The Ninth Circle (35 page)

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Authors: R. M. Meluch

BOOK: The Ninth Circle
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Nox had to ask, “Caesar needs psycho killers?”
“We have no use for psychotics,” said Numa. “They talk too much. Make no mistake, you are cowards. You
are
garbage. But you are Our garbage. You are not free. You are not citizens. We are Rome, and We own you. If We tell you to fly into a planet, that is what you shall do.”
Nox thought he was about to die. Even so, something lifted inside him. Maybe it was his squashed soul. All he wanted was to serve Rome. “Am I crashing the Xerc into the planet?”
“Not this planet. Not now. But it’s a future option. For now, get to Zoe, get your eyes on the ground. Gather every bit of information there is. Look for aliens.”
“Caesar? It’s an alien planet. They’re
all
aliens.”
“You will know them when you see them.”
That statement implied that Numa had already seen the aliens. Caesar must already have remote surveillance on Zoe.
“Will you obey?”
“Yes, Caesar.”
“Go.”
Nox froze in place, a question clogged in his throat.
“What?” Caesar prompted. A deep rumble.
He’s letting me go with a Xerxes
. Nox had not earned anyone’s trust.
All I did was say yes
. “You take me at my word I will do your bidding?”
“We would not take a syllable of yours on faith. But We don’t need to trust you. We know you are telling the truth. You lie like a Farragut. Which means you are abysmal at it. You have been fortunate so far in lying only to truly gullible people.”
Nox caught himself before he could raise a Roman salute. But he was not Roman. That might go over badly.
A last word rumbled from the massif, a blithe afterthought “Oh, and you might need to fly past
Merrimack
to get yourself on the ground.”
Ah. There it is. It is my name. My name is not going to help.
Nox assured Caesar, “
Merrimack
will shoot a pirate ship.”
“Try not to get shot.”
“There is a very high probability I will die trying to get my eyes on the ground.”
“Yes?” Numa gave a shrug of one massive shoulder. “
Quelle dommage
.”
 
The fox tribes traded out a few of their young adult members, thus mixing up the bloodlines and sealing their friendship.
Then Graysides’ pack went its separate way.
When the tribes divided, Princess went away with Rogue.
“Oh, Patrick,” Glenn said with her hand over her heart, her eyes teary. “There goes our baby.”
Patrick squeezed her shoulders. Sighed, “They grow up so fast.”
 
Director Izrael Benet’s res recorder saved all his incoming messages. Its capacity was advertised as: “As close to infinite as you’re ever going to get.”
It was full. There were inquiries from all nations and colonies in the entire known region of the galaxy.
Benet pulled the resonator out of its bracket and hauled it to the ship, where Sandy Minyas kept her workstation. Benet dropped the resonator on her desk. “Answer your messages.” He turned to go.
“Izzy—”
“Get your buddy to help you,” Benet cut her off.
Sandy said, “Where
is
Patrick?”
Benet took a wrong step. Caught his balance. Stopped. Thought. When was the last time he’d seen Patrick? Or Glenn?
Days ago?
At least days.
“Dead,” Benet answered airly. “He’s dead. I’m going to kill him.”
 
Nox returned to the Xerxes. Knew he was pale. Paler than his usual fair complexion. His red, blue, and yellow scars had to be standing out like neon.
The bronze-armored Praetorians withdrew from the Xerxes. The hatches closed behind them.
The energy hook holding
Bagheera
died.
Gladiator
separated from the Xerxes and vanished.
Nox’s brothers showed tentative smiles, baffled. Leo said, “We’re alive.”
“We’re
here
.” Galeo gave
Bagheera
’s bulkhead a thump. “Why in the brane did they let us keep the Xerxes?”
“Caesar told them to,” said Nox faintly.
That got him one synchronized blink from six sets of eyes.
Pallas said, “You had an audience with Caesar?”
Orissus said, “Of course he didn’t.”
“Oh, he did,” said Nox, light-headed.
“Yo?” said Leo.
“Ho?” said Galeo.
“Caesar is in the Outback?” Nicanor said, still not believing it. “Here?”
Nox nodded. “All of him.”
Nox told them about the audience. His brothers made him tell it several times.
“So that’s why
Bagheera
disobeyed us,” said Leo.
“He recognized a higher authority,” said Nox. He couldn’t fault the ship for obeying Caesar.
“How did Caesar get registered in the ship’s system?” Galeo said.
“He’s Caesar!” said Nox. “He wants it done, it happens.”
“But how did he find us?” Faunus said. “He’s Caesar. He’s not God.”
“
Frateri
, I didn’t get to ask a lot of questions,” Nox said, still rattled from the encounter. “And that topic didn’t come up.”
“He had to be getting a lock on a res pulse,” said Leo. “There is no other way.”
“We haven’t been resonating,” said Nox.
First thing Nox had done on hijacking the Xerxes was shut down the res chamber.
“I’m going to guess that we
have
been,” Pallas said.
“A second res chamber not on the specs?” Leo guessed.
“I’ll find it,” said Faunus.
“Look for two,” said Nox. He recalled a saying about redundancy. It was good. It was good. “And we have a handler.”
“Caesar
told
you that?” Nicanor said. It was not the kind of thing one is normally advised of.
“No, he didn’t tell me. But there has to be one. You know there has to be one.”
Nox set
Bagheera
to searching surrounding space for something lurking in the dark that could be watching them.
“Could be one of us,” said Pallas. “Actually, it
has
to be one of us.”
“No,” said Nox. He wouldn’t stand for that idea. Not for a moment. “‘You are my brothers.”
If it’s one of us, I really have nothing
. “The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.’ It’s not any of you.”
“Could be you,” said Orissus.
Nox’s blue eyes rolled. “If you think that, shoot me now.”
“Is it you?” Galeo asked.
“No. And it’s not you, Galeo,” Nox said. “
It is not one of my brothers
!”
But it was.
 
Toward evening the foxes took a roundabout route back to the meadow after merrily chasing a herd of rodents cross-country all day. Patrick decided on a more direct path, which took him and Glenn across a patch of overly ripe ground fruit.
The gourds grew on long trailing vines with browning leaves. The swollen fruits looked like pumpkins and smelled like tomatoes gone wrong.
A sudden pop and a splat made Patrick give a girl shriek. He hunkered down, covering his head with his arms. “Who’s shelling!”
Glenn shouted, “The vegetables are exploding!”
Another pumpkin burst.
“I always tried to tell my mother they’d do that!” Patrick said.
They had set off a chain reaction. Another gourd popped. Patrick saw Glenn get slapped with orange pulp. He shouted, “Run!”
He and Glenn came running and yelling through the patch. The foxes watched from their safe roundabout path, laughing.
When they got back to the meadow, the foxes didn’t want Glenn and Patrick near them. They stank.
“
I
don’t want me near me,” said Patrick.
Glenn’s face, coated with dried juice, was fixed in a wince. They headed through the deep-shadowed woods toward the stream to rinse off as the sun was setting.
Except for the exploding part, Patrick might have mistaken the gourds for pumpkins. Everything about this place was so very familiar—in a very strange way.
Everything except for those
.
Patrick put his hand over Glenn’s mouth.
He was pretty sure no one had ever done that and come away without teeth marks, and he suspected he was on the verge now. With his free hand he pointed over Glenn’s shoulder through the ferny branches as he pulled her down into a crouch.
He knew when she got sight of them. He felt her tense up in instinctive loathing for something they had never seen. His own hair stood up on the back of his neck.
Instinctive
meant it evolved. The loathing had been imprinted on their genes in some distant past. Though Patrick was not sure how one evolves a hatred of something no human had ever seen.
They were grotesque. They were wrong.
Patrick lowered his hand from Glenn’s mouth. She had no intention of making a sound.
They stayed huddled in place, watching in creeping horror until the things moved on.
Then Glenn and Patrick turned back, still sticky and reeking of tomato pumpkin.
Glenn whispered, “Is anyone back at camp studying those?”
“Not
me
,” said Patrick. “I’m a xenolinguist, and
I
don’t want to talk to those! They’re not local. They’re not even Zoen. Those things are extraplanetary.”
“How can you know that?” Glenn said. Sounded like she believed him. She just didn’t know why.
“I feel it in my DNA.”
20
 
I
MMEDIATELY UPON GLENN and Patrick’s return to the expedition camp, Director Izrael Benet had the two thrown into detention in a cargo container. Manny the pilot and Poul Vrba performed the actually throwing. Glenn might have put up a better fight. She just couldn’t believe what was happening.

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