After two more Xilfs gave up in the following round, the competition became a duel between the cybrid and a final opponent. Other improbable creatures were pitilessly devoured. To Laorcq’s surprise, Torg was first to throw in the towel. The spectators cheered the winner, who was given a wooden disc engraved with Xilf symbols: a sort of pass that granted him free service at all of the market stalls for several days.
Torg approached the winner and congratulated him. The alien accepted the compliment graciously.
“I barely made it! I respect your capacity for eating.”
The crowd dispersed, and Laorcq followed them. He listened to a conversation about the quality of food from different solar systems.
Nothing like sharing common tastes for building bridges, Laorcq noted with good humor. Torg seemed to finally remember that he wasn’t there just for his stomach’s sake. He used all six fingers to point the scarred human out to his new friend.
“Frrrj, allow me to present Laorcq Adrinov, a human colleague of mine.”
Not sure if he should hold out his hand to shake one of the alien’s six pincers, he instead bowed slightly.
They exchanged a few pleasantries, chatted some more about food, and then Laorcq decided to put his foot in his mouth.
“Pardon me for broaching a delicate subject, but we’d like to learn more about your people. Important events have taken place on the upper floors. Understanding your relationship with the Gibrals would really help us.”
Frrrj immediately fell silent. Noticing just how many Xilfs surrounded them, Laorcq wondered if he’d just committed a serious faux pas.
As if with regret, Frrrj declared, “We don’t talk about that. Those things belong to the natural cycle.”
The Xilf then made an odd gesture: his giant ocular globes separated and came together several times.
“You are strangers, so I should not speak to you. But I’m going to break the rules because I’m so impressed by Torg and his solid appetite. Follow me.”
Frrrj guided them toward a quiet area that was almost deserted. They were taken aback when his tone changed drastically. “I know why you’re here. We have two memory systems. One like yours, and one that is shared, where we can store whatever recollections we choose. All Xilfs know that a human and a cybrid interfered with our attack on Ambassador Jarvik!”
IV
DISAPPEARANCE
WHILE Laorcq and Torg descended into Solicor’s depths, Mallory explored the city-planet. Far from being a tangle of dark corridors, each level boasted large open spaces where tall buildings stretched to the ceiling. The effect was striking. She felt like she was walking through an underground city built inside an immense cavern filled with concrete and composite.
As she walked, Mallory recalled her conversation with the tall scarred man. Apparently, he thought she would be more cautious in Torg’s absence. So wrong! I’m not going to wait patiently without doing anything until they come back from visiting the Xilfs…
Guided by her navcom, she made her way to the hotel where Alrine and Laorcq were staying. The pilot went straight up to the counter, where a tactile hologram enabled communication with the supervising AI.
She brushed the projection with the back of her left hand to signal her presence.
“Laorcq Adrinov’s room,” she demanded.
The AI replied in a neutral voice. “I’m not authorized to provide you with that information. However, I can alert the occupants to your arrival.”
Mallory acknowledged the message. After all, she would have taken the same precaution.
Stepping away from the hologram, she went to sit in a glass chair resting against a wall covered with inch-long plastic discs that reminded her of shiny black shells. Between the back of the chair, which was more than six feet high, and the strange upholstery that resembled lizard-skin, she felt as if she had been transformed into a barbarian queen. Perched on her crystal throne, she reigned supreme over thirty square feet of carpet…
A wide smile lit up her face as she stretched her legs, sighed with relaxation, and settled in to wait.
When Alrine appeared, she seemed surprised to find the pilot in such good humor.
“Mallory. Where’s Laorcq?”
“He and Torg went to play with the Xilfs.”
The policewoman’s face darkened. Apparently, she had a reasonably good idea of how the veteran and the cybrid liked to “play.”
Mallory continued, lying shamelessly, “He told me to ask for your help. I need to know more about the Vohrn ambassador. Especially about his recent activities…”
Alrine crossed her arms, not bothering to hide her suspicions concerning this request. Under her penetrating gaze, Mallory tried to cultivate an innocent expression, all while maintaining her nonchalant pose in the enormous chair. She knew the policewoman was no sucker, even though she eventually acquiesced.
“I see. We have to start somewhere. Send me your Natural Intelligence’s login, and I’ll send it my access code. Hanosk gave me top level clearance…”
The pilot didn’t hesitate for a second. With that kind of authorization, Jazz would be able to comb through the Vohrn’s schedule and—even better—the embassy’s surveillance videos.
While they were waiting, the two women left the hall and went to sit in one of the parlors reserved for guests. They stood in front of a large bay window that looked down on one of the gigantic wells and observed the endless and impressive flow of individuals traveling through one of the antigrav tubes.
Before they could grow tired of the spectacle, Jazz contacted them. “Ma’ams, the situation’s an awful mess. Jarvik, our new Vohrn friend, has been shirking his responsibilities! He’s barely stepped foot in his office for the past three weeks. He’s been traveling a lot and has even left Solicor several times. His shuttle’s log mentions a visit to Volda, one of the planets in the system that’s supposed to be deserted. I’ll send you some of the coordinates, but it’s frankly slim pickings.”
“I’ll handle it,” the policewoman proclaimed as she rose. “One clue can be enough to pick up the trail.”
She obviously couldn’t stand being idle any more than Mallory. One of her good qualities. They left the hotel and went directly to one of the locations Jazz had indicated.
It was the home of a wealthy Gibralian ship-owner. Located on the surface of the city-planet, the apartment’s imposing size reflected the owner’s elevated status. The two humans were welcomed with evident lack of enthusiasm. They were asked to wait in an empty room with a glass ceiling. Mallory struggled to not recoil in the face of the Gibral who received them. Like his peers, he had an endless neck topped by a head equipped with a single eye. He was taller than the others, and his smooth blue skin was marred by an incalculable number of scars.
The pilot nudged her companion. “This is going well: we came to see the owner and instead we got the bouncer.”
Alrine wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted. Completely unfazed, she began to interrogate the tall cyclops using her navcom as a translator.
From Mallory’s perspective, the conversation seemed to consist of a series of platitudes. Nevertheless, the policewoman seemed satisfied after they left.
“Well! Add his boss to the list of individuals who aren’t acting normally. I have to say I’m not surprised.”
“Not bad,” Mallory admitted, “but that doesn’t get us anywhere, does it?”
The corner of Alrine’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “I’ve got another clue: I know where Ambassador Jarvik spent some of his time: at a shipyard.”
Annoyed by these drips and drabs of information, Mallory took control of the situation. “Perfect. Let’s go there now.”
Alrine was going to object when the pilot interrupted her with a gesture before activating her navcom: she was receiving a call.
An image appeared, visible only to her. Mallory was surprised to see Deïna Volke, the redheaded woman she had met at the embassy. Without preamble, the woman declared, “C
aptain Sajean, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have no one else to go to for help…”
Mallory’s black eyebrows knit together. This didn’t sound good.
“I’m listening…”
“Do you remember my employer, Cole Vassili?”
Mallory recalled the tall, brown-haired man with the chestnut eyes quite well, since he had caught her eye. Feigning indifference, she nodded and let Deïna continue.
“He’s disappeared, and I found traces of blood in his apartment.”
Five hundred levels below, Laorcq continued his conversation with Frrrj under Torg’s attentive gaze. The Earthling was stupefied by the alien’s revelations. The Xilfs’ ability to share memories had profound implications. It was like having innate access to an information network! Compare that to the thousands of years it had taken humanity to build its first system.
With a gesture of obvious irritation, Frrrj’s six arms unfolded, and his pincers clicked in the air.
“We have good reason to be angry with Jarvik. The more time he spends with the Gibrals, the more insane they become! If things go on like this, we may all die.”
“I don’t understand,” said Laorcq. “What are the Gibrals doing that’s putting you in danger?”
“They’ve almost completely stopped taking nilac!”
The reply left Torg and Laorcq speechless. The latter asked the Xilf to explain. Reticent at first, the alien agreed to speak on the condition that they would help him in return.
Unfortunately, this requirement conflicted with the commitment of the Vohrn—and their agents—to remain neutral with regard to Solicorian politics…
Well, officially, anyway, thought Laorcq. Pensive, he scratched his short salt-and-pepper hair absent-mindedly. Evidently, all of these insane aliens were connected somehow. If the Vohrn wanted to know what was going on, they were going to have to get involved one way or another.
He sighed. If he was wrong, he would discover the limits of Hanosk’s patience. On the other hand, the Vohrn leader must have known that Laorcq and Mallory would be likely to improvise when he recruited them. Therefore…
“Okay,” he declared. “We’re with you. Now, tell us about this ‘nilac’.”
To explain, Frrrj had to go far back into Solicor’s past, to the time when the planet was still uncivilized. Other than intelligence, Xilfs and Gibrals had no more in common than monkeys and octopi on Earth. They inhabited different regions and had conflicting lifestyles. The wide-eyed aliens lived a simple life, while the blue cyclopes had evolved from Bronze Age technology to their Industrial Revolution in just three centuries.
As on many worlds, this period was accompanied by pollution and its associated disadvantages: little by little, Solicor was covered in concrete and steel, forcing the Xilfs to crowd into tiny enclaves. This radical change in the environment led to a mutation that weakened the Gibrals’ immune systems.
Conditions might have continued to degenerate, but several factors contributed to a rapprochement between the two species.
The Gibrals discovered that nilac made it possible for them to lead normal lives despite their failing metabolisms. The Xilfs expectorated this thick, mucus-y substance and then used it to construct their habitats, which were similar to hummingbird nests. Using a simple process, the Gibrals were able to extract an injectable serum from it that contained the molecules they needed to survive.
It was only a suspended sentence. The blue cyclopes realized that the Xilf population was decreasing alarmingly: lacking a healthy environment to grow, the Xilf larvae rarely survived to maturity.
Coincidentally, the Gibrals had evolved a trait similar to marsupials—a ventral pouch in which small cyclopes lived before becoming independent.
In exchange for a regular supply of nilac, the Gibrals agreed to incubate the Xilf larvae. Each species contributed to saving the other, and their symbiosis continued for millennia.
Laorcq absorbed this information and then summed it up. “The Gibrals don’t want nilac anymore, so you’re afraid they’ll stop taking care of your young… I’m following you so far, but I don’t see what this has to do with Ambassador Jarvik.”
Frrrj’s ocular globes shivered at the ends of his two necks. The human correctly associated this reaction with anger.
“It was his idea!” the extraterrestrial blurted. “He promised the Gibrals technical and financial support to manufacture a substitute for nilac!”
Laorcq’s forehead wrinkled again. This made no sense. The Vohrn favored profitable exchanges with other peoples and, although they possessed a powerful military, they advocated absolute respect for life. Furthermore, he couldn’t see how the Xilfs’ extinction would serve their purposes.
“I can assure you that the Vohrn have nothing against you. If fact, I guarantee it,” Laorcq pleaded. “If Jarvik was behaving like that, someone or something must be making him do it.”
“In that case, help us find out who or what. If nothing is done, a number of my compatriots are ready to give in to violence.”
With these words, Frrrj said goodbye to the human and the cybrid. At least they had learned something. They left the underground market and returned to the upper floors, feeling a sense of urgency: if something didn’t happen soon, Solicor could descend into civil war…
Mallory looked at the image displayed by her navcom. Beneath the silvery swirls adorning her black skin, Deïna seemed truly worried. That said, her client’s disappearance was quite recent. There might be a simple explanation, despite the traces of blood in his rooms.
The pilot opted for a compromise. She would continue to investigate Jarvik, and Alrine would look for Cole Vassili. She had taken responsibility for finding the businessman, but she had the feeling that terrible things were afoot behind the Vohrn ambassador’s irrational behavior.
She hoped nothing serious had happened to Cole. She was quite attracted to him. Even if it had only been physical, she was counting on having the opportunity to determine that for herself.
For a moment, she wondered if sending Alrine to look for him had been a strategic error. No, the tall blonde is with Laorcq, so there’s no problem. Right? So…
Mallory chased away these superficial thoughts. She’d find out later. For now, she had a shipyard to visit.
Before she left, Alrine provided the exact coordinates for the work site. On the way to the sector’s orbital elevator, she called her ship’s Natural Intelligence.
“Jazz? I have to go poke around on a liner that’s under construction. Can you cobble together a cover story using the credentials Alrine gave you?”
“Of course, Captain! Let me think…”
Jazz took a moment, then continued, “Let’s say you’re a specialist commissioned by Hanosk to buy a dozen ships?”
Mallory’s face broke into a wide smile: an excellent idea. With her knowledge of space flight, she’d have no trouble playing the part.
“Perfect!” she confirmed.
“Okay. I’m sending a letter signed by the Vohrn ambassador to the shipbuilder’s office. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”
A few minutes later, Mallory arrived at the elevator. She barely had time to sit down in the comfortable cabin before it took off through the atmosphere’s upper layers, then into the void of space. The minutes ticked by, putting the pilot’s impatience to the test. Finally, after a slight jolt, the doors slid open silently, and she found herself once again on the immense artificial ring that encircled Solicor.
She discovered that a tube transport system traversed its entire length. Two sealed tunnels contained cylindrical capsules that circulated in both directions along the station’s interior axis. Each “carriage” could hold hundreds of passengers. Circumnavigating the 170,000-mile perimeter of the ring would take about two hours, including stops.
Mallory made a quick calculation: a cool 93,000 miles per hour! Twice the speed of the orbital elevators. Not bad…
The two stops she passed gave her the chance to see how we
ll the Gibrals had mastered antigrav technology. The blindingly fast accelerations that were necessary to cross such great distances in so little time could not be felt at all from inside the carriage.
Arriving at her destination, she had the disconcerting feeling that she hadn’t moved. Around her, a continuous flood of aliens strolled along. Most were Gibrals, but there were a number of Spicans mixed in. They were tall and had four arms, which made them excellent warehouse workers and laborers. Seeing them in the vicinity of a shipyard was hardly surprising. Mallory also noticed Regulians, humanoids with green skin who had holes in their faces in place of a nose. Tall shapes wearing red greatcoats and hoods over their faces attracted her attention: the merchants of Altair. Known for the quality of the weapons they manufactured, they kept their real appearances a closely guarded secret.
Mallory walked resolutely through the colorful crowd, glancing at the directions provided by her navcom out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she arrived at the shipbuilder’s office.
The door slid open in front of her, revealing one of the blue cyclopes. He tilted his long neck down toward Mallory and stared at her with his one eye. After examining her carefully, he declared, “You are the human woman sent by the Vohrn.”
Mallory agreed. She was going to continue explaining the reason for her presence when the Gibral added, “Come with me. You need a suit if you’re going out to visit an unfinished ship.”
She hesitated. Everything was going too smoothly. He hadn’t even asked her to confirm her identity. This was unusual: she knew how hard it normally was to gain access to an unfinished spaceship. Between the security regulations and the risk of industrial espionage, travelers were often detained at customs if they couldn’t show valid credentials.
Her instincts advised caution. She discreetly opened a line of communication to Jazz. She didn’t have to explain; he understood that she was taking precautions.
Aldebaran Divided Page 4
