Maelstrom, Page 3

  I love it that she’s important enough to let us do things we wouldn’t be able to without her help and that she’s willing to do it, Murel answered a bit primly.

  I wasn’t being disrespectful, sis. I just think it’s fun to see her sail in and take charge. She’s awesome. Like a queen.

  She is in a way, only of a company instead of a country. She’s got presence, Adrienne says, and of course it’s backed up with a lot of real power and money.

  The com officer on the Company Corps ship was enough of a soldier to know superior firepower when she saw it. “Colonel Cally can better assist you with that information, ma’am.”

  “Then I’ll thank you to fetch the officer in question,” Marmie said, not in a snooty voice but as if she would be truly grateful to the com officer for doing her job. One thing the twins had noticed about Marmie was that she never bullied the “little people” unless they were acting like total idiots.

  When a very official-looking man with an iron-gray crewcut and colonel’s leaves on his uniform stepped up to the com screen, the corporal sat back, looking relieved.

  “Madame Algemeine, I presume?”

  Marmie nodded regally.

  “Colonel Zachariah Cally at your service, ma’am. As my lieutenant has already informed you, this is restricted space and the best service I can render you is to advise you to return to the other pressing matters that no doubt compete for your attention and leave the current crisis to us. We are trained to deal with these things.”

  “Indeed?” Marmie asked. “As I explained to your corporal, one of the pressing matters to which you refer involves accompanying my young ward Ke-ola home to his family. If they are, as your officer indicated, in danger, then it is very much my business to do all that I can to make sure they come to no harm, as that would cause my ward considerable distress. Would it not, Ke-ola?”

  “Oh, yes, Madame, I would be very much distressed. My brothers and sisters and aunties and uncles and cousins are all there—and the sacred Honu’s family too. That is why I want to know where these meteors are landing. I am hoping they are not landing on my family.”

  “I’m sure Colonel Cally can understand your concern, Ke-ola, and mine. For of course we can surmise that since the company has sent a ship to aid the inhabitants, they must be in danger. It is a very large planet, and with very little, from the look of it, that could be harmed other than the people who have been settled there.”

  The colonel remained unruffled. “That’s true, Madame Algemeine. We have feeds from the surface that indicate a large strike in the very midst of the largest settlement. And yes, I believe that’s locally known as New Puna.”

  “Is that all? Have you had no communication from the inhabitants, no maydays or other requests for help?”

  The colonel ran his tongue around his lips as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Yes, we have. But right now, with the meteors still falling, it is far too dangerous to take a ship down there. While the situation is unstable, we would only be risking our people along with those below.”

  “I see. So no aid has been dispatched at all? No medical team or help in evacuating people to a safer location?”

  “They have medical people of their own and we hope sense enough to leave the area while the sky is falling.” His tone was snappish but he smiled, remembering to whom he was speaking.

  “Yes, well,” Marmie said, her accent more pronounced, drawled with a pursing of her mouth and a narrowing of her eyes that somehow conveyed that she was exercising great tolerance, “my ship has excellent shields and sensors for deflecting projectiles. I shall see to it at the next council meeting that we discuss having similar ones installed on the military vessels so you can take a more active role in this sort of emergency. If you would care to transfer some of your personnel to my vessel, we will be happy to give you safe transport to the planet’s surface so you may carry out your mission with greater safety and so that Ke-ola’s people will receive help as soon as possible.”

  Bright patches of red appeared on the colonel’s close-shaven cheeks and traveled down his neck. “I’m afraid I cannot allow—”

  “Mr. Guthe,” she said to her own com officer, “do patch me through to the High Command so they can provide authorization for the colonel to make use of our resources.”

  The colonel turned away for a moment. Murel and Ronan were certain it was to get control of his temper. When he turned back to face them, he did seem to have regained a measure of composure.

  “That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” he said smoothly. “It’s very good of you to offer your help. However, I’ve just received word from our link to the surface that the meteor bombardment seems to have stopped for the moment so we can all proceed.”

  He had his navigation officer provide landing coordinates for Johnny, and communications terminated while the Custer darted toward the pockmarked planet, the Piaf following.

  As they neared the surface, the landscape before them looked even less habitable than it had from the air. Murel had done some computer research on volcanoes while aboard ship, wanting to learn more about the one forming Petaybee’s newest landmass. One of the pictures of the field inside the volcanic crater had looked something like Halau’s surface. There were large craters pocked with emberous pimples of meteor rock. The comparatively level bits of ground looked back at them with thousands upon thousands of bloodshot eyes, and the air was still spangled with fiery rain.

  Ke-ola, his finger trembling, pointed out what had been New Puna.

  “You see that big hole there? That is where we had the gardens. And that one over there? That is where the pool was that held the Honu’s relatives.”

  “And your relatives, Ke-ola? Where are they?”

  He scanned the viewport in a slow, deliberate way then shrugged. “I don’t see the home dome, where the people lived. Not even a splinter. That big hole with the m-melted edges? That’s where it used to be.”

  Johnny quietly placed a hand on Ke-ola’s shoulder.

  As soon as it was humanly possible they suited up and prepared to leave the ship. The soldiers and Johnny at first wanted Ronan and Murel to stay aboard but the twins were adamant.

  “Since we are Petaybee’s ambassadors,” Murel said, “I think we really do have to be in on everything.”

  “You are only ten years old,” Marmion said. “It could be very upsetting out there.”

  “We won’t be any more upset than Ke-ola or his bruthahs and sistahs,” Murel said, pronouncing the words the way Ke-ola did, out of respect for what seemed to be a colloquial language mutation, rather than ignorance of the way everyone else said it. “We’re here to help and that’s that.”

  “Perhaps we should use the Piaf as a base camp, ma’am, and take flitters out to reconnoiter. It would be faster and we’d be less vulnerable in case the rocks started banging about again,” Johnny suggested. “Also, if we needed to collect the wounded, we’d have something to carry them in.”

  “I’m not sure your flitters will work here,” Ke-ola said.

  “Why shouldn’t they?”

  “Too heavy,” he said.

  “Not that much of a problem,” Johnny said. “Our all-terrain vehicles are just that—vehicles that adapt for all terrains. Terrain includes gravity. Might take a bit of adjusting but I reckon they’ll run, all right.”

  “That’s good, man,” Ke-ola said.

  They took the lift to the docking bay, where they suited up and prepared to disembark. The bay held all kinds of machinery—flitters, cranes, shuttles, and forklifts among them. The main entrance to the bay was cavernous enough to allow smaller ships to enter, but there was also another hatch for personnel only, and Ke-ola veered away from the flitters and headed for the air lock. It irised open, and the others stepped inside while it closed behind them and the gantry—a broad platform with an extendable staircase—extruded itself. Ke-ola took a step out onto the platform. It groaned beneath his weight.

  CHAPTER 4


  RIGHT, THEN,” JOHNNY said through his helmet’s mic. “Perhaps we’ll try it without the flitters for now.” He signaled the bay’s control room and gave the order that the flitters should be recalibrated for heavy g.

  Meanwhile, Ronan followed Ke-ola. Once he was out of the Piaf’s controlled environment, he found it hard work to pick up his feet and put them down again. It was as if he were wading through hip-high snow in heavy boots.

  “Use the antigrav setting on your boots,” Johnny instructed. “Two ought to do it.”

  Johnny tapped the control panel on the wrist of his suit. The twins had never had to wear such heavy protection before.

  I’m glad the controls aren’t actually on the boots, Murel said, following Johnny’s example. I don’t think I could see my feet real clearly with the helmet in the way.

  Yeah, Ronan agreed, activating his own boots’ antigrav function. But—hey, that’s a lot better!

  Dust and smoke rose from the dozens of meteors smoldering in craters like malign red eggs in nests of molten rock. The steam and smoke from them formed a gray-brown sludge that hung in the heavy air.

  Ke-ola swarmed down the ladder ahead of Ronan. He ran like a charging rhino toward the meteor that had landed on the residence enclosure.

  “Poor kid,” Johnny said. “We probably won’t even find bodies if they were under those things when they hit.”

  “Well, surely not everyone perished,” Marmie said optimistically. “If these meteor showers happen often, the inhabitants must have developed some sort of defense.”

  “Ke-ola would know about that kind of thing, wouldn’t he?” Murel asked.

  The three of them were on the ground by then. Ronan trudged over to the crater where Ke-ola was. The larger boy was circling it, examining the edges carefully.

  “They might be under there,” he said slowly, nodding to the meteor.

  “You mean crushed under the meteor?” Ronan asked as delicately as possible.

  “Maybe not. They might have had time to take cover in one of the root canals before this one hit. There were trapdoors inside the habitats. Believe it or not, we’re in the planet’s green belt here. The meteors usually hit the equatorial belt, which is a big desert where nobody lives. I remember the elders saying how the showers were changing the orbit of the asteroid belt and shifting the planet on its axis, so maybe they started hitting here because of it. Anyway, usually, when they’re not all burned up like now, there are some scrubby trees and other plants that grow here—only part of them grows on the surface, though.”

  “So how would those keep people from being . . . you know?”

  Ke-ola’s breath huffed through the mic into Ronan’s helmet, and with deliberate patience he explained. “Because there are so few nutrients or water in the surface soil, they have these roots that are maybe ten times as deep as they are tall. Where old ones have burrowed into the ground and then died and the roots rotted away—a long time ago—there are the canals or tunnels. They’re big enough for people to stand in, or even live in, and some of them interconnect. They’re real deep too. My people use the channels sometimes, even though they don’t much like being underground. I think the tunnel under this bubble went deeper than the meteor.”

  “Then all we’d have to do is dig them out,” Ronan said, thinking of all of the digger attachments for the flitters he had seen in the docking bay.

  “Yeah, if the meteor didn’t collapse the tunnel on them,” Ke-ola replied grimly. He sank to his knees, pawing at the ground with his heavy gloves.

  “Hey, you don’t have to do that,” Ronan told him, touching the shoulder of Ke-ola’s suit with his glove. “The Piaf has plenty of equipment to dig way deeper than you can.”

  But Ke-ola didn’t seem to be listening. Ronan decided he must be in shock. Leaving his friend to his own futile efforts, he sensibly galumphed a couple of steps back toward the others to tell them about the underground canals.

  “We heard,” Johnny said. “These transmitters in the helmets send to everybody unless you narrow the frequency. The flitters are being fitted with diggers and crews are already being mobilized.”

  Marmie knelt beside Ke-ola so that her helmet-enclosed face was close to his. “Come away now, Ke-ola, before something lands on you and burns through your suit,” she told him.

  But he ignored her too.

  Everyone else returned to the ship’s interior and waited until the equipment was ready. When they reentered the airlock, the twins followed Johnny’s and Marmie’s example and pulled off their helmets but kept their suits on as they stepped through the air lock, back into the docking bay. It was now a hive of activity as equipment was fitted and tested.

  Murel stayed close to the bulkhead and looked through the small porthole to the ground below, where Ke-ola continued to dig. I hate to leave him like that, but it’s daft to think he’ll be able to dig down to them with just his hands.

  Of course it’s daft, Ronan replied, but if it was Kilcoole that was buried down there instead of Ke-ola’s village, would you wait for someone else to try to save them? I think not!

  The interior hatch to the docking bay slid open to admit a small troop of people marching double time toward the flitters.

  Watching the flitter crews climb aboard, wearing suits but only carrying helmets, made Ronan worry about another matter. “Johnny, we have to wear our suits when we go outside. If Ke-ola’s people were inside when the shower hit, they probably didn’t have their suits on,” he said worriedly. “They wouldn’t be able to breathe without the suits belowground either, would they?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose the instinct would be to get out of the way of the meteors and worry about suffocation later—or maybe they grabbed the suits as they went down and had time to put them on before they could suffer ill effects. We can hope so, at least. Ke-ola might know.”

  Ronan pulled his helmet back over his head and spoke into the microphone inside it. “Ke-ola, you told us there’s room enough for your people underground, but won’t they suffocate for lack of air if they didn’t have suits with them?”

  After a pause, Ke-ola replied, “No, they won’t. Not down there. The air’s better belowground than above.” A hopeful note had come into his voice, though Ronan could hear his heavy breathing as he continued pawing at the ground. Drawing a deeper breath, Ke-ola continued, “The air up here is okay as far as basic composition goes but it’s contaminated by a lot of space junk that gets drawn to the surface by the gravity. Underneath, the heavy root systems of the plants work to purify the air.”

  “I thought that was because of chlorophyll and photosynthesis.”

  “With the plants we brought with us, terran plants, that’s how it is. But these native plants have other properties that let them do the same thing with their root systems. Also, the planet’s water is underground. Something to do with the gravity again.”

  As Ke-ola spoke, Ronan looked up and saw that the shovel-bearing flitters with belted tracks for surface travel were being flown toward the air lock.

  Johnny and Marmie were pulling their helmets back on and heading toward the flitters.

  “Okay, Ke-ola,” Ronan said into the mic. “The diggers are ready. We’re on our way.”

  Murel squatted down so Sky could jump off her shoulders. She didn’t look back, not wanting to encourage him to follow.

  Once the diggers and their technicians were offloaded, Johnny, Marmie, and the twins took a flitter to the surface. It dropped quickly and flew low, laboring under the pull of the heavy gravity, but it worked. Another digger that had been ahead of them pulled up to Ke-ola, and after a brief exchange with the driver, Ke-ola crawled into the machine’s cab beside him.

  “Madame Algemeine, what are you doing with that machinery?” Colonel Cally’s miniaturized face demanded from the comscreen on the flitter’s instrument panel.

  Marmie had had about enough of the colonel, as her expression showed, but she replied sweetly, “I thought I’d use the meteor cr
aters as the entrance for a new mining operation, Colonel. I do hate to let a good disaster go to waste.”

  “I’m sure even a lady of your position would find that difficult to explain to the council,” Cally said pompously, and then realized—slowly—that he was being had.

  “I would hope so, if that were the case. But vraiment, we undertake now a rescue operation. Ke-ola believes that he knows where some of his people may be trapped underground. If you have digging equipment and muscle to spare, I’m sure we’d all be grateful for your help.”

  “Actually,” he said smoothly, “if you are investigating this area for survivors, perhaps we should look elsewhere and see if we can find other spots where people may have taken cover. Halau held three quite large settlements, you know, and they’ve become larger as time has gone by. These people bred like rabbits—not that I think anything is wrong with that. Their size and this world’s heavy gravity made them very strong, well suited for a variety of jobs involving heavy manual labor.”

  “Your concern is touching,” Marmie said. “Don’t let us keep you from your noble rescue efforts.”

  Murel was seeing red that had nothing to do with meteor fire. “He’s awful, Marmie! You should report him. He doesn’t care about Ke-ola’s people at all.”

  “Get real, sis,” Ronan said aloud. “If the company cared anything for them, do you think they’d have settled them here? I mean, no offense, Marmie, ’cause I know you’re on the council and all, but this place is a hole, even without the meteors.”

  “I do realize that, dear,” she said. “Unfortunately, there are so many of these displacement worlds that not even I know about all of them. Since learning about Petaybee, I have made an effort to discover where Intergal has settled as many of the so-called inconvenient people as I can. Most of them were far less fortunate than your people and did not land on so hospitable a world as Petaybee. I’m afraid the colonel’s attitude is a mirror of that of his employers. Intergal does not wish for the inhabitants of these places to be happy or comfortable, because they want to draw upon these populations for military personnel, laborers, or other less desirable career opportunities within their ranks. Appealing to the Federation does little good. There are a few who are genuinely concerned and high-minded, such as Far-ringer Ball, but many are also major shareholders in Intergal and more deeply interested in the bottom line than in the welfare of the people involved in achieving the company’s fiscal goals.”