“At first, I made the mistake of evaluating this segregation by our standards. I thought the Gibrals were an elite, and the Xilfs, relegated to the lower floors, were a sort of worker class. Then I found out that the blue cyclopes had reluctantly ceded the lower levels to the Xilfs. I haven’t been able to figure out why.”
Not one to linger over her own problems for too long, Mallory put her mixed-up feelings for Laorcq aside and went to work. “When did the Vohrn send you here, and why?”
“We’ve been here for about a month,” Alrine replied. “They ordered us to investigate a dozen humans and a few aliens who’ve been acting strangely.”
This was similar to Mallory’s mission. She wondered what kind of collective madness might be spreading. With three hundred billion inhabitants on the planet, the idea was rather frightening…
They continued on for several minutes, exchanging the few details they knew. Torg and Laorcq added their two cents to the conversation.
Finally, after taking stock of their logistical and financial situation, they arrived at one of the large wells Alrine had mentioned. More than sixteen hundred feet wide, these channels descended precipitously toward the planet’s surface, which Mallory had trouble making out in the dimming Aldebaran light. Antigrav tubes had been constructed all around the well. Passengers busily crossing from one level to another could be seen through the transparent structures.
“The Vohrn embassy is on the 167th floor,” Laorcq informed her. “I’ll send you the exact address.”
Accompanying his words with gestures, he activated the navcom hidden in his old steel watch. He manipulated a series of holographic icons that only he could see and transmitted the coordinates. The silver bracelet she wore on her left wrist vibrated slightly, acknowledging receipt.
The small group split up after agreeing to meet for a meal on the following day. Mallory sighed. She watched the couple walk away with envy. You’ve spent too much time cooped up on the Sirgan, she said to herself to clear her head. The next time an attractive guy shows up, don’t waste any time…
She grabbed Torg’s right hand, walked up to an antigrav tube, and jumped in, dragging the cybrid with her. Once they reached the floor Laorcq had indicated, they followed the instructions provided by Mallory’s navcom in the form of points of light projected onto the floor.
The Vohrn enclave occupied a large section of the neighborhood. Mallory and Torg approached the entrance. A two-panel sliding door blocked access to the embassy. Other than four small circles of blue glass forming a two-by-two grid at eye level, it was completely featureless. Mallory stared at the lenses: it was a biometric authentication system. Already acquainted with the Vohrns’ technology, she waited patiently for the panels to open.
Which they refused obstinately to do. Mallory was beginning to wonder what was going on when she heard a muffled sound coming from inside. A crack that sounded to her like a gunshot…
“Torg! Open this freaking door!”
The cybrid reacted immediately to his captain’s tone of voice. He approached and kicked one of the panels with the force of his 440 pounds. and his powerful muscles. It buckled about halfway up. In the seam between the panels, there was now a gap big enough for his thick, steel-reinforced fingers. Bracing himself, he pushed with all of his strength on the intact half. It only resisted for a split second before retracting into its housing, accompanied by a metallic grating noise like nails on a chalkboard.
As soon as the opening was large enough, Mallory ducked under the cybrid’s furry arm and looked in. It seemed as if a hurricane had hit the inside of the embassy…
II
COMPLICATIONS
MALLORY took a few steps into the building. It was bathed in bright white light, which confused the pilot: ordinarily, the Vohrn kept their rooms dark. Her gaze lingered briefly over the usual combination of concrete and islands of vegetation that she recognized as Vohrn architecture. The plants had been trampled, and soil and branches were scattered across the floor. She continued her examination, confirming that the entrance hall was actually deserted.
Torg came to stand in front of her, growling reproachfully. “Let me go first! What’s the point of me having skin thick enough to stop bullets if you insist on wandering around exposed?”
She didn’t have time to respond before new cracking sounds rang out, leaving no doubt as to their origin: it was definitely gunfire.
The cybrid reacted immediately, crossing the hall with Mallory following two steps behind in his wake. At the far end, a frosted glass door vanished, and they entered a room furnished with a long desk that was too tall for humans.
An alien lay on the ground. Mallory was surprised to see it was a Xilf. Its insectoid appearance was even more striking upon close inspection. Its carapace was unusual: the pilot thought it looked like the bark of an old oak tree. One of its ocular globes was damaged and leaking blueish fluid. The surface formed by its countless facets reminded Mallory of the cells of a beehive. At the juncture of the two necks, its mandibles quivered feebly. It was impossible to tell whether the alien was still alive or if the movements were just a post-mortem reflex.
Shots rang out again, punctuated by a cry.
Torg froze and turned his blue eyes toward Mallory. “A human?!” they exclaimed in unison.
The small room had only two exits: the one they had come through and another apparently identical one at the opposite end. They stepped away from the alien’s body and moved toward the second door. Sensibly, Mallory stayed behind her bodyguard: the shots were coming from that direction.
The glass panel slid aside, revealing an amphitheater large enough to accommodate a thousand people. Between the rows of chairs that were designed to adapt to any body type, three Xilfs were scampering around on their long limbs, brandishing revolvers.
Torg took a few steps forward. Evidently, the giant-eyed aliens were too preoccupied to pay them any attention. Mallory soon saw why: at the other end of the semi-circular room, two humans and a Vohrn darted between the seats, hunched over in an effort to make themselves less of a target. They were also trying hard to keep their distance from the Xilfs.
Reflexively, Mallory brought her hand to her navcom bracelet and tried to activate it. A holographic message appeared before her eyes: “NO CONNECTION.”
She reacted without missing a beat. “Torg, deal with those Xilfs! They’ve managed to block the network somehow!”
“Okay. As for you, please get under cover and stay there!” he grunted as he launched himself toward the insectoid aliens.
Mallory raged. Hiding while Torg defended her ran completely counter to her personality. If only I had one of those Vohrn guns with the hypertrophic bullets!
She was really fond of those pistols, especially since she preferred not to use lethal weapons. Shortly after leaving the barrel, their ammunition swelled to a hundred times its original size. By the time it reached its target, it had become a three-foot-wide gelatinous ball with enough force to knock out a Centauri bull.
She would have given a lot to have one of those revolvers on her right now.
Promising herself that she wouldn’t leave the embassy without getting her hands on one, she settled down to observe the cybrid’s attack as a mere spectator.
She watched him rush toward the Xilfs. He was too large for stealth, and they spotted him immediately.
She expected them to open fire on him, but they turned toward each other and lowered their weapons. She was trying to figure out what was going on when Torg reached them. Despite his imposing size, he was extremely fast.
“Shit!” Mallory swore. “He’s going to break them into little bits.”
She was already regretting not having told him to keep the Xilfs alive, if possible… And then her mouth dropped open as she saw how fast they could move.
The three aliens evaded Torg with disconcerting ease. They were so agile that Mallory could barely follow their movements. The cybrid tried desperately to reach them, ripp
ing out several seats in passing. His large, steel-clawed hands shredded the air where one of his adversaries had been a second before. The Xilfs circled around him like angry wasps. Thanks to their long limbs and light weight, they ricocheted in every direction. Torg finally managed to graze one of them with his claw. It barely left a scratch on the alien’s carapace.
Although they had the upper hand, the Xilfs suddenly gave up the fight. Mallory was surprised to see them sprint along a row of seats and disappear into the floor, leaving behind a winded and furious Torg.
With the danger past, Mallory went to join the two humans and the Vohrn. From a distance, he resembled a headless human. He was tall, almost as tall as Torg, and wore only a sort of toga whose thick purple fabric indicated his high rank. His arms and legs were bare, as were his feet, which allowed him to move in absolute silence. A conic growth extended from his torso, housing a sensory organ that was as delicate as it was sophisticated. This large rostrum, which was about eight inches wide at its base, was the Vohrn equivalent of a head. They used the organ to see, hear, and, under certain conditions, to access another living being’s subconscious.
Approaching him, Mallory noticed that his scaly skin was darker than any she had ever seen on a Vohrn: very dark gray, almost black.
He came towards her swiftly. The Vohrns’ knees bent backward, so they walked like birds, which contributed to their odd appearance.
He stopped one stride from her and leaned down. “Who are you, Earth man?” he asked in a mournful tone. There was a translator box attached to his rostrum.
“I’m a woman,” Mallory corrected automatically.
The extraterrestrial’s long arms quivered, a gesture she took to be a manifestation of impatience.
“Captain Mallory Sajean, of the private transport ship Sirgan,” she quickly added. “I work for Hanosk.”
Without paying any further attention to her, the dark-scaled alien turned his back and left the room. She struggled to maintain her composure. No Vohrn had ever behaved so rudely toward her! This confirms Hanosk’s suspicions. If this guy is the Vohrn ambassador, he’s really got a screw loose…
Shrugging off his tactlessness, she focused her attention on the two humans: a man and a woman. During her conversation with the ambassador, they had remained a few steps away, seeming to wait patiently for her to take an interest in them. The woman was about the same height as Mallory but had wide shoulders and a much more muscled body. Her bright red hair was held back in a long ponytail, accentuating her dark skin. She wore a sleeveless tunic and simple pants that matched her hair.
A metallic sparkle attracted Mallory’s gaze. She looked more closely at the woman in scarlet and saw that she was covered with a network of silvery tattoos that looped in delicate curls over every visible inch of her skin. The lines were so fine that Mallory could only see them when they reflected light.
The effect was striking, and she realized with discomfort that she was practically staring at the woman in red. Getting a hold of herself, she noticed that the beautiful redhead was out of breath and was trembling slightly.
She must not get attacked by three armed aliens very often…
Next to her stood a brown-haired man who looked about thirty. Unlike his companion, he exhibited a surprising degree of calm, as if all of this seemed perfectly normal to him. He wore an elaborate suit composed of several overlapping pieces of cloth. This was a very popular style that required using the thinnest possible fabric to accommodate as many layers as possible. He held out a hand to Mallory.
“Cole Vassili. I represent Milankovic, a conglomerate of Martian colonies.”
The man’s handshake was firm, almost too much so. His chestnut eyes gazed at her with curiosity, then turned toward the woman in red.
“And this is Deïna Volke, my guide on Solicor.”
The woman nodded slightly. Apparently, she was trying to regain control of her trembling body.
Recognizing one of her own predilections, Mallory guessed that Deïna Volke didn’t like to show weakness.
She introduced herself again, and Vassili replied.
“You got here just in time! If you hadn’t gotten involved, the Xilfs would have killed the Vohrn ambassador. I must say your colleague intrigues me. Is he…?”
“A cybrid? Yes,” she confirmed.
“Unbelievable! They’re so rare. I would’ve never expected to see one here.”
He smiled broadly. Mallory realized that he was terribly attractive. She lingered over his balanced features: a chiseled jaw, a nose that was neither too big nor too small, appealing lips and cheeks… He could be a model in an ad for plastic surgery. Not natural at all, she concluded, but very well done…
Torg’s warm, deep voice pulled her out of her reverie. “They went through the floor! The lower level is jammed full of equipment and ductwork. I can’t get through…”
Returning to the matter at hand, she filed Cole Vassili’s appealing physique away and walked toward her bodyguard.
Torg was standing between two rows of seats. At his feet yawned a circular opening in the floor. Intrigued, Mallory knelt and touched the edge of the hole.
“Cold. Which means it was made in advance.”
She scowled. Things were getting complicated fast…
Pensive, she brushed her navcom and saw that the connection was no longer jammed. She immediately called Laorcq, who didn’t answer; she tried Alrine next, but got no response. Forcing all traces of irritation from her voice, she left a message briefly explaining what had happened.
She swept her eyes over the amphitheater and noticed that Vassili and his guide had disappeared. Disappointed that she had not had more time to talk to them, she opened a connection to the Sirgan and briefed Jazz.
“Well then!” he exclaimed. “Things are never boring with our scaly friends! On the other hand, I’m curious about your two Earthlings. As far as I know, our little group is supposed to be an exception that proves the rule: officially, humans and Vohrn keep diplomatic relations to the absolute minimum.”
“Don’t be so paranoid,” the pilot reproached him. “They seemed like normal citizens, although they did act a bit like zomborkers…”
Jazz ignored her slang contraction of the words ‘zombie’ and ‘workers’. “Yeah…. I’m not convinced. Give me their names and I’ll do some digging. In any case, I have nothing else to do hanging up here by myself…”
Mallory concurred. After all, Jazz might end up finding something useful.
A large finger poked into her ribs and made her jump. It was a prank that the cybrid couldn’t stop pulling because her reaction so delighted him.
“Torg! Don’t do that!” she protested. “Let’s go find the head honcho. He may not have wanted to talk to me, but he owes us an explanation!”
After retracing their steps, they discovered that the Xilf who had been lying on the office floor had also disappeared. Mallory looked everywhere but couldn’t find any evidence that a living being had been attacked here. Not a drop of blood or the slightest property damage. Great, she thought. All we’re left with is a hole in the floor! Even with a cop on the team, that won’t get us far…
Once in the entrance hall, the pilot and the cybrid searched for the Vohrn ambassador. They scoured the room from top to bottom and tried all of the doors in vain.
When the last of them refused to open, Mallory gave in to anger and kicked it.
“For crying out loud! Where did that Vohrn go?”
She glanced at the hall with a dark look but saw only the tiny half-mechanical, half-organic creatures that were busy tidying up the damaged plantings and cleaning up the soil scattered across the flagstones.
Reacting to her mood, the tattoos on Mallory’s arms transformed into an interlacing of dark green brambles. She had just opened her mouth to tell Torg they were leaving when the door she had kicked slid aside with a muffled hiss.
“Aha! Finally,” she blurted as she turned. “You can…”
The words stuck in her throat.
The alien was standing in the middle of a completely empty room. The walls and floor were uniform, smooth gray, and bare. The ceiling was an altogether different story. It was covered with a gelatinous sort of magma, giving the impression that a sliver of thick, black ocean was about to fall on the extraterrestrial and swallow him whole.
Concerned, Torg edged closer to Mallory, ready to pull her away at the slightest threat.
Waves rolled irregularly through the viscous material, forming wavelets that glowed with a yellowish light. Bathed in this menacing illumination, the Vohrn looked like a scrawny ghost.
Long strands of magma dripped from the center of the ceiling, twisting in the air before merging and plunging into the alien’s rostrum. Seeming to finally notice the presence of the pilot and the cybrid, he flinched, and the liquid tentacles retracted abruptly toward the ceiling.
Mallory saw him rummage in his toga and bring out the translator.
“Earth man. You are intruding. Why?”
She forced herself to react calmly. “Not man. Woman! Hanosk ordered me to deliver a package to you. It’s on my ship. I need you to accept it so I can get it through customs.”
The Vohrn took a step to the side and stretched a long, slender finger toward the wall. A hatch opened in what Mallory had thought was solid concrete, revealing a niche. The alien removed a small sphere from it.
The globe began to glow, projecting a series of holograms: it was evidently a navcom. The extraterrestrial used it to make a call, or at least that’s what the pilot thought he’d done. It was impossible to know for sure.
Just when she thought she might finally be able to begin a productive conversation, he simply said, “You can leave.”
She refused to allow herself to be dismissed so easily.
Aldebaran Divided Page 2