Endurance: The Complete Series Page 18

  “Because his stupid chemical research ties into the popular thing right now! Just wait, next decade everyone will have forgotten about it and be on to some new buzzword.”

  Despite having a ferocious argument, the Fishes smiled at each other as if they were actually having fun. Their faces grew redder and their eyes more dilated as they bandied words until finally Chris said, “By god, sweetie, I love the way you argue.”

  Joyce laughed, though she still looked mad. “It goes both ways.”

  And then they started kissing.

  Intensely.

  Areva cleared her throat to remind them that they shared the room with her. Much as she liked going unnoticed, she didn’t want them to embarrass themselves if they really had forgotten she was there.

  The married couple split apart, though they kept throwing little impassioned glances at each other across the cell. It was common knowledge on the Endurance that the two of them argued all the time, and also that they both enjoyed it way too much. It was like a team sport, and they used each other as practice opponents. God help whoever brought down the wrath of both of them together.

  Footsteps echoed from down the hall, and Areva stiffened. “Someone’s coming.” She rose from her seat against the wall, but stayed in a crouch. Hopefully now they would find out what the aliens wanted to do with them.

  The spider alien who’d repaired the computer returned, carrying with him all of the team’s gear. Areva smiled as she spotted the talky box—that was a step in the right direction. Now they just needed to get him to hook it up to the computer.

  Her smile vanished when she saw the figures walking behind him. They walked in lockstep, their right arms cradling bazooka-shaped energy rifles, their bodies decked out completely in blood-red armor, their faces obscured by matching helmets.

  She recognized them. She’d killed four of them a couple months ago. She had not wanted to kill any more.

  “It’s the Haxozin!” Chris said. Joyce, who had never seen the Haxozin in person, gasped. Areva stayed motionless and silent. Chris shook his head. “They must be the ones who gave these people their tech.”

  “Then why didn’t we see any of them before?” Joyce asked.

  “Does it matter? They’ll recognize us now. We’re doomed.”

  “Maybe not,” whispered Areva. “The only Haxozin who saw us before are dead. And the People of Tone wouldn’t betray us. These soldiers might not know what we are any more than the spider people do.”

  “That’s assuming that the People of Tone are still around! They might have been obliterated after we helped them kick the Haxozin off their world! Who knows what they would have given up to try to save themselves?”

  “Not to mention the message that the Uprising wanted to send to the Haxozin,” Joyce said. “There’s a good chance they know everything.”

  “And a good chance they know nothing. Just be quiet.” Areva fell silent as the Haxozin and the spider person reached the cell.

  One of the Haxozin stepped up to the glass and looked the three humans up and down. Then he turned to the spider-person and uttered something in the guttural language of his species.

  The talky box, still held by the spider person, translated his words. Unfortunately, it translated them into the humming of the indigenous people, rather than into something the humans could understand.

  The two aliens conversed back and forth—deep glottal words and low-pitched hums—for several minutes. The lead Haxozin grew angry. He lowered his weapon and pointed it at the spider alien, who dropped everything he carried and put up his hands, the universal sign for “holy crap, please don’t shoot me.” He continued making pleading hums, and the Haxozin finally retracted his weapon.

  Without even glancing at the humans, the Haxozin jerked his head toward his colleague, and they both headed back down the hall.

  All three humans let out a breath. “What was all of that?” Joyce asked.

  “No idea,” said Chris.

  Areva found herself watching the spider alien as he picked up everything he’d dropped. She felt sorry for him, having a gun pointed in his face.

  Nobody should see death coming.

  The thought came unbidden, and Areva immediately hushed it. She didn’t want to revisit the memory of that mission—her last as an undercover agent. Technically it was a success; she made it out with the data she’d been sent in to retrieve, enough info to bring down the Tycho Crater drug ring. Dispatch was pleased.

  Areva was not. She’d made a sisterly connection with a young woman in the ring and had wanted to bring her out of it. When the time of the heist came, though, her newfound friend realized who she really was and threatened to blow her cover. She killed the woman to save the mission. She served as the angel of death for one more person. Nobody should see death coming; those were the woman’s last words. They’d stuck with Areva.

  She ended up on the Endurance less than a month later. It was the last time she killed someone to their face. She’d thought it would be the last kill of her career, but fate seemed to have decided otherwise. She didn’t think she could get out of this situation with the Haxozin without bloodshed.

  The spider alien continued picking up the fallen equipment and glanced toward the prison cell every few seconds. Areva thought he looked nervous, but genuinely curious about the identities of his captives. Despite his apparent cooperation with the Haxozin, she didn’t think he was hostile.

  Her eyes fell on the pile of confiscated equipment. She recognized the value this opportunity presented. The talky box had translated into the alien’s language; obviously someone had linked it to a computer, allowing it to download their linguistic files. That meant it could now translate between his language and English.

  Areva didn’t understand how the talky box worked—technically nobody did. Matthias had taken it apart and figured out the hardware, but the code that provided the translations was so far beyond anything Earth’s programmers had seen that they were still trying to sort it out. There was probably an entire lab doing nothing but analyzing the spare devices they’d received from the People of Tone.

  One thing Areva did know was that the box was supposed to automatically switch to any language spoken in its proximity. If her team didn’t make a connection with their captors now, they might never have another chance. She didn’t trust either of the Fishes to handle this diplomatically, which left the job to her. So she stood up, took a deep breath to steel her nerves, and walked to the glass. “Hello.”

  The alien didn’t look up. He continued his cleanup duty.

  Areva tried again. “Hello?”

  Still nothing.

  She’d spent so many years keeping out of sight that she actually had to think to come up with other ways to be noticed. Finally she pounded a palm on the glass. “Hello? Mister alien? We need to talk to you.”

  Still the alien didn’t look up.

  Chris walked up behind Areva and peered through the glass, too. “I don’t think he can hear us.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Joyce. “He’s right there.”

  “No, I mean I don’t think he can hear us. Literally. I think his ears don’t pick up the frequencies of human speech.”

  “That’s …” Joyce stopped whatever retort she was about to give and “hmm”ed thoughtfully. “That’s actually a pretty good explanation. I wondered why none of them reacted to you screaming about being eaten.”

  “Why isn’t the talky box translating us?” Areva asked.

  Chris shrugged. “Maybe we’re not close enough.”

  “So we need to get him to come over here,” Areva said. “How do we do that when he can’t hear us?”

  “You’re sure you don’t have hidden psychic powers?” Chris asked. “Because they’d be really useful right now.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Damn.”

  “How about we just wave at him?” Joyce said.

  Nobody had any better ideas, so when the alien looked up agai
n, he was treated to the sight of all three humans beckoning him toward the glass as if they were advertising a used hovercar sale.

  Areva felt ridiculous. If someone had told her that she was going to seek out new alien species and try to make first contact with them, she’d have assumed that meant dignified formal meetings and the type of espionage she’d been doing when all of this started. Not waving her arm like an old-fashioned traffic signal.

  In any case, the spider alien seemed to decide that the weird behavior of his captives merited a closer look. He set all of his supplies on the desk and walked toward the glass.

  All three immediately waved their arms back and forth, shaking their heads. “No,” said Chris, despite the alien’s inability to hear them. “Bring the talky box!”

  The alien retreated toward the table. They nodded at him.

  He picked up the supplies. More nods.

  He began walking toward them again.

  Very enthusiastic nodding and waving.

  He stopped just outside the glass wall.

  “Good,” said Areva, glad the silliness was over. “Now what? We just talk and the box will detect our speech?”

  “Only one way to find out,” said Chris. He stood as close to the glass as he could without pressing himself against it. “Testing, one, two …”

  Joyce whacked him. “No! We don’t want that to be the first thing they hear from us!”

  Apparently they’d said enough words to activate the translator, because everything Joyce said was promptly re-emitted by the box in the form of the low hums used by the aliens.

  Areva sighed. What a great first impression.

  The alien’s eyes widened. He blinked at them very slowly and dropped the pile of equipment. His hands came up to his mouth in surprise. He hummed, and a few seconds later the fallen talky box provided a running translation. Because of the way his language worked, his words came out sounding slow, and unfortunately, a bit dull-witted. “You … you can speak? Why did you not say so earlier?”

  “We tried!” said Chris. “But you guys were too busy to …”

  Areva stepped in before he could ruin the meeting. “We tried,” she repeated. “It seems our voices are out of your hearing range.”

  “I see,” said the alien. “Then … what are you?”

  Tricky question. If their identities hadn’t been exposed yet, Areva didn’t want to give them away. “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “I showed our masters your technology—that you possessed a speaking box like their own—but they said all of their worlds use them. Even they are unfamiliar with your species.”

  Areva breathed a sigh of relief. Their cover was secure, at least for now. “Do your masters come here often?” She realized belatedly that her phrasing sounded like a bad pickup line, but she needed to know why they hadn’t detected any Haxozin on the planet until just now.

  The alien shook his head. “Oh, no. They stay up in space and watch over us from above. They only come down on occasion, or when we request their presence for a problem using the technology they have graciously given us. That is what we did when we found you.” He smiled, flashing blue-colored gums.

  Joyce poked Chris and whispered, “I told you they don’t have teeth!”

  Fortunately, the talky box didn’t pick that up. Areva asked, “Where do they come from?”

  The alien shrugged. “We have only ever seen a few, but they say they have a ship in space. Sometimes they take our leaders up there in their little space boat.”

  Areva assumed the “little space boat” meant the same kind of shuttle used by the first team of Haxozin they’d encountered. The spider alien’s words suggested the presence of a larger Haxozin ship somewhere nearby. She didn’t like the problem that posed for when the Endurance tried to leave.

  She realized she was semi-interrogating this alien, and while the spider guy didn’t seem to mind, she felt that she should be nicer, especially if they were going to convince him to let them go. “What’s your name?”

  The alien made a humming noise that the talky box didn’t translate.

  Areva frowned. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  “My name is …” again the box stopped translating, and the alien said, “Humnumnum.”

  “Humnumnum?” asked Areva, trying to speak in as low a tone as possible.

  Apparently she came close enough for translation, because the talky box emitted the same noise the alien had made himself. He nodded, pleased. “Yes. And what are your names?”

  Areva had no idea how human names would translate, but she gave it a try. “My name is Areva. This is Chris and Joyce Fish.”

  The talky box made some more sounds, and the alien said, “I am sorry. I do not think your name translated. But I am pleased to meet the two aquatic swimming food animals.”

  Chris choked and began gesticulating wildly. “Excuse me? We are not food animals! We are definitely, completely, not edible in any …”

  “I think that’s the literal translation of our last name,” said Joyce.

  Chris stopped with his finger in the air. “Oh.” He took a shaky breath. “Okay. That makes sense.”

  “Where are you from?” asked Humnumnum.

  Dangerous conversation material. If the Haxozin found out they were humans—the same people who’d helped the People of Tone escape Haxozin oppression—things would not go well for them. “Another planet,” Areva said. She tried to redirect the discussion. “Tell me, what are …”

  Humnumnum made a face. “You have asked me many questions. I think now it is my turn. What planet? Where?”

  “You haven’t heard of it.”

  The alien eyed them suspiciously. “You withhold information. Why?”

  Areva knew she stood on thin ice and needed to be at least a little honest if she wanted him to trust them. “You seem nice enough, Humnumnum, but we’ve just met you, and we haven’t met your masters at all. We don’t usually like to discuss the location of our planet with strangers.” Especially since your masters want to invade it, her mind added.

  “You do not trust us?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Then you do not trust our masters?” Humnumnum’s face clouded. “A few weeks ago they told the entire Sovereignty to look out for subversives who attacked one of their teams for no reason. They said these people are a danger to any world on which they land. Were they talking about you?”

  “No,” said Areva.

  “Nope,” said Joyce.

  “Definitely not,” said Chris.

  The alien blinked slowly at them. “Then you have nothing to fear, and you will be happy to tell me, and them, where you are from.”

  Crap. Humnumnum had proved to be more intelligent than he sounded. Areva knew she couldn’t divulge the information he wanted, and she didn’t know enough about the galaxy to make up a lie. “Very far from here.”

  “You evade my questions. I am growing annoyed with you. I will let the overlords decide what to do with you.” He turned to go.

  “Wait!”

  The spider alien turned back to face them. “Yes?”

  Areva suspected the Haxozin would want to interrogate them. That would involve separating them, and probably moving them, which would put them outside of any area where the Endurance could hope to find them. If they were going to escape, they needed to do it soon, and Humnumnum presented the best option she could see coming. She couldn’t lose this chance. Despite all of her instincts screaming for her to wait for a more controllable situation, she knew she needed to gamble.

  She pushed aside all of her training and instincts, then lifted her gaze and locked eyes with Humnumnum. “All right. We’re not friends of your masters, but we’re not your enemies. We’ve seen how the Haxozin oppress other species, like yours. We didn’t want to start a fight with them, but they threatened to invade our world, so we had no choice. We liberated the People of Tone. If you let us out, we can help you get out from under their rul
e, too.”

  She continued to stare into Humnumnum’s eyes, hoping she could transcend their brief acquaintance with the power of that connection. She poured out her honesty and vulnerability through the gaze, trying to connect with his emotions. She searched for some indication of his reaction—surprise, suspicion, alarm, and maybe just a little bit of empathy.

  His eyes widened. “You would fight them? But they are so powerful!”

  “We’ve done it before.” Areva tried to convey confidence despite wanting to do nothing more than break eye contact and go hide in the corner again. “We can do it again. All you need to do is lower the wall.”

  He glanced toward the lever, then back at her. She watched his eyes the entire time. He tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue over his blue gums; he was considering it. Come on, she thought, you’re so close.

  Because of the intense eye contact, Areva had a perfect view as his eyelids lowered and fear crowded out any other feeling. Her heart sank; she knew in that instant that she’d lost him.

  “Wait,” she said, but she was too late. He turned and ran back down the hallway, escaping the connection before she could sway him. She knew where he was going; she’d seen it in his face. She wished she could run away, too.

  The last thing the talky box translated as he ran away was, “Masters, come back! They are the subversives!”

  * * *

  Viktor Ivanokoff did not do extreme sports. They were dangerous, reckless, and a surefire way to break a bone or find an early grave. As he descended through the air, he wished he could cross his arms in protest. Unfortunately, he needed to keep his grip on the harness in order to maintain his balance while the Endurance lowered him into the prison courtyard. He settled for simply scowling.

  “Hey, Ivanokoff, isn’t this fun?”

  Viktor turned his scowl on Matthias Habassa, who hung from another cord a few meters away with an enormous grin on his face. “No.”

  “Oh, come on, I’d think you would like extreme sports!”

  “This is a rescue, not a sport.”

  “It can be both.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Viktor didn’t answer, and the conversation was cut short by their imminent approach to the ground. He hit the brake on his harness and slowed to a barely safe landing speed just in time. He rolled forward to absorb his momentum and stood back up, his hands resting on his two holsters. He wanted to draw his guns, Dickens and Dante, immediately, but the captain had told him to play nice. He settled for glaring at the handful of spider aliens who’d gathered to watch them descend.