Tel spread his legs to brace himself. “Another aftershock, sir. We’ve had a bunch of quakes over the past few days.”
Instead of fading after a few seconds, there were stronger jolts, and the ground bucked. Adolphus struggled to keep his balance.
Aboard his growling dozer, Renny seemed not to notice; the seismic vibrations were drowned out by the whirr and rumble of his machinery. Behind him, the dry lakebed began to collapse. A crack opened up, and broken ground poured into the sinkhole. Losing traction, his big vehicle lurched backward.
Yelling, Tel sprinted across the shaking ground with Adolphus close at his side. The crater widened, and the General saw a flash of liquid – water? – at the bottom of the collapsing crater. Some kind of silvery fluid oozed up.
Scrambling out of the cab, Renny leaped from the enormous dozer. The treads continued to move as the dozer clawed for balance on the vanishing ground. Renny dropped to the loose dirt and tried to run up the collapsing slope, but he lost his balance and slid backward.
The quake continued, and cracks opened near the launch site and landing field. Tel ran recklessly toward the widening gap just as Renny slid down with the chunks of dirt and salt cake.
The groaning dozer plunged into the exposed liquid at the bottom of the sinkhole, but the pool did not move like water. It didn’t splash, but churned and pulsed. Renny plunged into the water at the bottom of the pit and tried to swim, thrashing briefly. Then something changed. He seemed stunned, paralyzed . . . and he sank without struggling.
With a scream, Tel stumbled to his knees as the ground bucked beneath him. Adolphus caught up with Tel, and they watched as the sinkhole continued to widen, earth crashing in from the sides. In less than a minute the water receded into a foaming muck, taking Renny, the dozer, and an avalanche of soil on top of it.
When the seismic event finally stopped, Tel fell face down in the dirt, sobbing and shaking.
37
With Fernando convulsing at the edge of the strange alien pool, Vincent retrieved the medkit from the Trakmaster and rushed back. He applied monitors to his friend’s body and studied the garbled readings, frantic to understand what was wrong. He raced through all the standard first-aid he had been taught during the Michella Town briefing; he scanned the emergency med-manual, tried pressure-injections of stimulants and anti-allergens, but nothing had any effect. Vincent felt desperate, helpless, and alone out in the middle of nowhere.
Fernando spasmed, dropped into a coma, and lay like a dead man. Vincent half-carried, half-dragged his unconscious companion back towards the vehicle; the other man’s arms and legs flopped listlessly. Strangely, though he had fallen into the pool, his clothes were not even moist.
Vincent had checked: according to the overland rig’s grid maps, there were no mining camps or industrial outposts within reach, and it would take days of driving at top speed to return to Michella Town. Because Fernando had insisted on going to unknown territory in hopes of making a big discovery, they were far from any potential assistance.
Leaving his companion on the ground beside the Trakmaster, Vincent activated the self-erecting tent and pulled Fernando into its minimal shelter. His friend did not stir. Vincent tried to force water into the other man’s mouth, but it dribbled out the side. “Come on, come on!” The med readings flickered and scrambled, still inconclusive. At least Fernando was alive, with stable pulse and respiration, but he remained unresponsive.
After agonizing for two hours, Vincent made up his mind to load his friend aboard the Trakmaster, strap him down, and make the best possible time to the nearest mining camp. Then, unexpectedly, Fernando awoke – making the situation even more strange.
Hunched over in the tent, Vincent called, “Are you all right? Say something!”
When Vincent looked at his friend’s eyes in a certain light, the irises still had a milky sheen with an odd Fresnel effect. When Fernando spoke, the words came out ponderously, as if he were relearning how to talk. “Fernando is well . . . as is Zairic.”
“What happened to you?” Vincent offered him water again, and the other man drank without paying attention. “What are you talking about? Who, or what, is Zairic?”
Sitting up, Fernando looked at his hands, flexed his fingers, and then touched his forearm and elbow, as if intrigued by the bones there. He tapped a fingertip against his hard teeth, blinked his eyes, tried to focus. “I am Zairic, with all the memories of my life. Am I the first Xayan to return?” He crawled out of the tent and stood up on wavering legs to look around in amazement.
Worried that his friend was delusional and might collapse again, Vincent held onto his arm. “Here, let me help you. You’re talking nonsense. There must have been chemicals or drugs in that water.”
Fernando turned to him with a flash of inexpressible wonder on his face. “Not drugs, memories!” His expression changed again as he gazed up at the greenish sky; he seemed detached and disoriented. “How this world has changed! Fernando Neron is . . . most interesting.”
Vincent tried to calm his breathing. “You’re Fernando Neron. This isn’t making any sense. What did that pool do to you?”
“It is slickwater.” The strangely unfocused eyes turned towards Vincent. “A liquid database that contained my life, along with most other Xayan lives. They’ve been preserved for a long time.” He slowly surveyed the bleak hills, the barren ground, the fur of alien vegetation on the nearby slopes. “So, our planet survived the impact, although not without terrible scars.” He gazed at Vincent, but seemed to be seeing only a stranger. “How long has it been?”
“Since the asteroid impact?”
“Yes, since our civilization was destroyed.”
Vincent reeled as he began to understand just what Fernando was saying. “Five centuries. You know that.” His friend couldn’t have missed something so basic in their briefings.
“Mmmm, yes, Fernando knows that.” He cocked his head as if checking something. “Around five hundred years . . . so the restoration of our race is occurring sooner than we thought. We were prepared to wait millennia, if necessary.”
Impatient and uneasy, Vincent could not stop himself from snapping, “Start explaining yourself! What’s happened to Fernando?” Maybe he was pulling Vincent’s leg again, teasing him for being so serious and worried all the time. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
His friend’s expression shifted and became animated again. “It’s me, Vincent – I’m back! I haven’t gone anywhere, but it took Zairic longer than he expected to take care of all the details. He had so much to learn, so much to assimilate.” He shook his head. “Wow, this makes my mind reel. It goes beyond my wildest dreams!”
Vincent was worried and frightened, yet curious. He knew Fernando’s penchant for imagination and exaggeration, but this was different. He had seen Fernando fall into the slickwater and knew he could not have faked the convulsions and deep paralysis afterward. This was no scam.
“Zairic will need to fill in some of the details. Let me tell you what I know, for now. Trust me, you’ve never heard anything like this before. It’s the best thing ever.” Fernando gave a broad smile, and his eerie eyes shone with a sense of wonder. He tapped his temple. “I carry the memories, at least part of them, of the Xayans, this planet’s original race that was wiped out by the asteroid impact.”
Vincent was skeptical in spite of what he’d seen. “So, now you’re possessed by an alien?”
“Not like that. The slickwater in those pools is an organic liquid-crystal storage reservoir, filled with energy – a nutrient-filled refuge where Xayan scientists said the people could always go if they needed to. They created it. Now it contains the preserved thoughts, the lives, of millions of Xayans who knew they were about to die. As the asteroid came in, they had very little warning – but enough to do this.”
Vincent was still not sure how much to believe. “Like recording a final message on an emergency beacon?”
“Oh, more than just a message. They copied and stored th
emselves. The reservoirs survived the impact and the upheavals afterward, and the Xayans are still there in the pool.
“So you copied them into your own brain?”
“Not all of them – just Zairic. He’s like a hitchhiker in my mind, another personality. But I’m still here, Vincent. He and I share. He has my life, and I have his.”
His friend’s expression altered again, flattened, and his face became placid as the Zairic personality came to the fore. “When Fernando fell into the pool, the slickwater recognized another intelligent life form and began to establish cellular links. This allowed Fernando to access all my information, the memories of my lost life. I sense that I am the first . . . the first of many.” He reached out to Vincent. “You must help us reawaken our race. We can restore them.”
His face brightened, and he spoke with a giddy exuberance that implied Fernando was back. “Yes, Vincent! See, Zairic was one of the Xayan leaders, sort of a religious philosopher. It’s hard to explain – not quite a messiah, but a spiritual general who rallied his people and made them prepare for Armageddon. There were others, of course, but Zairic was the most powerful and respected.” Fernando shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I’m biased, because he’s the only one I have inside my head – but trust me, this guy is brilliant and peaceful. There’s so much to learn about the Xayans, such amazing stuff in their culture. I wish I could describe it all for you, but I can barely grasp what I’m seeing in my head. I’m damned impressed, though. The opportunities are incredible!”
Fernando’s expression faded, and the Zairic personality returned. “I am willing to share everything that the Xayans knew, if your people wish it.”
“That’s not my call to make. I’m just a . . .” Vincent felt entirely out of his depth. He didn’t even know how to answer. He was a nobody, and so was Fernando, but now his friend carried the memories of an alien leader – assuming this wasn’t some strange form of madness.
Night had fallen in the valley as they talked. Fernando-Zairic walked toward the nearest slickwater pool. “Before the asteroid hit, we . . . dissolved ourselves into these reservoirs and into similar data pools around this world.”
“That’s why we found no evidence of Xayan bodies?” Vincent said. “We expected to see some remnants of your civilization, a few skeletons at least.”
Zairic stared off into the night. “I could explain better, Vincent Jenet, if you immersed yourself. You, too, could absorb all the thoughts and memories of a Xayan life, as has Fernando Neron.”
Instantly cautious, Vincent raised both hands and demurred. “I don’t think so. This is too weird for me to handle.” When Zairic showed no reaction at all, Vincent continued, “Now, are you saying that anyone who touches that slickwater will receive an alien personality?”
“That is how we designed the organic database, but it is only accessible to sentient creatures. Despite the destruction of our civilization, our presence remains – at least those of us who immersed ourselves into the sentient pools. From my experience with Fernando, I know that you can help the Xayans return from extinction. Your people can become us. We will become symbiotic partners, greater than either race.”
Vincent looked at the quiescent surface of the slickwater pool. “And there’s nothing left of your entire civilization? Nothing else remains?”
“Very little.” Fernando-Zairic gave him a pointed look. “But enough that we can offer proof.” Abruptly, he walked toward the parked vehicle. “Come, we must speak with your General Tiber Adolphus.”
38
After driving at top speed over rough terrain for more than an hour, Devon finally decided he and Antonia were far enough from the wrecked camp and the cannibalistic insects. He brought the overland rig to a halt and sat breathing hard as the horrific reality caught up with him. “Sorry I put you at risk. I should have been more careful.”
“You got us out of there alive. That’s what counts.” Antonia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think we’re safe now?”
She could see he was stunned as well, though he tried not to show it. “Safe from the bugs, maybe . . . but this is Hellhole. Never let down your guard.” He rubbed his arms. “We’d better take care of our wounds. Those bites could be poisonous.”
Now that the adrenaline rush was over, Antonia noticed that the cuts and bites on her skin had begun to swell. “I’ll get the medpack.” During her time on the run, Antonia had been too afraid to seek medical attention for minor cuts, infections, or illnesses; once, Jako stole antibiotics when she’d shivered through a very high fever. She had thought he was devoted to her, but he was really just protecting his own secret . . .
She located the medpack in the back compartment of the vehicle and gave it to Devon. He tore it open and rummaged through the contents. “Each kit carries six different chemicals we’ve found useful against Hellhole toxins. Never seen anything like those beetles before, though.” He held up a tube of ointment. “In that situation, we use this multi-salve and hope to hell we have all the bases covered.”
Intent on the fixing the problem, Devon dabbed and cleaned her injuries, while Antonia took up another disinfectant pad and did the same for him. He winced when she prodded a particularly deep wound. She applied creams and bandages to his bites.
“You’ll have to, um . . .” Devon’s voice cracked. He took a deep breath and started again. “I need you to take your shirt off.”
Antonia reacted instantly, drawing away. His eyes did not meet hers, but he said, “Sorry to ask.” He removed his own shirt. “We need to check each other’s back and shoulders.” He flushed bright red.
Antonia relaxed slightly, fighting down her instinctive reaction. Devon was not Jako. This was no time to be prudish. She shrugged out of her torn blouse and turned her back to him. Devon seemed more nervous about touching Antonia’s bare skin than about the insect attack.
When he tended her bites with great care, gently applying salve to each one, she steeled herself to his touch, driving away the unpleasant memories of Jako’s touch and his obsessive attentiveness. Antonia checked Devon’s back next and put salve on the bites. He was more muscular than she had expected, but she supposed it wasn’t surprising, since he had grown up on a frontier world.
“You’re shivering.” He touched her neck and her forehead with concern. “Do you feel feverish? That could be a symptom.”
“It has nothing to do with the bites.”
Antonia realized to her surprise that she was not afraid of Devon Vence, that his shyness was more endearing than ever. After Jako, she hadn’t thought she’d ever be so calm around a man again. It was a small, but significant change.
“Here, give me that marker pen.” He drew heavy lines around her bite welts and asked her to mark his. “We’ll watch them for more swelling or reaction before we get back to Helltown.” Devon poked at one of his welts. “But I don’t really think we have anything to worry about. If something on Hellhole is poisonous, it’s really poisonous, and a reaction usually sets in within the first hour. I was paying attention to the pain level all along, and since we’re not writhing on the floor by now, I’m cautiously optimistic we’ll be all right.” He went to the Trakmaster’s hatch. “I’ve got to make sure nothing’s damaged after my reckless driving. You can stay inside and rest.”
“Not a chance.” She followed him, and the two slowly surveyed the vehicle’s battered exterior. Aghast, Devon reached out and rubbed one of the dimples where the voracious beetles had chewed through the metal. “My mother’s not going to be happy about the condition of this vehicle.”
“Your mother’s going to be very happy that you kept your wits about you and saved our lives. I’ll make sure she knows.”
Devon flushed at the compliment.
He took a flat scraper and went around the exterior, finding eleven more bugs, which he captured in specimen containers for the town’s xenobiologists to study.
Next, he crawled beneath the undercarriage, poked around, and emerged, wipi
ng sweat and grime from his forehead. “Not enough damage to prevent us from getting home.” Then he added, so belatedly that she knew he had been mulling over the comment for some minutes, “And yes, I am very glad that I could save you.”
“Next time, I’ll return the favor.”
There was an awkward moment as Devon fumbled unsuccessfully for a response, after which he busied himself with one more unnecessary inspection of the Trakmaster.
Antonia wrestled with her thoughts and said aloud, “Devon, you’re sweet. I like you a lot, and I appreciate everything you’ve done – not just the lifesaving part. It’s good to have a friend here.” It wasn’t a confession, but more of an explanation. “When I came to Hellhole, I just wanted to get away, because if I’d stayed on Aeroc any longer, I’d be dead now. I’m convinced of it.”
Devon squeezed his fingers into fists, then released them. “I wish you’d tell me . . .”
“A man said he loved me, but he . . . he didn’t get what he wanted. He arranged for my parents to be murdered, just to make sure I’d be completely dependent on him. I believed his lies. I learned my lesson, maybe too well. Now I’m not sure I’ll ever trust anyone again.”
The young man was shocked, then furious. He offered to hop on the next stringline passenger pod, go find her ex-boyfriend, and beat him to a pulp. “We take care of our own, Antonia. You don’t need to worry about anybody here.”
It was obvious that Devon believed he could defend her, but she knew that if he tried such a foolish thing, Jako would kill him without a second thought. She touched his arm gently. “There’s nothing you can do about it. I just wanted to let you know why I’m a little closed off. You’re so open and kind, but that’s you. It’s not possible for me.”
Devon was heartbreakingly earnest. “It’ll get better. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you here.”
Not wanting to discourage him, Antonia smiled and thanked him. They clambered back into the vehicle and sealed the hatch.
Hellhole Page 24