delegation followed his lead. “You may have twelve hours,” he said.

  Grace took a step forwards. “Not long enough,” she said. “We need more time. At least two days.”

  The man gazed at her dispassionately, and thought for a moment.

  “Very well,” he said finally. “You may have one day. We will return in exactly twenty-four hours for your answer.”

  Six was still looking stunned, so Grace ushered the delegation out of the makeshift shack and accompanied them to the edge of the camp. When she got back Six was still standing in exactly the same place. He watched her enter the shack again, but his eyes were unfocussed.

  “What have I done, Grace?” he asked. “Diva and I started this whole revolution, and now they are all going to die because of us. I can’t believe it.”

  “We have to do something about it,” agreed Grace, taking him by the good elbow, and escorting him to the door. “So the first thing to do is tell everybody what has happened, and then decide how we can stop the Sellites bombing the planet, because I wouldn’t trust those Elders as far as I can throw them, and I’m pretty sure that their general pardon would involve shutting all of us up in blocks of cement with no food and water, and throwing the keys down the waste conduits of Benefice!”

  “Is Diva OK?”