by Thomas Stone
“Hell, their ship. It’s like nothing anybody has ever seen. If we had that ship, it’d change everything. First, we wouldn’t be stuck here. Second, you know how big the bounty would be if we turned it over to the Corporation.”
Jennings shook his head. “I don’t know. We had a deal with Fagen.”
“The guy’s a criminal! We’d be doing the right thing by taking his gear.”
“You think he’ll just stand by and let us take what he’s got?”
Griswold made a face. “What’s he got to stop us? A couple of women and an addle-brained, infected back-up?”
“He said there were others with him.”
“Well, I ain’t seen ‘em, other than that orange-furred alien, and he didn’t look like he would pose much of a threat.”
What Griswold suggested was something that had already occurred to Jennings. Griswold made a good point. Why should they knock themselves out when they would receive crumbs when it was all over – if they were even successful? Afterwards, they’d find themselves in the same shape: stranded on Mirabel and waiting for a Corporation ship.
Jennings didn’t have a problem with deciding to double-cross his new friends. It was the how of it that troubled him.
“We’ll have to be patient,” said Jennings finally. “We’ll have to wait for the right opportunity. If, by some stroke of luck, they’re able to get what they came for, I want that too.”
*
The wind had died down enough to let Fagen’s crew take out the simulcons. Kathleen was last in getting to the simulator console. Before she plugged in, Minerva complained about Harry’s decision to leave without the hunter’s suit.
“He’s intentionally avoided having a beacon on his person and wearing the proper gear. It’s not my fault, you know.”
“He was in a hurry,” said Kathleen.
“It was still a reckless thing to do.”
“Minerva? Are you feeling all right?”
“I am concerned, that’s all.”
“You sound... rattled. Is there something else going on? “Because if there is, well maybe you need to tell me.”
There was a long pause from Minerva. An odd reaction in itself. Then she said, “Harry may have done something to my programming?”
“In what way?”
“I, I’m not sure. I don’t understand the new simulator. I don’t understand its purpose.”
“What did Harry say about it?”
“He said not to worry, that the questions would work themselves out. What did he mean by that?”
Kathleen shook her head. “I don’t know, Minerva.”
Fagen and Bobbi were already guiding their simulcons over the search area and coordinating the search with Minerva when Kathleen directed her robot from the truck. “Where are you?” she asked.
“Just south of you,” he replied, “about half a kilometer.”
“That puts you near the middle of our search grid.”
“Yep,” said Fagen as he guided the simulcon over the top of a rise. “I see something,” he said.
“What?” asked Minerva.
“Looks like some old ruins. There’s sand covering quite a bit. I’m going down for a closer look.” The simulcon slid down the sandy slope and began to pick its way through the broken columns. It was the only place they’d discovered that offered any shelter at all. If Harry had found it, he was sure to be holed up, probably covered with sand.
“Minerva, bring the truck over here so we can use the radar to see under this sand. The storm has just about covered everything.”
“I’ll be right there,” she answered.
Fagen looked up. The storm had passed and nothing but blue sky remained. As he paused, he noticed motion at the top of one of the surrounding dunes. It was Bobbi guiding her simulcon toward him. He watched as she slid down the slope and strode toward him.
“How long you think this has been here?” she asked.
“A long time,” Fagen answered.
Bart’s voice broke through their earpieces. “I see you both now. This is extremely interesting. Indications of another civilization on Mirabel, one we haven’t identified.”
“While we poke around,” Fagen directed Bart, “keep scanning the general area. These ruins were just outside our grid.”
“Will do,” said Bart.
Kathleen arrived at the area prior to the truck. The three simulcons combed the area, looking for any trace of Harry. Freshly blown sand carpeted everything, nearly covering the broken columns. On occasion, the robots would bend to the task and dig but they found nothing.
*
One thing people always said about Luther Cross was that he was a stubborn man. He wore the epithet proudly, claiming it was a quality of character. “To do anything in this life,” he’d told others over and over again, “a man’s got to set his sights on what he wants and then not allow anything to distract him from his goals.” The statement summed up Luther’s attitude. That’s why he was so frustrated – his will had been squashed by Jennings and the outsiders.
He bent over the steering wheel, choking on the dust raised by the other two vehicles, as he peered through protective goggles. The windshield had long been broken out along with any other amenities the truck had once claimed. Now, it was just a truck holding a battered M71 machine gun and what few provisions he had remaining. He’d miscalculated the rate at which they burned their fuel and presently faced the prospect of running out of gas before reaching the abandoned depot at Boomtown.
They were still over a hundred and sixty kilometers from anywhere so when the lead truck sputtered and pulled over, Luther’s spirits plummeted even further.
Luther pulled up beside him. The driver of the truck looked at Luther and declared he was out of gas. Luther looked at the driver of the third pick-up, who had pulled up on Luther’s opposite side, and drew a finger across his throat signifying that the driver should shut it off. He did so and Luther turned off his engine as well.
Luther climbed from his vehicle, stretched, and looked around. They had left the dunes an hour before and were presently on the flats. Neither the dunes nor Boomtown was in sight. It was hot enough to fry an egg on exposed metal and they were almost out of water.
He pointed at the vehicle that still held a little gas and spoke to the driver, “Get out your siphon hose. We’re going to fill my truck with everything that’s left.”
“You sure?”
“I told you to do it. Don’t ask questions unless you’re ready to start walking.”
Wordlessly, the driver brought out the siphon hose and stuck it in the gas receptacle. He pulled the remaining length over to Luther’s vehicle where he removed the gas cap and began sucking on the hose. In seconds, petrol flowed from one vehicle to the other. It didn’t last long, however. The man attempted to suck more but the tank was empty.
“All right,” said Luther, “everybody into my truck.”
One of the men commented there wasn’t enough room to which Luther replied, “Then stay here and wait.”
The man looked at the surrounding desolation and shook his head. “I guess we can make room,” he admitted.
*
Harry awoke with a start and rolled to a crouch. Vibrations reached him from above, not from the storm that had been raging, but something different. He focused his mind and allowed his consciousness to float away until he watched himself from the rock slab ceiling. The vibrations that had roused him were closer. Curiosity pulled him up through the overhead onto the surface where, once again, he saw the field of broken columns. Except this time they were nearly covered with sand. What was more interesting was that he saw two simulcons digging in separate places. Coming down a nearby dune was Minerva-Too.
The simulcons straightened upright and watched the approaching truck. Before parking, it drove in a wide circle around the entire area. Harry felt radar waves passing all around him and once again, but weaker, as they bounced back to their source. They were searching the area
and Harry still had not found a way out. He descended and re-entered his body.
Harry got to his feet and his head swam. There was yet another door to explore on the other side of the bathing room. Maybe that was the way out. He stepped back through the doorway and crossed the tiled room. Like the other portals, there was no door, just an opening lined with hewn stone. On the other side was a smaller room and on its opposite wall was an opening, but it was completely filled with sand that had partially filled the chamber. There would be no quick dig out.
Harry turned away and continued to search along the walls and ceiling for another exit, but soon found himself short of breath. It took a moment to realize what was happening. The place was sealed up so tightly, he was running out of air.
On the spot, he sat cross-legged and took another breath. Closing his eyes, he released the breath, disappeared inside his mind, and quit breathing.
*
Fagen, Bobbi, Kathleen, and Minerva were holding a conference, so to speak, over the communications channel. Minerva analyzed the results of the radar scan in as close to real time as her processors would allow and communicated with the others at the same time.
“I can safely say he’s not buried under the sand,” said Minerva, “although there are indications of other areas beneath the surface.”
“Other areas?” questioned Bobbi.
“Yes. Rooms under the foundation. A basement, maybe. Anyway, there’s empty space down there. Infrared will not reach that far, but it’s a good place to seek shelter, if you can get to it. This place is old. Any open ramps or passages have got to be filled with sand. No way down.”
“We could dig,” Bobbi suggested.
“Until you hit the foundation. Slabs of rock no less than half a meter thick.”
“It’s a moot point,” said Bart over the mic, “he’s not here, let’s move on.”
“Fine, Bart,” said Kathleen, “but where? Have you spotted anything from up there?”
There was a pause on the circuit, then Bart said, “No. But look, he’s infected and his meds are wearing off by now. Have you considered he’s just playing hide and seek with us?”
“Oh come on, Bart. Where could he go?”
“Well, I just don’t see any use in wasting more time here when we could be covering other areas. I vote we go.”
Fagen’s simulcon reposed against a fallen column as he listened to the discussion. A bank of sand created a ramp up the column’s opposite side. “I say we dig.”
Blane moaned. “Oh Edward, you say that just to oppose me knowing all along that we’ll do whatever you say in the end.”
“So let’s save a little time and get started right away. Minerva?”
“Yes?”
“Where do we dig?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. With the size and thickness of the granite pieces making up the foundation floor, digging is out of the question. It’s not all bad news though. There are two places I’ve located from the radar scan that are good candidates for stairwells. If you’ll help set up the equipment, we can pump out the sand. More like vacuum actually.”
The simulcons removed the necessary equipment from Minerva-Too as Bobbi did the more detailed prep work from inside. Obeying Minerva’s instructions, they attached hoses where ordered to do so and connected control panels. When all was prepped, Fagen’s simulcon took the end of an enormous hose and placed it where Minerva directed. She cautioned everyone to stand away as the apparatus started up. The sand began moving slowly, first just a flow of dust caught up in the air, but then a stream was lifted, small in the beginning but growing in size until finally it appeared as a river being sucked from between two marble pillars. A space, framed by masonry, appeared on the desert floor. From the space, the sand continued to pour unabated like a waterfall flowing backwards. They had to stop a few times to make adjustments for the hose but when they finally got the stairway cleared, only an hour had passed.
The stairs were too narrow for the simulcons so Fagen and Kathleen left their positions at the VR control consoles and went together to the ancient stairwell. Bobbi waited for them. One look at her and Fagen knew she wanted to lead the way. When Kathleen stepped up to descend first, disappointment registered on Bobbi’s face. Fagen took Kathleen by the arm. “Let Bobbi lead.”
“Sure.” Kathleen stepped aside.
Bobbi started down and Kathleen looked at Fagen questioningly. Fagen shrugged and made a gesture toward the stairs. “After you.”
*
In the chambers beneath the ruins, Harry sat motionless, his body suspended between breaths, like a lotus blossom frozen in the dead of winter. He heard the sand being cleared from the passageway and when they broke through, he felt the air shift in the room. Moments later, he inhaled and opened his eyes. Rising to his feet, he dusted himself off and went to greet his friends.
He found them as they entered the artifact room. Ignoring the surroundings, they gathered about as Harry briefly explained becoming lost in the storm and stumbling across the ruins. Fagen gripped Harry’s shoulder and squeezed. “I was afraid we’d lost you.” Although he could feel their excitement at finding him, their attention was soon diverted to the artifacts arranged on the stone table. Kathleen hung onto him even as Fagen and Bobbi went to the table.
“Careful with those things,” said Harry, “some are dangerous.”
“What are they?” asked Bobbi as she picked up one of the stones. Fagen took the stone from her and returned it to the table. “They’re dangerous,” echoed Fagen.
“Yes, but what are they?” Bobbi pressed.
“Artifacts from another civilization,” explained Harry.
“What civilization?”
“Not kitzloc, intoned Fagen, “The kitzloc have no artifacts.”
“If not kitzloc, then what?”
Harry cocked his head and looked at Fagen. Fagen had already guessed the correct answer. “Tec’Lissir,” said Fagen.
“The True Ones?”
“Yes.”
Bobbi and Kathleen looked at the objects with renewed interest.
“Do you know what they were intended for?” Kathleen asked Harry.
“Some are still active, maybe all of them, I don’t know. What do they do? Can’t say for sure about that either, but the tree object is poisonous. The rod is a weapon. The stones, well I’m not sure.” In his mind, Harry heard whispering voices talking about the objects, telling Harry about the Tec’Lissir artifacts.
“Why would they leave them behind? And what is this place?”
A voice boomed from behind. “That’s what I’d like to know.” Jennings stepped into the light followed by Griswold and Randy Ellis. The younger Ellis was conspicuously absent.
Jennings craned his neck as he looked about the chamber. “Never seen anything like this,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. He looked at Harry. “What did you say this place was supposed to be?”
“I didn’t, but at one time, a long time ago, it was an outpost for the Tec’Lissir empire.”
“The what?”
“The Tec’Lissir, the ‘True Ones’. I told you before but you didn’t believe me.”
“Yeh,” said Jennings thoughtfully as his eyes played over the objects. He kicked at the floor causing a cloud of dust to rise. “Nothing’s been here for hundreds of years.”
“At least,” Kathleen affirmed.
Jennings and Griswold stepped to the table with the assorted artifacts. “Now, this is interesting.”
“Bunch of junk, if you ask me,” grumbled Griswold as he picked up the same stone Bobbi had looked at minutes before.
“Take care with that,” cautioned Fagen.
Griswold ignored him and lifted the stone until it was eye-level. “Look at that, it’s glowing.”
“Set it down,” commanded Jennings.
“I’m getting awful tired of being told what to do,” drawled Griswold.
“It’s for your own good.”
Still hol
ding the egg-shaped rock, Griswold faced Fagen. “If you hadn’t thought about it, these ‘items’ have been around here as long as this place. I doubt there’s any danger from crap as old as this.”
The voices in Harry’s head expressed amusement. It made Harry want to laugh but he suppressed the urge. Instead, he leaned against one of the empty tables and crossed his arms, a smile on his face.
Jennings took a step toward Griswold. “I said, put it down.”
The rock was glowing brightly now. Additionally, a dim glow was beginning to come from the other rocks.
Griswold locked eyes with Jennings. Griswold was a stout, muscular man, not as tall as Jennings but younger. In Jennings Bank, Griswold had an earned reputation as a born fighter with a bad temper. Not a man to be trifled with.
“Back off, old man.” Griswold removed a pouch from his vest and placed the stone inside. Briefly, it shined through the material, but faded quickly. Griswold picked up the second stone and placed it inside the bag. When he reached for the third, Jennings none too gently gripped his arm.
“Leave them be.”
Griswold moved fast, slinging the sack like a purse at a mugger, hitting Jennings with a shot across the side of his face. Jennings staggered backwards, tripped and fell to the stone floor, dazed from the blow. Blood seeped from a cut on his cheek.
Fagen took another step toward Griswold. Griswold raised the sack for another swing but paused when he heard a bolt being drawn back. He glanced toward Ellis who was pointing his Vimbacher at Fagen. Griswold’s mouth twisted into a grin. He turned back to the group gathered before him. Jennings was still on the floor, rubbing his jaw.
“I don’t intend on riling you people, but you gotta understand, I been driving all over this desert and haven’t seen a thing worth my time. It’s a big desert -- what ya’ll do is really no concern of mine. But Ellis here lost his son last night. Don’t that mean anything to you?”
“Of course it does,” Kathleen started.
“Shut up, bitch. I’m not finished.” He set his sack on the table and glanced at the other articles. “Stuff like this’ll fetch a pretty penny from the Corporation. That’ll go a long way in properly compensatin’ Ellis for the loss of his son and me for all the trouble.”