The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [63]
Above him, Kessick led the way. He managed to continue his ascent at the same time he glanced down past Trip at the Captain. The Xindi’s tone was relentlessly curious. “You’ve risked your lives to learn where my homeworld is ... because you say you have important ‘business’ with my people. ... Which species?”
Archer gazed back without reply, thinking of the image of the reptilian-looking biped Phlox had reconstructed from the crashed probe. Amazing, to think that two highly intelligent species had evolved independently on the same planet. Was this a situation where the reptiles and the humanoids were at war, and the reptiles had launched the Earth probe without Kessick’s people being aware of it? The Captain remained silent, unsure of the answer to the miner’s question.
This served only to annoy Kessick. With supreme condescension, he demanded, “Have you ever even met a Xindi before today?” His snideness made Archer dislike him; he seemed oblivious to the concept of gratitude toward those who would save him. Perhaps he was incapable of ascribing honest motives to anyone. Archer tried not to assume it was a racial characteristic, but instead an individual one, honed by Kessick’s time in the mines. Anyone who had to deal with the foreman on a regular basis had good reason not to trust people.
“One,” Archer finally answered. “And he didn’t look very much like you.”
Kessick’s manner changed again, becoming abruptly open and unaffected; he seemed to appreciate Archer’s honest manner. “Not all of them do,” he explained. “There are five distinct species of Xindi ...” His tone grew wry, and a bit self-deprecating. “... and five distinct opinions on which one is dominant.” Archer detected a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor that gave him hope: Perhaps it would be possible after all to establish rapport with this alien. Maybe Kessick hadn’t hardened beyond all hope. Maybe—and it was a big maybe—he could even be told the truth, and be convinced to help for the good of both planets, Earth and the Xindi homeworld.
Archer found the thought of five intelligent species evolving together inconceivable. He opened his mouth to ask further about the fact, but was interrupted by the distant sound of metal sliding against metal.
All three of them stopped climbing and looked down, toward the sound’s source.
“What was that?” Trip demanded.
Archer began to respond—but his first word was drowned out by a second identical sound, then a third. As the last sound, coming from somewhere high above them, died down, Archer spoke.
“That sounded an awful lot like those emergency baffles we opened.”
Trip was frowning. “Why would they be opening the rest? It’ll just help us get—”
He broke off in midstatement as an ominous rumbling sound echoed through the shaft. Archer understood at once what was going on; he yelled, furious, at Kessick. Had the Xindi set them up?
“I thought you said this duct isn’t used anymore!”
But Kessick’s terror seemed all too real. “It isn’t! They’ve obviously rerouted the plasma!”
The rumble had become a roar. Archer turned his face upward toward the Xindi, and shouted, “How far up to the next maintenance hatch?” Too far, and they were cooked.
Kessick blinked rapidly, his mouth working; no sound emerged.
“How far?” Archer’s tone grew shrill, demanding.
“I don’t know!” The alien was clearly panicking; he gripped the wall, too frightened to move up or down.
Trip, however, was all business as he called down to the Captain. “I think the safest bet is to head back down to the last one!”
“I think you’re right,” Archer called up. Together, the two men began to crawl swiftly downward. The rumbling sound grew ominously closer.
Kessick, however, continued to cling to the wall, petrified. “That’s where the plasma’s coming from! We should go up!”
Archer didn’t stop moving down. “Suit yourself!”
He was betting that Kessick would follow.