by Jane Palmer
CHAPTER 5
In a remote corner of the Mott’s even remoter galaxy a plot to deal with the bellicose empire-builders was being hatched.
Reniola and Dax waited apprehensively at the controls of their spacecraft. The tyrannical Mott could have had surveillance patrols even in this secluded solar system: not that there was any guarantee that their mysterious accomplices would keep their rendezvous on the deserted planet. As far as the two Torrans knew, these entities had to come from the next galaxy and, as no other galaxy was visible with the most powerful telescope, it would have been no surprise if they didn’t make it.
In the safety of their hidden home planet, the Torrans had at last solved the riddle of the Jaulta Code, the galaxy’s greatest enigma, and the Old Ones were obliged to respond to the message they transmitted. How a signal from an insignificant satellite could be picked up on the other side of the Universe was beyond them, and what the message was remained a mystery to even Reniola and Dax. For fear of it falling into the wrong hands only one terminally ill Torran was allowed to transmit it. Then all the deciphering and documents involved had been sealed in an impenetrable monument to the centuries of effort.
Two flittering forms passed in front of the spaceship and a light shower of carbon dioxide particles floated gently down through the thin air. Dax and Reniola donned their atmosphere suits and went outside to wait patiently on the barren rocky ground. The glimmering shapes came closer. First they danced about each other in dainty pirouettes as though looking for some suitable place to rest, then perched on the rim of a small crater and waited.
‘Why don’t they say something?’ Reniola whispered into her voice link.
‘Give them time. They’ve probably never known anything like us Torrans before. We didn’t evolve until after they‘d left the galaxy.’
‘We deciphered the Code. Why should they be suspicious?’
But Dax was listening to an alien thought. ‘I think they want us to remove our suits.’
‘You have to be joking!’ Reniola concentrated for a second. ‘You’re right. I can hear them. What shall we do?’
‘We’ve come this far. It would be absurd not to trust them now.’
‘Which do you think will happen first? Suffocation or freezing?’ The alien thought reassured Reniola. ‘Oh, all right. I suppose since I chose this stupid little planet I should be the one to find out.’
‘Someone will have to get back to the others to tell them what happened. Keep your suit on and watch what happens. I’m due to die because of the mark the Mott put on me anyway.’
‘Oh, all right,’ Reniola agreed reluctantly. ‘They must know what they’re asking.’
Dax slowly released the clips holding her helmet to the light suit and she felt a cold draught seep through the gap. Although impossible, the atmosphere had balanced with that inside her suit. Not having inflated or froze, the Torran pulled the garment apart and stepped out of it, then unfastened her tail to let it sway in an unnaturally gentle breeze that ruffled her fine mane. As she stood before the visitors perched on the rim of the crater, she sensed that they were satisfied with the long legged, furry, feline.
As Dax hadn’t suffocated, Reniola took off her suit and helmet to reveal her more portly proportions.
The Torrans stood and waited. Their long muzzles sniffed the atmosphere for signs of sudden change, and their crimson eyes were alight with anticipation.
The two visitors above them started to rotate within their diaphanous bodies. Two shapes formed.
Before Dax and Reniola had time to glance at each other, they were staring ahead in disbelief. Accurate in form and every feature, they found themselves gazing at exact replicas of their own bodies.
‘You have achieved much,’ the taller slender shape said. ‘Now you must return to your people.’
‘But I have the mark on me,’ Dax protested. ‘The Mott can track me back to them while it’s still transmitting. It will only stop when I die.’
‘Don’t worry about the Mott,’ said her double. ‘We have removed the mark. For the sake of this venture and your own safety, you must assume new identities. We are now Reniola and Dax.’
‘Don’t you want to know why we had to break the Jaulta Code?’ asked Reniola.
‘The fact that you did is enough,’ the new Reniola told her. ‘As this galaxy gutters out, only waste material will die with it. We shall endeavour to evacuate all who deserve preservation before that happens.’
‘Where will you send us?’ the old Dax asked. ‘And where did you come from?’
‘There are millions of years yet to deal with the survival of the Torrans and like-minded species. Our main concern now is for those who do not have your mobility. Do you object to us using your forms?’
‘Why should we?’ asked the old Reniola. ‘We hardly expected to live this long.’
‘Life as you know it is not as important as you may believe,’ the new Dax explained. ‘But evolution, however primitive, must always carry on. As stars dwindle and explode and revert to the matter that will form more stars, much of it creates darker, more destructive, anomalies. The same happens with life. Not all life forms improve with time. There are always some that retrogress. By withdrawing from the galaxy when we did, we left the dregs of stagnant evolution. A few like you managed to progress despite this, and only someone like the Torrans could have broken the Jaulta Code. With so many stars gone, it was inevitable a struggle for what was left would ensue.’
‘Can we help you in any way?’ asked the old Dax hopefully.
‘We need you to disappear from the attention of others so we can operate in these guises. What we have to do will endanger you more than you could believe possible.’
‘Oh, we don’t mind that,’ the old Reniola chirped, almost relieved that she would still have a dash of excitement to live with for the rest of her life.
The old Dax, having just been saved from the inevitable death of the mark, was content enough to follow instructions. ‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll be known as Clyn, and Reniola as Holia. Those names are so common they’re protection in themselves.’
‘Very well. We are now Dax and Reniola. When we are believed dead, those names will die too.’
The new Clyn was puzzled. ‘Will you die?’
‘No. We have outlived such clumsy points of evolution as death and birth. Now you must put your suits on and go.’
‘You must let us know what’s going to happen,’ Holia insisted. ‘They’d cut our tails off if we didn’t have something to tell them when we got back.’
‘You needn’t concern yourselves from now on,’ Dax told them. ‘You have fulfilled your side of the contract.’
‘She’s trying to say that after centuries of mental sweating over the massive problem the Old Ones set, the Torrans should have some idea of what you propose to do now it’s been solved,’ Clyn explained.
Dax and Reniola conversed mentally for a short while, before Dax replied, ‘We must contain the ambitions of your most aggressive species, and preserve the ones who are being exploited from further suffering. Only then will we decide who is suitable for eventual transference. How we will do this is yet to be decided.’
‘We could give you a few starters,’ Holia told her enthusiastically.
‘Thank you, but we already have access to your memories,’ was Dax’s sobering reply.
‘Oh yes - of course. I suppose we must retire now then?’
‘No. Just be careful,’ Reniola advised.
Clyn shivered. ‘I think the atmosphere’s getting a little thin. Cold too.’
Holia understood what that meant. ‘We’re being told to go.’
Without another word Holia and Clyn pushed their manes and tails back into their suits and helmets and, with one last look, walked back to their spacecraft. By the time they were inside powering up the engines, Dax and Reniola had gone.
The idea that Reniola’s ample frame could filter away into the atmosphere amused the original owner. ‘Seems
strange there wasn’t any more it.’ Holia eased the craft out of the thin atmosphere and towards the more agreeable climate of their own world, hidden from the prying eyes of the Mott inside the centre of a huge, apparently gaseous, planet.
Clyn smiled. ‘My goodness, those two are really going to upset the Mott - and they won’t even know it isn’t us.’
‘Mind you, it’d be enjoyable just to see what they intend to get up to. The idea of all those gallant warriors being beaten up by a couple of pacifists appeals to me.’
‘With their powers, they’ll be able to do anything - Mind that planetoid, can’t you! I want to get back alive to enjoy this.’
‘Damn junk everywhere,’ Holia complained. ‘Ever since the Mott blew those planets up, this route has been an obstacle course.’
‘That was only because they were too pretty for them.’
‘Never. It was because they couldn’t make any strategic use of them and weren’t going to leave them for anyone else to colonise.’
‘What a waste with the way things are now. There are too few habitable planets as it is.’
‘Haven’t you heard the latest?’ Holia swerved the craft to avoid another chunk of debris.
‘No, what?’
‘They’re going to shake the planet dwellers from their homes with a space-distort net invented by a friend of yours.’
‘The planet dwellers?’ Clyn didn’t believe her. ‘That’s impossible. I don’t know anyone intelligent enough to invent a device that could.’
‘Not even that loveable green Kulp?’ Holia reminded her.
Clyn shuddered. ‘I’m glad I changed my name. Now I won’t have to admit to ever knowing that arrogant, poisonous slime squirt. Four tours of the K 49 cluster I did with him, then he decided to turn me over to the Mott when he knew the price was right. Did you know they grew him in a jar under a grey light?’
‘No, really?’
‘Yes. The Olmuke forgot how to reproduce ages ago. They just keep using the stock of sperm and eggs they collected before females were banned.’
Holia laughed. ‘You must have come as a horrible shock to him.’
‘No, I think it just annoyed him. At first he thought I was some bio-mechanoid. Then he discovered that I was living. That’s what really upset him. Can’t stand to be made a fool of. Hides everything that goes through his evil calculating brain very well though. His homeworld didn’t realise what he’d do when they withheld a grant for him to develop a solar blaster.’
‘What did he do?’ asked Holia.
‘Developed an invisible atmosphere dye instead. He sprayed it over five major cities. When their inhabitants now go into the sunlight they turn bright pink. And you can guess how much the Olmuke would love that colour. There was no antidote for it, so a quarter of the planet’s population have to spend their days under shelter or turn pink and become social outcasts.’
‘Very nasty. But you’ve got to admit it does have style.’
‘I’ve no doubt the infernal contraption he’s invented to dislodge the planet dwellers will have even more “style”. Of all the inoffensive individuals to start on, they couldn’t have picked a more harmless.’
‘It’s not as if they can even flee to safety. None of them can exist without their planet.’
‘Unless...’
‘Of course,’ Holia smiled. ‘I wonder...’
The ribbons of vapour parted slightly to let their spacecraft slip through the shell of the ostensibly gaseous planet. Down into the massive giant they sped to the small terrestrial world at its centre.
‘What do you mean? Double the price!’ the multi-footed creature with the dental problem spluttered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that when you first came in?’
Kulp sneered. ‘I’m sorry I made you behave reasonably under false pretences, but there’s no way I can isolate that collapsar under the original system. If you don’t like it, I’ll find another buyer.’
If that didn’t sweeten the Mott’s temper, it at least stopped his abuse in mid flow. That planet was strategically vital to the Mott’s conquest of several star clusters, and to lose it to a higher bidder wouldn’t endear him to his superiors. He had to get the price down somehow.
‘Why don’t we make a compromise?’ His four feet shuffled his shape of all body and little brain annoyingly about the implacable Kulp. ‘Can’t you drop a few terminals and tighten the net a little?’
‘That would mean having one on the planet’s surface,’ Kulp reminded him. ‘It’d be a gamble if you want it to be habitable after Moosevan has gone.’
The Mott weighed up the risk against what it could save in cost and immediately decided. ‘That’s what we’ll do then, and it’ll be on your ugly head if it goes wrong.’
Kulp said nothing. He preferred the thick-skulled creature to go on underestimating him. The watching Jannu and Tolt were just relieved they hadn’t resorted to anything more violent than words.
‘How predictable are things down there?’ Jannu asked apprehensively, not ignorant of the danger in going to the planet’s surface.
‘It hasn’t moved for the last few years or so,’ the Mott replied without any trace of sentiment that could be called scientific. ‘Though once it realises what we’re up to it might well start thrashing about. I only know I’m not going down there.’
‘Spoken like a true fearless warrior,’ said Kulp.
‘You’re the one that’s paid to be fearless,’ snapped the Mott. ‘You’ve got too much invested in your own self-importance to believe anything could happen to you.’
‘I know what I’m doing. Unlike anyone else who has tried to tackle this before.’
‘I won’t say you’d better be right, because I’ve no doubt you are. But survival doesn’t always depend on being right,’ the Mott threatened.
‘We’ll see, we’ll see.’ Kulp grinned provokingly. ‘Just make sure when you pay me the credits are untraceable. I don’t want Olmuke tax inspectors pouncing on them.’
All avenues of conversation explored, Kulp returned to his ship.
Although Kulp and the Mott commander could be considered as equally objectionable, their reasoning was species apart. What the Mott could achieve out of ignorance pure greed, Kulp could achieve far better out of greed alone. Any other emotion was an encumbrance. This green engineer had so much lack of charm he could give orphans a bad name. Kulp didn’t believe any mortal, or immortal, Nemesis would descend on him for his sins. He had been the agent behind many outrages inflicted on unsuspecting and innocent people and could still sleep soundly, though he ensured his spacecraft was the fastest his ill-gotten gains could buy. His associates, Jannu and Tolt, were cowardly and easy to manipulate. It was a simple matter to predict their actions. At that moment they would be bumbling around in one of the freighter’s robot controls talking about everything they wouldn’t dare say in front of him.
‘What a way to spend this quarter’s festival,’ complained Jannu as he jarred his unfortunate robots back into life once again.
‘Don’t worry,’ Tolt reassured him. ‘After they discover we’ve teamed up with Kulp, they’ll never let us back on the homeworld again anyway.’
‘The last quarter, Tritten’s moon was blasted out of orbit and a portrait of the supreme commander was made out of its fragments. It could be seen right across the system when the old supernova was above the pole,’ reminisced Jannu. ‘I doubt if we’ll ever witness the like of such things again.’
‘The glory of the empire we sold to the Mott and the deterioration in the hatchery stock are the only things we’ll have to celebrate from now on. That and how hero Kulp managed to blast numerous creatures from their rightful homes so the glorious Mott could claim their planets.’
Jannu fed in yet more of Kulp’s modifications to the unprotesting robots. ‘Are you complaining?’
‘I would be if I could see a better way of life, but there are too many Motts and too many Kulps between us and the nearest civilisation for that to happ
en.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like a Torran sympathiser. I’d keep those thoughts dark. You know what Kulp thinks of their species.’
‘I have heard, but didn’t believe anyone could get the better of our infallible partner.’
‘Well, someone did,’ Jannu’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘A Torran female called Dax.’
‘Go on.’ Tolt lowered his voice as well, so intent on learning the scandal he didn’t notice the panel in the ceiling slide silently back.
‘She was a pilot on a freighter touring the K 49 cluster when he was chief technician and second in command. He always thought she was synthetic until she used the hold to evacuate some refugees from a planet poisoned by the Mott. Kulp wanted to use the space for more freight and was going to open the hold doors and ditch them. She managed to get hold of some of the dye he used on our planet and sprayed it through the ventilator into his room, then altered all the freighter’s lighting to shine in the same wavelength as our sun.’ Jannu stopped briefly as Tolt began to snigger in his distracting way. ‘He couldn’t do anything about the refugees after that because he daren’t leave his quarters. And what’s the betting that when he goes down to that planet he won’t want any company?’
By this time Tolt was rolling about in delight and Jannu had to stop feeding the robots information for fear of making a mistake.
‘What did he do?’ Tolt gasped.
‘Oh, as soon as he was able to put the lights straight without being seen, he trumped up something to frame the Torran with and handed her over to the Mott. They couldn’t understand the complexity of the crime he invented, so they put a mark on her and let her go. He got paid for it though.’
‘Trust him to land on his feet,’ Tolt sniffed, as his six fingers wiped his tears away. ‘I don’t suppose Kulp would take kindly to us knowing that one.’
‘It’d be sudden death if he thought we did. As long as that Torran lives, so does his moment of ignominy.’
‘I’ll keep it to myself and relish it whenever he lapses into one of his least bearable moods.’ Tolt was too overcome to look up and see the panel in the ceiling silently slide back.