Hex (19 page)

If only that were true. As he pulled up the parka hood, Sean studied the lander. The spacecraft had come to rest at an awkward angle, with its intact starboard landing gear tilting it to one side. Although Kyra and Sandy had been able to open the cargo hatch far enough to remove the equipment cases, it remained partially blocked. They wouldn't be able to get to the expedition gyro; if they had to walk far in order to leave the biopod, that would complicate matters greatly.

First things first. “I guess I'm going to have to help the lieutenant now,” Sean said aloud. His voice was muffled slightly by the airmask, and he remembered to switch on its amplifier.

“Only if you want to.” Kyra's voice dropped a little. “Actually, I think Sandy wants to do that. She wants to make him change clothes in front of a girl . . . and I don't think she's going to help him very much.”

Sean smiled, but only for a moment. They were in a jam, no question about it. Marooned in a strange place, with one person dead and their craft totaled. That, and the fact that they were facing an environmental catastrophe, put their odds of survival against them. If he could only get in touch with the
Montero
. . .

“Have you found the wireless?” he asked.

“Not yet, but I'm sure it's in there somewhere.” Kyra looked over to the other side of the lander. Sandy had opened another case and was rummaging through it. “Do you think it's going to work? I mean, the ship is on the other side of Hex. The outside, I mean.”

“It might work.”
It'd better,
he silently added. No doubt the lander's com system was down for the count, so the portable long-range radio that was part of the expedition equipment was their only hope of getting a message to the
Montero
. “Soon as Sandy finds it, I'll set it up and try to . . .”

Suddenly, they heard a muffled shout. Sean looked around, saw Cayce urgently waving to them. The lieutenant looked absurd in his skinsuit and helmet, but Sean bit his lip against the remark he was tempted to make.

“Lieutenant?” he asked, once he, Kyra, and Sandy hurried over to him. “What did you . . . ?”

“Something's coming.” Cayce pointed to the west. “Look.”

At first, Sean couldn't see what the team leader was talking about. Then he made out a small plume of icy fog moving toward them at ground level, a small black dot at its base. A vehicle of some sort, he guessed. The lack of a perceptible horizon hindered his estimation of how far it was from them; it could have been a mile away, or five, or even ten.

Regardless of the distance, though, he knew that Cayce was right. Someone had seen their craft come down, and
arsashi
were on the way to investigate.

“Anyone know
arsashi
?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“This isn't funny, Corporal.” Cayce glared at him from behind his helmet faceplate. “We're trespassers . . . and they're going to blame us for what's happened to the pod's ceiling.”

Sean had to admit that Cayce had a point, but before he could say so, Sandy spoke up first. “Funny you should mention that . . .”

He looked around to see her staring up at the sky. Sean followed her gaze, and was immediately bewildered by what he saw. The upside-down funnel cloud caused by the escaping atmosphere was still there, yet in only the last few minutes it had diminished to a fraction of its former size. Even as he watched, its mouth was closing, the longer finger of its spout collapsing in upon itself. As if . . .

“I'll be damned,” he murmured. “I think the hole is disappearing.” He looked down at Cayce. “You were watching when we hit. You tell me . . . how big a hole did the lander make when we went through?”

Cayce paid no attention to either him or the dying tornado. “We may need to defend ourselves. Corporal LaPointe, have you found our weapons yet?” Sandy didn't say anything but only pointed to one of the open equipment boxes. “Good. Everyone, take out a fléchette pistol and load it. I want the
arsashi
to know we're prepared to defend ourselves.”

Not waiting for a response, he jogged over to the box. No one followed him. “Lieutenant,” Kyra asked, “do you think it's a good idea to be arming ourselves? As you said, we're the trespassers here, not . . .”

“Shut up and grab a gun. That's an order.” Kneeling beside the box, Cayce reached in and pulled out a fléchette pistol. As he slapped a clip into its grip, he seemed to take notice of himself. “Carson! Don't just stand there . . . Find another winter outfit and help me get out of this skinsuit!”

“Oh, allow me, sir,” Sandy said. “I've already put one aside for you.”

Sean looked back at the distant plume. It didn't seem to have grown much larger in the last minute or so; he figured that it was probably several miles away. “She'll help you, sir. I'm going to see if I can find the wireless.”

“Yes. I mean, no . . . That is, I . . .” Quickly rising to his feet, Cayce teetered back and forth, as if uncertain what to do next. “All right,” he said at last, still flustered. “Do it. But make sure you're armed.” He paused. “Those are
arsashi
. They're reputed to be warriors.”

He turned to follow Sandy to the other side of the lander. Sean and Kyra looked at each other, and Kyra shook her head. “Don't listen to him,” she said softly. “The
arsashi
have a violent history, but their wars were only among their own kind, and that stopped when they adopted
Sa'Tong
. There's never been an instance of their attacking another race.”

Sean hoped she was right. But when he glanced again at the approaching vehicle, he couldn't help but notice that it was approaching very quickly.

The fléchette pistols were in the same box as the portable wireless. The transceiver was a small case with a shoulder strap, a miniature dish antenna folded against its side. Pulling it out of the box and placing it on the ground, he pushed the power button. A red light came on, showing that its battery was fully charged.

“I'm going to try reaching the
Montero
,” he said. “If we're lucky, maybe we'll be able to get in touch with them before the
arsashi
get here.” He paused. “Not sure how much good that'll do, but . . .”

“Try it anyway.” Kyra was watching the alien vehicle. “If we can get through to them, they might be able to relay a message to the inhabitants, let them know that we're not hostile.” She glanced down at the pistols still in the box. “I'd rather do that than greet them with a loaded gun.”

Sean nodded as he raised the antenna. He had no idea which way to point it, so he oriented it upward and to the east, the direction from which they'd come. He switched the frequency-finder to the VHF channel reserved for emergency transmissions, then unclipped the mike and held it to his airmask mouthpiece. “CFS
Reese
to CFSS
Montero
. Repeat, this is CFS
Reese
to CFSS
Montero
. Do you copy? Please respond. Over.”

Only static from the speaker. He reiterated the message two more times, then switched to the Ku band used for ground-to-space transmissions and tried again. Again, no response.

“They're getting closer,” Kyra murmured. “I don't think . . .”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Sean looked up from the transceiver to see Cayce emerge from behind the lander. He was wearing winter gear, the parka hood pulled up over his head. The lieutenant's expression was hidden by his mask and goggles, but his voice betrayed irritation as he stalked toward them.

“We found the wireless,” Kyra said. “Sean's trying to raise the
Montero
, see if they can . . .”

“Oh, for God's sake!” Before Sean could object, Cayce snatched the mike from his hands. “You're wasting time! The
arsashi
will be here any second now, and we've got to be ready for them!” Dropping the mike, he bent down to the box and pulled out two holstered pistols. “Here . . . take these and put 'em on! Make sure your parka doesn't cover them!”

Sean noticed then that Cayce's own parka wasn't zipped shut but was open to reveal the gun holster clipped to his trouser belt. The team leader insistently shoved another gun at him, a silent demand that he take it without question.

A sidelong glance at Kyra, then Sean shook his head, refusing to take the fléchette pistol. “Sir, that may be a bad idea. There's no reason to believe that the
arsashi
mean us any harm. If we act as if we're . . .”

“I didn't ask what you think! I gave you an order!” Cayce looked at Kyra. “You too. Take the gun and . . .”

“No, sir, I won't.” Kyra's voice remained calm even as she stared at him in defiance. “Sean's right. If this is their territory, then we're visitors. It won't do us any good to be looking for trouble.”

Behind his goggles, Cayce's eyes widened in anger. “If you don't . . .”

He fell silent as a mechanical growl reached their ears. By then, Sandy had walked up from behind him. “Hate to interrupt, folks,” she said, “but we're about to have company.”

She pointed behind Sean, and he turned to see that she was right. All but unnoticed during the argument, the
arsashi
vehicle had covered the remaining distance to the crash site. Twelve feet tall and nearly twenty feet in length, at first glance it appeared to be a boat mounted atop a broad caterpillar tread, until Sean realized that the V-shaped blade at its front was a plowhead. White vapor rose from a stack behind its forward cabin, and he guessed that the vehicle had a steam engine. Indeed, in many ways it resembled one of the sledges used in Coyote's mountain regions during wintertime.

“Steady, people,” Cayce said quietly as the sledge rumbled to a halt, forgetting the quarrel he'd just been having with his teammates. “Don't be afraid.”

“We're not afraid,” Sandy murmured. “You are.”

Yet Sean had to admit to himself that he was more than a little nervous. And when the sledge's cabin doors opened, and its passengers climbed out, he wondered if it might not have been such a bad idea to arm themselves.

It was one thing to see a 3-D image of an
arsashi
and be reminded of imaginary depictions of the legendary Tibetan yeti; it was quite another to see one of the creatures striding toward him. Bipedal and almost eight feet tall, with thick brown fur covering heavily muscled bodies, their eyes intense yellow orbs with rectangular pupils that looked very much like those of a goat. The
arsashi
wore knee-length kilts, short-sleeve tunics, and ankle boots made of some leathery material, and the manelike fur of their heads was braided with multicolored beads. It was hard to ignore the sharp fangs protruding from the corners of their lipless mouths.

There were three of them, and as they came closer, Sean noticed that the largest of the trio had four large breasts bulging beneath its . . . or rather, her . . . tunic. The two males took up positions on either side of her, as if to offer protection. Remembering something he'd once read about the
arsashi
, he turned to Kyra. “Maybe you should do the talking,” he whispered. “Woman to woman, so to speak.”

She nodded and started to walk forward, but Cayce raised a hand for her to stop. “That's my job. I'm in charge, remember?”

Kyra sighed, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “It would be better if Sandy and I did this. The
arsashi
are a female-dominant race, and they expect women to be the leaders in all things.” She paused, then coldly added, “Sir.”

Cayce hesitated, then reluctantly stepped aside. Kyra motioned for Sandy to join her. “Just do as I do,” she whispered, as they slowly approached the three
arsashi
, who appeared to be patiently waiting for them. The two women stopped a few feet away; Kyra bowed, and Sandy did the same a moment later, but neither of them spoke before the
arsashi
female did.

The first thing she said came as a surprise to Sean. Raising her left hand, she spread her palm outward.
“Sa'Tong gro,”
she growled.

Despite the mispronunciation, Sean recognized what she'd said:
Sa'Tong qo
, a
hjadd
expression favored by
Sa'Tong
followers as a form of greeting. Kyra wasn't a
Sa'Tong
ian, but she imitated the gesture.
“Sa'Tong qo,”
she said.

The
arsashi
leader's yellow eyes slowly blinked, then her mouth opened and an obscenely long tongue lolled out from between sharp teeth. The guttural
hyuck-hyuck-hyuck
that followed couldn't have been anything but a laugh, then she looked at the male to her right and, pointing at Kyra, said something in their own language. Sean couldn't understand what she said, of course, save for one word she repeated twice:
human
, which she pronounced as
who-mahn
.

“So far, so good,” he muttered to no one in particular.

“Shh!” Kyra gave him an admonishing glance, then looked at the
arsashi
leader again. “Humans,” she said, gravely nodding as she swept her hand to encompass Sandy and the men behind her. Then she pointed to the crashed lander. “Coyote,” she added. “Humans from Coyote.”

The
arsashi
leader had opened her mouth as if to say something when the male to her right spoke up. Raising a hand to point to the sky above, he said something that, judging as best as Sean could from his tone, sounded angry.

“I was afraid of this,” Cayce said quietly, ignoring Kyra's earlier warning. “They're upset about the damage we've caused.” He paused, then looked at Sean. “Be ready, Corporal. This might get ugly.”