Alien Chronicles 3 - The Crystal Eye (42 page)

“And deportation of the abiru has all but stopped,” Ampris added. “Yes, that is good news for us all.”

“We’re doing our end of your plan,” Mahradin said. “Now it’s time for you to do your part.”

She nodded. “The second phase of my plan is already going into effect.”

“And what is that?”

She had learned to value these varied leaders and co-conspirators, but she was wise enough not to trust any of them too completely.

She smiled at Mahradin and tapped her finger against her muzzle the way Elrabin did. “Elrabin the Kelth is in charge of phase two. When it is successful, you will learn all about it.”

CHAPTER
•EIGHTEEN

As soon as Mahradin finally left, Ampris limped over to their linkup. Someone whose name she could not remember had stolen it and brought it here to their little headquarters. Velia sat hunched by it now, carefully trying to feed a surreptitious message into the link by piggybacking it onto a legitimate signal.

“Any luck?” Ampris asked.

Velia shot her a look of frustration. “I said I’ll let you know.”

Ampris veered away, not wanting to irritate her more. They had never gotten along, and there was nothing Ampris could do about it except leave Velia alone as much as possible.

Restless, she roamed about the one-room structure. So far they had been safe living here in Jobul’s tiny house, although it could not accommodate everyone in the group. The others were scattered, and coming and going was risky, although less so while the patrollers were busy dealing with the unruly Rejects.

Ampris told herself, however, that they should not risk Jobul’s home much longer. He had been kind and generous, surrendering his private space to a bunch of strangers. Thanks to his care, she was much stronger now, almost her old self, although she now wore a brace to support her leg. She peered out a narrow security slit at the street outside, wishing she could have gone with Elrabin and the cubs today. But she was not allowed outside. The risk that someone would recognize her was too great. Velia was here both to operate the linkup and to act as an unofficial guard.

“I have something!” Velia said sharply.

Startled, Ampris swung around, then hurried to her. “What is it? A voice signal?”

“Yes. Someone’s gotten our message and is calling back. I’ve routed and cross-routed it so we probably can’t be traced by any monitors, but don’t talk too long. If I say cut it off, do it right then. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Ampris said eagerly.

They had no picture capabilities, but she reached for the mike. “Shrazhak Ohr, this is the Freedom Network calling. Shrazhak Ohr, come in.”

Static crackled over the speakers. Then a thin, hostile voice replied, “What do you want?”

“I’m calling the engineers of Shrazhak Ohr. This is Ampris of the Freedom Network.”

“What do you want?”

Ampris explained in a few well-chosen sentences, keeping it as brief as she could.

Silence came back to her, a silence so long she wondered if the signal had been lost. Velia scowled, looking worried.

“Shrazhak Ohr, are you there?” Ampris asked.

“We cannot help you,” the engineer replied.

Ampris backed her ears. Zrheli were always difficult. Their stubbornness, she figured, must be a genetic trait. “Please,” she said. “If we can get the abiru population on the cargo ships, will you let them through the gate to Ruu-one-one-three?”

More silence. Velia fidgeted and began to pant.

“No,” came the answer finally.

“Can’t or won’t?” Ampris asked.

“No.”

“Look, I know the planet is somehow sacred to your people. I know you’ve closed it off to protect it from the Viis. I honor and respect that. But for most of us our homeworlds are either destroyed or still under Viis rule. We need somewhere to go, somewhere to live as free, self-governed citizens with our own way of—”

“No.”

“What do you fear?” Ampris asked in rising irritation. To get so close and find herself blocked frustrated her. Trying to control her temper, she said, “We would live on that world with gratitude. We would honor it and take care of it. We intend no exploitation. We would not ruin it the way the Viis have ruined Viisymel.”

The engineer said nothing.

“Please,” she said. “Won’t you help us? Have you no wish to live free yourselves? Think of your families. Think of what life could be like for them if they were free of Viis domination.”

Nothing.

“Do you love your Viis masters so much?” she asked in desperation, not knowing how to reach these fierce, feathered scientists. They were rude, isolated, brilliant, and difficult to understand. But once, when she was trapped in Vess Vaas, she had succeeded in getting the Zrheli there to help her. She was praying now that she could do it again, but so far nothing was working. “I guess you do love them. I guess perhaps they have stopped killing you in the arena baitings as punishment for keeping the gate closed. If you are happy under Viis domination, then I shouldn’t ask—”

“Who is happy in this box of death?” asked the Zrhel fiercely. “And you have killed some of us, Ampris. We know your name. We abhor it!”

She sighed. They would never forgive her for what she’d been forced to do. They would never trust her. And yet it had been a Zrhel, frightened out of his mind, who had savaged her in the arena, crippling her leg and ending her career as a gladiator.

“My apologies can never be strong enough for those I was forced to slaughter,” she said quietly. “We all have our regrets, engineer. I am trying to pay my debts by seeing that all the abiru races go free—at least all who live on Viisymel. I can’t help others in the empire now, not directly, anyway. But the mining worlds have broken free of the Viis. If we can break free too, then others will manage. Will you help us?”

“Can’t.”

Her ears pricked forward. This was an improvement from the bald no of earlier. “Can’t? Why not?”

“Surveillance. We can’t open gate. Masters would know at once.”

Ampris’s heart started beating faster with excitement and hope. “So it can be done,” she breathed. “I knew it.”

“What? Transmission unclear.”

“If we can send a distraction for your station managers, something that will break up their surveillance, will you help?”

“In exchange for what?”

“Freedom to come with us.”

“You have too many ifs in your plan, Ampris. How can you stop the surveillance on us—”

“Leave that to me,” she said with confidence.

“And how will you get abiru slaves released and on ships? Who will fly those ships?”

“They can run on automatics all the way to the station,” she answered. “But there are abiru pilots and equipment handlers. We’ll figure it out.”

“You cannot do this.”

Velia was signaling her. Ampris backed her ears. “I’m out of time. I’m being traced. Promise me that if I deliver my end you will deliver on yours.”

“Get off now!” Velia said.

Ampris leaned closer to the mike. “Promise!” she said urgently.

Static crackled, but his reply was cut off.

Roaring in frustration, Ampris swung around, but Velia glared right back.

“I told you I’d cut the signal to keep us from being traced,” she said defiantly. “You had plenty of time.”

“But now I don’t know what his answer was,” Ampris said, pacing back and forth. She wanted to smash something. She wanted to bite something. “How soon until we can call back?”

Velia bared her teeth. “No way. It was too risky the first time. We stay off this now. One activation could be enough to let a tracer finish coming right to us.”

Ampris growled.

“Look,” Velia said. “I know you think I’m useless. Maybe I don’t have much courage, but I know about tracers. I know about patrollers raiding in the dark and dragging off people you love, never to be seen again. It ain’t going to happen here, okay? We stay off this thing, until I think it’s safe. Or I’ll smash it. You understand?”

Velia’s voice was shaking. Her tilted eyes held memories of things no one should have to remember.

Ampris’s anger faded. In its place came sympathy and a certain measure of pity. “Yes, I understand perfectly,” she said quietly. “We’ll just have to proceed as though the engineer said yes.”

Velia snapped back her ears. “But that’s a lie! You don’t know for sure.”

“We’re not stopping now.”

“But if you get everyone all the way into space and we get stopped . . . No, Ampris, you can’t do it! You can’t take such a big risk.”

“I can,” Ampris said in a voice like iron. “And I will. Say nothing about this, Velia.”

“I have to. Lives are at stake. I can’t—”

Ampris advanced on her. “Velia, we’re all in this too deep now to back out. We have two choices now: We keep going with the plan and get off Viisymel, or we’ll eventually find ourselves arrested and in the death camps. Make up your mind, but keep your mouth shut.”

Velia panted, a mixture of resentment and fear on her face. “You don’t talk to Elrabin like this. You ain’t hateful to him.”

“I don’t have to be,” Ampris said. “He knows which way to jump. It looks like you’re still learning.”

“Everything has to be your way.”

“We agreed on the plan, Velia.”

“You don’t give folks much choice,” Velia said in resentment. “You get folks in trouble so that they have to keep helping you in order to get out of it. That’s the way you operate.”

Ampris’s gaze never wavered. “Freedom has to be earned. It’s never a gift.”

Velia lifted her muzzle proudly. “I won’t betray my mate, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’d like me to, wouldn’t you? So you could—”

“No, I don’t want you to betray Elrabin,” Ampris said wearily. “It would break his heart. He loves you deeply.”

Velia blinked as though she hadn’t expected Ampris to admit that. “No. He feels sorry for me. That’s different. It’s you he loves.”

“Elrabin and I have been friends a long time,” Ampris said, wishing Velia would grow up. “But I will never take a mate outside my own species. Nor will he. He adores you, Velia, or he wouldn’t have taken you as mate. If you haven’t figured that out by now, then it’s him you should be having this conversation with, not me.”

Velia looked confused. She rubbed her muzzle with both hands. “But he never says anything. He never shows me—”

“He comes home to you,” Ampris broke in. “Elrabin grew up on the streets. He had a dust addict for a father and a mother who worked two or three shifts a day trying to feed her family. Elrabin has always been able to walk out of any situation he didn’t like. As I said, he comes home to you. If he can’t show you any better than that, then talk to him. I’m not the problem in your relationship.”

Velia sniffed and stared at the floor. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “Maybe I’ve been wrong.”

“Maybe you have.”

Velia nodded. “I won’t tell the others about what happened today, not even Elrabin.”

Ampris sighed in relief. “Especially not Elrabin.”

But even as they smiled at each other perfunctorily and moved apart, Ampris wasn’t sure she could rely on Velia to keep any promise at all. If only Velia hadn’t cut the signal right at that second. It was almost as though she didn’t want Ampris to get an answer.

Or maybe Ampris was just growing paranoid and too suspicious of everyone.

Maybe.

Elrabin lay on a rooftop, feeling baked to a crisp by the sun, and squinted at the oblong-shaped building. Constructed of ugly, utilitarian block units designed for temporary structures, it was only one story and much smaller than he’d expected. It stood on a vacant lot where a much larger building had been taken down. Discarded steps and broken glass lay scattered about. A tall wire fence surrounded the building, and a pair of Toths stood guard, looking half-asleep and bored at their posts. One was chewing his cud. The other one yawned and flicked his floppy ears at the flies buzzing around his head.

About fifty meters or so behind the building, a structure under construction had begun to take shape above its foundations. No one was working today, which suited Elrabin fine.

He nudged the hooded cub lying next to him. “Tell me what you see.”

“It’s a gray building. It has a fence around it and some guards posted,” Nashmarl said. His voice was bored and as he answered he didn’t look at the building once.

Elrabin sighed, wondering why he bothered with them. “Foloth?”

“Is this an exam?” the older cub asked coolly. “The building is drab and cheaply constructed. Obviously it is temporary and they are building something larger to house the laboratory.”

“Never mind what it looks like,” Elrabin said, trying to keep his patience. “It has—”

A quiet buzz on his hand-link interrupted him. He fished it out of his pocket and snapped it on. “Yeah?”

“Any luck?”

He recognized Ampris’s voice and grinned. They were being cautious with the links and not using names that might get picked up by surveillance nets.

“Some. We’ve done been looking things over for an hour, and no patrols have been flown in that time. Guards ain’t nothing. The locks will be the hardest part, just like I thought. Can’t get closer to check them out. May have to risk going in and taking what comes.”

“Fine,” she replied.

“Or,” he said, glancing at Nashmarl and Foloth, “we may just pry a hole in the wall. It all be built of temporary block. If a security field can even be rigged around this piece of junk, I want to see it.”

“No problems, then?”

“Nope.”

“Good. We need a diversion for the sky,” she said.

Elrabin understood she was referring to the Zrheli on Shrazhak Ohr. “Got to talk to ’em first, see?”

“Did that. We have a go, but they’re under constant surveillance and can’t act unless we do something to break that up.”

His mouth fell open and he swiveled back his ears. “You talked to ’em?
You?”

“I did,” she replied, and her voice was smug.

He couldn’t believe it. He figured nobody could get through to the station—especially not Ampris. The last time she and Elrabin had been on the station, she’d been honing her glevritar blade on the guts of little nasty Zrheli, or at least she had been until one of them clipped the tendons in her leg with his beak and nearly killed her. Elrabin figured the Zrheli wouldn’t want anything to do with Ampris.