Ammonite Stars (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #4-5

by Gillian Andrews

  Volgorion sighed. “And don’t forget the nitrate-oil mix we will need later on.”

  Hebeton stared. “What is that for?”

  Scurrion, who was faster both mentally and physically, nodded. “I will make sure of that. Any other instructions, chief?”

  “Don’t be seen or heard. Nobody must have any inkling of where we have taken her.”

  “You’ve got it.” Between the two of them, Scurrion and Hebeton took hold of Petra’s limp arms and legs and began to manhandle her out of the Valhai Voting Dome. The passageways down to the tunnels were directly underneath the dome, and they only needed to wait.

  After a short time, they heard Volgorion’s querulous voice, demanding instant obedience from the two guards stationed at the entrance to the tunnels. They had been deliberately chosen as loyal to Mandalon 50, so that their word would be believed if they were questioned later.

  “ATTENTION!” Volgorion strode up to them in his usual haughty way, and gave the troop command in a harsh shout. His guards automatically took the standard ten steps forward and came to rigid attention.

  Volgorion fixed them with his beady gaze. “It has come to my notice that some guards are leaving their posts when on duty.” The two guards shuffled uncomfortably, their eyes not leaving their first officer’s face.

  Scurrion and Hebeton had carried their burden noiselessly past the backs of the two guards as soon as these began moving, and had already disappeared into the tunnel. Hebeton was a heavy man, but he could move as silently as Scurrion when necessary. It was a quality that made him an excellent asset. Within the time it took Volgorion to give both guards a cursory inspection, the girl and her captors had disappeared.

  VOLGORION HURRIED TO the meeting where he knew that he would find Mandalon, and whispered into the Sellite leader’s ear, with a deferent pose.

  “Vanished?” Mandalon looked instantly wary. “How can she have vanished? What do you mean?”

  “Should we sound the alarm, sir?”

  Mandalon glared at the man. “Of course. She wouldn’t have just vanished on her own, now would she?”

  Volgorion bowed obsequiously. “Then, sir, may I suggest that we put contingency plan 3 into operation? Your safety is paramount at all times.”

  Mandalon 50 thought. His first guard was right. Contingencies had been drawn up for just such events, and however much he was tempted to go and search for Petra himself, he knew that he couldn’t. He dropped his head, feeling for the small, almost invisible sliver of orthogel which was fixed over the top of one nail. At least he could call Arcan at any moment.

  Volgorion noticed the gesture, and his hawk eyes fixed on the nail. The head of Sell had given himself away. Now it would be a simple matter to remove the orthogel. He smiled to himself. Today was turning out to be a most auspicious date in his calendar. He – and his house – would have escalated the ladder of importance substantially by the end of the day. He breathed in with satisfaction.

  “You had best accompany me to the safe section,” said Mandalon, with a sigh. “but then I want you to take charge of the search for Petra. Personally, mind, Volgorion!”

  “I will take care of the matter myself,” the man promised, his eyes glittering.

  Mandalon thought it rather touching that the man seemed so affected by the Namuri girl’s disappearance. He followed the guard out into the long corridor. “I will rely on you then, Volgorion.”

  “Oh, you may certainly rely on me, excellence,” came the suave reply.

  To add action to words, Volgorion grasped the boy by the arm, and pulled him around so that the young leader of Sell was facing him. “You must be careful, Excellency. There may be traitors amongst—”

  But there was no need to say more. Thedulon had stepped out of the dark recesses of the corner, and the injection of concentrated clorohexanone had penetrated his arm before the boy was even aware that anything had happened. Volgorion caught the small figure in his arms as it threatened to crash to the floor, and Thedulon stepped forwards neatly to slip his shoulder under the boy’s other arm. Then they bustled quickly towards the vimpic rooms, towards the access tunnel which had a hidden exit there. It took them only moments.

  Volgorion grabbed the inert boy’s hand and examined the nail carefully. Sure enough, now that he suspected of its existence, he could see the thin layer of orthogel which lay over the nail. He grinned to himself in the ghostly darkness of the vimpic room, and pulled out his knife. There was one sure way to ensure that the orthogel entity wouldn’t find them before they had had time to carry out their entire plan.

  The knife flashed, and Thedulon stepped back hastily, until he saw, with some relief, that the blade had been meant for the head of Sell. There was a small, but efficient, crack of bone, and then the whole finger lay on the desktop which Volgorion had used as a support. Blood dripped down from the wound in the boy’s finger, but neither of his abductors took the slightest notice.

  “That should keep the Arcan being out of our way for a while,” panted Volgorion, licking his lips. He was enjoying the adrenalin rush the small act of violence had caused to run through him. Looking down at the inert body, he thought what a pity it was that he could not amputate any more of this meddler’s body parts. He would have enjoyed himself.

  But he reined his inner desires back. The plan entailed blaming the Namuri girl; they had to be found together. His black, black eyes flashed in the strange light of the vimpics, as he forced his inner longing back inside.

  “We must hurry. Come on!”

  Between Volgorion and Thedulon they carried the light body across the room, and Volgorion pushed at several notches in the rexelene wall. This slipped back, revealing a flight of rough steps down to the tunnels. He smiled. “May the heavenly apex bless Atheron, who was a martyr to our cause,” he murmured. Then the two burly men took half of the boy’s body each and began to traverse the tunnels at a jog. Their destination was several miles away, and time was at a premium.

  Behind them, the rest of the dignitaries were being escorted to their homes safely, and Volgorion was counting on having a few hours before any of the loyal guards thought to check Mandalon’s safe room in the dome. When they did, they would find two unconscious men, and a vial of clorohexanone nearby. No blame could fall on the guards. He grinned to himself. Zorion had almost Atheron’s way with a plot. He left no loose ends. It would be a pleasure to work with him.

  TWO HOURS LATER, both groups of guards had met at the rendezvous point. Volgorion and Thedulon found Scurrion and Hebeton waiting for them in the nearest point of the tunnel, just short of the opening into the small gallery which brought the tunnel to an end. Petra had been placed on the floor between them. She was still clearly unconscious. Volgorion and Thedulon carried Mandalon’s body past the other two and walked up to a metallic gate which held manacles. They lifted Mandalon onto the gate, and fastened the shackles around his wrists. Since the gate was inclined slightly backwards, he remained immobile on it, only his head slumping to one side.

  Volgorion turned to the others with a pleased grin. “The gate makes it impossible for the orthogel entity to find him,” he told them. “Zorion was informed about it some time ago by Atheron, and we were lucky enough to hear of the gate’s whereabouts from one of our number.” He looked around quickly. “Now, the gate has an influence of approximately fifteen metres, so make sure the girl is inside that distance. We can’t have the orthogel entity picking up on her signature. Both of them must be invisible to it, for our plan to work.”

  They measured the distance carefully, and brought Petra’s inert body further in, towards the small opening. Then they positioned her as if she had been moving away from the gate.

  “Here.” Volgorion held up a hand, and beckoned Scurrion forwards. “Place the charge here, and here.” He indicated two small indentations in the rock above them. “We need a ten-second fuse to get clear. Once we light that fuse we must get back through the vimpics chamber, and carry out the rest of th
e plan. Thedulon and I will be found unconscious inside Mandalon’s safe room, and you two, Hebeton and Scurrion, make sure that you are seen to be actively looking for the girl. Nobody must suspect us of treason.”

  Hebeton nodded slowly. “Look for the girl. Where?”

  “Anywhere except down here. All right?”

  There were nods all around. “Then, Scurrion, set the fuses.”

  Scurrion did as he was told, and then he and the rest of the guards hurried from the doomed area. They were quite a long way away by the time the soft crump of the explosive sounded in the corridors. There was a small rumble of falling rock, and then total silence. They smiled, and touched hands in the system salute. They had carried out their task. It had all gone very well.

  MANDALON CAME TO his senses some three hours later. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he recognized the tunnels under the Valhai Voting Dome straight away. It was the second time that he had been left for dead here. He felt a throbbing, dark pain in one of his hands, and tried to bring the hand closer to his face, to examine it. It wouldn’t move. He blinked, trying to clear his foggy mind.

  Then, all of a sudden, he realized where he was. He was tied to a metallic gate, in a small opening in one of the tunnels. He turned his head to the right. His hand was secured to the gate, and there was a space where one of his fingers should have been. He stared at the gap. It had been crudely cauterized by some sort of acidic tar, and so had stopped bleeding. But it hurt. It throbbed with waves of anguish which made him grit his teeth.

  He pulled at the manacles, but they held. He began to cough. There was a great deal of dust in suspension in the atmosphere, and it irritated the lining of his lungs.

  After a few minutes, he realized that it was useless to pull at the shackles. He moved his head as far around as he could, but his spirits dropped. There was now no way out. He was trapped, and the one person who could find him instantly wouldn’t be able to, because the nail of orthogel was missing.

  But Mandalon didn’t give up. He might be only 12, but he knew a thing or two about survival. He opened his mouth, and started to shout.

  At first only a groan came out, but then he managed to put more volume into his throat, and a reasonably strong call for help sounded. He repeated it again, and again, refusing to give up. Then he rested his voice for a while before resuming his shouts. His only hope was that somebody would find him.

  PETRA HEARD A faint voice calling her. It penetrated the chemical fog which covered her mind, and all of her senses told her that something was very, very wrong. She tried to move, and then panicked. The space she was in was extremely reduced, and her arm hurt abominably.

  With her other hand, still very woozily, she felt around her, trying to fix her surroundings. There was only solid rock on all sides. Her right arm was trapped under one large boulder, and one of her legs felt crushed too, although she couldn’t get her hand far enough down to confirm this.

  She gave a whimper, and then determinedly suppressed it. She was Namuri. That was synonymous of valour, of fortitude, of resolution. She suppressed the small whisper of fear that had entered her heart, and turned her mind to the problem at hand.

  Then she heard the call for help again. It was faint, and weak, but she would have known it anywhere.

  “Mandalon? MANDALON? Is that you?”

  “PETRA?” The reply was incredulous, suddenly blazing with hope.

  Petra noted the direction of the voice. It was coming from behind her. She tugged inefficiently at the arm under the boulder, and gasped at the pain which swept through her.

  “I AM COMING!” she shouted back. “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?”

  “YES!” The voice was almost sobbing with relief. “I AM TRAPPED ON SOME SORT OF GATE THING, AND CAN’T MOVE. YOU?”

  Petra thought of her arm and her leg. “I WILL BE FINE. I AM ON MY WAY.” She turned her attention to the boulder. That was the first obstacle. She would do this thing one step at a time. One goal after another. And the first thing to do was to free her arm.

  She was dimly aware of panic setting in. She knew that the air around her would be limited, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had signed a blood oath, and that meant saving Mandalon or dying in the attempt.

  She bit her lip, and threw her weight at the boulder. It moved slightly. Encouraged, she tried again.

  And again.

  And again.

  It took her many attempts before the boulder shifted enough for her to extricate the trapped arm, but she managed it. She drew the shattered bone out from under the rock with a sharp sense of fulfilment. She had done it! That was the first goal achieved. Now ... she had to get back, back to Mandalon 50.

  In the tiny confined space of her rocky prison, she dragged herself around, so that she was facing the direction of the voice. Her leg came free quite easily, she found to her surprise, and the crushed tissue still functioned, if it did scream at her to stop. She grimly ignored all the pain. Lucky, she thought, that the damaged hand was the same one she had broken a couple of weeks ago, so she still had some strength left in the other arm. With her one good hand, she began to tear at the boulders blocking the tunnel. When she realized that she couldn’t get a handhold on some of the rocks, she wrenched the blue namura stone from around her neck, and began to hack at the rock, using it as a tool.

  Mandalon continued to shout for some hours, but the quiet periods between his voice were longer and longer. Petra was worried for his safety. Although all her energy was focused on inching herself closer, the lack of headroom was causing her to feel as if she were in a dream, and the sweat was pouring down her face at the effort she was having to make.

  She was repeating over and over again one of the Namuri chants she had learnt as a child in the clan.

  ‘I will not stop, I will be a river.

  I will not pause, I will be light.

  I will not waver, I will be the earth.

  I will not give up, I will be death.

  I will not fail, for the blue stone is in my heart.’

  She muttered the words as she hacked at the unrelenting rock, pebble by pebble, stone by stone, cubit by cubit. Tears of frustration mingled with the sweat, but she ignored it.

  And slowly – agonizingly slowly, she began to make a way through the rock. For some reason the charge had detonated more in one direction that the other, and she was finding smaller rubble to one side of the passage. Here, it was easier to pull the offending stones out of her path, easier to make progress towards Mandalon.

  She shouted in his direction, but this time there was no answer. She redoubled her efforts. She HAD to get to the head of Sell. She HAD to. Namuri didn’t fail.

  Every time her will faltered and prompted her to rest, she went back to the chant. For the blue stone is in my heart. For the blue stone is in my heart. For the blue stone is in my heart.

  There would be no rest. Rest was for others. The clan never rested. The namura stone never rested. She thought of her brother. He would have kept going, she knew. He would never admit defeat, and neither would she. Shaking her head from time to time, in an attempt to clear it, she persevered.

  Day turned to night, and night to day again. She wondered why Arcan had not found her. Even without the bracelet, he should have been able to sense where she was. And where Mandalon was. Something was interfering with his quantum powers, then. She was on her own.

  But she was making progress, and as she did, she found the going easier. The main blast had been around the area she had been in. As she crawled closer and closer to Mandalon, she found that she needed the namura stone less and less, and the air was clearer, so that her mind became sharper too.

  Suddenly she found she was able to pull herself into an undamaged part of the tunnel. She thanked the blue stone, before putting it carefully back around her neck. Then she struggled upright, and made her way into the opening.

  “Mandalon?”

  “Petra? Is it really you?”

  “I
said I would come.”

  “It took you long enough!”

  She grinned. “It did. But I am here now. Keep talking, will you, I can’t see a thing in here.”

  “We are trapped in one of the tunnels, and I am shackled to a gate of some sort. They cut off one of my fingers, the one with the orthogel.”

  “Yes. They removed my bracelet, too.” She bumped into the bottom part of the gate, winced, and then moved up the metal with her good hand, until she felt one of the shackles. She fiddled with it for a bit, and then was relieved to hear a click as it opened. “There you are!”

  The boy gave a sigh of relief. He leant over with his free hand to open the lock on the other side, and then the ones at his feet. Then he slid down until he was standing beside Petra. “That is better. What now?”

  Petra was feeling the gate. “There must be a reason they tied you to this thing. My guess is that Arcan can’t detect anything near it. They left you to die on it, and I was to be the scapegoat, for when your remains were finally found. They placed me as if I were escaping, after tying you up here.”

  Mandalon nodded. That made sense. “That means that Arcan will not be able to find us here – they have planned this whole thing with that condition.”

  “And we only have enough air in this closed-off dead end for a short time.”

  “—Which leaves us no alternative but to hack our own way out.”

  Petra swayed slightly, and Mandalon grabbed at her arm. “Are you all right?”

  There was a long silence before she was able to speak. “Please,” came a small, tight voice, “please don’t touch that arm. It is broken.”

  Mandalon snatched his hand back. “Cian! I am sorry!”

  “You didn’t know.” She made an immense effort to dominate the black wall of pain which his touch had caused. “It is of no consequence.”