At last they came back and tried to persuade Lenses to give the new boulder trick a try. After a little coaxing, she gave in. Lenses deactivated the holographic simulation and hopped back on her rocket to join them.
Part of me wanted to watch these humans forever. Something about how they interacted was fascinating. Very un-Xotonian, in a way that I just couldn’t put my thol’graz on. I almost wished I was out there on a fifth rocket, blasting around and laughing along with them.
But no. These aliens were part of an invading army that came from the stars to steal our iridium.
Plus they had only two eyes. Two eyes! The very thought made my skin crawl. Why two? Everyone knows you need at least three. And, of course, five is the best number of eyes to have.
T’utzuxe was slipping below the horizon, and the sun was soon to follow. I checked my chronometer. Only an hour until the Grand Conclave at Core-of-Rock. It was time for me to leave.
I had completed my reconnaissance mission: There were four undersized humans in Jehe Canyon, wasting time on rockets. Not a threat.
I turned to go. As I did, something glinted on the rocks below. It was the shiny black rectangle, the hologram projector device. Lenses had left it behind.
Disobeying Kalac’s order to return home immediately upon seeing humans was arguably forgivable. After all, they hadn’t detected me, so what was the harm? But what I did next would be harder to defend.
When I was sure the four humans were thoroughly distracted, I took the device.
CHAPTER TWO
I pulled the surface hatch—a round airtight door on hinges— closed behind me. Inside, it was finely crafted Xotonian metal with a one-way viewport; outside, it looked like nothing more than a completely ordinary blue-gray rock. Most of our exits to the surface are concealed in this way. Xotonian sneakiness yet again.
I started back toward Core-of-Rock, clutching the holographic projector in my thol’graz.
I wouldn’t say this to Kalac, but the surface of our asteroid is, quite frankly, boring—a whole lot of craters and dust. To experience the real Gelo, you must dig a bit deeper. Our asteroid is riddled with tunnels. Though no one can say with absolute certainty, the elders believe that the core is probably more tunnel than not. And when I say “tunnels,” I don’t mean the new human mines. Those are just crude rectangular holes. I mean the ancient, endless tunnels. A twisting cavern system so vast that much of it remains unexplored, even by Xotonians. Our chief worry was that the human miners would accidentally dig their way into these tunnels and discover the Xotonian race. By all accounts they were getting closer every day.
Tunnels may not sound exciting to you. But you must understand that Xotonians are not the only creatures that live beneath the surface of Gelo. My people only inhabit roughly 2 percent of the total cavern system of Gelo. The rest is wilderness. It is what we call the Unclaimed Tunnels.
In the Unclaimed Tunnels, there are towering forests of giant fungi and fields of luminous mushrooms. There are bottomless lakes teeming with schools of blind r’yaris and who knows what other creatures. There are chambers so wide and tall that it is impossible to say where they begin or end. Herds of wild usk-lizards gallop across these underground plains, and deadly thyss-cats stalk them.
Ours is a whole subterranean ecosystem, as distinct from the surface as could be. Even the air is different down here. Xotonians can breathe the thin atmosphere of Gelo’s surface, but not as easily as the oxygen-rich air of the cavern system below.
I wound my way through the tunnels, mentally reversing the twenty-seven turns it had taken me to get from Core-of-Rock to the surface entrance near Jehe Canyon. Twenty-seven turns might sound like a lot to remember, but when you live your life in a cavern system, you need to have an excellent memory (as all Xotonians do).
At last the tunnel widened, and I came to the formal boundary between the Unclaimed Tunnels and the Xotonian city: a shimmering field of purple energy swimming in the air before me. Our Stealth Shield.
The shield was created by our ancestors long ago. It completely envelops our underground city and conceals it from outside scanners and sensors. It was also the main reason the humans hadn’t detected us yet. When they had observed the asteroid from Eo with their telescopes and orbital satellites and other instruments, the Stealth Shield had sent back false information. To the human computers, our city appeared to be nothing more than solid rock. Even our ancestors were sneaky.
I felt a slight tingle on my skin as I stepped through the shield. Behind it, the tunnel opened onto a huge domed chamber, a few kilometers across. The light of thousands of Xotonian dwellings twinkled in the gloom. This was the city of Core-of-Rock—my home.
On the outskirts of Core-of-Rock, I passed farms. Fields of mushrooms grew in straight rows, and dull-eyed usk-lizards grazed on lichen. No farmers, though. They had already headed into town. The Grand Conclave was about to begin.
Soon, the singular mass of the city began to resolve itself into individual buildings. They were mostly low and round with the occasional tower poking up above its neighbors like an oversized stalagmite. Even at a distance, a few structures stood out clearly among the others: the Hall of Wonok, our center of government, stately and imposing; the dull gray pyramid of the Vault, at once mysterious and forgettable; and Dynusk’s Column, our center of observation, spiraling all the way up to the ceiling of the chamber high above.
My family’s dwelling stood closer to the center of the city. The houses here were a tight-packed jumble, nearly touching one another. After a quick detour to my chamber—where I stashed the hologram device under my sleeping-veth—I made my way toward Ryzz Plaza.
Ryzz Plaza was the social hub of our society, a bit of open space in the very densest part of Core-of-Rock. In the middle of it stood an iridium statue of Great Jalasu Jhuk, striking a heroic pose, one thol’graz extended, as if pointing the way toward the future. At the base of the Great Progenitor’s statue stood the less-than-epic leaders of my own time. Four members of the Xotonian Council, in the flesh: Loghoz, Dyves, Glyac, and Sheln.
Normally, a Council meeting would take place inside the Hall of Wonok. But a Grand Conclave is no normal Council meeting, and the hall was far too small to accommodate it. Thousands of Xotonians, young and old, had already gathered in the plaza, and more were still filing in. Some wore the drab breechcloths or rough-spun tunics of laborers; others the sparkling x’yzoth jewelry and bright feathered cloaks of the elite; still others the usk-leather helmets and cuirasses of the city guard. Every stratum of our small society—from Ydar, the High Observer, to several well-known professional oog-ball players, to Sertor, who runs a food stall in the market—had turned out. The whole population of Core-of-Rock was here in one place.
“Hey, Chorkle! What’s the good word?” someone yelled out from the crowd. I turned.
There stood Hudka, my grand-originator, leaning on a cane. Hudka was so old and stooped, it was barely taller than me.
“Hudka!” I cried, and hugged it.
“Careful, don’t break me, Chorkle,” it said, but it hugged back just as hard. “So are you ready to listen to a whole load of nonsense?”
“This is important,” I said. “We have to decide what to do about the humans.” A Grand Conclave was an extremely rare event, and I was excited.
“Eh. They mainly call Conclaves to hear themselves flap their own gul’orps for a while before a bad decision is made,” said Hudka. “The Council is a pack of idiots! Possibly dumber than the population at large. And I should know, I was on the Council! I’ve sat through quite a few Conclaves, and I can tell you with certainty: I’d rather be having dental work done.”
“You must have been on the Council a really long time ago,” I said. “Had the Big Bang happened yet?”
“You know, when I finally pass to the Nebula Beyond,” chuckled Hudka, “you won’t be able to make fun of me for being old anym
ore. What are you gonna do with all your spare time?”
“Make fun of you for being dead?” I said. Hudka laughed.
Now this may sound harsh to the outside observer, but Hudka and I always teased each other. It’s hard to explain, but it was just part of the relationship we had.
Hudka squinted. “Well, look at that,” it said, shaking its head. “Here comes the biggest gul’orp-flapper of them all!”
At the center of the plaza, under Jalasu Jhuk’s resolute gaze, the Chief of the Council joined the other four members. This was Kalac, Hudka’s offspring and my originator.
Yes, I was the direct offspring of the elected leader of the Xotonian people. You might think this would mean countless perks and advantages for me. Mostly it was just awkward. I was proud of Kalac, but it seemed I could never quite measure up to its great deeds. And I often felt like I was judged twice as harshly for my own mistakes—which somehow seemed to occur more frequently the older I got. Anything I did, good or bad, was also a reflection on the Chief of the Council’s leadership. Other Xotonians couldn’t understand how a strong, dynamic figure like Kalac could have such an odd, quiet (often scatterbrained) offspring like me.
But I wasn’t the only one who didn’t have the smoothest relationship with Kalac. As far back as I could remember, Hudka and Kalac had been at odds. This conflict was only heightened by the fact that Hudka lived with us.
At this point, all the Council members had arrived, and the Conclave was called to order.
“By Great Jalasu Jhuk of the Stars,” cried Loghoz, the Custodian of the Council. “Let this, the eight hundred seventeenth Grand Conclave of the Xotonian people, commence! The first to speak will be Council Member Sheln!” A hush fell over the plaza.
Sheln, a heavyset, dull-eyed Xotonian, stepped forward. It had recently challenged Kalac for the position of Chief of the Council and lost the vote. To put it mildly, I knew that Kalac didn’t have the highest opinion of Sheln’s intelligence or integrity.
“We all know why we’re gathered here today,” said Sheln, gesturing broadly with its upper thol’grazes and stroking its z’iuk with its lower ones. “Because of them!” Sheln pointed ominously at the roof of the chamber, toward the surface of the asteroid. The crowd shuddered, and many squealed in fright. Few had laid eyes on a human, so whatever they were imagining could only be more frightening than reality.
“The so-called hoo-mins,” said Sheln, mispronouncing the word. “They have invaded our homeland. Day and night their machines rumble. Spewing exhaust. Throwing out garbage everywhere. Digging deeper and deeper into our world. And for what?”
Sheln produced a small chunk of shiny metal. It tossed the little nugget up and down a few times, then continued. “Iridium. They came to steal it. Now I don’t need to tell you folks, but we Xotonians need iridium for power. If the hoo-mins take it all, then guess what? No more electricity. No more Stealth Shield. It’ll be lights out for us.”
Sheln suddenly pocketed the iridium lump.
“Some may say, ‘Oh, but once the nice hoo-mins get enough iridium, they’ll simply leave and go back to Eo,’” said Sheln, affecting a simpering tone. “Well, they’ve got a whole planet, ten times the size of our asteroid, and that still wasn’t enough for them! Hoo-min greed and aggression know no bounds. This goes deeper than iridium, folks. This is about right and wrong. This is about good and evil. This is about the very future of the Xotonian race. These hoo-mins, they hate our way of life.”
At this, the crowd quaked with dread. Many began to weep openly, big, salty tears dripping from all five eyes. With large groups of Xotonians, emotions tend to run high.
“How can they hate our way of life if they don’t know we exist?” called out Hudka. The collective sobbing of the Conclave was undercut by a ripple of nervous laughter.
“Hudka? Is that you, you old bag of spores?” cried Sheln, scanning the crowd. “You’re a hundred years into senility. Why don’t you shut your stupid gul’orp and leave this to the Council?”
“You’re right. It took me a long time to go senile,” cried Hudka. “I defer to one who achieved it at such a young age.”
The crowd laughed louder this time. A few even clapped.
“I’m not the one who’s . . . who are you calling . . . I’m street smart!” Sheln sputtered with rage.
“Order! We must have order at the Conclave,” called Loghoz, still dabbing its eyes with the corner of its cloak.
“Now is not the time, Hudka,” said Kalac firmly. Hudka shrugged and gestured for Sheln to continue.
“The point,” growled Sheln, “is that whether certain appeasers admit it or not, we are at war.” Sheln paused to let that final word sink in for a little while.
“But by Great Jalasu Jhuk, this is a war we can win!” cried Sheln. “Human technology is pathetic. They still use combustion-based projectile weapons! We have energy blasters—two hundred fifty-six of them, in fact. All in good working order. We have seventeen personal shield devices. They have none. We can monitor and jam their radio communications with our Nyrt-Snoopers. And let us not forget, folks, we have the Q-sik.” Sheln gestured toward the Vault, which sat behind Ryzz Plaza. It was a bold move to mention the legendary Xotonian weapon. Perhaps too bold?
“Plus we have the element of surprise,” continued Sheln. “But not forever. Estimates put the hoo-mins only twenty-one days away from tunneling right into the Gelo cavern system. Once that happens, they’ll figure out we’re here. We’ll lose the advantage.
“That is why we must strike now! A small group of Xotonian warriors should take the Q-sik and blast the hoo-min spacecraft while they sleep. Boom! If any of them manage to make it out of their ship, we pick them off one at a time with our blasters. Pow, pow, pow! A single battle, and the war is over. Xotonians win.”
It sounded more like a slaughter than a battle to me. I imagined the four humans I’d seen, disintegrated by the Q-sik or shot down as they fled their burning home. The crowd murmured in excitement or fear or both. Sheln had certainly painted a vivid picture.
“Next to address the Conclave will be Kalac, the Chief of the Council,” said Loghoz.
Kalac stepped forward. “I agree with certain points my fellow Council member has made,” said Kalac, gesturing to Sheln. “The humans are a threat to us. About that, there can be no doubt.”
Sheln nodded. Kalac continued.
“But war is serious business. In considering the possibility, we cannot only name our advantages. We must take honest stock of our disadvantages as well. The first of those is numbers. There are twelve billion humans back on Eo. I’ll say it again: twelve billion. By comparison, there are about six thousand Xotonians. So it doesn’t matter how good our blasters are when compared with their guns. They outnumber us roughly two million to one.”
At this terrifying statistic, the crowd broke down again—loud bawling, howls of terror; some even fell and began to pound the cavern floor in despair.
“Yes, there are at least two hundred million kilometers between us and most of them,” continued Kalac, “but this only highlights a second disadvantage we have: space travel. We all know that in the Time of Legends the Xotonian race could travel the stars as easily as we walk between caverns today. But those days are long behind us. The humans have spacecraft. We don’t. That means that even if we defeat them, they can just come back again. And again.
“So I propose to you all an alternate plan. One that preserves our advantage of surprise entirely,” said Kalac. “Let us attack the humans without attacking them.” There was a buzz of general confusion as the crowd tried to pull itself back together.
“Pardon me, Kalac,” said Loghoz, “but that is a logical contradiction.”
“Perhaps it would be better if I showed you what I mean,” said Kalac, and it wheeled forward a view-screen large enough for even those in the back of the crowd to see. Kalac activate
d the screen. It showed a green map depicting a well-known part of the cavern system. I couldn’t help but notice how shabby the Xotonian display looked compared with the human hologram device.
“This is an area of the Gelo caverns,” said Kalac. “And these are the mines that the humans have dug.” It clicked the view-screen remote. Now the mines, square shafts shown in yellow, were overlaid upon the twisting caverns. At several points the yellow and green were nearly touching.
“But by destroying supports here,” said Kalac, indicating a point on the map, “we could cause a major subterranean collapse. Both the human mines and the natural caverns below them would fall in on themselves. On the surface, this would result in a major asteroid-quake.” Now the map showed the zone of collapse shaded in purple, completely inscribing the mines and caverns.
“This would happen right beneath the human mothership,” said Kalac. It clicked again, and now the outline of the grounded human vessel sat squarely in the middle of the purple zone. The crowd gasped and began to whisper among themselves.
“This collapse would damage the human spacecraft, perhaps critically, and destroy much of their mining equipment. Best of all, the humans would believe it was simply a natural disaster,” said Kalac. “They would never even know that any Xotonians were involved.”
“Just a moment,” said Dyves, another member of the Council. “Those ‘supports’ you pointed out are kilometers of solid rock. Destroying them would be impossible. Simply impossible.”
Kalac paused. “Not if we use the Q-sik.” Another murmur rumbled through the crowd.
“From the time of Jalasu Jhuk,” said Kalac, “each Chief of the Council has been passed down an eight-digit numeric code. This is the code to open the Vault. I know that to some of you, using the Q-sik may seem brash, or even sacrilegious. But we face an unprecedented emergency. I believe we can remove the device, use it just once, and then return it to its rightful place.”
Space Rocks! Page 2