The Iron Admiral: Conspiracy

by Greta van Der Rol

  Go through the motions, look normal, look as though you belong .

  Cheshnor bowed in greeting, tentacles aquiver. “It has been some time, young Allysha. Have you been well in these troubling times?”

  If only he knew. “Well enough. I need to go down to the control room. Here’s the authority.” She handed over the authorization sheet, willing him to hurry.

  “Of course, of course.”

  Cheshnor glanced at the document and entered the number in the register. Just as well there was no automatic cross-reference.

  “These humans, they are with you?”

  “Um. Yes. As you say, troubling times. They’re here to look after me.” She moved her arms, indicating embarrassment.

  Cheshnor’s eyes whirled green for a moment, then settled back to reddish orange. His fingers moved like water grass within the red and gold sleeves of his tunic. “Sad that it has come to this, at Shernish University, of all places. All this violence. It was never like this when I was young.” He rumbled, equivalent to a human sigh.

  “As you say, Cheshnor.” If she didn’t get away, she would be treated to a dissertation on how much the place had changed. Another time she’d be interested. “Well, I’d better be getting on. Be seeing you.”

  She gave the ptorix a cheerful wave using all fingers on both hands.

  “What is our status?” Saahren asked as they walked across the frescoed floor to the lift.

  She checked the tracker for Sean. “No doubt about it. He’s headed for the control room.”

  Allysha stood aside for a group of ptorix students coming out of the lift. Their eyes gleaming violet, they pushed between her and the two men. She waited until the students had passed, then took a step toward the lift. Somebody jostled her from behind. She stumbled, tried to regain her feet and staggered. Her feet slipped beneath her and she fell onto her elbows. The tracker bounced on the tiles. Roland bounded forward, shouldering a student out of the way to retrieve the unit. One of the other students snatched the device in writhing blue fingers, his eyes purple with fury. “Chorhuz.”

  “Hey, give that back,” Roland snapped, arm reaching out.

  The student with the tracker smashed the device deliberately, hard against a wall decoration, and dropped it. With a gurgle of derisive laughter he made off after his colleagues.

  “Stupid toe rag bastard.” Roland made to follow but Saahren held him back.

  “Bad luck, Roland, we can’t afford to make a scene.”

  Ignoring her painful elbows, Allysha scrambled to her feet and retrieved the tracker from where it lay in a litter of limestone fragments. The shattered stone where the carving had broken off glowed white and new. Damnation. She turned the device over. The young ptorix had smashed the tracker with enough

  force to dent the surface. Idiot. If he only realized he’d just jeopardized his own safety and that of his colleagues. She swallowed her anger as best she could. It wouldn’t help.

  She entered the car, the other two behind her, pressed for level B-2 and checked the tracker.

  “Does it still work?” Saahren asked, peering over her shoulder.

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t trust it. See? It’s saying Sean’s in the history department. That’s not possible. It’s on the second floor. That’s up.” She put the tracker back in her pocket. “We’ll just have to play it by ear.”

  Roland’s eyes darted around the inside of the car, taking in the abstract curves and colors. “This art is better than anything I’ve seen on any of the edge worlds.”

  Allysha nodded. “Yes, the University is famous for its architecture. Harks back to the glory days of the Khophirate, before it started to shrink.”

  Saahren had looked around the car, too, but Allysha could see he was looking for sensors or dangers.

  Such a different way of thinking, such a contrast between the two men.

  The car came to a halt and the doors slid back.

  “Not much light,” Roland muttered as they headed down an arched corridor.

  The light sources were set into niches in the stone. It probably was pretty gloomy down here, by human standards.

  “The lights are for humans. Ptorix wouldn’t even have bothered with this much. You’ll just have to get used to it,” she said.

  She wondered where Sean was; whether he was ahead of them or maybe coming back toward them.

  ****

  Sean licked his lips as he walked, shrugging his shoulders inside his coat. He might be out of the weather under here, but he sure as hell wasn’t dry. The rain had seeped into his shoes and his feet were cold.

  Anyway, the first phase was done. He’d handed the container over, as agreed. He still didn’t know what was in it; nothing good, he’d wager. Best not to think about it.

  He fumbled for the door panel, wishing there was more light in these blasted tunnels. One press and he was out, back into the university’s splendid vaulted entrance hall. With a bit of luck it would have stopped raining. Still, at least he only had to go as far as his hotel. He’d wait there until his contacts confirmed that Allysha had showed up in town, pick her up and carry on from there.

  He walked over to the door warden, blinking as his eyes became accustomed to the relative glare.

  “I’m finished,” he said to the ptorix on duty. He wasn’t the same toe rag who’d signed him in. He’d

  actually met this one. Cheshnor, that was it. “I’ll be going.”

  “Your wife just arrived, Mister O’Reilly,” said Cheshnor in quite passable Standard. “Did you see her?”

  Sean stared at the elderly ptorix while his stomach somersaulted. Allysha here? How? Why? “My wife?”

  “Yes. She’s just gone down to the control room with two men. You must have missed her by this much.” Cheshnor held a tentacle on each of his top arms a fraction of a centimeter apart.

  Sean worked to stop his jaw from dropping. Why was she going to the control room? And who with? If this had anything to do with the canister, if she removed it… An image of van Tongeren rose before his eyes, vengeful and vindictive. Panic gnawed at Sean’s gut. That canister had to stay and she had to remain undamaged. His very life depended on it.Think, Sean, think.

  “You say she’s here. Do you know why?”

  “Some trouble in the control room. She had a letter of authority.” The ptorix was calm, untroubled; maybe a little curious.

  Sean put on a bewildered frown and shook his head. “My wife couldn’t possibly be here. She’s off-planet. Have you checked the authorization? Is it really her?”

  Cheshnor’s fingers flexed in agitation, his eyes whirling violet as he checked the registration number.

  Sean edged away as the elderly ptorix summoned human security. That should slow her down, at least.

  She’d talk her way out of it, of course, but best not to be here when they brought her out. She wouldn’t be happy.

  ****

  Allysha led Saahren and Roland along the corridor. Their shadows hurried along in front of them each

  time they passed a light, and dropped back and behind as they neared the next one. She strained her ears, listening for any approaching sounds but all she heard was the soft tread of Saahren and Roland close behind her. After a hundred meters or so the corridor opened into a wider space, better lit, with corridors leading away at right angles on both sides. She walked toward the door of the control room, directly ahead.

  “Hey,” called a human voice. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

  She whirled. Two human security guards strode toward them, weapons in hand, from the corridor to their right. They were puffing a little, as though they’d been running.

  “I’m Allysha Marten. I was called in to check out something in the control room.” She held out the authorization sheet. “Here’s my authority.”

  The middle-aged guard’s stomach bulged over his belt. He barely glanced at the sheet. “This is a forgery. You’ll have to come with us.”

  Allysha’
s heart lurched. Even as part of her wondered how they knew she brazened it out. “Forgery?

  Don’t be absurd. How could that be possible?”

  “Don’t bother. Cheshnor said you were here and your husband said you couldn’t be. We checked the authorization—it doesn’t exist.” He gestured with his pistol. “Come on, all of you. Up that way.”

  Buckrats. They’d spoken to Sean. He must have returned to the foyer via another corridor. Before Allysha had time to open her mouth, Saahren thrust the heel of one hand upwards in a sharp jab to the guard’s jaw while his other fist crashed into the man’s stomach. Grunting, he leaned forward, the wind knocked out of him. His weapon clattered to the floor. Saahren followed through with an uppercut. The guard slammed backwards and lay still. Roland grabbed the second man but he was younger, fitter and stronger. He escaped without his weapon, pelting away up the corridor with Saahren in pursuit.

  Saahren was back in moments. “He’s called for help. We’ll hold them off. Just hurry, Allysha.”

  Adrenalin singing in her blood, Allysha opened the control room door and stepped inside. She’d been here before, several times but never to work with the climate conditioning systems. The control room was large, clean and neat, obviously well maintained but crowded, divided into different areas to serve different purposes, each partitioned off. Electricals were over to the left, each circuit neatly labeled.

  Sewage was on the other side, separated from water supply. That was where she’d expect the climate conditioning system pipes to be.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She spun around. A ptorix stood beside her, wiping his top tentacles on a towel. He must have been here already, somewhere else in the room. His fur was deep blue, his tunic dark green over a white undershirt and his eyes glowed indigo. The fingers on one lower hand whipped; the other held a canister, bright with new metal.

  “I have to remove this.” She spoke in Ptorix, and pointed at the canister.

  The ptorix’s eyes faded to a lighter shade. “I’ve heard of you. You’re Professor Marten’s daughter.”

  “That’s right. Who are you?”

  He puffed himself up. “I am the senior maintenance engineer, Heendrax.”

  “Greetings, Heendrax.” Allysha ducked her body a little, arms stiff at her sides, palms forward, fingers undulating. If this Tor was an engineer, she was a grand admiral. Never mind, it wouldn’t hurt to stroke his ego. “There is a fault with that canister. It must be replaced.”

  “There is no fault. It stays.” Heendrax’s eyes swirled purple. He was adamant, not even listening. What had they told him? Certainly not the truth.

  “Do you know what’s in it?”

  Heendrax jerked and his fingers whipped in frenzied irritation. “Of course.”

  “What do you think is in it?”

  “Disinfectant. As it says.”

  The body language was wrong. He was lying, she was sure of it. “It contains a virus. A virus that will kill ptorix.”

  “Rubbish.” His fingers thrashed.

  So he knew it wasn’t disinfectant. “This virus kills ptorix. It destroyed everyone on a planet called Tisyphor.” She leaned toward him, calling on every remembered gesture to convince him.

  “Nonsense. That’s what the idiot human—” As soon as he’d said the words, the fingers of his lower hands rubbed his speaking mouth and Allysha recognized regret. He’d made a mistake, said too much.

  “He told you a lie. Have you heard of Tisyphor? The Khophirate used to mine there for jewels. They said the planet was abandoned but it wasn’t. They all died; all the ptorix died from a virus.” She jabbed a finger at the canister, her eyes fixed on his speaking mouth. “The virus in that container.”

  Heendrax dropped his towel, put down the canister and started to glide toward her. His eyes were losing the violent purple, fading to blue or even green and his fingers were relaxing, too. Maybe now he’d listen.

  “Heendrax, please. You must believe me. If this thing gets out, it’ll kill every ptorix in Shernish, all of Carnessa. Please.”

  “It won’t work.” Heendrax was quite calm. “It’s unfortunate that you are here but it’s your own fault.

  It’s time Carnessa returned to the Khophirate.”

  Allysha frowned. What was he saying? She backed away, toward the partition.

  “They told the human a story so he’d bring the canister. But I know the truth.”

  “Do you? What’s that?”

  He laughed, a high pitched clatter like wind in reeds. “So you don’t know.”

  Allysha’s brain whirled. What would he think? What would he believe? What would they tell him? Who were they? He said it was time Carnessa returned to the Khophirate… he was clearly anti-human…

  “You think this virus will kill humans, is that what they told you?”

  He lunged toward her. Allysha jerked back. But Heendrax was a ptorix. He extended one lower arm and shot out the tentacles. They wrapped with horrible strength around her arm and dragged her forward. She kicked out, flailed, struggled to free herself. Heendrax’s free lower arm gripped her other arm. He came closer to her, reeling her in like a hooked fish.

  “Please, you must believe me. What they’ve told you isn’t true.”

  Heendrax wrapped the tentacles of his upper arms around her neck. “I’m sorry, young human. But you can take solace in knowing that many, many of your kind will soon be joining you in whatever passes for the caves of the Mother in your society.”

  His tentacles, soft and strong as carbon fibre, tightened as he spoke, slowly and inexorably.

  Allysha gasped for air. Her body convulsed in a last desperate attempt to escape from Heendrax’s grip.

  “Yes, the noisy young louts will ingest more than their dinner this evening.”

  Colored dots danced before her desperate eyes. “Please…”

  The last thing she saw was Heendrax’s eyes, calm and red.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Allysha stirred and pushed her damp hair back. Her throat hurt but the dots in front of her eyes had gone away. Her hand fell down to cold, hard stone. A smell assailed her nostrils; nasty, vaguely familiar.

  “Take it easy.”

  Allysha fluttered her eyes open. Saahren knelt beside her. The worried frown on his face faded. “Are

  you okay?”

  Her hand went to her throat. She swallowed a couple of times; it hurt, but everything worked. She

  nodded and he helped her sit up.

  Heendrax’s body lay on the floor a meter away, his conical shape flattened, the ever-restless fingers still.

  A bloodied knife lay next to him. That smell; it was the same one she’d picked up in the control room on Brjyl, only stronger. Her stomach flipped. “Is he dead?”

  Saahren nodded. “We had no choice. He wouldn’t let go of you. We tried to stun him, but we didn’t use enough power. He had a knife and managed to slice Roland, would’ve killed him if I hadn’t shot him.”

  Shot him dead. Bile rose in her throat but she forced it down. Sometimes adventure wasn’t fun, wasn’t a holovid drama. Roland sat on the floor, pale and tense, his arm bandaged in a strip of what Allysha

  recognized as Saahren’s white shirt.

  “We need to get out of here,” Saahren said. “Can you walk?”

  “I have to, don’t I?”

  He held out a hand and she let him draw her to her feet. Her legs supported her weight.

  “Saahren.” Roland jerked his head at the door.

  Running footsteps approached, voices muttered. A fist thudded. A human voice shouted “Open up. You

  in there, open up.”

  “I can’t see us talking our way out of this,” said Saahren with a glance at Heendrax’s body. “Is there another way out of here?”

  “Yes.” She pulled out the techpack and checked the tunnels under the control room. A muffled thump

  and the rasp of metal on metal from the corridor punctuated her effor
ts.

  Saahren blasted the door control. The sounds outside stopped.

  “Come on.” Allysha picked up the canister. “There’s an emergency exit.”

  “Is that canister safe?” Saahren said.

  She checked the seals, nodded and slipped the container into her coat pocket. “It’s pressurized.

  Nothing will have leaked.”

  The racket outside the door resumed and grew louder. Allysha knelt on the floor at the back of the

  control room and pressed on two flower-shaped depressions in the stone about a meter apart. The

  limestone slab between them dropped and split, sliding under the stone on each side, exposing a ramp

  that plunged down into darkness. Allysha led the way, Roland behind her and Saahren last.

  “It’s dark.” Roland’s voice sounded strained.

  “Hang in there,” she said. “Press the knob on the left, Saahren. It’ll close the entrance. They’ll realize we’ve gone down here, but I know a few tricks.”

  She walked on as slowly as she dared. The two men wouldn’t be able to see much at all. The tunnel

  went left, narrow but level, its wall rough-cut stone. Roland stumbled and swore. The air smelled stale and dusty and a sudden scurry ahead revealed the presence of unknown creatures. This old tunnel led to the grounds outside the fortress. It hadn’t been used for a long time, but she’d been here, all those years ago, playing down here while her father lectured in the halls above. If she remembered correctly they would pass places where they could get to the sea caves. Most people didn’t know about those narrow

  passageways, short cuts from one tunnel system to another, ancient and unused.

  Sounds of pursuit echoed. Hoping they were further away than they sounded, she searched the walls.

  The opener was hidden in a crevice, low down where a kid or a ptorix would see it, if they were looking.

  It had to be here somewhere, not far away.

  Footsteps echoed behind them.

  There. Level with her waist. She stopped and slid her fingers into the crack. For a moment nothing

  happened. And then the crack widened, grating stone on stone.