Hex

by Allen Steele

  Raising her arms above her head, the captain arched her back and stretched, then she turned toward the remote survey station. “I hope you...” she started to say, then stopped.

  Sean was no longer there. The moment that two bells had sounded, he’d left his seat and exited the command center, without so much as a word to his mother.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered to the empty chair. “Come again anytime.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE LAST TIME SEAN CARSON HAD SEEN THE GATEHOUSE AT Starbridge Coyote was when he was a small child aboard that very same ship, just after the Castro had made the hyperspace jump from Earth that would change his life. Although he’d been in space on several occasions since then, this was the first time in his adulthood that he’d visited the starport in trojan orbit near Bear.

  Back then, the gatehouse had been little more than a spindleshaped collection of modules that had once been the EASS Columbus , the first European starship to reach 47 Ursae Majoris. The original station was long gone, deorbited shortly after the second starbridge was built and sent spiraling into Bear’s turbulent upper atmosphere. In its place was the new and much larger gatehouse: a ring of twelve cylindrical modules around a central docking hub, serving as both the starbridge’s control station and also a port of call for the various alien vessels that came through hyperspace to humankind’s sole colony world.

  The gatehouse was primitive in comparison to Talus qua’spah, the vast space colony in orbit above the hjadd homeworld; nonetheless, it was an impressive piece of engineering, particularly when one considered the fact that it had been built from scratch with materials extracted from Bear’s other moons. From his cabin window, Sean saw another starship hovering on the station’s opposite side. He recognized the seed-shaped form as being a nord merchant ship, its solar sails furled upon the spars projecting from its elegantly streamlined hull. Other than a couple of merchant marine freighters, it was the only vessel in sight.

  Four bells rang, signaling the final burn of Montero’s maneuvering thrusters; the ship was about to enter parking orbit near the station. Adjusting his grip on the ceiling rail, Sean let his feet swing free as, a few seconds later, a vibration passed through the ship. The burn lasted less than a minute; when it was over, gone were the last vestiges of the low gravity he and the others had enjoyed during the long ride out from Coyote. Since the Montero didn’t have diametric drive, it wasn’t equipped with Millis-Clement field generators either. No more gravity until the ship was under way again.

  Sean had just swung his legs down to plant his stickshoes against the carpeted floor when the cabin door slid open, and Mark Dupree floated in.

  “You’re right,” Mark said, pushing himself to the other side of the narrow cabin the men shared. “You get a better view from the wardroom.”

  “Thought so.” Sean looked back out the window. “I remembered the windows as being bigger on Deck Two.”

  “Well, you’ll get another chance in fifteen minutes. We’re meeting the Janus rep there as soon as he arrives. His skiff is already on the way over.” Mark paused. “Cayce told me to tell you that you’re expected to be there. No excuses this time.”

  Sean nodded. Lunch had been served in the wardroom a few hours earlier, but he’d skipped it. He’d claimed to be spacesick, but Kyra had smuggled him a sandwich anyway; she knew the real reason why he’d ducked the little get-together with Montero’s crew, as did Mark. His mother had tricked him into coming up to the bridge; he’d escaped as soon as it was safe enough for him to go back down the access shaft, but as much as he didn’t want to give her another chance to corner him, he knew that another encounter was inevitable.

  “Yeah, well... guess there’s no getting around it.” Sean zipped up his unitard, then unclipped his Corps waistcoat from a wall hook. “I could find a gun and shoot myself in the foot, but someone would just haul me to the autodoc.”

  “That someone would probably be me.” A wry grin as Mark planted his own shoes against the floor. “And you don’t want me to get pissed off at you.”

  “An empty threat, and you know it.” Sean slipped on the vestlike waistcoat. “Sa’Tongians are pacifists. You wouldn’t do anything to me even if your own life was at stake.”

  “Wrong. I’m a pacifist only so long as my own life is concerned. But the Fourth Codicil gives me permission to kick your ass if it’ll stop you from hurting yourself or others. And until you get over your problems with your mother...”

  “Never mind.” Sean sighed as he found his uniform beret in the waistcoat’s side pocket. He thought about putting it on, then decided against it. Too formal. “Let’s just drop it, okay? I’m sick of talking about it.”

  “Really? That’s funny. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve never told me what this is all about.” Mark folded his arms together. “What do you have against your mother, anyway?”

  “It’s a long story.” Sean turned toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s get upstairs before the lieutenant has a fit.”

  The wardroom didn’t look like any other compartment on the Montero. Indeed, Sean reflected, it looked very little like the way he’d remembered it from when the Montero was called the Castro. Over the years, the crew had made it as homey as possible; the utilitarian furniture had been replaced with a long blackwood mess table and leather-backed chairs, and the floor was covered by a handmade carpet with an intricate Navajo design. The walls had faux-birch panels upon which artwork had been hung; there was a framed painting of the Gillis Range on Coyote, but also a crayon drawing of the ship that apparently had been done by the kindergarten-age child of one of the crew members. Someone had even tacked up a restaurant menu beside the galley serving window; it wasn’t until Sean looked more closely that he realized it was a joke since everything on it was a gourmet version of the ship’s standard fare: potage au chicken noodle, grilled ration bar, and so forth.

  The chairs and table, of course, were useless until the Montero was under thrust; when he and Mark arrived, they found the rest of their team using hand and foot rails to keep themselves in place. Cayce glared at Sean as he came in. “I take it you’re no longer feeling ill,” he said, his tone suggesting that he suspected Sean’s earlier excuse to be false.

  “Not at all, Lieutenant. Thanks for asking.” Using the wall rail, Sean pulled himself across the room until he reached Kyra’s side. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Only a chance to get acquainted with the crew.” There was an amused glint in Cayce’s eyes. “Of course, you probably know one or two of them already.”

  Ignoring the jab, Sean turned his head to gaze out the window, a broad oval that took up most of one wall; through it, he could see the gatehouse a little more clearly. As he watched, a skiff glided away from the Montero, heading toward the station. The small craft had apparently just dropped off the expedition’s final member; he guessed that one of the crew was probably escorting the company rep to his quarters.

  “So who is this guy, anyway?” Standing at the other side of the room, Sandy LaPointe gazed out the window past Sean and Kyra. “Not just a company suit, I hope.”

  “He’s a senior vice president with Janus,” Cayce said stiffly. “Which means that this better be the last time I hear you call him a suit, Corporal.”

  “Oh, okay... so he’s a very important suit.” Sandy winked at the others. “Glad to have that cleared up.”

  Sean and Mark chuckled, and Kyra bit her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. Janus Ltd. was the Federation’s largest private import company, and also the merchant marine’s leading partner. Originally established on Earth, it had relocated to Coyote shortly after the new world’s independence was recognized by the United Nations. After contact was made with the hjadd, Janus had become responsible for opening trade with both them and the other Talus races. As a result, the company continued to grow in prosperity and power even after the death of its founder, Morgan Goldstein.

  Janus and the merchant marine—and by extension t
he Coyote government—had very close ties, and sometimes it was difficult to see where the dividing line lay. No wonder, then, that a senior VP would be accompanying the first expedition to the danui system. Sean just hoped that they weren’t getting someone who’d try to micromanage the team as well.

  So it came as a surprise that, when the wardroom door opened again, the person escorted in by Chief Petty Officer Brandt was a tall and rather thin gentleman in his middle years who looked more like a university professor than a business magnate. His closecropped black hair thinned to a small bald spot at the crown of his head, and his gaunt face was framed by a pair of antique gold-wire spectacles; for some reason, he’d apparently decided not to undergo optical surgery. He wore a frock coat over a black turtleneck sweater and khaki trousers, and the quick, easygoing smile he gave everyone as he entered the room was relaxed and unpretentious.

  Kyra uttered a small gasp. Glancing at her, Sean saw recognition in her eyes. “I know him,” she whispered to him. “He’s...”

  “Shh!” Cayce gave her a stern look, and Kyra went silent again.

  “Good afternoon, or whatever it is,” the newcomer said, then glanced at the old-fashioned watch on his left wrist. “Whoops... By ship’s time, it’s already evening.” A mildly embarrassed grin. “I must be off by a few hours. I could’ve sworn it was just after lunch.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “In space, it’s always the middle of the night.”

  An old joke, but the exec laughed as if this were the first time he’d ever heard it. “So it is, so it is.” He glanced at Zeus. “Thanks, Chief, I appreciate it. I think I can take over from here.”

  “Very good.” Zeus started to back toward the door, then paused to raise a hand to his earpiece. He listened for a moment, murmured something Sean couldn’t hear, and looked at the newcomer again. “Captain Carson sends her regards and says she’ll be along shortly.”

  Sean suppressed a sigh. It couldn’t be helped; this was his mother’s ship, after all, and he couldn’t avoid her indefinitely. Kyra briefly touched his hand and gave him a sympathetic look; everyone else pretended not to notice his discomfort. “Very good,” the exec said, and once Zeus had shut the door behind him, he returned his attention to the Corps team. “Well, then... until the captain arrives, perhaps I should introduce myself. My name’s Thomas D’Anguilo, and I’m the executive vice president of trade and development for Janus, Ltd.”

  “Suit,” Sandy muttered. She feigned a cough into her fist to disguise the comment, but everyone in the room heard what she said, including D’Anguilo. He didn’t look directly at her; nonetheless, he responded to her unkind remark.

  “I’m sure some of you think I’m some kind of bureaucrat or corporate stooge,” he said, his tone remaining mild and unflustered, “but don’t let the job title fool you.” With practiced ease, he planted his feet firmly against the carpet; Sean noted that his stickshoes, while apparently custom-made, were well-worn. “I prefer to think of myself as an astroethnicist, which is what I was doing at the University of New Florida before Janus hired me away.”

  A low chuckle from Kyra drew everyone’s attention. “Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed by her own interruption. “It’s just that... well, I thought I recognized you. I took one of your classes when I was at the university.”

  D’Anguilo peered at her, then he abruptly snapped his fingers. “Of course... Ms. Wright, isn’t it?” She smiled and nodded, which he reciprocated in kind. “I remember you telling me once that you wanted to join the Corps after you graduated. Looks like you made it.”

  Kyra grinned, and it was Sandy’s turn to look embarrassed; realizing that D’Anguilo wasn’t just some corporate flack, she stared down at the floor. D’Anguilo paid her no mind as he returned his attention to the others. “Anyway, I’m here because I’m the company expert on the races we’re dealing with... including the danui, or at least as much as we know about them.”

  “I take it, then, that you’ve met the nord,” Mark said. D’Anguilo raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and the sergeant nodded. “We’ve already been briefed about this... I mean, that a merchant marine captain heard about the danui system from one of the nord, and...”

  “I talked to the nord, yes. In fact, that’s what I was doing here before you showed up.” D’Anguilo gestured to the porthole. “You probably noticed their ship near the gatehouse. It brought one of their emissaries. I spoke with him just a few hours ago.” He smiled. “Not that I had a chance to say much. You don’t talk to the nord, really... You just listen, and hope that your translator can keep up with them.”

  “And the danui?” Kyra asked. “Have you met with them, too?”

  D’Anguilo shook his head. “You can count the number of humans who’ve actually laid eyes on a danui on one hand and have some fingers left over, and I’m not one of them. For some reason, the danui preferred to let the nord act as their intermediaries. We’ve had no direct contact with them, and...”

  The door behind him slid open. Sean’s mother floated into the wardroom. “Dr. D’Anguilo?” she asked, and he nodded. “Andromeda Carson, captain of the Montero. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Captain.” He offered his hand, which she shook. “Happy to be aboard.”

  “Don’t let me interrupt. Go on with what you were saying.” Andromeda grasped a wall rail and pulled herself to one side of the room. Sean noticed that she seemed to be deliberately not looking his way. Which was fine with him.

  “Thank you,” D’Anguilo said. “As I was saying, we’ve had no direct contact with the danui... which is puzzling, to say the least. You’d think that, if they were interested in allowing humans to colonize a planet in their system, they’d want some say in the matter. But they seem to be rather indifferent about the whole thing.”

  “Not even trade negotiations?” Cayce asked.

  “Oh, there has been some of that. We’re not getting a planet for free.” D’Anguilo shrugged. “But that’s for later missions. For this particular expedition, all we’ve been asked to bring with us are transplantable specimens of native flora from Coyote... seeds, sprouts, young trees and shrubs, that sort of thing.” He glanced at Andromeda. “The skiff that brought me here carried them as cargo. I assume they’ve been loaded aboard.”

  “Yes, they have,” Andromeda replied. “But I’m just as confused about this as you are. Aren’t the danui concerned that we may be introducing invasive species to one of their planets?”

  “I asked the nord emissary about this, and...” D’Anguilo stopped, slowly let out his breath. “Have you ever heard a nord laugh? They don’t do it very often. Maybe it’s just as well, because it’s pretty unpleasant, but... well, that’s exactly what he did. Then he told me that it didn’t matter. We could poison the place, he said, and the danui wouldn’t care.”

  A low whistle from Mark, while Sean and Kyra traded an astonished glance. Cayce stared at the astroethnicist. “They don’t care? What are they... ?”

  “Lieutenant.” Andromeda gave him a cold look, and Cayce shut up. She looked at D’Anguilo again. “So what else have the nord let us know? Surely they’ve supplied us with vital info. Mass, surface gravity, atmospheric composition...”

  “No. Not even so much as a photo.” D’Anguilo reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black cartridge. “Just this starbridge key,” he added, holding it out to the captain. “It’s programmed to let us make the jump to HD 76700... and, yes, before you ask, we’ve been promised that it’ll work in reverse as well.”

  Andromeda took the key from D’Anguilo. “Will this put us out near the danui homeworld, or didn’t the nord tell you that either?”

  “The starbridge it opens is located one-half AU from our objective,” D’Anguilo said, “or one and a half AUs from HD 76700.” Andromeda opened her mouth, but he held up a hand before she could say anything. “I don’t know if that means it’s at a Lagrange point or in a trojan orbit or anything like that. All I’ve been told is t
hat’s where the danui starbridge is located, and that the world we’re being allowed to colonize is within half an AU of that position.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Captain Carson, but that’s all the nord would let me know. They seem to take some amusement by keeping us ignorant.”

  “I don’t like this.” Sandy’s voice was low; she’d folded her arms across her chest and was scowling at no one in particular. “There’s no reason why we should trust them... and I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me nothing about the place they want me to go, I get the feeling there’s something there they’re trying to hide.”

  Sean nodded, and to his surprise, D’Anguilo did as well. “I agree. I think the nord are hiding something, and so are the danui.” A corner of his mouth ticked upward. “That’s why I went through diplomatic channels and sent a private communiqué to the hjadd ambassador on Coyote, to ask himher what heshe knew about HD 76700.”

  “Well, that’s resourceful,” Andromeda said, and Sean reluctantly found himself agreeing with his mother. The hjadd were humankind’s closest allies among the Talus races; if any of them were going to offer candid information, it would be them. “What did heshe say?”

  “Nothing... or almost nothing.” D’Anguilo turned to look her straight in the eye. “Heshe wouldn’t tell me what was there. Not in specific terms, at least. But what heshe did say was we’d find—and I quote—‘the greatest wonder of the known galaxy, and we’re honored to have the danui share it with us.’ ”

  No one said anything for a moment until Sandy slowly let out her breath. “Yeah, that’s a lot of help. And why should we believe anything the beakheads have to tell us?”

  D’Anguilo glared at her. Beakheads was a racial epithet, usually directed at aliens in general and the hjadd in particular. Before he could retort, though, Mark cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but I know for a fact that the hjadd ambassador is a devout follower of Sa’Tong, just as I am. And the Third Codicil of the Sa’Tong-tas prohibits us from any actions—including telling lies—that would bring harm to ourselves or anyone else. So if the ambassador says we’ll find the greatest wonder in the galaxy in the danui system, then believe me when I say that we can trust himher.”