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Ammonite Planets (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #1-3

Page 66

by Gillian Andrews


  “Shows how much you know. I’m always hungry. Oh well – at your convenience!” And the Kwaidian lay down on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket. The others thought they could hear some occasional muttering from under the blanket, before it became still and Six slept. He was out for so long that they were back in orbit above Valhai before he woke up again.

  Chapter 7

  ONCE ON VALHAI Grace took a bodywrap and ventured out bare planet. It was a ritual she tried to do every time she visited her birth place. She never felt she belonged to this strange planet until she actually ventured outside.

  She stepped down onto the grey sand of the planet, and walked slowly away from the lights of Sell, breathing steadily into her mask pack. It was soothing to be here on her own. She turned her face up, up to the immense black sky hanging overhead. It was alive with stars, all of which jostled each other for her attention. She took a deep and happy breath, and gazed about her, star-struck.

  The planet Cian was still hanging overhead, a brilliant violet lune of colour across the blackness. Almagest could only be discerned from the orange circular glow which marked the boundary between perpetual night and perpetual day, but Sacras was still fairly close, and today was shining down from behind Cian, bathing the landscape in a slightly warmer tone than usual. The rest of the stars were still there, just where she had left them. She was surprised; it must be the same time of year as when she had last been bare planet, for they really did seem to have stayed static in the sky since her last visit.

  She felt the enormous happiness well up inside her. This view never failed to make her feel exultant. Her veins seemed to fizz into life, complaining that she only brought them here once or twice a year, telling her to come here more often, where only she and Arcan would share the sky. She closed her eyes for a second, willing herself to remember this exact moment, to take it with her wherever she went. She tried to fix what she had seen in her memory, knowing that she would want to paint it later. Not that her paintings did any justice at all to the scene in front of her; they were sorry, flat imitations at best. They ought to serve to jog her memory of this utterly perfect instant, but in fact they usually made her feel inadequate, cross with herself at her failure to transmit onto the canvas the emotions she felt while out here. She wished she could have been a better painter; this view deserved so much more than she could give it.

  When Grace came out of her trance, she was amazed to find that she had lost nearly half-an-hour. She changed her first mask pack, and then directed her feet in the direction of the ortholake. She felt a compulsion to go to see Arcan as he really was. They were getting used to seeing him as one small shape, almost as if he were a being comparable to them, but that was so far from being the case that she needed to touch down from time to time. The reality of Arcan was so immense that she had to come out here and talk to him in his own setting.

  She was almost at the lake when she thought she heard a slight sound behind her, and twisted her head with some difficulty to locate the source. The visitor’s video camera had caught up with her, and was examining the starry sky through its lens.

  “How did you know I was here?” asked Grace.

  The machine whirred. “You always come out bare planet at the first chance you get,” it said. “As soon as I saw you had disappeared I knew you would be visiting the orthogel entity. Not exactly a secret.”

  “No? I had thought nobody else noticed.”

  “They haven’t. They are all sleeping.” The tone of the metallic sphere sounded slightly contemptuous; the visitor himself did not require hours and hours of rest like these faulty 3b species.

  “Good. I wanted to be alone.”

  “Yes. Just the two of us.” The sphere gave a pleased buzz.

  Grace was by far too warm-hearted to tell the machine that her wish to be alone had specifically included it too, so they continued on their way over the slate-coloured planet, until the black shiny surface of the ortholake came into view.

  Grace slid down the sands on the shore with difficulty, because the particulates here were very fine, and piled into drifts. She had to take the slope sideways so as not to fall, and even so she moved clumsily through the sand, far too fast for comfort.

  The lake was waiting for her, and treated her – as always – to a display of coloured fountains. She watched, transfixed, until the show subsided, and the surface of the lake became black and smooth as usual. Then she clapped her hands, and reached down to place her fingers upon the smooth surface. It was also a custom they had developed over the years, a ritual which went back to the beginning of the relationship between the Sellite girl and the quantum creature.

  “Hello!” she signed with great enjoyment. “How are you, Arcan?”

  The lake pushed back against her fingers, “I am well, thank you Grace, and you?”

  Grace smiled out at the world, wanting to share her contentment. “I love coming out here,” she signed.

  “Yes. It is nice to have a real, physical visitor for me, too,” Arcan told her. “What do you want to do?”

  “Just sit here on the shore, and watch the stars,” she said.

  “That is not particularly exciting.”

  “No.” She shrugged. “It just feels right.”

  “Then we will sit together and watch the stars.”

  The orb whirred. “I will join you,” it said. “Although I am not sure that I understand what the point of it all is.”

  Grace laughed. “There is no point,” she told it.

  “Oh,” the visitor said. “I’ll have to think about that!”

  “Good. Think quietly.”

  AGAIN GRACE LOST all track of time – so much so that she was forced back into a reality check by her mask pack blocking. It needed changing. And it was while she was busy changing it that the visitor chirruped. Grace was too occupied to turn round at first.

  “What?” she said, over her shoulder.

  “Did you see that?”

  “Did I see what?” she asked, finally managing to get the new mask pack working, and gulping back some much-needed deep breaths of air. She looked about her, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Arcan? Did you see something?”

  “I thought there was a glimmer of something, certainly, but it flickered out of existence so fast that I did not have time to see exactly what it was.”

  “Look! There!” The visitor tried to point, but as the only way it had to do this was by turning its lens upon the object it fell rather short of perfect. But this time Grace was ready, and she too caught sight of a vague round blob which suddenly appeared, seeming to hover above the lake before disappearing again.

  “Yes!” she said, getting to her feet hastily. “Yes, I saw that. It looked for a moment as if it was … but it can’t be!”

  “Grace,” asked Arcan. “Did that look to you like one of the amorphs from Pictoria?”

  “Yes!” she breathed. “But surely, that would be impossible? How in Lumina could they follow us back here? What does it mean?”

  They all scoured the sky to see if the phenomenon was repeated, but to no avail. The object seemed to have done all that it could. It had appeared for a couple of seconds, and been unable to hold its position. Still, it was an amazing thing to happen.

  “Did you see an amorph too, Visitor?” Grace asked.

  “I did. It was only visible for a second or two, but was quite unmistakable. The only possible conclusion is that the amorphs are quantum entities. That is most interesting. I know you told me about the amorphs on Pictoria decohering, but to see one actually reaching here …!”

  Arcan scintillated. “They seem to be able to travel as far as I myself can, although they are not able to hold the transfer in place,” he said slowly. “And I felt …” He hesitated. “I felt … I don’t know. Perhaps some sort of affinity? They might be distant cousins of mine!” Sparks of excitement shot across the whole lake, in a rainbow of colour. “Grace, we may have found them! Not the orthol
iquid – the amorphs!” Arcan made a fountain of light play over the whole lake, which covered it with silvery ripples. “I will have to go back!”

  “Not until we find out what happened to you last time!” Grace told him. “Not until you can go back safely!” She looked around again. “In any case, it is great news that your ‘cousins’ are trying to get in touch with you!”

  “Yes. You are right. It gives me hope, though. Perhaps I shall find some family, after all!”

  Grace grinned. “If they turn out to be like some of my family, you might just wish you hadn’t!”

  “I don’t wish to offend you, but I don’t think you can compare a 3b family to a 2b!” said the visitor, quite shocked.

  Grace pulled a face. “Six wouldn’t agree with you!” she teased.

  The video camera gave a crackle. “I sometimes think the Kwaidians should be rated 3c!” it sniffed.

  Grace turned to it. “I bet you wouldn’t dare say that to his face!”

  The visitor limited itself to a crackle of static.

  ATHERON LOOKED AROUND him in satisfaction. He had been clearing out the small laboratory he had used the previous year, underneath the Valhai Voting Dome. It would not be wise to leave any evidence lying around, and it was six months since he had translated the production process of the orange compound to Xiantha. He picked up the two remaining canisters, and slipped them into a carrysack.

  “I have an idea that these might come in useful,” he told Xenon, who had been assisting him.

  “I don’t see why you didn’t start production here on Valhai,” grumbled his accomplice.

  “No—” Atheron’s tone was that of a teacher with a particularly dense pupil, “—I know you don’t.”

  Xenon bristled. “Well, it meant sending some of our men away for six months!”

  “Yes, but it also meant that the orthogel entity has no idea that we have perfected a compound that can tunnel through the quantum barrier.”

  “He would never have found out if you had produced it here – not if we had been careful.”

  “He might.” Atheron stroked his chin. “And I never leave things to chance.”

  Xenon still seemed rather unhappy. “Well, I still don’t see why I should have to go all the way over to Xiantha.”

  Atheron raised his eyebrows. “My dear Xenon, I couldn’t possibly leave such important things to anybody else! I really need somebody I can trust to oversee the transport of the finished canisters to a shuttle, and then back here to Valhai. Who else could I send?”

  Xenon was slightly mollified. “If you put it like that ...” he said.

  Atheron smiled, and placed an arm around his cohort’s shoulder. “Of course I do! You know there is nobody else I could depend on to do this.”

  “I wanted to be here on Valhai – especially since my dear sister is here at the moment.”

  “Don’t you worry about your sister. She will ... err ... she will be taken care of to your entire satisfaction.”

  “I want to be there.”

  “Do not worry, my friend. How fierce you are today!” Atheron seemed to visualize something which pleased him in the distance. “I think I have a plan where your sister will play a major role. Indeed, she will bait my trap admirably. We all know how very valuable she has become to the alien entity, don’t we? He is bound to come running to her side if she is threatened by the least little thing.”

  Xenon dropped his arm. “Very well. But remember, you promised me I should be head of all Sell!”

  Atheron smiled again, this time broadly. “My dear Xenon! How could I possibly forget that promise? I assure you, when the time comes you will not complain about my plans for you!” The grey beard was pleased with his choice of words there. They were, after all, strictly true. He had every intention of silencing Xenon permanently when the plan had been executed. He found him a tiresome appendage, one who thought only of his own importance. Xenon repeatedly failed to realize that the one person who could set Sell, and Valhai on the correct path was Atheron himself! Make Xenon the head of all Sell? The man was clearly delusional! Atheron nodded to himself. When the time came, arrangements would have to be made. He smoothed the hairs of his beard down. Yes. He thought he could see a way to that, too. Really, things were working out remarkably well.

  He realized that Xenon was still staring at him, and waved an impatient hand. “Well? What are you waiting for? Somebody will have to travel to Xiantha and organize things from that end. Nothing can be put into motion until you return from Xiantha with the ... product. And, Xenon ...?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell your family where you are going, will you? We don’t want to make things too easy for the orthogel entity, do we?”

  Xenon nodded sullenly. “I’ll have to take the shuttle down myself, and it will have to be at night. Even though you chose such an isolated region in the southern lowlands.” He gave a grunt. “Such a backward little planet at the best of times.”

  “I know. You will not, however, be there for more than a few days. As soon as you have transferred the orange compound to the space trader in orbit, your job will be done. We will only need to find out your sister’s whereabouts for my plan to be put into action.”

  “And when we have dealt with her?” Xenon found himself licking his lips. He was anxious to proceed with his own small agenda.

  Atheron smiled – a smile which ran coldly around his facial muscles but never progressed as far as his eyes. “Then, my dear Xenon, we will be able to do as we see fit with the other … shall we say, renegades?”

  Xenon took him by the arm, a gesture which displeased the head of the education house. Atheron made a small moue of distaste and shook his arm to detach his acolyte. Xenon held on.

  “But you will let me deal with them?” he said plaintively. “You won’t do it on your own, will you? I want to be there when you … I must be there!”

  Atheron finally succeeded in removing the man’s hand. “Where I go, you shall,” he promised.

  Xenon bristled up. “I am not stupid, you know. There is no need to talk to me with that condescending tone!”

  “I assure you I have no thought of being condescending. How would that be possible? I would hardly have agreed to your being the next head of all Sell if I thought you lacking in intelligence, now would I?”

  Xenon let himself be pacified. “I suppose not. I’m sorry.”

  “You are tired, that is all. Just think what a magnificent leader you will be! How proud your … dear wife will be of you! Her children will inherit this whole planet, and the Sell Empire. Your stature will be immense. I do hope you will not forget your old friend once you have all this,” he waved his arm to encompass all Valhai, “in your grasp.”

  “Of course I won’t forget you!” Xenon assumed a shocked expression. “As if I could! You will be my trusty advisor on all matters. You will be my second-in-command!” He broke off there, envisaging the scene with great pleasure. He could see himself seated in the Valhai Voting Dome, all eyes on him as he led a votation. Atheron was there too, seated slightly to the back, and to one side of him. He saw his future self leaning over to converse with the head of the education house, saw them agreeing most somberly to some important measures, and could hear in his ears the applause of the rest of Sell as they realized the brilliance of his plans. They clapped for so long that their hands were hurting. Then the few people who were physically present clustered around him, asking for his advice, his autograph, his—

  He came out of his reverie abruptly. “—I’m sorry?” Atheron had obviously asked him a question, which Xenon had missed altogether.

  Atheron’s face tightened unusually, his perpetual smile slipping somewhat. “I asked you if you could be ready tomorrow.”

  “Of course. Why? Have you access to a transport then?”

  Atheron nodded. “One of my ex-pupils owes me an extremely large favour. He is docked at the space station now, and can let me have the use of his trader, with th
e two shuttles for a month. I have been able to make him … see the sense of accommodating my wishes.”

  “It must be some favour if you can persuade him to change course and take six people and a shipload of cargo to Xiantha!”

  Atheron looked sideways at him. “It was merely – how shall I put it? – yes, it was merely a question of cleansing. He had one or two … err … problems that needed cleaning up.”

  It was Xenon’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “There seems to be a lot about you that I don’t know, Atheron!”

  The all-pervasive smile was back. “You know I would never keep anything from my partner. It was merely a question of logistics. He had something he needed to dispose of, and I … I had the means of disposal.”

  “I hope you didn’t have to dispose of any bodies!” Xenon laughed so heartily at his own little joke that he missed the sharp look Atheron gave him. The head of the education skyrise paused for a moment, before joining in the laughter with a small sound which more nearly resembled two coughs.

  “Let us return to the subject on hand,” said Atheron, judging that enough time had passed dedicated to frivolous enjoyment. “You can use the men we left to fulfill the order on Xiantha – they can help you to load the shuttles. Take into account that there must be a hard area of smooth rock where a shuttle can land, and go down at night, when any local residents are unlikely to see you. And keep the perimeters safe; the last thing we want at this stage is for some bumbling busybody to start rooting around.”

  “That will not be a problem. The Xianthans are a pretty naïve people. They won’t be on the lookout for anything like this!”

  “No. It is an excellent plan. Once you have loaded the orange compound take it up to the trader and make sure you store it safely. You can spend some of the days at the spaceport on Xiantha, so that the panchromes don’t suspect any ulterior motives for you visit. And Xenon—?”

 

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