Ammonite Stars (Omnibus): Ammonite Galaxy #4-5 (28 page)

“NO!” Then Diva tried to moderate her tone. “That is … I am sure that will not be necessary. Six knows that we are in a hurry, and will not go further down than is strictly necessary. He has probably had to slide down the shale incline to get himself heard down in the cavern. We will wait.” She had the distinct impression that if the Xianthan did get down to the floor of the cavern, they would never see him again.

But he was staring at her with gentle reproof. “I would never, ever, do anything which would lose colour,” he told her. She wondered if he had been able to read her thoughts, as he went on, “—And suicide loses much, much colour.”

She nodded. “I am sorry.”

“There is no need to be. Your conclusions were a natural outcome of the circumstances.”

“Err … Can you always read thoughts?”

“No. But on this occasion yours were written across your forehead.”

“Oh.”

“Sometimes your face shows more than perhaps you would wish.”

She gave a rueful smile. “I’ll have to bear that in mind.”

“You have great faith in Six.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I do.”

“Does he know this?”

Diva stared at the Xianthan, and turned slowly red. She ran through her treatment of Six, from the first day she met him in the cell on the orbital station above Coriolis, to the previous night, when they had tumbled down the ridge together. The red turned to scarlet. Her voice, when she answered, was choked. “Perhaps not.”

“Ah.” He looked at her, kindly. “Sometimes it is pleasant to know that you are appreciated.”

Her cheeks seemed to flare even more, and Diva touched her fingers to them. “I … I …”

“Your thoughts are muddy and confused.”

“Exactly! Things are complicated.”

“When we were in the mindmerge I touched your subconscious briefly, and there was no confusion there. Your perplexity comes from the surface. The patina of years and years of Coriolan education has put a barrier into place.” Diva stared at him, open-mouthed, and he went on, “Until you realize that, there will be no going forward.”

She was dumb, and he peered into her face, worried. “I have perhaps said too much?”

She shook her head, and was furious to feel a prickling behind her eyes. She kept them open, determined not to blink in case tears fell.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I have said enough, I think. I apologize if I have said too much.” He bowed to her, brought his hands together and touched them to his lips. “May you find great colour. It is within you.”

“Th-thank you.” Diva caught Bennel staring at her, and stiffened automatically back into the rigid stance taught from childhood to the leaders of her people. She almost snapped at the companion, and then thought better of it. But for some reason she felt a cloud of anger traveling all the way up from her feet until it stopped to hover around her head. She began to pace up and down in front of the pothole, her mind in such disorder that she found herself unable to fix her thoughts on anything.

Six finally pulled himself out of the pothole some two hours later. It was to a mixed reception. Bennel and the man who spoke to canths rushed up to pull him safely out of the hole, and help him with the rope. Diva stood back, aloof, surveying his arrival from a distance.

He glanced at her. She was looking magnificent, but he could see the canine tooth protruding ever so slightly over her bottom lip. A sign many might cower at. He grinned. “What’s up Diva? Tattula cat got your tongue?”

She tossed her head. “Took your time, didn’t you, Kwaidian?”

“Well, went on a scenic tour, you know.”

“We have been waiting here for hours.”

“Oh, excuse me, your royal huffiness. I do hope your cutis hasn’t suffered.”

“Oh shut up!” she said. “If anybody else mentions Mesteta wine baths today I shall slice off a couple of their body parts.”

“Err … Are you feeling all right?”

“Of course I am.” She sniffed. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

He dissimulated. “No, nothing. Err … Well, you will be glad to know that I found the morphics, they are fine, and they were happy to go to the tunnel to see if they can help Cimma. They think that if they can get into a mindmerge with her and the canths, they will be able to empower her briefly so she can get through the tunnel.”

“Fine,” Diva said, rather indistinctly. “Then we should get back to the entrance. We may be needed.”

The men finished coiling the ropes they had brought, and followed in her footsteps as she crunched across the scree near the pothole entrance. None of them spoke again. Her rigid back as she marched away from them was more eloquent than any words. The canth keeper and Bennel exchanged a meaningful glance.

When they arrived at the tunnel entrance the visitor was hovering outside. “We can’t seem to get into a mindmerge with Cimma,” he told them. “She seems to be unconsciously resisting us for some reason.”

“She is afraid for the canths,” the man who spoke to canths told them. “She knows that the canths up in orbit would have to be included, and she is scared that they have not had long enough to recover from the meld with the Dessites, that somehow they would be damaged.”

Everybody stared at him. “How do you know that?” asked Six.

He shrugged. “We are all connected now. I felt it.”

“And can the canths help her?”

“Of course.”

“Then we should ask them.”

The visitor nodded, and flashed. Both the Arcan twins appeared, and began to spin in many colours in front of them all. There was a pause, and then the man who spoke to canths told them that the canths, the morphics and Cimma were all now connected to a mindmerge. Apparently, the Xianthan was able to pick up on that meld, for he began a running commentary on what exactly was happening on the other side of the tunnel.

“Cimma has been able to move to the entrance of the tunnel. Ledin is going inside first. Ledin has gone half-way, and now Cimma is holding on to his ankles. Ledin is pulling them both through the tunnel. Cimma is helping by shuffling along the rock with the lower part of her body. They have reached a downward spur of rock. There is a bend, so this is very complicated.” His voice lowered. “The spur of rock is causing difficulty.” He fell silent for quite a long time before the commentary was resumed. “No, now she is through that. Ledin is nearly at the worst bend. Cimma is feeling faint, and the canths have told Ledin to stop, to rest.”

The man who spoke to canths wiped some sweat off his forehead, and took a deep breath. They all looked at him, but he spread his hands. “They are waiting. Cimma is almost at the end of her strength. She is unable to continue.”

There was a silence of almost ten minutes, and then, “Ledin has been told to continue. He is nearly through the bend. Cimma is managing to follow. She is having difficulty passing the bend. Ledin is almost at the end of the tunnel. Cimma is barely managing to hang on now. She has no strength left in her fingers, and they keep slipping.”

The others rushed to the entrance in the rock, and found that they could see Ledin’s hands, about a cubit from the end. They were stationary, however. It was clear that Cimma had needed another rest. Then, slowly, Ledin’s hands emerged, followed by his characteristic long hair. As his head emerged from the tunnel he took some deep breaths of fresh air, and his colour returned slightly. He had obviously not enjoyed his journey through the stone passageway.

They helped him out slowly and then reached in to grab at Cimma’s hands. This last part of the tunnel was fairly straight, so it was an easy matter to pull her out.

She was unconscious by the time they laid her on the ground. Six took hold of her upper torso, the man who spoke to canths the middle section, Bennel her hips, and Ledin, who was breathing heavily, her legs. They rolled her up between them onto their own shoulders, so she was lying horizontally, supported equally along the length of her body by their four shoulders.

“We will get her back to the shuttles. Diva, can you wait for Grace? You two can come on after she gets out of the tunnel. Perhaps the visitor can tell her that we have Cimma safe now.”

Diva nodded. “Sure. We will catch up with you.”

She watched as the four men carried their burden off towards the ridges accompanied by the trimorph twins, and then turned to the visitor. “Will you tell Grace she can come through now?”

The visitor whirred. “Of course.”

They all met up again at the shuttles. Cimma had been carried into the first shuttle, and laid gently down on the steel floor. By necessity, she was curled up in a ball, and she had not regained consciousness. They knew they had to get her into a medical facility quickly.

“We will have to take her to a hospital,” said Bennel.

Grace shook her head with complete certainty. “Not a hospital. Not Cimma. She would want to go to the same place as before, when she took a knife on Valhai. We have to get her to the 367
^th
skyrise on Valhai, and we need Vion to treat her. He is the only one who has her full history, and the only one I would trust to attend her.”

“We could take her to Kwaide, to the new hospital there,” suggested Petra. “Or Coriolis.”

Six shook his head. “Arcan can’t transport her into Kwaide, and she is much too weak to take another shuttle ride. And I am not persona grata on Coriolis just at the moment. Neither are you two, or Bennel here. No, Valhai is the best place. But first we have to get her into the medical bay on the New Independence, and we have to rendezvous with Arcan. He is still unaware of everything that happened here on Pictoria.”

Once Cimma was safely aboard the shuttle, they turned to the visitor and the two trimorph twins. “What will you do?” asked Grace.

“We must regenerate for a few weeks before we do anything,” said the visitor. “All these mindmerges are a bit strenuous for us. But once we have done that, we will try to come and visit you. The twins think we should be able to, provided we don’t try to stay too long away from Pictoria.”

Grace’s face lit up. “That is good to hear. I hope you can come. Is it something you have to learn, do you think?”

All three morphics flashed. “We are babies, really. It has taken us a long time to figure out how we work. But when we have a bit more practice we should be able to transport easily, like Arcan does.”

“You will keep safe?”

The trimorph twins spun in the air, and the visitor pulsed with a white light. “We will keep safe,” he promised.

“Then we will say goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye. And good job … all of you.”

They looked around at each other and smiled, glad that their best had been good enough. Then they watched as the three morphics rose above the ground, hovered for a while, and then winked out of existence. In a split second, they were gone.

There was a sensation of loss, but not enough time to examine it. If they wanted to catch Arcan at the next rendezvous time, they would have to hurry. There was some milling about as they tried to fit nine people into two shuttles. In the end they put the five lightest in the first shuttle. Diva navigated Cimma, the two Coriolan youngsters and Grace; while the four men piled into the remaining shuttle.

There was a moment of doubt as the shuttles struggled to take off from the planet’s surface, but otherwise the flight to the orbiting space trader was uneventful. Once there, the others got Cimma safely into a bed, and tended to their own wounds as best they could, while Diva put the New Independence on a course for the gas giant. With a little luck, they would not have to wait too long for Arcan to put in an appearance. She thought that they would be able to make it just in time for the next deadline. It seemed strange to be flying straight into a toxic atmosphere, but then, stranger things had already happened in the Pictoris system.