Hellhole

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Vincent stared. Fernando just smiled. “I told you not to worry so much.”

  The revived Xayans continued to concentrate, and the displaced stones spun around and floated upward, where they returned to their places like puzzle pieces fitting together. The debris on the cavern floor also wafted up, like a video file being played backward. All the bits filled the crevices and finally a keystone slid perfectly into place. The ghostly light forms crackled and separated, leaving only a few dust motes in the air. The roof of the cavern was entirely intact.

  Fernando-Zairic gave a satisfied nod to the alien called Encix, then regarded a stunned Nari, who had fallen to her knees in prayer. Finally he turned to Cristoph. “Your work crews will have sufficient time to reseal the ceiling. The repairs will hold for now. This vault is safe, and we can do our work.”

  Vincent shook his head. “You’re right, I shouldn’t worry so much.” He still couldn’t believe what had happened.

  Fernando went to a niche in the stone walls, and with obvious reverence, removed a black statuette of a slug-like Xayan and carried it over to the dark sarcophagus that held the dead fifth alien. He somberly stood over the opening and immersed the statuette into the liquid around the body. “Allyf is dead. His spirit will be joined with the others who perished on this world.”

  With a wet whisper of movement, the four awakened Xayans slid closer, joining him and combining their silent energies. Their dark eyes spiraled slowly, hypnotically – and the limp body of the dead alien rose out of the gelatinous pool as if pulled by invisible strings. The dead form hovered in the air; the body was well preserved, but its eyes were dark, and its pale translucent skin reflected no light, in contrast to the others. The four living Xayans glided ahead to stand beside it, two on each side, using telekinetic power to hold their fallen companion aloft. Vincent thought they looked like pallbearers.

  Fernando spoke aloud, in his own voice now. “Vincent, Cristoph – Zairic wants a few moments of privacy with his companions. Would all of you please return to the tunnel? It’s some form of funeral ceremony, as I understand it. They’ve earned it, don’t you think?”

  Cristoph de Carre looked uneasy, but didn’t argue. “They deserve that.”

  Fernando felt like a spectator in his own mind, watching and learning such an amazing flood of lost, alien knowledge. Zairic allowed him to observe, but Fernando wasn’t sure how much he could understand, even with his alien companion’s help.

  Fernando had seen the fear and uncertainty on Vincent’s face. His friend could not comprehend what he was witnessing, how these Originals were being awakened with their bodies and memories intact – a flash of unexpected hope after so much destruction. He wished he could communicate his own epiphany clearly. Maybe someday, if Vincent entered the slickwater pool himself, he would understand.

  For now, Fernando had to remain a bystander in his own mind. He listened as the Zairic presence spoke to his newly awakened companions, exchanging mental concepts that were accompanied by dancing spirals and sparks of energy in the air.

  The four Xayans expressed their grief over their companion’s death. “Our dreams are smashed,” said the one called Cippiq. “Allyf was with us for a reason. His ability to . . .”

  Encix seemed to be the strongest, and had the most to say. Fernando realized that Encix and Tryn were both females of the species. “Allyf’s specific abilities were like ours, though more refined,” she said. “But all hope is not lost. We are alive, and perhaps there are still ways to resurrect our dream.”

  “We are alive,” Lodo repeated; he seemed the most ponderous of the four. “But our abilities have been diminished by long disuse. With so few Xayan minds left, I do not know if – ”

  “No more of that!” Encix said. “You have not changed, Lodo. You always did complain too much.”

  Zairic pointed out, “The Xayan race remains, stored in the slick-water. We can awaken them, exactly as I have done here.” He raised Fernando’s human hands. “Our two species are compatible, and humans can learn much from our memories. The Xayans can live again, which will enable the humans to grow stronger as well. It is strange, but I believe both races will benefit greatly.”

  “First we must communicate with them,” Encix said. “Convince them of what they – and we – must do. For ala’ru.”

  As he witnessed and understood the conversation, Fernando knew they were referring to a remarkable evolutionary and spiritual ascension of the Xayan race – something they hoped to achieve. Ala’ru. He could feel his own excitement and Zairic’s. The other presence inside him said, “We have the means to do so.”

  Together in the museum vault, the four Xayans fell silent. At the core of Fernando’s mind, he felt a buzzing sensation. The lifeless body of Allyf sank back into its sarcophagus, submerged in the preservation fluid, and the clear lid closed.

  “He will remain here,” Encix said. “Until we need him.”

  The four original Xayans fell into line and followed Fernando-Zairic out of the deep chamber and up to the surface of their drastically changed world.

  52

  It was more than the General had dreamed of.

  Preparing to receive the reawakened aliens at Elba, Adolphus felt more unsettled than he had before any battle. Over a secure channel, Cristoph de Carre had sent word about the remarkable discoveries within the mountain chamber, providing images of the shocking – revolting? – race that had originally inhabited this planet.

  Even though he himself had funded the excavation project, the General hadn’t allowed himself to believe entirely. Fernando Neron had been right after all.

  Adolphus had been so preoccupied with the complex and converging plans for his stringline network and the possibility of independence for the entire Deep Zone, the alien relics had seemed a mere hobby . . . something to dream about. But now, he expected a great many things were going to change about this planet and its place in human history.

  With a last look at the strange artifacts he kept encased in vitrines in his study, the General stepped out onto the open front porch, anxious to hear the approach of the vehicle. The turquoise groundcover was in bloom, adding an unusual soapy smell to the air.

  Adolphus had donned his formal military uniform – not that the Xayans would understand its meaning (unless, of course, they had learned those details from Fernando’s memories). He turned to Sophie, who stood next to him, offering her silent strength. “Nothing in my career has prepared me for a first-hand meeting with aliens.”

  She squeezed his hand, and he was not quick to let go. “First off, stop thinking of them as ‘aliens.’ Hellhole is their world. They’re the original inhabitants. We’re the ones who came from outside.”

  A chill went up his spine. “And what if they want their planet back?”

  “There are only four of them. I’m more worried about what happens when the Diadem finds out – she’ll send a lot of people here to investigate.”

  “That’s why we need to keep all this quiet until I understand it better myself. Luke Pritikin is already asking questions about the ‘significant new discovery’ he’s heard about, and you know he’s ready to report to Sonjeera.”

  “Pritikin was always a nosy one.” She made a rude sound. Everybody in Helltown knew who worked for the Diadem. “He’s a pain in the ass, but not too bright. How could he have found out already?”

  “Probably bribed someone down at the survey office who had heard something, but didn’t know anything worthwhile. I’m looking into the matter, but I’ll keep any real information from him until I decide what to do. I’ve started several other absurd rumors in the meantime.”

  Sophie looked very concerned. “If Michella ever found out that you’re hiding such important information from her official inspectors, the old bitch would – ”

  “I just gave him something else to chase after. He won’t know the difference until it’s too late.”

  “You distracted him? How?”

  Adolphus shot he
r a wolfish smile, then let the anticipation build. “Our topographical prospectors have made some fascinating discoveries on their travels – red herrings that I hold in reserve for times such as these.”

  “Oh? Now you’ve got my attention.”

  “For instance, there’s an exotic quartz forest growing out of the side of a canyon wall hundreds of kilometers northeast of here. It’s spectacular-looking, but not worth anything. I let Pritikin believe that was the discovery he’d heard about, so he dashed off to see for himself.” He leaned back, took a long breath of the fresh air. “We can’t keep the slickwater pools out of the gossip web, but at least I can divert the Diadem’s man, for the time being.”

  Sophie smiled, amused at the General’s solution. Pritikin was a busybody who took his job seriously, snooping around. There were other official and unofficial Constellation employees here on Hellhole, but Adolphus had such a tight-knit and loyal community in any position of influence, he could easily deflect anything potentially damaging. Like a shell game, he had transferred the more troublesome spies and inspectors off to remote mining operations factories, giving them just enough breadcrumbs to follow. Some of the more pliable ones turned their eyes the other way when given a worthwhile bribe. Sonjeera was far away.

  “Soon enough,” the General added in a low voice, “when the string-line network is done, nobody is going to be interested in a few alien ponds.”

  The dusty overland vehicle pulled up in front of Elba after a long, direct drive from the mountain excavations. It was late afternoon, and the lumpy ferns in the flowerbeds had started to hunker down for the evening. Adolphus stepped forward along the path, feeling anxiety mixed with anticipation.

  When the Trakmaster’s rear compartment opened, the four creatures that emerged were larger than he’d expected. Cristoph’s transmitted images did not at all convey their eerie strangeness. The Xayans looked soft and pale, as if composed of cartilage and gelatin rather than bone and muscle. From the waist up, they looked humanoid, as Cristoph had said, with a torso and a pair of rubbery arms, a smooth head, large eyes, and membrane over what should have been the mouth. Below the waist, though, their vermiform bodies scuttled forward on rows of stubby caterpillar legs.

  Adolphus was so engrossed by their appearance that he didn’t at first acknowledge the three men climbing out of the cab. Standing like a bridge between the two races, Fernando-Zairic extended his arms. “This is a great moment for humans and Xayans. I have told my original companions about you, General Tiber Maximilian Adolphus, and they now understand a great deal . . . about us.” His voice modulated back and forth, occasionally allowing glimmers of Fernando’s bright, fast-talking human personality.

  The four original Xayans skirted the lush patch of native ground-cover and glided forward to the porch of the residence. Adolphus noted slight differences in body build or coloration among the four, spotted patterns on the gelatin that formed their skin.

  The foremost creature spoke in a thrumming voice from the mouth membrane. “I am Encix, one of the leaders of Xaya. I understand that we are the only Originals to have survived the asteroid impact.”

  Fernando-Zairic took a step closer. “Encix was my . . . equivalent during the last days of our civilization. She helmed the preservation bunker project, while I oversaw the dissolution and storage of our race into the slickwater matrix.”

  General Adolphus remained alert for subtleties in the conversation, but the alien emotions remained unreadable. He couldn’t determine if Zairic was implying that he and Encix were partners or rivals with two competing yet desperate schemes.

  Cristoph de Carre cleared his throat. “General, thank you again for your faith in selecting me for this amazing project. We’ve only scratched the surface of what’s in the museum bunker. You might want to assign a large investigation team, and . . . I’d like to volunteer my services to supervise, if I may.”

  Adolphus considered. “We’ll discuss that after I’ve had time to read your full report, Mr de Carre. I don’t want to send an army down there, and I hope the Xayans are willing to help us by providing explanations about their culture, science, and history – and advice?” He looked at the strange aliens.

  “Our races have much to learn about each other,” Encix said. “And we can only learn by sharing what we know.”

  When Adolphus spoke, he wondered if these creatures were accustomed to hearing speeches. “This is a landmark event, and I very much look forward to learning more about your race and the original civilization here on this planet. Would you like to come inside my home?”

  The four Xayans extended their “hands” to one another, touching soft antennae-like fingertips as if to communicate. When they were finished, Encix withdrew and spoke for the four Originals. “Though this planet has been gravely wounded, it is still our home. We have been entombed for centuries. We would prefer to stay here under the open skies.”

  “Very well, we’ll talk out here.” Adolphus sat on the porch step, and Sophie joined him. He had hoped to show these strange visitors his artifacts on display, to ask them to identify and explain the objects. Some other time, he decided. He needn’t worry about the artifacts when he had the actual aliens.

  One of the companion Xayans – Cippiq – bowed, bending over from the waist in a fluid motion like a fern furling, before he straightened. “We offer ourselves as ambassadors from the archives of history.”

  From the corner of his eye, the General glimpsed curious household staff members staring through the windows at the strange Xayans. Craig Jordan had taken extensive security precautions and stationed unseen snipers in the gables in case the aliens should prove hostile.

  Lieutenant Spencer, looking nervous, emerged from the front door carrying a tray of synthesized iced tea for the humans. Sophie politely inquired of the aliens, “Are there refreshments we could offer you? We don’t know your physical needs.”

  The four Originals moved from the walkway onto the thick, spongy ground cover. “You have provided all we need,” Encix said. “Thank you.”

  The Xayans moved along the vegetation, their small caterpillar legs flexing and thrumming as they dragged their low bellies over the native plants. From underneath their soft abdomens, absorbent membranes crushed, processed, and absorbed the turquoise groundcover. The four aliens seemed to appreciate the feast; wet, gurgling sounds accompanied the digestion as they moved along, leaving swaths of consumed vegetation in their wake.

  Adolphus found it strange and unsettling.

  “It’s the way they eat,” Fernando-Zairic said. “But we will now nourish ourselves with a meeting of the minds, to discuss our changed situation.”

  The General tried to maintain a businesslike demeanor, but he felt like an excited boy. He had been fascinated by the aliens for so long. “In all of the Constellation, you are the first intelligent alien race we have encountered, and I am honored to welcome you.” His voice grew husky. “When we began to colonize this world, we discovered a few remnants of your civilization, but we believed all inhabitants had been wiped out in the asteroid strike. I am, personally, relieved and delighted to see that something of your civilization has survived.”

  “And you’ve barely seen anything yet,” said Fernando, smiling brightly.

  Despite his excitement, Adolphus didn’t know how long he could keep the Xayan presence secret from the Constellation. With only a few months until D-Day, he could not afford to let the Diadem grow too curious about Hallholme. The last thing he wanted was a flood of scientists and politicians from the Crown Jewels.

  The General sipped his tart iced tea to give himself time to contemplate, then raised the issue that had been bothering him. “After a decade and a half of difficult labor, we humans have established a colony here, a home, so I hope that you don’t want us to surrender the world and leave.”

  Acting as spokesperson, Encix said, “We do not begrudge your presence here. We four are all that remain of our race. Biologically speaking, it would take us cen
turies to repopulate the planet, if that were even possible – but that is not our goal. So you see, we Originals pose no threat to the continued human presence on Xaya. This planet is not important to us – our race is important. We will gladly relinquish it to you . . . provided you help us.”

  Adolphus was surprised to hear this. Their race was practically wiped out, their whole planet devastated. “How can we help?”

  “Not everything was lost.” Fernando-Zairic drew upon the earnest emotions of his human personality. “It can return. Thanks to the slick-water, the Xayans can reawaken. Zairic’s memories now live alongside Fernando Neron’s. Through immersion in the pools, more people could bring back our friends, our comrades, our greatest minds. Together, humans and Xayans can be the best of both races – an incredible symbiosis. We want you to encourage your entire population to join us.”

  When Encix spoke, her voice throbbed with intensity. “That is what we need most, General Adolphus. With your help and with the slick-water the Xayan race is not lost after all.”

  53

  Though he had buried the spy’s report about Ian Walfor’s off-grid activities, Territorial Governor Goler did not expect the information to remain secret for long. The Constellation had many eyes and ears, even in the Deep Zone.

  When the Diadem’s demand arrived at Ridgetop, her stern summons was intended to make Goler tuck his tail between his legs and lower his head in shame. “Governor, present yourself on Sonjeera with all due haste, so that you may personally explain these rumors of an illegal black-market transportation network. I suspect General Adolphus is behind it.”

  In a way, he was relieved that she had found out so quickly. Goler thought that Michella was being obtuse if she believed such things weren’t going to happen so far from the central government.

  He’d already sent discreet overtures to Buktu, dispatching message drones along the spotty and discontinued stringline to that isolated planet, hoping that at least one of them would get through. He had written the messages to sound like indignant demands for explanations in the name of the Diadem, but worded them carefully, leaving doors open. He had hoped Walfor could read between the lines.