by Allen Steele
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, and she looked up at him. “I know it was a mistake, and I”—he hesitated; oh, c’mon, say it!—“I forgive you.”
Andromeda studied him for a moment, as if not quite believing what she’d just heard. “Thank you,” she said at last, little more than a whisper. “I appreciate it.”
He took a deep breath. “Look, I . . .”
“Maybe we should talk about this later,” Andromeda said, as the tram glided to a halt. “Right now, we need to get back to the ship and get ready to leave.”
“Sure. Okay.” Sean’s knees cracked as he pushed himself out of his seat, his legs stiff as wood. “Where are we going? Back to the habitat you found?”
Andromeda didn’t answer at once; instead, she shared a silent look with Melpomene and Rolf. “If the danui will let us,” she said at last, slowly rising from her own seat. “They may not be very happy with us just now.”
Sean started to reply, but his mother was already heading toward the tram doors. Rolf started to follow her, but not before he paused next to Sean. “I hope you’re grateful,” he muttered. “She sacrificed a lot to save you.”
The chief engineer walked away before he could respond, and neither Melpomene nor Zeus seemed inclined to add anything more than indifferent glances in his direction. Only D’Anguilo seemed willing to explain. “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly as he helped Kyra pull Sandy to her feet. “The hjadd emissary told us that the danui have an edict against one race interfering with another. You ended up where you were by accident . . . but she deliberately broke the rules to rescue you.”
“But don’t they know that if she’d left us there, the taaraq would’ve killed us?” Sean reached over to take Sandy from D’Anguilo. Her wound had been cleaned and bandaged, but she’d need a session in Montero’s autodoc before she’d be able to walk on her own again. And Sean himself could use a few stitches. “I don’t think she had a choice.”
“Believe me, she didn’t.” D’Anguilo reached down to pick up his pack and Sean’s as well. “And I think the hjadd know that, too.”
“So what’s the . . . ?”
“The problem is that it’s not the hjadd who make the rules . . . It’s the danui.” D’Anguilo turned to head for the door. “And no one knows what they’ll make of all this.”
There was a circular hatch at the end of the platform. It spiraled open at their approach, revealing a stone-walled room. An identical hatch was on the opposite side of the room; on the other side of an adjacent window was the node’s docking bay, with a tubular walkway leading to the Montero, suspended within a cat’s cradle of mooring cables. Set within another wall was what appeared to be a comp flatscreen.
“Just like the one we came through at Nueva Italia,” Melpomene said. “It shouldn’t scan us on the way back, though.”
“Then why is the tunnel closed?” Rolf walked over to the second hatch and stopped before it. “It was open when we left it.” He waited a moment, but the hatch remained shut. He looked back at the others. “Why isn’t it opening now?”
“He’s right . . . It should open for us.” Andromeda tapped her headset. “Survey Two to Montero, do you copy?” She paused to listen, and a puzzled expression came upon her face. “Montero, this is Survey Two. Please respond, over.”
“Let me try.” Melpomene prodded her own headset. “Anne, this is Mel. Please come in.” A second passed, then she shook her head. “Nothing. Not even static.”
D’Anguilo turned to the captain. “I don’t think . . .” he began, then he stopped, his eyes growing wide in astonishment. It was at that instant that a feminine voice spoke from behind her:
“Hello, Captain Carson. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”
Sean looked around to see a danui standing behind his mother.
He’d seen images of danui before. Its six-limbed body resembled that of an immense spider, but its mandibles and eyestalks looked more like those of a crustacean. Covered with wiry black hair, it wore what appeared to be a vestlike garment crossed with several belts. Standing on the other side of the room, the alien was so solid in appearance that its lack of shadow was the only clue that it was actually a holographic projection.
Startled, Andromeda involuntarily recoiled from the creature. “What the hell . . . ?” she began, then caught herself. “Hello . . . I’m sorry, but you . . . ah, surprised me, that’s all.”
“Why should you be surprised?” When the danui spoke, its pleasant voice wasn’t synchronized with the movement of its mandibles. “We were supposed to meet earlier, were we not? Our associate, Sashatasma Jahd Sa-Fhadda, indicated that you were looking forward to our encounter.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Very well then. Let us talk.” The danui raised its forelegs, bent them closer to its body. “For purposes of temporary identification, you may call me Jane Doe. You would not be able to pronounce my name if I told it to you. My people have delegated to me the task of speaking with you.”
“Yes, right . . . of course.” Andromeda paused. “I’m sorry for the delay. We had some urgent matters that we needed to take care of. Some of my people—”
“We know this,” Doe said, interrupting her without apology. “Nothing that happens in Hex . . . as you call this place . . . goes unobserved. In fact, it is your conduct that concerns us, and our discussion of your actions will determine where you go next.”
Doe turned its—or was it her?—left foreleg toward the closed hatch. “On the other side of that hatch is the walkway leading to your ship. When this meeting is over, we will open the hatch and let you board your vessel. We also will permit your ship to leave this habitat, just as we allowed it to dock here in the first place. However, you should know that it’s possible that we may not allow you to return to your own habitat. If you attempt to do so, you will find that its docking node will not open for you, nor for the other vessel from your world that is in our system.”
Andromeda stared at Jane Doe. “Other vessel? What other . . . ?”
“Look at the screen behind you.”
Along with everyone else in the room, Sean turned toward the flatscreen. It lit to display a cruciform-shaped spacecraft somewhat smaller than the Montero, as captured from a stern angle several miles away. It appeared to be a freighter, and since the exhaust bell of its single engine was dark, it appeared to be adrift.
“The Pride of Cucamonga.” D’Anguilo immediately recognized the other vessel. “That’s Ted Harker’s ship.” He looked back at Jane Doe. “Where is this from?”
“The image is being relayed from the same starbridge you used to come here. This ship emerged from hyperspace only fifteen minutes, thirty-two seconds ago. Because our business is still unfinished, we have shut down its main drive and navigation systems until our conversation is concluded.”
“Damn,” Andromeda said quietly. “Harker must have gotten impatient when he didn’t hear from us and decided to come through himself.” She turned toward Jane Doe again. “This ship belongs to another captain from my world. I assure you, he means no harm.”
“Even if he did, we sincerely doubt that he poses a significant threat.” The danui’s mandibles moved a little faster as her eyestalks made a strange bobbing motion. Is she laughing at us? Sean wondered. “However, his impatience and your own . . . along with several other unbecoming traits . . . are another matter entirely. They pose a danger not only to yourselves but to other inhabitants of Hex as well. This is what we need to discuss with you before we decide whether to allow you to remain or request that you leave and never return.”
The danui touched a band on her left foreleg, and a holographic replica of Hex materialized beside her. “First, you need to know the reasons why we built this place. As Sashatasma Jahd SaFhadda has told you, we did this because our original world was in peril and we had no other alternative if we wanted to preserve our race. We later developed means of interstellar travel, but by then Hex was nearly complete. Because ou
r race has little interest in exploration for its own sake, we realized that Hex gave us a singular advantage . . .”
“You could invite other races to come here instead of your having to go to them.” D’Anguilo nodded. “I’d figured that, once we saw the number of starbridges you’d built and the different kinds of vessels coming through them.”
“An astute observation, Dr. D’Anguilo.” Jane Doe’s eyes swiveled in his direction. “In this way, we are able to reap the benefits of interstellar travel . . . namely, trade and cultural contact . . . without having to leave home. We have emissaries in the Talus, but few of my people leave our system otherwise. Yet there is another reason.”
Her eyestalks moved again toward the miniature Hex. “During our continuing effort to forge alliances with the other races of the galaxy, we’ve developed an appreciation for the fragility of life, the thin margins upon which it often exists. In some instances, races are threatened with extinction by forces beyond their control. My own race was nearly obliterated by a natural catastrophe. The homeworlds of the taaraq and the nord, among others, were destroyed by the Annihilator. As we understand it, your homeworld has been severely damaged by environmental abuse of your own making, forcing a mass migration to your colony world. There are many ways in which a species can perish, and their options for survival are never easy.”
Jane Doe tapped her wristband again, and several tiny hexagons lit up in bright blue across Hex’s surface. “Here, we have provided an alternative . . . sanctuaries for endangered races.” One of her eyes turned toward Sean. “Corporal Carson, you and your party found one such sanctuary . . . the taaraq habitat, populated by the descendents of the survivors of a world destroyed by the Annihilator. There are a few such habitats here, each designed to mimic a native environment that has long since disappeared.”
“And you keep them isolated from other races?” Andromeda asked. “Why?”
“Like the taaraq, some were not even aware of the existence of other races until they were brought here. Keeping them apart from others prevents cultural confusion that could be just as deadly as the forces that destroyed their own worlds. And there are many races here about which even the Talus is yet unaware.”
Sean glanced at Kyra, saw the look on her face. She said nothing, but D’Anguilo wasn’t as reticent. “Races that the Talus doesn’t know about?” he asked. “You mean . . . ?”
“Yes. Races with whom no one but we have made contact. Yet like the hjadd, the arsashi, the nord, and many others, they have been invited to establish colonies here for a single purpose more important than any other . . . to preserve their races should their worlds ever come to an end.”
“Hex is a galactic sanctuary,” Andromeda said. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, precisely.” The danui’s forelegs spread apart in an almost human gesture. “Once a race has established a colony here, its existence is assured. Even if its homeworld or other colonies cease to exist, its race will not perish with them.”
“And in the meantime, they are able to establish trade with your race,” D’Anguilo said.
“My people, yes, but also others . . . provided that those races agree to let others visit their habitats, in which case they may exchange transit-system coordinates. But for races like the taaraq, or even those who simply do not wish to have contact with the Talus, isolation is perhaps best for all concerned.”
“So you keep them apart from the others. I understand—”
“No, Dr. D’Anguilo . . . we are afraid you do not.” Sean noticed that Jane Doe used the plural pronoun; the danui emissary seldom referred to itself in the singular form. An individual quirk, or a social trait? “If you truly understood, then you and your companions would not have committed many of the transgressions of the past several days. The unauthorized reconnaissance of the arsashi colony by your landing craft, with the resultant crash landing when it attempted to evade an energy beam meant to deter it . . .”
“Our pilot did that on orders from my commanding officer,” Sean said. “The pilot was killed during the crash, and the commanding officer—”
“Died as a result of a cultural misunderstanding.” Jane Doe did not seem to be perturbed by the constant interruptions. “His death could have been avoided had you known in advance that you were going to be encountering arsashi tribesmen.”
“That was an accident.” Kyra stepped forward, speaking up for the first time. “I knew the arsashi customs, but Cayce . . . our commanding officer . . . wasn’t willing to listen to me.”
“An unwillingness to listen seems to be an unfortunate tendency among your kind.” Jane Doe turned to Andromeda again. “We attempted to give you advice during your approach to Hex, enlisting the hjadd as our intermediaries since you are unfamiliar with our language. Had you obeyed our wishes, your ship would have docked without incident at the habitat we had prepared for you. But you chose not to do so.”
Andromeda said nothing, but Sean noticed that her fists were curling at her sides. He hoped that, for once, his mother would keep her temper under control. She slowly let out her breath, and he was relieved to see her hands relax again.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right . . . It’s my fault. If I’d listened, a lot of trouble could have been avoided.” She paused for a moment before going on, this time with an edge to her voice. “However, I won’t apologize for rescuing my son and his companions.”
Sean took a step toward her. “Mother . . .”
“Sean, be quiet . . . please.” She barely glanced at him, but instead continued to look straight at the danui. “I know that this was trespassing. Jahd explained that to me even before we went there. But”—she nodded toward Sean—“it had to be done. I couldn’t leave him behind.”
“Then you admit that you knowingly broke our rules,” Jane Doe replied.
“Your rules weren’t explained to us until after we had broken them . . .”
“This is true, but in this instance, they were.”
Andromeda hesitated. “Yes, they were explained to us,” she admitted. “Jahd told us the taaraq habitat was off-limits, and heshe warned us of the possible consequences.” Then a quizzical expression crossed her face. “But . . . wait a minute. If you were aware of what we were doing . . . even what we intended to do, before we actually did it . . . then why did you let us go ahead with it?”
“She’s right,” D’Anguilo said. “You could have stopped us at any time. You could have prevented our ship from leaving our habitat, or refused to open this habitat’s docking node, or even stopped our tram from coming here. But you let us go ahead anyway even though it was against your own rules.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Pardon me, but . . . isn’t a rule pretty useless if the people who made it don’t obey it themselves?”
“Yes, you are correct.” Jane Doe’s eyestalks twitched in his direction, and Sean found himself unnerved by her attention. Her resemblance to a giant spider couldn’t be ignored, and he felt the chill that prey does in the presence of a predator. “Remember, though, that this particular rule was explained to you by a member of a race that does not raise its offspring.”
“What do you . . . ?” Andromeda began.
“The hjadd don’t raise their own young,” D’Anguilo said.
“Once they lay their eggs, they leave and never see their children after they’re hatched. Their offspring are raised instead by another community. Their evolution developed this as a means of diversifying the gene pool.”
“Correct,” Jane Doe said. “But my race is different from the hjadd. In fact, our practices are similar to your own.” Her eyestalks moved toward Andromeda again. “And only another mother would know how it feels to have a child in danger.”
Andromeda opened her mouth, but for the first time that he could remember, Sean saw that she was unable to speak. Instead, she and the danui silently regarded each other for a long moment, as if they’d suddenly recognized each other for what they were.
&nbs
p; “I see,” Andromeda said at last, her voice little more than a whisper.
“I believe you do,” Jane Doe replied. “As Sashatasma Jahd Sa-Fhadda explained, some rules can be bent under certain conditions.”
In that moment, Sean realized that he had something to add. “May I say something, please?” he asked, politely raising a hand.
His mother turned to glare at him; she was obviously afraid that he’d screw things up. Before she could object, though, Jane Doe looked at Sean again. “Of course . . . by all means.”
He took a deep breath, then went on. “Some of the things we did . . . some of the mistakes that were made . . . are my fault. I understand that now, and I accept the blame.”
“We appreciate your candor,” Jane Doe said, “but that does not excuse your actions.”
“I apologize. But in my defense . . .” Sean hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I’m an explorer. It’s my job to learn new things.” He paused. “And now that I’ve seen some of this place, I only want to see more.”
“Sean . . .” Andromeda stared at him, plainly aghast at the idea of losing him again.
He ignored her as he went on. “If you’re willing to let us remain, I’d like to have that opportunity . . .”
“So would I,” Kyra said, and Sean was surprised when she stepped to his side and took his hand. “I’ve been through a lot . . . both of us have . . . but if it would help my people understand yours, and everyone else who is here, then the risk is worth it.”
Sean stole a glance at Sandy. Looking back at him, she quietly shook her head; she’d had enough of Hex. He turned toward Jane Doe again. “I can’t promise that we won’t make any more mistakes, but . . . well, we can try to do our best to abide by your rules.”
A wry smile appeared on his mother’s face. “They’re not all that hard to understand, really,” she said. “Respect your neighbors. Don’t take anything that isn’t yours. Call first before coming over to visit . . .” She looked at Sean again. “The sort of thing mothers try to teach their children. Sometimes, they even listen.”