Hex

by Allen Steele

  “I’ll take your theory into consideration.” Andromeda shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then stood up to stretch out a kink in her lower back. “In the meantime, we should get ready to make a flyby and send out the recon mission.”

  “Do you still think that’s wise?” D’Anguilo asked. “With all due respect, Captain, if the danui haven’t contacted us...”

  “We didn’t come all this way just to take pictures.” Andromeda looked over at Melpomene. “Time to set course for final approach. I want to get in as close as we can to one of those hexes and look for a place where we can land, or dock, or whatever.”

  “Which one?” The helmsman cast an uncertain glance at the screen. “They all look the same.”

  “You can narrow down your choices a little.” Although still reluctant, D’Anguilo was apparently resigned to the inevitable. He walked over to the nav table, where Hex’s holo image continued to revolve on its axis. “If there’s 2 g at the equator, I think it’s safe to assume that we’ll find 1 g at the hexes about halfway up the northern hemisphere and halfway down the southern hemisphere.”

  “Good call.” Joining him at the table, Andromeda took a moment to study the projection. Hex didn’t have an axial tilt, so they wouldn’t have to worry about seasonal differences between the two hemispheres. “Let’s try the northern hemisphere,” she said at last, pointing to the holo. “About halfway to the north pole. Think you can do that?”

  “Think you’re being a little too picky, skipper?” Melpomene managed to keep a straight face, and Andromeda didn’t know she was joking until she saw the amused glint in her eyes. The captain said nothing but simply stared at Mel until the helmsman cracked a smile. “Yes, ma’am... northern hemisphere it is.”

  Andromeda went over to the helm and watched over Melpomene’s shoulder as the helmsman used the trackball to move a cursor across a comp-generated image of Hex. Careful to account for Hex’s rotation, the pilot selected a series of hexes in the northern hemisphere that would move into range of the Montero once it closed in on the sphere. Behind her, she heard D’Anguilo and Kyra quietly murmuring to each other as they stood near the nav table. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t sound as if either of them was very happy with the captain’s decision.

  This is the way mutinies get started, she thought. Like everyone else in the Federation Navy and merchant marine, Andromeda was familiar with the details of the Spindrift affair, and how a breakdown in the chain of command aboard the Galileo had had grave consequences when the ship made contact with the hjadd.

  She couldn’t risk letting that happen again. Leaving Mel to finish laying in the course correction, Andromeda walked over to the table. As she’d expected, D’Anguilo and Kyra went silent as she came near. “Do you have a problem you want to talk about?” Andromeda asked, fixing them with a frank and unwavering gaze.

  Kyra’s face became pale, and D’Anguilo shook his head and started to turn away, but Andromeda wasn’t about to let them cop out like that. “No, really,” she said. “If you have something to say, speak up. You’re supposed to be the experts. I want to hear your opinions.”

  D’Anguilo slowly let out his breath. “Captain, I... we... have some misgivings about sending down a survey team without further communication with the danui. I realize that we’ve come a long way, but I’d rather go back home empty-handed than risk offending a civilization capable of”—he cocked a thumb at the wallscreen—“well, building that.”

  “I see.” Andromeda nodded. “And you, Ms. Wright? What’s your take on this?”

  Kyra hesitated even longer than D’Anguilo. “I agree with Tom... Dr. D’Anguilo, I mean,” she said at last. “There must be a reason for the danui to remain silent, and same for all the ships we’ve seen. Humans belong to the Talus. They know we’re not hostile. And the danui invited us here. So there must be some custom or protocol that we’ve overlooked, and I’m afraid that if we take some action out of ignorance...”

  “It could come back to bite us on the ass,” Andromeda finished. D’Anguilo nodded gravely, and although Kyra’s face colored, she managed a wan smile. The captain sighed as she turned to gaze at the screen. Again, she remembered the Galileo mission. The first contact between humans and hjadd had met with disaster because Galileo’s captain had made a rash and unwise decision. The last thing Andromeda wanted was to have history repeat itself.

  “Y’know,” she said after a moment, “you may have a point. So here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll continue our approach, and on the way we’ll keep sending radio messages. When we’re a little closer, we’ll send out a recon sortie, just as we planned.”

  D’Anguilo started to say something, but Andromeda quickly held up a hand. “Let me finish. If we still haven’t heard anything from the danui by the time we complete our flyby, I’ll take it that the continued silence is their way of saying, ‘Go away, don’t bother us.’ I’ll recall the lander, tell Mel to turn us around and head for the nearest starbridge, and we’ll go home.”

  “You’d do that?” D’Anguilo was obviously surprised.

  Andromeda nodded. “I was told that this mission might be hazardous, but I’m not going to risk a major incident with an advanced race just because we can’t talk to them. I’ll report everything that happened, and let the diplomats hash it out with the danui.” She paused. “Fair enough?”

  “Yes, it is.” D’Anguilo slowly nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “You’re welcome.” Andromeda looked at Kyra. “Perhaps you’d better go below and let your team know what we’re planning. If Lieutenant Cayce has any questions, tell him he can come up here and talk to me. Otherwise, I’ll expect your people to be ready to go by”—she checked her watch—“1800 tomorrow.”

  Kyra nodded, then turned to leave. She’d almost reached the access shaft when Andromeda decided, on a spontaneous whim, not to let her off the hook so easily.

  “Oh, and Ms. Wright?” she called out, and Kyra stopped to look back at her. “When you see Sean, give him my best, will you?”

  Again, the corporal’s face went pale. “Yes, ma’am,” she murmured, then she fled down the manhole.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THREE BELLS RANG FROM THE AIRLOCK LOUDSPEAKER, AND Sean reached up to grasp a ceiling handrail. The vibration of the ship’s engines ceased a few seconds later, and he felt his feet leave the deck. The Montero had ended its braking maneuvers; once again, the vessel was in zero g.

  Kyra jostled him from behind, nudging his life-support pack. “Sorry,” she said, gently pushing herself away. “Wasn’t ready for that.”

  With all five members of the Corps team crammed into the airlock, the narrow compartment was uncommonly crowded. Their cramped conditions weren’t made any better by the Navy-issue skinsuits they were wearing. The outfits were lightweight and flexible, but their life-support packs and chest units made them cumbersome in tight quarters. Cayce and Mark were just in front of him, and Mark was so close that Sean could see the scuff marks on the back of his helmet.

  “S’okay,” Sean said. “Just relax and try to—”

  A double beep in his headset, then First Officer Ressler’s voice came over the comlink. “All right, we’re at zero thrust and preparing to commence rollover maneuver. You can board the Reese when you’re ready.”

  “Copy that.” Cayce stared up at the ceiling as if he could actually see the bridge from three decks below. “Survey team proceeding to lander. Over.” He then glanced back at the others. “All right, everyone... follow me.”

  Mark turned his head to look at Sean through his helmet’s open faceplate, and the two of them simultaneously rolled their eyes; from behind Kyra, Sean heard Sandy quietly sigh. Lieutenant Amerigo Cayce, hero of the Corps of Exploration. For the past seven days, the rest of the team had been largely spared his presence; they’d been too busy making preparations for the mission to pay much attention to him. And Kyra had been in the command center most of the time, helping Tom D’A
nguilo study Hex.

  Sean hadn’t seen very much of her, but at least he hadn’t seen much of Cayce either. Now that the time had come for the team to start earning their pay, he’d decided to put on his lieutenant’s bars again. Despite his curiosity about what lay down there, Sean found himself hoping that this would be a short trip. The less he had to deal with Cayce, the better.

  Probably just as well, he thought. He’s nervous about this sortie, and he’s compensating by making an ass of himself.

  Cayce bent forward to unseal the hatch to Montero’s hangar bay. A faint hiss, then it swung open, exposing the darkness that lay on the other side. As the team commander pushed himself through the hatch, sensors detected his presence; light panels flickered to life, revealing the spacecraft berthed within.

  The CFS Gilbert Reese was nestled inside its launch cradle, its wings folded against the fuselage. Except for a couple of electrical umbilicals still attached to the hull, the lander was fueled and ready for launch. Sean and Mark had gone down there several times already to inspect the spacecraft and make sure that all the equipment packed aboard it was in good shape. The port hatch was already open, with a tether line stretched from the airlock to the lander. Pulling himself along hand over hand, Cayce led the way to the Reese; as team leader, he was the first to board the spacecraft, with Mark Dupree close behind.

  Although not quite as cramped as the airlock, the lander’s cabin was just large enough for five passengers and their equipment. Cayce and Mark sat up front in the cockpit, with Mark taking the left-hand pilot’s seat; Sean settled in behind Cayce, while Kyra found her place behind Mark. That left Sandy in the rearmost seat, tucked in beside the equipment cases and backpacks strapped to the aft bulkhead. She’d groused about the seating arrangements earlier, but it was necessary for Kyra and Sean to sit close to the cockpit in order for them to assist Mark and Cayce.

  Sean would be little more than a camera operator, but Kyra had an important role in the mission. She was the first to admit that, even after having studied Hex for the last several days, her knowledge of the place was only slightly less than zero. Nevertheless, over the last few days, she’d become the team’s astrobiology expert. Sean suspected that she wanted him nearby as moral support.

  As Sean pushed himself into the port-side seat, he found himself grateful that the padded couches were designed to accommodate life-support packs. This was only the second time he’d worn a skinsuit. A couple of days ago, he’d had an argument with Cayce, insisting that it was unlikely that they’d need EVA gear for what might well be little more than a quick flyby; the likelihood of actually landing on Hex was considered remote, considering the silent treatment the danui had given the Montero thus far. Yet the lieutenant was adamant; it was possible that they might attempt to land if they found a reason to do so. If that occurred, Navy regulations specifically stated that skinsuits were to be worn while entering an alien environment.

  As always, Cayce was a stickler for following the book. Just one more thing that was irritating about him.

  Sean had just finished buckling his harness when Sandy pulled the hatch shut. Mark was making his way down the rest of the prelaunch checklist. He reached to the panel between him and Cayce and snapped a couple of toggles. Green lights lit across the board, and from the lander’s aft section came the dull thrum of the nuclear engine coming to life.

  “Hatch sealed, main cabin pressurized,” Mark said. “Internal power on, comps reset, primary ignition sequence initiated.” He glanced at Cayce. “Ready when you are, Lieutenant.”

  Cayce reached up to the com panel above the cockpit’s wraparound windows, pressed a button. “Montero, this is Reese. Pilot reports all systems are green, and we’re ready for launch.”

  “We copy, Reese.” Again, Sean heard Ressler’s voice through his headset. “Bay depressurization sequence initiated. Main hatch open in ninety seconds.”

  “Roger that.” Mark flipped two more toggles. “Umbilicals detached. Starting mission clock.”

  Kyra unzipped a thigh pocket of her skinsuit and removed a datapad. She used an adhesive patch to fasten it to the seatback in front of her, then ran a slender cable from the pad to a serial port on the side of her helmet. “Lieutenant, would you patch me into the comlink, please? I need to talk to Tom.”

  Cayce pushed a button on the com panel. “You’re on.”

  “Thank you. Montero, this is Reese Survey One. Tom, are you there?”

  “Right here, Kyra.” Sean heard D’Anguilo’s voice through his headset; everyone in the lander was sharing the same com channel. “Ready for download?”

  Kyra tapped a command into her pad. “Yes, I am. Go ahead.” A moment passed, then data began to scroll down the pad, replaced a few seconds later by a menu screen. “Very good,” Kyra said, studying the information. “Looks like it’s all here.”

  “What’s that?” Sean asked, peering over her shoulder at the pad.

  “The data Tom and I collected the last few days.” Kyra ran her finger down the menu, and a window opened to display another set of figures. “This way, not only can I access everything we’ve already found out, but we can also send new info to each other as we go along.”

  As if in response, Anne Smith’s voice came over the com. “I’m linking Montero’s telemetry to Tom’s board. You’ll get everything we’re seeing from up here, too.”

  “Thanks. That’ll help.” Satisfied, Kyra touched the pad again, and the display returned to the menu default. She looked at Sean. “Don’t expect much conversation from me once we get started. I’m going to be pretty busy.”

  D’Anguilo laughed. “I certainly hope so. If we find nothing but a big ball of chicken wire, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  Sean said nothing but instead turned his gaze toward the oval porthole beside him. The lander bay had apparently just become depressurized, because he looked outside just in time to see the hangar doors start to open. As the massive doors parted at the center and rose upward, raw sunlight flooded the bay. Now that the braking and turnaround maneuvers were completed, the Montero was oriented bow first, with its hangar facing Hex. From where he was sitting, though, Sean still couldn’t see their destination, only the bay’s inside walls.

  “Bay doors open, Reese,” Ressler said. “Ready to elevate cradle on your command.”

  “We copy, Montero.” Cayce gave Mark a quick look, and the pilot nodded. “Elevate cradle, please.”

  A faint shudder, then Sean felt the lander start to rise. Through his porthole, he could see the hangar walls slowly fall away. There was a loud, sudden snap against the hull, and he looked through Kyra’s porthole in time to see a familiar nylon line float away.

  “Aw, damn!” Sandy hissed. “I think I forgot something.”

  “Corporal!” Cayce turned his head to glare at her. She didn’t say anything, but when Sean glanced over his shoulder at her, he saw that her face was red with embarrassment.

  “You didn’t detach the tether before you shut the hatch, did you?” Mark was more forgiving than the lieutenant. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”

  The cradle continued to rise until it elevated the lander to a position where it was level with the open hangar doors. When it came to a halt, Mark flexed his hands within his gloves, then grasped the control yoke. “All systems go, Montero. Ready for separation. Open cradle, please.”

  An abrupt thump from outside the lander, then a sensation of floating free. Mark gently pulled back on the yoke, and the lander’s reaction-control thrusters silently fired, pushing the Reese away from the Montero.

  “Separation complete.” He reached up and flipped a pair of switches. A faint whirring sound, and Sean glanced out his window to see the port wing lowering into position.

  “We copy, Reese.” This time, Sean heard his mother’s voice over the comlink. “You’re go for launch.”

  “Roger that.” Mark moved the yoke to the right, and the Reese made a 180-degree starboard roll. Through his port
hole, Sean watched as the Montero swung into view, its hangar bay yawning open below them. With his right hand, Mark grasped the throttle bar on the center console. “Firing main engine on three... two... one...”

  A faint rumble, then the Montero suddenly disappeared. “Reese away,” Mark said.

  “Affirmative,” Andromeda said. “We’ve got you on our scope. Good luck to you all.”

  From the corner of his eye, Sean noticed Kyra giving him a sidelong look. Although his mother hadn’t specifically mentioned him by name, she’d doubtless meant her son to be included in her well-wishes. Sean said nothing, and after a moment, Kyra returned her attention to her pad.

  Mark let the deorbit burn continue for fifteen seconds, then pulled back on the throttle and pushed the stick forward. As the lander began to descend in a wide parabolic arc, Hex came into view. Earlier in the day, the Montero had assumed a low orbit eight hundred miles above the sphere’s outer surface. From that altitude, Hex no longer resembled a sphere but instead appeared to be a vast and seemingly endless expanse of hexagons, stretching so far that its horizon was little more than a thin and distant line.

  No one aboard said anything, save for a low and awestruck whistle from Sandy. The view stunned everyone into silence. None of them had ever seen anything as magnificent as Hex, or as chilling. After a few seconds, Cayce found his voice.

  “All right, people,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically hushed, “we’ve got a job to do. Stop gawking and get to work.” He looked back at Sean. “Corporal?”

  “I’m on it, sir.” Loosening his shoulder harness, Sean reached beneath his seat to retrieve the camera he’d stashed there earlier. Although the Reese was equipped with wing cameras, mounted on the leading edge of its port and starboard canards, they weren’t designed to pick up anything except what was straight ahead. So it was Sean’s task to take close-up shots of Hex as the lander made its flyby, with the images to be transmitted in real time to the Montero.