Alien Worlds (15 page)

T
race woke slowly from dreams about flamethrowers. He opened his eyes to the gray light of morning, at first not knowing where he was. Then he remembered forming a bed out of the grass floor in the back of the hut.

He rolled over and gazed at the sunlight seeping through the roof. Joss’ cabana was in disrepair. He studied the thinning patches of vegetation above him. A grid-like frame of reeds showed through swirls of stringy grass—architecture different from the wooden tower in the middle of the village. Would this culture have considered cutting down trees for lumber if Emperor Joss and his counterparts hadn’t intruded upon them?

He sat up and rubbed his face. His gloves smelled as musty as his bed. Natica slept upon the platform in the center of the room. With a start, he realized Impani wasn’t there. He rushed from the hut and found her outside with the components strewn before her.

He let out a breath and knelt. “Good morning.”

She showed him the board. “Take a look at this. Does it seem familiar?”

“It’s like the homing device in your belt buckle. Only larger.”

“I think Robert is right. It gives us the ability to call an Impellic ring.”

“What good is that if the ring’s still fractured?”

“That’s where these chips come in.” She snapped a small board onto the edge of the larger. “I think they’re meant to modify the signal once we’re actually inside the ring, re-directing energy from the healthy rings onto the broken one.”

“Stabilizing it until we can get through.”

“The problem is I don’t know the proper configuration. Their edges are color coded, but the motherboard is not.”

“Match it to the device inside your buckle.”

“I tried.” She motioned at her belt lying in the grass. “It’s all integrated. I can’t get the parts off the board to look at them.”

He watched her in silence. He could almost see thoughts racing behind her bright eyes.

“The academy knows we aren’t techs. They would try to keep the device as simple as possible.” She rattled the chips in her hand then tossed them down. “I wish I had another belt for comparison.”

“Well, here. Take mine.”

“No,” she yelped. “We can’t risk damaging it. What if this isn’t the end of the line.”

“You think we might be picked up even after what Joss said?”

“We can only hope.”

Trace nodded. He didn’t want to stay on this world any more than she did. “What about Joss’ partner? Her suit had a belt.”

“That’s right. I wonder if the Royal Emperor would let us have it.”

“One way to find out.” He stood. “Be right back.”

She caught his hand. “Be careful. I don’t trust Joss.”

No doubt. The man’s a maniac. Interesting how easily Wilde fit in with him. Trace grinned. “Don’t worry.”

A well-trampled path cut through the trees. It was easier to follow in daylight. As he walked, he glanced skyward and realized that this was the first wooded planet he’d visited that didn’t have birds. He studied the bent and twisted branches, noticing only a few small mammals. Then the pungent smell of smoke reached him. Was the bonfire still burning?

The forest opened onto the village. Trace froze, staring. People sprawled over the tables, upon the ground, around the smoking ruins of the lookout tower. At first, he thought they were dead, that the village had been attacked while he slept in the cabana. Then he noticed other people moving in and out of the huts, hooting quietly to one another as if the scene were as natural as anything else was on this world.

Not dead. Inebriated. On the brew that was in the goblets.

Stepping carefully around the revelers, he approached the main table. Joss sat with his face in a plate. Wilde lay slumped to the side. Trace nudged him with his boot.

“Huh? What?” Wilde looked about, eyes unfocused.

“I hope you gathered some good intel on this place,” Trace said.

Wilde scowled and held his head. “Suck eggs, Hanson.”

“What’s that?” Joss boomed. “You came back? How did you enjoy the cabana?”

“Fine, sir. Nice view.”

“Never go there, myself. Smells like fish.” He guffawed. “Let me show you around my empire.”

He clasped Trace’s shoulder, leaning heavily upon him as he walked. Trace cringed from the stench of the man’s breath.

Joss pointed. “There’s a hut, and there’s a hut. And there’s my royal palace. From this angle it kind of looks like a hut.”

He laughed and slapped Trace’s back. Wilde glared murderously and stepped to Joss’ other side.

“How long have you been here, sir?” Trace asked.

“This location? Not that long.” Joss stroked his matted beard. “The
grapes
used to be nomads, following the migration of fish. But I don’t like all that moving around. So I introduced fire and taught them how to smoke fish and wait out the winter months. Then Beaumont came along.” Chuckling, he returned to the table, pried a goblet out of a sleeping warrior’s hand, and drank deeply.

Trace watched. How would he bring the topic around to his partner’s belt?

Wilde stepped toward Joss. “What did Beaumont do?”

“He taught his side how to use my fire to smelt ore and make spearheads,” Joss said. “I countered with chainmail, of course.”

“Why didn’t you just use stat-guns? You must have inherited a few.”

“Six, actually. But we decided early on that using tech would be cheating.”

Wilde grinned and sat cross-legged on the table. “What you need is an old-fashioned hammerhead slug pistol.”

“Yeah, but this planet’s got drel for resources,” Joss said. “No way to make gunpowder. No crude or kerosene.”

Wilde nodded. “I see the challenge.”

“The last thing Beaumont brought was hot air balloons. I tried arrows to bring them down, but the
grapes
have no upper-body strength. So I devised a crossbow with rapid load.” Joss removed a crossbow from one of the warrior’s wrists and held it out to Wilde.

Wilde whistled. “Nice workmanship.”

Trace said, “Sir, could I borrow Madelia’s belt?”

“What do you want with it?” Joss asked without looking up.

“We want to open the buckle and compare the homing device with what we have. We’re trying to construct a new device that will—”

“You’re building a homer?” Joss laughed, shaking his head. “Kids.”

Trace pulled back his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

Joss looked him up and down. Suddenly he leaped onto the table and crowed like a rooster. The sleeping warriors stirred. Villagers rushed from the huts. Joss honked and hooted, waving his arms and kicking goblets into the air.

Trace watched with feigned calm, stifling the urge to step out of the way. Wilde sat stiffly on the table as if afraid to move.

Then Joss knocked over his partner’s effigy and stripped the belt from the suit. He grinned at Trace, his eyes wide and mad. “Show me.” Turning sharply, he goose-stepped across the village.

“Are you crazy?” Wilde whispered. “He already told you that you can’t ring off this planet. You’re throwing it in his face.”

“I’m crazy?” Trace hissed back. “How do you deal with someone like that? One minute he’s lucid, the next he’s out of control.”

“He rules here.” With a knowing nod, Wilde followed Joss into the trees.

Trace hurried to keep up. “He’s a madman. And he’s destroying this culture.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This war of his against Beaumont. These people aren’t killers. They make their homes out of living grass.”

“So he taught them a thing or two.”

They entered the path leading to the cabana. Ahead, Joss cackled and marched, cracking the belt like a whip.

Trace cringed with apprehension. Lowering his voice, he said, “A true leader would be benevolent.”

“Benevolent?” Wilde sneered. “No ruler has ever been benevolent. You can’t pander to others and expect them to do your bidding at the same time.”

“But to alter an entire society—”

“Watch yourself, Hanson. Joss should be admired for all he’s accomplished. In any case, he’s our one hope for survival on this planet.”

Trace snapped his mouth shut and fell back a few paces. Wilde was as deluded as his emperor. Perhaps after Impani connected the components, they should leave the two of them behind.

<<>>

I
mpani sat outside the cabana, speaking quietly to Natica. “And then you fell into the crevice left by the lightning bolt.”

“How long was I unconscious?”

“I don’t know. The better part of a day, I guess. I was beginning to—” She looked toward the sound of singing coming from the trees. “Oh, no. The emperor is here.”

Joss stepped from the forest path, twirling a belt overhead and giving an off-key rendition of
The Farmer in the Dell
. Trace and Robert followed. Trace appeared anxious, waving for her attention behind Joss’ back.

Joss did a jig along the outskirts of the clearing, singing, “The rat took the cheese.”

Trace mouthed
put them away
.

Impani frowned, perplexed. Then she gathered the components and scooped them into their package.

“The cheese stands alone,” Joss sang loudly, leaning over her.

Impani stammered, “G-good m-morning, Your Honor.”

“Whatcha got there, little girl?” Joss asked.

“Electronic components.” She rose to her feet. “Circuit chips.”

He wiggled his fingers, silently demanding the package.

She glanced at Trace then handed over the components. “We’re trying to put together a controlling device to summon an Impellic ring. But the chips are color coded and—”

“Industry standard,” he said, peering inside.

She stared at him. “What?”

“Techs use a common denominator to make components interchangeable. These are standard colors.”

It was as if a bomb went off in Impani’s mind. Images assailed her, and she struggled to make sense of them.

Trace said, “But in what order?”

“It’s a set pattern.” Joss shrugged.

Impani closed her eyes. She pictured Missus hunched over the control box on the ant planet. The motherboard looked like a rainbow. She saw it in her mind as clearly as if she had taken a holograph.

“So what is the pattern?” Trace asked, his voice rising.

Joss laughed. “How should I know? I’m not a tech.”

“Orange, yellow, green, blue, black, white, red,” Impani said. She snatched the parcel from Joss’ hands and poured it onto the ground, laying the chips in order. Elation filled her. She glanced at the blank faces staring down at her. “Red and white connect the power, so they must go on the end here.” She snapped the chips onto the motherboard.

“You’ll never do it.” Joss snickered. “Greater minds than yours have tried to find a way off this world. You’re just a kid.”

“There’s room for three along this side,” Natica murmured.

“Even if you do call a ring,” Joss said, “which of you will be leaving? You know it can carry only two.”

“That’s not quite right, sir,” Robert cooed sycophantically. “The four of us came here in the same ring.”

Trace said, “Impani and I once carried an animal between worlds.”

“A large animal.” Impani smirked at Joss. “So if I can get this thing working, you can come back with us.”

Joss stared. “Me?”

“Sure. Don’t you want to finally leave this planet?”

His face melted into a slow grin. “It would be one hell of a debriefing.”

Impani reached for her belt and opened the buckle. A line of lights blinked merrily. She paused. “Wait. The power crystal is integrated. It won’t detach. I need a separate power supply.”

“Hello?” Robert sang out. “The power pack is missing.”

Trace knelt. “Can you use a stat-gun like you did for Missus?”

She shook her head. “The proton beam of a stat-gun is powered by static electricity converted from the air. There’s no air inside a wormhole.”

Robert cried, “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“Why can’t you be a little more supportive?” Trace snapped.

“There must be something we can use.” Natica glanced from person to person.

Impani frowned, her head too full to think. Then her gaze fell upon the belt in Joss’ hand. “The resonator. Madelia had a resonator. Joss, let me see that belt.”

Joss handed her his partner’s belt. She took out the resonator and flipped it open. Dusty lights flitted across the face.

“It’s still charged.” She flashed a smile at the silent group. Beneath the pressure of their stares, she slid back the case. A removable power pack sat amid red-and-white connectors. She opened her own resonator and pulled out a length of wire. “I think I can daisy-chain them together.”