Quinn reddened. “All right, let’s shut it down.”
Zothan nodded, and the bubble vanished. The air was still and silent, as if it had been awaiting their arrival for a thousand generations. The dolin turned, and Quinn squinted in its intense orange beam.
“Why have we stopped?” Quinn demanded.
“I am detecting a signal,” the dolin said.
“Signal? What kind of signal?”
“It appears to be a call sign, though it is on an unusual frequency.”
“Like a distress beacon?”
“That would be one interpretation.”
So far, the construct was not being very helpful. “Who’s it from?”
“I cannot be certain, but it originates on this level.”
Quinn turned to Zothan. “What do you think?”
“This is only the third level up from ground,” Zothan replied. “The survival of any sentient life this far down seems highly unlikely.”
“So what… an old automated transmission, then?”
“That would be the most likely explanation, although…”
“What?”
“If it is still transmitting after all this time, then that would be quite remarkable.”
Quinn heard muffled knocking. The giant knelt, a door on its back opened, and Conor emerged.
Quinn shook his head. “This isn’t an archaeological expedition. Ximun and his Damise buddies are riding roughshod over the Consensus as we speak. Earth will be in their sights next. When we reach the upper level, we can tell the Kimn or anyone else who’s interested what we found, but we can’t afford any side excursions.”
Conor clambered onto the dolin’s shoulder. “What’s going on, Dad?”
Quinn breathed a small sigh of relief. The boy’s manner held no trace of resentment over the earlier incident in the sphere. “It’s nothing. Just an old distress signal somebody left switched on.”
“Maybe someone’s hurt?”
“Zothan thinks that’s highly unlikely.”
“But we can’t be sure, right?”
Quinn felt as if the ground were slipping beneath his feet. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but—”
“When we found the Shanata’s world destroyed, you insisted on going aboard that transport even though the odds of finding anyone alive were next to nil.”
“That was different?”
“How was it different?”
Quinn recalled protracted debates with Conor on Eire Colony over whether or not the family should get a dog. They’re messy. The shipping and quarantine costs from Earth are exorbitant. Someone will have to walk it. Wouldn’t a hamster be more practical? All the arguments that made sense to an adult went up in smoke when presented to a teenager.
Before Quinn could finish preparing a little speech about urgency and the fate of humankind, Zothan whispered in his ear. “Quinn.”
His eye followed where the Nemazi was pointing. On the plain ahead of them, lights flickered on, illuminating a series of concentric rings. Lines radiated from a central hub, suggesting a single, vast construction.
Conor gazed wide-eyed at the sight. “Let’s go meet them!”
~
Feeling like a reluctant bride, Quinn trailed after the dolin as it descended a shallow slope. He had questioned the others about the identity of the race that had occupied this level and come up empty. Conor insisted that the knowledge placed within him by the Agantzane didn’t include information on Pann. Zothan had no inkling of this world’s distant past, and the dolin had been put to sleep before the first level was constructed.
Quinn hadn’t discounted the possibility that this was another of Ximun’s little tricks. Perhaps the Agantzane had got wind of the fact that he hadn’t done away with himself on Pann’s ground level as they’d intended. Perhaps this was a diversionary tactic. If so, then who knew what traps awaited them?
Even if the Agantzane were not involved, then by all appearances, he and the others were walking blindly into the lair of an ancient and very powerful race.
As they approached, Quinn found himself hoping that they would be unable to find the door. Or that if they did find it, it would be locked, and they would be forced to turn away from the siren call of this long-forgotten civilisation and resume the mission at hand.
The lighted edifice spread out before them. How could a race that had been buried for close to three thousand years generate that kind of power? Was it possible any of them could still be alive? The sheer wall rose like a cliff, smooth and impenetrable.
Quinn gazed up at it. “Looks like there’s no way in.”
Perched on the dolin’s shoulder, Conor urged the construct forward. As it drew close to the structure, a section of the outer wall vanished, revealing a dolin-sized hole.
“It seems we are expected,” Zothan said.
Quinn balked at the realisation that nothing he said was going to make a difference. They were going inside.
~
Cocooned in the sphere and with Zothan by his side, Quinn passed through the opening. As soon as they were through, the wall solidified behind them. Inside was darkness. The dolin’s shining eye swept the area. They were in a section of a hall that stretched away to the left and right.
Zothan collapsed the sphere, plunging them back into three-dimensional space. As Quinn opened his mouth to object, the walls and ceiling began to glow. The passage curved away into the distance. The inner wall was lined with transparent cylinders that looked like giant test tubes. There were dozens, possibly hundreds of them. Mesmerised, Quinn walked slowly towards one, dimly aware of Zothan at his shoulder. Stopping just before it, he peered into its depths.
Inside was the dim outline of a creature suspended in pale-green fluid. It was the size of a child, with a proboscis and long ears flattened against its head. Its eyes were closed, and artificial tubes were attached to its body. A memory surfaced of a shelf in his biology classroom where dead things were preserved in formaldehyde. He felt the same sense of revulsion towards these creatures as he did for the school specimens. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “What is it?”
“I do not recognise the species,” Zothan replied.
He shivered. The air was cold and still, like a freshly dug grave in November. His boots echoed on the hard floor as he examined another cylinder, and then another. The creatures suspended within were identical to the first.
“They appear to be life-support units,” Zothan said. “However, no power is reaching them. I do not believe any of these beings are still alive.”
Quinn nodded. “We should leave. There’s nothing to see here.”
The dolin’s voice reverberated. “The signal emanates from the centre of this structure.”
“Then we have to check it out,” Conor said.
Quinn sighed. “All right, but if we don’t find anything there, we turn around and leave. Understood?”
Perched on the dolin’s shoulder, Conor lowered his gaze and nodded. “Okay, Dad.”
“What’s the quickest way?” Quinn asked.
“From the layout, I believe that any passage at right angles to this one should lead us directly to the hub,” Zothan offered.
“Then let’s go. Can you re-form the bubble?”
“I do not believe that is necessary, Quinn,” Zothan said. “The beings occupying this place expired a long time ago. They cannot harm us.”
Quinn stared at one of the creatures. Its arms and legs were crooked as if it might come to life at any moment and break out of its clear-sided prison. He swallowed. “We’ll use the bubble.”
~
The corridor bent gradually to the right. Seemingly endless cylinders lined the walls, each one containing a dead creature. Had the creatures built this structure in a last-ditch effort to preserve their race? If so, it had clearly failed.
They reached a section where the cylinders were dark. Something crunched beneath Quinn’s boot. “Stop this thing.”
Zothan shut down the spher
e, and Quinn yelled at the dolin. It rolled to a halt like a beast of burden.
Smashed glass and dried green patches covered the floor. The cylinders were empty.
“Was there an explosion or some sort of power surge here?” Quinn asked.
“Power conduits are intact,” Zothan replied. “I detect no signs of explosive damage.”
Deliberate vandalism, then. No, not vandalism. If the creatures had been alive at the time, then it was murder. Mass murder.
He tore his gaze from the empty cylinders. “Let’s move on.”
Ten minutes later, they reached a junction and started down it. More cylinders lined the walls. A few were dark, but Quinn saw no repeat of the earlier slaughter.
Without warning, the sphere dissipated once more.
“Forgive me,” Zothan said. He headed for the cylinders.
Quinn called the dolin to a halt. When he turned back, Zothan was examining the wall in fine detail. Quinn came up behind the Nemazi’s shoulder. “Mind telling me why we’ve stopped again?”
“I am engineering division,” Zothan began. “I have no expertise in biological devices, though they bear certain similarities to other systems. However, I fear I may have misled you.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
Zothan pointed. “You see the nodes there and there?”
“Yes.”
“I assumed they were power distribution points for the maintenance of life support. However, the configuration is not consistent with that conclusion. Furthermore, the distribution of tubes from the receptacles suggests reverse input.”
Quinn closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’ve lost me.”
“I do not believe these receptacles were intended for life support—at least, that was not their primary function. I believe they were designed to extract something from these creatures.”
“What?” Quinn’s stomach churned “Do you know what they were extracting?”
“I am afraid not. Even if I could obtain a sample, I would have no way of analysing it.”
Quinn nodded. “I understand. Thanks anyway.”
“There is something else.”
“Go on.”
“Whatever they were extracting—the conduits all flow in one direction.”
“Let me guess—the centre of this construction, right?”
“You are correct.”
On Earth, spiders paralyzed their prey, wrapped them in silk, and then sucked out their liquefied innards. Now, the “spider” was calling to them.
Quinn shuddered. “You said the four-space bubble is used by Nemazi assassins?”
“Yes, Quinn. What of it?”
“Nothing,” Quinn replied. “Nothing for now.”
~
The corridor terminated in a dead end. Quinn stared up at a wall of bare metal.
“I believe we have reached our destination,” Zothan said. “Beyond lies the centre of this structure.”
Quinn glanced sideways at him. “Know where the doorbell is?”
“If there is an entry control, it must be concealed.”
Backtracking to another access corridor would take at least another half an hour. We’ve lost too much time as it is. Then again, if he abandoned the rescue attempt, he would have to explain his decision to Conor, and he could easily see that taking half an hour or more.
The dolin knelt. A hatch creaked open, and moments later, Conor appeared on the giant’s shoulder.
Maybe Quinn could shorten the process. He gave a theatrical shrug. “Seems we’re locked out.”
“Why not get the dolin to burn down the door?”
As Quinn opened his mouth to object, the dolin boomed. “My power reserves are low. I do not believe I can supply a beam of sufficient intensity.”
Quinn tried to hide his relief. “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”
“Have you tried knocking?” Conor pressed.
“I really don’t think—”
“Let me try.”
Quinn pursed his lips. “It’s okay, I’ll do it.” Let him exhaust all the available options, and then perhaps we can finally get out of here. Feeling foolish, Quinn raised his fist and rapped on the wall, stinging his knuckles. He snatched back his hand and massaged it.
“Way to go, Dad!”
He glanced up. A section of the wall had vanished, revealing a dimly lit interior and the unmistakable hum of machinery. His heart thumped as he stepped across the threshold.
A dazzling beam flashed past his eyes and fizzed against the adjacent wall. As he raised a defensive arm, something grabbed the back of his Nemazi mesh garment and yanked him backwards. He landed on his rump and stared up at Zothan.
“Quinn, are you injured?”
Quinn eased himself up, rubbed his coccyx, and blinked away the afterimages. “Just my pride.” Beyond the opening, more beams criss-crossed one another in an angry display. “What happened?”
“We appear to have triggered a defensive system,” Zothan replied.
Invite us in and then try to kill us. Lovely. Just as suddenly as they began, the beams shut off. Thin smoke curled in the air beyond the opening.
“The system appears to have disengaged,” Zothan said.
Conor grinned. “Great, let’s go.”
Pain and adrenaline pushed Quinn over the brink. “No, you’re staying here.”
“But Dad—”
“You’re staying here, and that’s an end of it! Go wait inside the dolin. I’ll call you when we’re done.”
The boy dropped his gaze and slinked away. As the hatch on the dolin clicked shut, Quinn felt a twinge of regret.
Zothan stared at him. “May I make a suggestion?”
Quinn felt his hackles rise. I don’t need any advice on how to deal with my son from a… a…”
“Permit me to go in alone,” Zothan went on. “I believe I can disable any remaining security devices. My reactions are a great deal faster than those of a human.”
Quinn swallowed. “Uh… sure. Okay. But be careful. Don’t take any risks.”
Zothan cocked his head. “All life is risk, Quinn.”
“The smaller the risk, the longer the life, my friend.”
Zothan nodded and slipped inside. Machinery muttered but did not react. Quinn watched until he was lost among the shadows and then turned slowly.
The light from the dolin’s only functioning eye had dimmed to a faint orange glow, as if it were slumbering. Quinn wasn’t fooled for an instant. It was a war machine. Zothan claimed it was also a life-form, but even if he was right, that changed nothing. The construct would slavishly follow its programming, and since Ximun had revived it, there was no telling what it might do.
Every second it was around placed them all in grave danger, but getting rid of it wasn’t going to be easy. The boy had grown attached to it, and Zothan appeared to side with him. Quinn’s plan to abandon it had been a spectacular failure. His only remaining options were to destroy or disable it. But how do you destroy something that’s all but indestructible? As he pondered the problem, an idea began to take shape.
When Zothan returned, Quinn’s expression bore a faint smile.
~
“The control area is secure,” Zothan announced.
Quinn wiped the smile from his face. “Control area?”
“Indeed. I believe that is its function.”
“What exactly is it supposed to be controlling?”
“I think you should see for yourself.”
Quinn gestured for Zothan to lead the way and then fell in behind the Nemazi. The interior was spacious—the size of a small concert hall. They passed between banks of machinery, but aside from the odd winking light, almost all were dark.
“The design of this place is most impressive.” Zothan’s voice returned as a faint echo. “Clearly it was built to last through many centuries. Power generation is a genuine mystery. I am unable to determine the source. However, it appears to be failing.”
Quinn took that as good news. Whoever or whatever was behind all of this should be weaker and therefore less of a threat. Still, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
They passed inside a ring of consoles. At the centre was a raised dais bearing an oval construction. Cables radiated from it in all directions. Zothan halted.
Quinn passed him, mounted the dais, and ran his fingertips across the surface. It was smooth and slightly warm. “What is it?”
“It appears to be some sort of life-sustaining receptacle.”
“You mean something’s alive in there?”
“Yes, but I do not believe it will be alive for much longer.” Zothan indicated a flickering display on a pedestal at the foot of the oval. “I cannot interpret the script, but all of the indicators show an extremely low reading.”
Quinn clutched his chin. “Perhaps the equipment was designed to transmit an automated distress signal when life signs dropped below a certain level.”
“That is a reasonable conclusion.”
Quinn stared at the oval. Centuries ago, something had been sealed inside that smooth-sided coffin. Had it been asleep all that time? All he knew for certain was that it fed off other creatures, and that it was protected by systems that were lethal. Zothan seemed convinced that if they simply left it alone, it would die. Perhaps that would be for the best.
Zothan broke into his reverie. “Quinn, the being within has very little time.”
If he stood by and did nothing, how would he explain that to the boy? On the other hand, the occupant was thousands of years old and close to death. Chances were it wouldn’t survive anyway. At least then he’d be off the hook. “All right, what do we need to do?”
Zothan went to the pedestal and tapped the screen. “I have initiated resuscitation protocols, but the creature continues to deteriorate. I am not sure why.”
“Well, you did your best. Don’t feel bad.”
“I have isolated the fault. The creature’s life signs have stabilized.”
The Arc of the Universe Page 2