“I see...”
“It’s all my fault really. I thought the French colony was safe from all exterior threats, but based on my experience on Mars, I should have known better. In fact, something tells me that my past may well be catching up with me. With a vengeance too.” Leo paused for a minute, then continued: “I’m sorry I dragged you here, Gisèle. It was selfish of me.”
“Don’t be,” replied the young woman, smiling. “I don’t remember you using force. Monsieur Pichenet insisted that I accompany you, remember? Besides, it sounds like you’re going to need some help.”
The Nyctalope returned her smile, and put his arm around her.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked.
While talking, they had reached the hills, and the opening of a cave. There was a fountain carved into the rock and a stone post around which were tied two white, stout, llama-like animals.
“These are axicors, the most accommodating species on Rhea. They’re like mules used by both Nocturnals and Diurnals for underground travel through the Weeping Hills. They won’t mind taking us to Qotwaa.”
The Nyctalope whistled three times, with different pitches in a very specific pattern.
One of the axicors answered his call. Leo grabbed the bridle.
“Can we ride them?” asked Gisèle.
“Of course. They’re docile as lambs. Aren’t you, my boy?”
The axicor harrumphed. Leo then put his hand out to Gisèle to help her onto the beast’s back.
“Hop on!”
Once she settled on the animal’s back, they began to make their way down the cavern and into the depths of Rhea.
Chapter IX
The Envoy of the Sarvants
The gyrosphere used by Claude Marécourt lay abandoned on the ground. A gasoline puddle leaking from the hole made by Malterre’s bullet was a clue as to what had happened to it.
Suddenly, the Oxus appeared overhead.
“I think we’ve found our man,” said Frédéric de Soto, looking at a monitor screen.
No.2 also spotted a long trail of footsteps leading from the gyrosphere to the Weeping Hills, a range of low desert mountains with a maze of interconnected caverns. The name was due to the fact that when the wind blew through the hills, it created an eerie sound, not unlike a wail.
De Soto’s reasoning was indeed correct, for, at the same time, Marécourt, utterly lost, was wandering through the caverns, muttering to himself:
“I’ve got to get out of here...”
He entered a cave where a stone altar sat as the centerpiece. Suddenly, his face expressed surprise when a small bubble of light appeared right above it. It grew until it until it turned into a hologram of Frédéric de Soto.
“Marécourt!” said No.2. “I’ve finally found you.”
The young physicist wrung his hands at the hologram.
“It wasn’t my fault, Monsieur de Soto. I was careful, I swear. The converter just exploded.”
“No need to be afraid, No.9,” said de Soto. “We’ve done some investigating since you, er, left us, and we know you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Marécourt appeared relieved.
“I didn’t?”
“No. It was an act of sabotage.”
“But who’d have done a thing like that? And how?”
“We found the remains of a cybernetically-modified bug inside the converter. It looks like we were the victim of some kind of plot.”
“I’m sorry to say this, but I’m relieved to hear that.”
“No.1 is sorry for all the trouble this has caused you,” de Soto continued. “Frankly, at this stage, he’d prefer it if you were to leave Rhea and return to Earth. I’ve arranged for someone to take you back.”
“You have? Who...?”
At that very moment, a bullet whizzed by between the holographic de Soto and Marécourt, and hit the rock behind them.
“Ah, I believe she’s just arrived,” said No.2.
A tall woman with red hair, carrying a six-shooter and dressed somewhat like a character from a Sergio Leone movie, had just appeared out of one of the tunnels.
“Claude Marécourt, meet the Envoy,” said de Soto. “Mademoiselle, this is Claude Marécourt. No.1 wants him off Rhea as soon as possible. You know what to do.”
And with these words, the hologram switched off. The young physicist was now alone with the strange female pistolero.
“You’re in good hands now, No.9,” said the woman.
With Marécourt in tow, she began walking down a long flight of stone steps.
“You’re not part of Koynos’s team. I don’t recall seeing you on the ship…”
“That’s correct. I have been on Rhea from the beginning. In fact, it was I who made contact with Koynos.”
“Who are you, really?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. It might endanger the mission.”
“What a strange thing to say,” said Marécourt, puzzled. “I can’t say I like your answers so far, and I’m pretty sure I don’t understand them. Why are you helping me?”
“Because both Koynos and I agree that you’re not cut out to be a player in this game, Marécourt.”
“Is that what it is... a game?”
“No. It’s much more than that. The future of Rhea is at stake, and perhaps that of the Human Race as well.”
The Envoy, still leading Marécourt, was walking down a seemingly endless flight of stone steps.
“There is a bubble-ship hidden near Qotwaa,” she continued. “It’s programmed to take its passengers back to Earth. The journey will last just over three months. I’ll soon have you out of here.”
“I can’t say I’ll mind leaving this awful planet.”
“I know what you mean. It is, after all, the Sarvants’ creation.”
“Who?”
“The Sarvants. They’re the ones who built Rhea. A long, long time ago, they used to be creatures of flesh and blood, just like us. Well, not quite like us, but physical, anyway. Then, they converted their planet into a wandering planetoid in order to travel throughout the galaxy and study the wonders of the universe. Later, they evolved into… something else. Now they’re ethereal creatures who exist halfway between space and hyperspace, totally beyond our comprehension…”
“How bizarre… And how do you know all this?”
“A while back, I stumbled into Rhea’s Core. I triggered an accident. I was nearly dead, half of my body was gone, but I had attracted the Sarvants’ attention, and they rebuilt me…”
“Rebuilt?”
“Yes. They had had some primitive contact with Humanity in 1912,8 so they knew who we were and how we functioned; they did a decent job on me. We began talking, or rather, they began asking me questions. That’s when they found out that Mankind had established a foothold on Rhea, which they had abandoned to the descendents of their slave races, those whom we call Diurnals and Nocturnals…”
“I see.”
“The Sarvants are very concerned about Humanity. Some don’t think it should be allowed to spread beyond the Solar System. A few believe it should be eradicated altogether. But they’re not impatient creatures. They have all of eternity before them, so they decided to… How should I put it? Set up a commission and study the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thanks to my knowledge of recent history, they learned of the French colony on Mars, and the disaster that ensued. They decided to resurrect Koynos…”
“Resurrect?”
“Well, rebuild perhaps… Koynos died on Mars in 1911. The Sarvants are masters of time and space. Somehow they plucked him out of the continuum and restored him to life… They have awesome powers beyond human ken. Anyway, they tasked him with the job of surveying Mankind’s impact on Rhea. If, after they hear his report, they decide that Humanity is irremediably flawed and dangerous, first they will destroy Rhea before it can spread that ‘infection’ to other systems in the galaxy, and they may very well end up eradicating all
life on Earth as well.”
“My Goodness! I wish I’d known all this when...” Marécourt took a look at his surroundings, which he had just noticed, and asked: “Where are we?”
They had reached an esplanade, cut by a deep, bottomless chasm, seemingly made of total darkness, which stretched horizontally to infinity. On the other side, a passageway was visible in the rock. The Envoy walked to the very edge of the chasm.
“This is the discontinuity canyon that exists between the Weeping Hills and Qotwaa. It’s the result of an ancient malfunction in the engines. Nothing too serious, but someday I’ll have to fix it. In the meanwhile, think of it as a tiny crack in the carburetor, if you’d like. We have to cross it.”
“How? There’s no bridge?”
The Envoy stepped into the void but, strangely, did not fall. She stood there like a cartoon character walking on air.
“I don’t need one. I’m the Envoy of the Sarvants; I’m attuned to Rhea’s Core. Small discontinuities are only fractures of reality...”
Suddenly, patches of light appeared beneath her feet, which enabled her to walk a few more steps into the void.
“...If you don’t believe in them, they don’t exist.”
The Envoy then turned towards Claude Marécourt, inviting the young scientist to follow her.
“Well?”
“I don’t know,” said Marécourt, skeptical. “This pit looks awfully real to me.”
“Don’t you trust your guide, Claude? Step forward.”
Marécourt took a hesitant step, as if dipping his foot into water to test its temperature.
“Okay, if you say so. Here I go...”
Much to his surprise, the same patches of light appeared beneath his own feet.
“Hey! It works… I’m getting the hang of this…”
But the brash physicist had spoken too soon. Walking like a tightrope artist across the void, he nevertheless almost lost his balance a few times.
“Do you need my help?” asked the Envoy, solicitously.
Marécourt, whose pride was wounded, straightened up and put on a brave face.
“Of course not!”
They continued walking across the canyon, until the Envoy set foot on the other bank.
“I’m right behind you,” said Marécourt. “Piece of cake.”
But, once again, the scientist had been a little too proud of his achievement and bragged too soon. Suddenly, the patch of light under his feet disappeared with a pop. Marécourt looked horrified. Deep beneath him, a huge rip had formed in the dark fabric of nothingness. Through it, crackling tentacles of energy surged upward searching for a prey.
“A plasma leak!” screamed the Enjoy.
Marécourt stumbled in the void, still suspended in mid-air.
“Keep walking! Keep walking!” urged the Envoy.
But the scientist panicked. Below, the plasma tentacles, almost sensing his fear, leaped ever higher. Marécourt began to fall.
“Grab my lasso!”
But Marécourt didn’t appear to hear the Envoy. He kept falling until he was grabbed by one the plasma tentacles, which began to engulf his body. Meanwhile, the Envoy, in a smooth, rapid movement, had unfurled a strange, shiny metal lasso and thrown the looped end into the abyss after the young physicist.
Marécourt’s body was almost completely enveloped by the plasma, but his arm had remained free, clutching helplessly, when the lasso reached him. At the last moment, he managed to grab the loop with his free hand.
The metal “rope” began pulsating with an eerie blue light which seemed to repel the plasma. Then, the Envoy was able to pull Marécourt up, seemingly without effort. She helped the scientist to set foot safely next to her on the canyon’s bank.
“Thank you,” said Marécourt, visibly shaken.
“You’re quite welcome,” replied the Envoy.
She then led the scientist towards another flight of stone steps, hidden in a passageway in the rock.
“Where are we going?” inquired Marécourt.
“I told you: to Qotwaa.”
They climbed a few steps, then arrived at a metal door with an enormous lock on it.
“But we don’t have a key...” observed Marécourt.
But the Envoy simply pulled the door open.
“I am the key,” she said simply.
Chapter X
The Underworld of Qotwaa
Unbeknownst to the Envoy and Claude Marécourt, the Nyctalope and Gisèle d’Holbach were also progressing towards Qotwaa, the capital of the Nocturnals, traveling underground on the back of their axicor.
As they reached a spacious cavern decorated with carvings representing an armadillo-like creature with big claws, Leo got off.
“This is the Temple of the Nightly Evovores; they haven’t been worshipped in decades and, as a result, it is rarely guarded anymore…”
Gisèle got off and looked around, while the Nyctalope searched for a door, which he found, hidden behind a big boulder.
“What I love about the tunnels of Rhea are their infinite variety of secret passages.”
Gisèle looked that the ancient stone door, which had been decorated with particularly ugly carvings.
“This one seems a bit foreboding,” she said.
“I’ll admit, it’s never been one of my favorite passages, but I’ve found it very useful in the past.”
The Nyctalope took another key from his briefcase, a gnarly, twisted thing, and used it to open the door.
“Still, it will permit us to make a discreet entrance into Qotwaa.”
They walked through the door and emerged into what was surely the “underworld” of Qotwaa: a dilapidated slum, overcrowded and reeking with foul odors. They found themselves in the midst of a colorful crowd of Diurnals all singing beautifully to the beat of African-like music.
“Hmm,” said Leo, “it looks as if we’ve arrived in the middle of a religious gathering. These are the sacred songs of Kkqaua. Let’s not dawdle in case someone starts asking questions. Earthmen are not an unusual sight in Qotwaa, but I don’t want to press our luck.”
They started down a flight of stone stairs, but suddenly, the music and all the singing stopped.
“Please, don’t pay any attention to us,” said the Nyctalope to the crowd. “We’re just passing through.”
After a tense minute, the crowd nodded in unison and began singing again.
The Nyctalope let out of sigh of relief. As they made their way through the neighborhood, Leo noticed a frown on Gisèle’s face.
“What’s wrong, chérie?”
“It’s all rather... squalid.”
“These people are free to live as they please, Gisèle. You can’t blame me for all that you see here.”
“But you could do so much to improve their lot!”
“In spite of what some people may think, I’m no colonist. We French learned our lesson in Africa and later, in Algeria. When I first came to Rhea, I’ll admit I had dreams of turning it onto another colonial outpost, like the one we had built on Mars. But later, I understood the error of my ways. When we returned, I wrote it into the Olbansville Charter that the people of Rhea had to have complete autonomy. If they choose to misuse their freedom, it’s not our place to stop them.”
“But what’s the point of all of this then?”
“You have to think in terms of centuries, Gisèle, something where I have an obvious advantage, of course. Rhea is our path out of the Solar System. If Mankind is ever to spread to other stars, it will be thanks to Rhea. The planetoid accelerates as it pulls out of the Solar System… It may even go into hyperdrive… We haven’t figured out the secrets of its interstellar engines, and may take several more decades before we do so, but someday, the descendents of Olbansville will see the light of other suns, will explore other worlds… And it will all have started here.”
Behind the Nyctalope, a spybird was perching on a rooftop. Its head rotated slightly and came to a stop when it saw Leo and Gisèle.
>
Inside King Kkal’s sanctum, Lucifer was performing another ritual, involving ribbons of light, under the Nocturnal Monarch’s watchful eyes. Ppy, as usual, was zipping around the control deck.
The pattern on the floor swallowed the Vôo’s light ribbons. At Rhea’s Core, the already-cracked golden control sphere vibrated and shuddered.
The Pattern opened, releasing a flow of golden light.
“This is it!” shouted Kkal. “The Core! We made it!”
But the sphere still held and the warp closed with a snap and a burst of flames.
“I have failed again,” muttered Lucifer.
“You try my patience, you alien spirit,” roared Kkal. “You came here, offering to rid us of the French, and I agreed to host your mentality in my mighty machines, but so far, you haven’t delivered much.”
“Use the Blot to destroy the Nyctalope.”
“How can I? We don’t know where he is, you fool!...”
Suddenly, Ddôl came rushing into the room.
“Your Majesty!”
“Yes. What is it, Ddôl?”
“We’ve just spotted the Nyctalope in Qotwaa!”
Both Kkal and Lucifer looked stupefied at the news. The form of the Vôo shimmered and wavered in rage. Ppy cowered in a corner.
“What?!” shouted Kkal. “How is this possible?!”
“We must destroy the Nyctalope,” roared Lucifer. “Make him die slowly. Painfully…”
“That’s all well and good,” interrupted Kkal, “but meanwhile, he’s here in Qotwaa. How do you propose to stop him before he makes his way into the Core?”
Meanwhile, in another section of Qotwaa, Gisèle d’Holbach was looking at the squalid surroundings with distaste while the Nyctalope, standing in the doorway of a grubby house, was conversing with a portly Nocturnal.
“Ssponel g’nak dit oz powôo?” asked Leo.
“Voss Klaeet,” replied the Nocturnal, shaking his head.
The Nyctalope rejoined Gisèle.
“Are you following a plan, or are we just seeing the sights?” she asked, smiling.
“Don’t be sarcastic. I’m trying to find Ludo Corsat, our local agent. This is where he lives, or rather used to live. The housekeeper just told me he moved out yesterday.
The Return of the Nyctalope Page 25
