by Allen Steele
“I get the idea.” Andromeda felt something cold travel down her back. “You can tell the danui that we . . .”
A sharp chirp from her transceiver. She had almost forgotten that she was still carrying it beneath her left arm. Indeed, it had been nearly fourteen hours since the last time she’d been able to communicate with the Montero. Apparently her present position within the former morath docking node allowed radio signals to reach her.
“Pardon me,” she said to Jahd. “I think I need to take this.” The hjadd’s head briefly swung back and forth as she turned away to fasten her headset against her mouth and ear. “Survey Two to Montero,” she said quietly. “We copy, over.”
“Montero to Survey Two.” Anne’s voice was fuzzed with static. “Glad to hear you again, skipper. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while.”
“Same here. The tram tunnels have been blocking reception. What’s going on?”
“Bad news. We received word from Survey One just a little while ago. Sean says that their tram took them somewhere besides Nueva Italia. They don’t know where they are, but it’s clear that they’re not where they’re supposed to be.”
“I don’t understand.” Andromeda was confused. “I gave him the coordinates. He must have entered them wrong.”
“With all due respect, skipper, he seems to think otherwise.”
While she’d been talking to Anne, D’Anguilo had quietly walked over to stand beside her. “Your son didn’t show up at our habitat?” he asked quietly, and Andromeda shook her head. “Are you sure you gave him the proper coordinates?”
Andromeda glared at him. “Of course I . . .” She stopped as a thought occurred to her. Oh, my God . . . what if I didn’t? “Stand by, Montero. I need to check something.”
She muted the headset, then reached into her pocket and pulled out her datapad. Retrieving the coordinates she’d copied down at the Nueva Italia tram station, she held the pad so that D’Anguilo could read the screen. “Didn’t you tell me that this should be read from right to left?”
“That’s what I said, yes.” He pointed to the crosshatched diamond at the right end of the sequence. “You started to enter the ones for this station the other way, from left to right, but I stopped you because . . .”
“I remember now. It was because the digits at the bottom of the screen went the other way. And we got to where we were supposed to go.” Andromeda felt her face become warm. “Damn it. Damn it to hell . . .”
“Uh-oh.” He stared at her. “Did you reverse the sequence when you read it to Sean?”
“I was half-asleep when he called, and we hadn’t yet figured out . . .” She shook her head again, then reactivated her headset. “Anne? You still there?”
“Right here, skipper.”
Andromeda let out her breath, closed her eyes. “Sean’s right . . . It’s my fault. I read the coordinates to him in reverse order, left to right instead of right to left. That’s why he got lost.” She mentally kicked herself for her carelessness, then went on. “That should be easily solved. All he has to do is enter those coordinates again, this time in the proper sequence, and the tram should take him straight to our biopod.”
“I understand, Captain, but we haven’t heard from him since then. He said that he and his team were going into the habitat where they arrived in hopes of finding someone who could help them.” A reluctant pause. “That was the last transmission I received from him, and there’s been no response to my signals. Skipper, I think they’re in trouble.”
Again, Andromeda felt a chill run down her spine. As much as she might have liked to think otherwise, she knew her communications officer was probably right. And if her son was in danger, it was because his own mother had put him there.
Before she could respond, though, she felt D’Anguilo’s hand on her shoulder. “Captain, there’s a way to find them,” he said quietly. “If you reverse the coordinates, too . . .”
“That’ll take us to them. Right.” She nodded to D’Anguilo. “Did you copy that, Anne?”
“Affirmative, skipper. Is that your intent?”
She gazed at D’Anguilo. He couldn’t hear what Anne was saying, but apparently he’d guessed her response, because he slowly nodded.
“Roger that, Montero,” Andromeda said. “I’m going to go find my son.”
PART FIVE
SANCTUARY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“YOU CANNOT SAVE YOUR PEOPLE,” SASHATASMA JAHD SAFHADDA said.
Andromeda stared at himher through the transparent wall of hisher booth. She was still holding her datapad up so that the hjadd emissary could read the danui numbers on its screen. One look at them, and Jahd’s fin had risen to its full height. Heshe was clearly perturbed, but she didn’t know why.
Before she could respond, Tom D’Anguilo spoke up. “Why can’t we? It’s not their fault they’re lost. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t . . .”
“You do not understand.” Jahd raised a six-fingered hand to point to Andromeda’s pad. “These coordinates, when read in reverse order, correspond to those of a restricted habitat. It is unfortunate that they have found themselves in this place, but the danui have placed it off-limits. No Talus race is allowed to go there.”
“I don’t understand.” D’Anguilo shook his head. “What is that place? Why . . . ?”
“Allow me to explain.” Jahd reached beneath his robe to produce a hand-sized object faintly resembling an ink stamp. Grasping it by its handle, heshe pressed buttons on its flat end. A blue ray painted a translucent image across the wall between himher and the humans on the other side: a holographic image of Hex. Heshe tapped at the object again, and the image expanded until only part of its northern hemisphere was displayed.
“Here is where your habitat is located.” Jahd pointed a taloned finger toward a tiny hexagon halfway up the hemisphere; it became red at his touch. “Here is where we are,” he continued, and another habitat, located five hexagons northwest of Nueva Italia, became scarlet when heshe touched it. “And here is where your people are,” heshe finished, as a third habitat was illuminated, this one to the northeast of the second hexagon.
“That doesn’t look very far away,” Zeus said, stepping closer to peer at the map.
“It is not,” Jahd said. “You could reach it in only a few of your hours. However, distance is not the issue. This habitat belongs to a race that should be familiar to you . . . the taaraq.”
The name sounded familiar, but Andromeda couldn’t quite recall its significance. D’Anguilo obviously did, though, because he stared at the holo in stunned surprise. “You have taaraq here?” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Living taaraq?”
Jahd’s head slowly swung back and forth in an affirmative. “I’m not following this,” Zeus said. “Who are the taaraq? Why are they so important?”
“Who are the . . . ?” D’Anguilo turned to regard the chief petty officer with disbelief. “Don’t they teach history in school anymore, or did you just sleep through class?” Zeus’s face went red as the astroethnicist went on. “The Galileo expedition. Spindrift. The race that was discovered hibernating inside . . .”
“I remember now,” Andromeda said. “That was Ted Harker’s mission. Spindrift was the rogue asteroid that wandered past Earth’s solar system back in 2288. When the Galileo went out to investigate it, they discovered that it was hollow. It was a sort of interstellar ark, and inside was an entire race that had put itself in biostasis and left their home system when it was destroyed by . . .”
“Kasimasta.” Jahd completed the thought for her. “Yes, you remember correctly. When their homeworld was about to be destroyed by the rogue black hole called the Annihilator, the taaraq transformed a nearby asteroid into an enormous starship. A million and a half members of their race sealed themselves within Shaq-Taaraq and, in a state of long-term hibernation, set out for a planet in a distant star system that could support them. Your people discovered them by accident, and this led to firs
t contact between your race and mine.”
Andromeda peered at the holo again. “Then these are . . . ?”
“The same taaraq that your expedition found in the ark? No. Shaq—Taaraq . . . or Spindrift, as you call it . . . is still in transit, and will be for many years to come.” Jahd paused. “Yet those taaraq are not the only survivors of their race. The danui saw to that.”
“My God.” D’Anguilo stared at himher. “You mean, they . . . ?”
“Yes.” Again, Jahd’s gaze fell upon the holo image. “After Shaq-Taaraq made its departure, but before Kasimasta arrived in the taaraq system, the danui visited the taaraq homeworld and took away a number of its remaining inhabitants, along with specimens of its flora and fauna. They were brought here to tanaash-haq, where a sanctuary was made for them. They have been here for many generations now, longer than even my own race, with their habitat a microcosm of a world that they remember only as a legend.”
“Why did they do this?” Zeus asked. “The danui, I mean.”
Jahd didn’t immediately respond. Hisher fin flattened as heshe looked away from them as if in silent contemplation. “You will have to ask the danui this when you meet them,” Jahd said after a few moments. “However, I must warn you that the chances for such a meeting will be jeopardized if you go to the taaraq habitat. The danui have told all Talus races that they must not visit them, for the safety of both the taaraq and themselves.”
“I don’t understand.” D’Anguilo shook his head. “If I remember correctly, the taaraq are a peaceful race, with no history of warfare. At least that’s what your people told mine.”
“This is true, but only for the taaraq inside Spindrift. They represent the advanced civilization that was able to build the ark in the first place. The taaraq colony of tanaash-haq are different. They have been here several centuries, and during that time the descendents of the original survivors have socially degenerated. They are less civilized, more hostile, than their ancestors. Any contact with them may be dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why we need to go there.” Andromeda suddenly remembered what they’d been discussing in the first place. “My son and his friends are in that place. If what you say is true, then their lives are in danger. We’ve got to get them out, and I don’t care if your people or the danui or the whole goddamn Talus objects.”
Jahd’s fin rose sharply as sacs at the base of hisher throat bulged. It wasn’t hard to see that heshe was angry. From the corner of her eye, though, Andromeda saw D’Anguilo solemnly nod. He alone understood why she was so adamant.
“If you insist upon doing this,” Jahd said, “you will risk incurring the danui’s wrath.” Heshe gestured toward the vast, empty space beyond the nearby window where the morath habitat once lay. “This should be a reminder of what happens to races who dare to defy them.”
“What did I just say?” Andromeda stared back at himher. “I don’t care what the danui think. I’m going to get my son back, and . . .” She took a deep breath. “And that’s it.”
Even Jahd seemed to recognize the finality of her tone. Heshe didn’t say anything for a moment, but only regarded her with heavy-lidded eyes. “If you must,” the emissary said at last. “I cannot condone your actions but only warn you of the consequences.”
“You can do more than that.” Andromeda sought to rein in her temper. “If you’re acting as intermediaries between us and the danui, you can explain to them what we’re doing and why.”
“I can attempt to do so, but I cannot promise that they will understand.” Jahd’s head rose slightly upon hisher neck. “Not all races are as protective of their offspring as humans are.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Zeus shrugged, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Poor, stupid us, huh?”
Andromeda gave him a sharp look, then turned to Jahd again. “You could also tell us what to expect from the taaraq habitat.”
“I can, if only to give you another reason why a rescue attempt is inadvisable. Their environment is similar to our own although its surface gravity is less than that of your homeworld. Its atmosphere is only marginally breathable by humans. Without the proper apparatus, you will not be able to survive long there. Its terrain is principally aquatic, comprised mainly of water and floating moss, with very little solid ground. It is also inhabited by quite a number of animals hostile to humans. It is a very dangerous place. Even my own people have hesitated before going there.”
D’Anguilo raised an eyebrow. “So the hjadd have visited the taaraq habitat.”
Jahd hesitated. “Yes, we have.”
“If that’s so,” D’Anguilo said, “then the edict against any other race entering the habitat must not be as absolute as you’ve made it out to be.”
Again, Jahd’s fin and neck sacs showed signs of hjadd irritation. Andromeda wanted to keep the emissary on her side, and D’Anguilo’s pointing out hisher contradictions might not have helped. But Tom was right; by slip of the tongue, the emissary had revealed something about the danui that heshe preferred to keep secret.
If that were so, then Andromeda wasn’t surprised. Not greatly. Although the hjadd were the Coyote Federation’s closest allies in the Talus, the fact remained that they’d never been completely truthful in their dealings with humans, particularly when it came matters that might have an impact upon trade or diplomatic relations with other races. However benevolent they seemed to be, the hjadd always wanted to have the upper hand, and that usually took the form of withholding important information.
“In the past,” Jahd said reluctantly, “the danui have allowed members of other races to visit another habitat without permission of its inhabitants. Such permission is rarely given, but if the intent isn’t hostile, and there’s a good reason for the intrusion . . .”
“This is a rescue mission,” Andromeda said. “We’re going in there to save my people from being killed. What better reason is there?”
Jahd said nothing for a moment; hisher eyes swiveled back and forth as if in consternation. “I can communicate this to the danui,” heshe said at last. “I am not confident that they will accept your rationale, but I can try.”
“Thank you.” Andromeda let out her breath. “We would appreciate it.”
“What about their language?” D’Anguilo asked. “The taaraq, I mean. Assuming that we can enter their habitat, will we be able to communicate with them?”
Jahd had raised hisher instrument again. “Verbal communication is impossible,” the hjadd said as heshe tapped at it. “Our scientists were only able to decipher their written language after studying the interior of Shaq-Taaraq. Their verbal language remains unknown to us. As a result, translator disks like my own are useless.”
“Great,” Zeus murmured. “If we can’t talk to ’em, then we’ll have to fight ’em . . .”
“No!” Jahd’s fin unfolded again as heshe looked sharply at him. “Any hostile actions against the taaraq will result in retaliation from the danui. I cannot stress that too much. Whatever else you may do, do not attack them! Even carrying weapons into their habitat would be inadvisable.”
Andromeda glanced at both D’Anguilo and Zeus; their expressions were as grim as her own. “And what if they attack us?” she asked. “What should we do then?”
“Run.” Jahd touched hisher instrument one last time, and the holo map of Hex vanished. “A tram is on its way to collect me, and I have taken the liberty of summoning one for you as well. You may set its coordinates once you are aboard.”
“You won’t come with us?” D’Anguilo asked.
“No. My race cannot become involved in this matter. I can speak with the danui on your behalf, but nothing more.” Heshe turned toward Andromeda. “Captain Carson, I beg you to reconsider. If you undertake this, you will put your entire mission at risk, along with the lives of yourself and your companions.”
“Thank you, emissary,” she said, trying not to sound cold. “I appreciate your advice.”
A breeze drifted from the tunnel, signa
ling the approach of a tram. Again, Jahd’s head shifted back and forth in an affirmative, then heshe raised hisher left hand. “Sa’tong qo,” heshe said. “May we meet again.”
Andromeda nodded. D’Anguilo reciprocated the gesture with his own left hand. “Sa’tong qo,” he replied. “I hope . . . I expect . . . we will before long.”
The tram rushed forth from the tunnel, slid to a halt beside the platform. Its right-side door was directly adjacent to the booth in which Jahd stood. Heshe turned to watch as the booth’s walls expanded upon heretofore invisible seams until it mated with the tram, forming an airlock through which heshe could safely pass. A moment passed, then the tram doors and the rear wall of the booth simultaneously opened. Without another word, Jahd entered the tram; heshe didn’t even look back as the doors closed behind himher.
The tram had barely left the station when Andromeda reached down to the transceiver slung beneath her arm. “We’ve got to work fast,” she said quietly. “The next tram will be here any minute.”
“What are you . . . ?” D’Anguilo began.
Andromeda shook her head as she raised the antenna. Stepping closer to the window, she boosted the gain to its maximum, then slipped on her headset. “Survey Two to Montero,” she said. “Montero , respond immediately . . . This is a Priority One transmission. Over.”
Anne’s voice came through her earpiece almost at once. “We copy, Survey Two. What’s up, skipper?”
“Patch me through to Nueva Italia and relay the signal to Survey One.” Despite what Anne had told her, it was possible that Sean might receive the signal. “Patch in the logbook, too,” she added. “I want this on the record.”
A few seconds went by. “All set, Captain. Logbook on vox mode. Go ahead.”