Alien Worlds (8 page)

She yelped. “The animal came with us?”

“It was sentient. It spoke to me.”

“But that’s impossible. Impellic Theory states that a ring can carry only two people. We shouldn’t have been able to bring something this large through with us. Tree organisms, maybe, but—”

“The jump must have killed it,” he murmured. “Or maybe it lost too much blood. Ah, drel. I wanted it to live. I wanted to save it so that something good would come out of this mess.”

Impani grasped the belts still knotted in the fur. As she pulled them free, the broken buckle opened and revealed a line of blinking lights. She cracked the case farther, peering inside. Something tugged at her memory.

She’d seen a similar configuration in the control room with Mr. Ambri-Cutt. “This is a homing device.” And the significance of the words crashed over her. The belts let the ring know where they were.

But they hadn’t been wearing the belts.

“Trace, this is a homing device. The belts were on the beast. We didn’t pull it through the wormhole. It dragged us. If you hadn’t been holding onto me…” She gasped. “You would have been lost.”

“I thought they just —” His voice choked. He took his belt from her hand. “Let’s make a pact. We don’t remove our belts.”

She looked at the twinkling buckle then closed the case and snapped the belt around her. What else hadn’t the instructors told them? Did they think the cadets were too young, too stupid to grasp the concept? Impellic Theory was just that—a supposition about something no one truly understood. If they were old enough to jump to alien worlds, they had the right to full disclosure.

Deep in disgruntled mutterings, she jumped at a jab to her shoulder. A dark being with a shiny exoskeleton glared down at her from the other end of a spear. She nudged her partner. He gasped. Slowly, they rose to their feet.

Three beings stepped from behind the first. Their mouths were beaklike, and they chattered and clicked loudly. Each had four arms that were constantly in motion.

They looked like oversized ants with kilts, which would be funny if not for the spears. She raised her hand. “We come in peace.”

The chattering quit. They edged back.

The first ant pulled himself up to his full meter-and-a-half height and said clearly, “Kkind travelers. We thankk you for thiskk offering of meat.”

“You speak Standard?” Trace asked.

“I am Kkrick.” The ant creature lowered its head. It wore a long, gray scarf to match the colorless kilt. Its chest was decorated with smears of blood. “You mustkk be handlers?”

With a puzzled frown, Impani looked at Trace. His mask had darkened against the bright sunlight, and she saw the reflection of the ant instead of his face. She took a breath to ask Kkrick how he knew their language.

Trace spoke first. “Yes. We are handlers.”

“Much kkgood.” The insect-like face contorted into a horrific smile.

“How did you find us so quickly?” He motioned to the empty plain.

“Patrollingkk.”

“Patrolling against what?” Impani asked.

“Incursion, of course. Other clans are notkk to be allowed across our land. Come. We mustkk feast.”

Without looking back, Kkrick strode away. The other three ants surrounded the dead creature. Although it massed more than their combined weight, they picked it up over their heads and trailed after their leader.

“Handlers?” Impani whispered. “What are you thinking?”

“I think we’re in trouble.” He followed Kkrick.

Impani stifled a laugh that edged toward hysterics. Trouble? They’d been in trouble since the beginning of the session. She was too tired for more adventures. She wanted to go back to the academy, give her report, and sleep for a week.

Pursing her lips, she caught up to her partner. She had to walk quickly to keep up with the ant-beings. Her muscles protested, and the air seeping into her mask was so cold she thought her lungs would freeze. At least, it dispelled the smell of smoke.

“Why are we following them?” she muttered.

“We’ve been invited to a feast. It would be impolite to refuse. Besides, they have spears.”

“They have spears, we have guns.”

He chuckled. “Whatever happened to we aren’t here to butcher the locals?”

That stopped her. How could she let uncertainty and fear affect her beliefs?

Embarrassed, she said, “I don’t like bugs.”

“Well, if they’re anything like the bugs on my home world, they are strong, warlike, and numerous. And they excrete pheromones. If we kill Kkrick and his friends out here in the open, we’ll have a hundred more on us before we can find a place to hide.”

Impani looked around at the plain of flat white stone and suppressed a shudder. She didn’t want to stay on this world. “Have you noticed that each drop seems a bit longer than the last?”

“You think there’s a time limit to our tour?”

“I think we’d better figure out what’s wrong with the ring before we’re left on a planet permanently.”

Trace nodded and fell silent. Impani increased her gait. How could ant creatures outpace her on such spindly legs?

Her thoughts returned to her belt. The buckle contained a homing device, she was certain. The belts must use a beacon to call the ring to their position. If the main ring needed such a device, it followed that each subsequent ring needed the same beacon in order to latch onto them. If they had a stronger beacon, it might jar the errant ring back into alignment. But how did they build a stronger beacon?

Her footing slipped. She caught her balance, suddenly aware that they climbed a slight grade. The flat stones lay upon themselves like carefully placed shingles.

Another squad of ants chattered and waved as they passed. One had a fist-sized spider impaled on the tip of a spear. He held it over a red fissure in the rock. The spider’s legs kicked then curled as if touched by extreme heat. It gave her the bizarre image of a campfire and marshmallows.

The rise steepened. Kkrick and his party climbed. They held the dead creature high overhead. Impani’s boots skidded. Stones skittered beneath her step. She perspired, although she felt thoroughly chilled. She wished she could sit beside a fissure.

The number of ants around them increased. Many wore kilts, but some were naked. Their smooth exoskeletons shone in the bright sun. They clicked their beaks and ogled them. Kkrick walked without preamble toward a hole in the ground.

She cringed. “We aren’t actually going in there.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it’s a problem. We’ll be trapped.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice. Besides, we’re handlers now. That seemed to hold some sway.”

She stared at the hole, sweating harder than ever. “What do you suppose is for supper?”

“I suspect it will be the creature we brought from the other world.” He shook his head. “I keep telling myself that dying of smoke inhalation is better than burning to death.”

“With any luck, the meat will poison them.”

One by one, Kkrick and his followers disappeared into the huge anthill.

Standing on the rim, she peered down into the darkness. “No.” She stepped back. “We can’t go in there. Too dangerous.”

“It might be more dangerous if we don’t.” Trace motioned at the many ants around them. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come on. We’re cadets. Don’t you want to know how these creatures live? They’re fascinating.”

“They’re bugs.”

“We need to eat something.”

“You said we couldn’t eat on alien worlds.”

“On a normal drop. But this isn’t normal. And I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Impani winced. He was right. Until they found their way back to the academy, they would need to keep up their strength.

“Go on down,” he coaxed. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She nodded but wanted to kick herself. From the beginning, she’d hidden her claustrophobia from her instructors. Now it was coming back to bite her.

With fumbling fingers, she located her flashlight and clipped it onto her wrist. Waves of gooseflesh ran up her arms.
I can do this. I’m not trapped. I can leave at any time.
She stepped onto the ridge that surrounded the hole then down into the dark.

The tunnel was narrow and steep, lined floor-to-ceiling with flat stones the size of dinner plates. Red crevices pulsed like veins, making her feel like she was crawling down a monstrous throat.

The ceiling forced her into an uncomfortable crouch. She stretched her arms to the walls, afraid of falling. The pancake-like stones teetered beneath her weight. Her legs shook, and her back ached with strain. The flashlight cast a thin beam into the dark. It only served to accent her terror. The walls closed in as if the tunnel meant to swallow her.

“I can leave at any time,” she repeated like a mantra.

Sweat ran down her spine. She concentrated upon placing one foot before the other. How deep was she now? How much deeper would she be forced to go?

Then, when she thought she could stand no more, the tunnel opened. Impani stumbled to a halt, feeling dwarfed and insignificant as she gazed at the vast city of the ants.

I
mpani goggled at a cavern at least one hundred meters high. Dimly lit caves honeycombed the walls. Ants popped in and out. They climbed slanted terraces. Light touched their gleaming carapaces and turned their bodies gold.

Several other tunnels emptied into the cave—but only one was flanked by flaming torches. Mist hung before it in low clouds.

“There they are.” Trace motioned.

With a sort of fascinated dread, she watched Kkrick’s cohorts scale the wall, still carrying the dead beast. They reached the first terrace and disappeared into a cave. Kkrick turned to look at her. She felt his gaze like a stab to her stomach.

Curse Trace for talking her into climbing into this death pit. She was not the least bit interested in how these bugs lived.

Trace prodded her. Woodenly, she walked toward Kkrick. Ants watched with unblinking eyes.

Kkrick bowed. “Do you wishkk to bathe before eatingkk?”

“No, we just… bathed,” Trace said.

“Much kkgood. Come to feast. I take you childrenskk way.” He walked up a ramp to the first terrace.

The walls were rippled and pocked. Ants scaled the surface as if upon ladders. They seemed anxious to catch a glimpse of the newcomers.

Kkrick led to another terrace and then another. Impani glanced down. Below them, ants poured from the tunnels into the city. There were hundreds of them. Their horrible clicking sounds echoed in the vast space. Again, Trace prodded her.

She continued upward along the slanted ledge. The cave openings she passed were octagonal. Through the filters of her mask, she smelled moldy dirt. And something else. Death. Like the old tombs and crypts in the cemetery where she’d grown up.

Kkrick stopped. He motioned her toward a cave. Impani dug in her heels, and her partner walked into her back. She looked at Trace, pleading with her eyes for him not to force her to go in there.

<<>>

T
race smiled encouragingly at Impani, although he wasn’t sure she could see him in the gloom. He bounced on the balls of his feet, excited to see more of the hive. He remembered the ant farm he’d kept as a boy, remembered watching day-by-day as the ants built their kingdom.

He glanced at the opening of the cave. Like the other caves they’d passed, this one smelled of freshly overturned soil, reminding him of his father’s farm. The impression of welcome faded with the impatient clicking of their guide.

“Kkrick wants us to go in,” he said to Impani. “That’s right, isn’t it? We should go inside?”

Kkrick nodded. “Sticky.”

Trace ushered Impani through the opening into a round vestibule. The floor was indeed sticky and oddly resilient, as if he walked upon netting. Strands draped down. They adhered to his faceplate when he brushed against them.

He looked up. The ceiling danced with gold-green lights that scuttled over one another. The lights were alive.

“Spiders.” He nudged Impani. “Look. They have phosphorescent patterns on their backs.”

She didn’t reply. Why wasn’t she intrigued? What kind of Scout hated bugs?

Kkrick stepped behind them. He plucked a spider from the wall with two prehensile fingers. Holding the wriggling arachnid, he bit into its body. It sounded like he was eating a crisp apple.

He held the spider toward Trace. “Much kkgood.”

“No. Thank you.” Perhaps he’d been wrong to hope for food from their hosts.

Kkrick shrugged, which was an odd sight on a creature with four arms. Still munching his snack, he led them through another entrance into a larger cave. The room was well lit and warmed by torches blazing from the walls. It looked like a chamber in a medieval castle.

Five ant-beings lounged around a stone table in the center. They wore ill-fitting togas woven of knobby thread, which Trace assumed was spider silk. Their chattering clicks sounded remarkably like laughter. They drank and sloshed about large, metal goblets and took no notice of Impani and Trace.

“Has the feast already started?” Trace asked in a hushed tone

“Always they are here,” said Kkrick. “Always eatingkk. They feed the kkqueen.”

He swallowed a jab of unease. Who was fed to the queen? He puzzled through Kkrick’s words, then said, “They fill their stomachs then regurgitate for her?”

“Unless she hungerskk more and takes them whole.” Kkrick laughed at his own joke. “Come. Feast.”

He clicked and waved at the group around the table. They stopped their revelry and moved to the end to make room.

Kkrick bowed to Trace. “I tell them you are handlers of the otherskk.”

Impani stepped forward. “And who exactly are these—”

Trace squeezed her arm. “Kkrick, where are the others?”

“They come. We choose kkcommanders to feast and pay homage to you.”

“And it was through these commanders that you learned to speak our language?”

Kkrick stared. “Of course.”

Impani wrenched her arm away. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Relax. If there are others here who speak our language, they might be able to help us get home.” He guided her to the table.

They sat cross-legged upon the floor. A sour smell filtered into his mask. Probably mead. He grinned and glanced around. A platter held a tangled pile of spiders, apparently roasted, their legs curled over one another. Bones the size of human finger bones littered the stone tabletop.

The other creatures glared as if they’d ruined the party. Their black eyes were large and reflective. Trace shied from their gaze then jumped as Kkrick set down two goblets of green liquid. It looked more like bile than mead.

“I’m not drinking that drel,” Impani rasped.

Trace smiled and nodded as if she’d said something complimentary. He held a goblet toward her. “Look at this workmanship.”

Impani gave him a blank stare.

“I’m not joking. Such metalwork is thought to be impossible for creatures without opposable thumbs.”

“Maybe the others made it for them,” she muttered.

Trace scowled. Her attitude was not befitting a Scout. He was just about to tell her so when another creature came into the room.

This one was smaller and had a reddish sheen to its shell-encased body. He carried what appeared to be a water-filled bladder. The newcomer sat on the edge of the table. With the bladder between his knees, he began to knead and stroke it rhythmically. The bloated organ let out an eerie sound, like a sheep’s bleat echoing from a deep well.

It took several moments before Trace realized it was music. He glanced about the table. The ant creatures sat with their heads inclined, mesmerized by the throbbing tones. All conversation stopped.

Then a parade of creatures entered, each with a platter of meat. The aroma of a barbeque filled the air. The food bearers set the platters on the table while the bladder musician played on.

Trace’s stomach growled. But before he could move, a ruckus came from the entryway.

“Kkgood.” Kkrick stirred lethargically. “Otherskk are come.”

A man and a woman were shoved into the room. They wore heavy, standard-issue winter clothing. Their faces were pale and gaunt, their eyes ringed with fear. Then their expressions hardened.

“Scouts?” the woman cried hoarsely. “Colonial Scouts?”

She lunged toward Trace and Impani across the table. The man scrambled to catch her, holding her back. Froth flecked her lips, and her reddened eyes bulged.

“Kill you!” she screamed. “I will kill you!”

<<>>

N
atica Galos stared in disbelief at the man behind the podium. The academy was suspending operations? But what about the rescue? What about Impani? She glanced to either side at the other cadets in the assembly hall. They were just sitting there. Wasn’t anyone going to speak up? Didn’t they see how wrong this was?

She glimpsed Robert Wilde at the back of the room and felt a stab of anger. He pretended to love Impani, but he was like the rest. No one was speaking out for her.

Sinking lower in her chair, Natica turned her gaze back to the Director’s Assistant at the head of the room.

<<>>

R
obert Wilde was so furious he expected his brains to boil out of the top of his head. They were terminating all sessions, including the rescue. Those stupid, frigging—

He glared around as the other students filed out the hall. They were all politely shocked, all secretly relieved that it hadn’t happened to them. None of them gave a drel about Impani.

Wilde closed his eyes, trying to imagine where she might be. There were so many planets within reach of an Impellic ring. Was she safe on a green world or trapped in a nightmare?

God, they’ve terminated the rescue. No way to know what she was going through. Worse yet, she was out there with Trace Hanson. Wilde imagined Hanson putting moves on Impani, taking advantage of her fear and confusion. He pictured him laughing as if he had her all to himself, stepping up for her kiss—

Wilde leaped to his feet, knocking back his chair. Impani was his girl. She loved
him
.

He glanced about. The room was emptying. At the entrance, Natica Galos stood talking to Mr. Mogley. Wilde stormed ahead, but before he reached the front of the room, Mogley left. He approached Natica. Her face was blotchy. Crying. That only made him angrier.

“Well? What did he say?” Wilde demanded.

She blinked at him. “Robert, I really can’t—”

“Did you convince him to keep looking?”

“No.”

“Why not?” He grabbed her arm. “Are you just going to let her die? What kind of a friend are you?”

“He said he doesn’t have the power.”

“Then who does have the power?”

Her eyes widened as if he’d made some revelation. She yanked her arm from his grasp. “Sorry, Robert. I have to go.”

Wilde frowned as she rushed from the room.