by Mike Freeman
The passageway constricted as he advanced past the last of the obelisks. Ahead of him the passage dropped down a steep ramp, ran horizontal for a while, then climbed back up again. Beyond the lowered section was a fork in the passageway that marked the end of the colossal entrance hall.
Havoc stopped close to the top of the ramp. On the left hand wall was a glinting panel of burnished obsidian. The panel was similar in size, if not in exact appearance, to the access panel by the gate at the Colosseum. He knew from his microdrone feeds that there was no equivalent panel on the other side of the lowered section. Charles and Kemensky wandered over to inspect it. Havoc pointed at the panel as he looked down the corridor.
“Don't touch the panel, ok?”
Charles shrugged.
“Ok.”
“I mean it.”
Charles pointed at the lowered section.
“Maybe they fill it with liquid and wash their feet. You know, as a religious procedure, like a foot bath.”
Havoc nodded slowly as he looked around. Eight microdrones had flown through this area without any problems. Still, he felt cautious.
He took a couple of steps down the steeply sloping ramp, looking across the lowered section to the far side. He turned his head sideways.
“I need a brave volunteer to––”
Havoc saw Kemensky swipe his hand in front of the obsidian panel with his all round sensing. Kemensky was the kind of pedant who would argue that swiping his hand in front of the panel meant he hadn't actually touched it. Havoc had bigger problems. An enormous problem, in fact. He was two paces down the steep ramp when the sky fell in. More specifically, the roof.
The ceiling that had been twenty meters above him was now only sixteen meters away. Given its rate of descent, in three hundred milliseconds – less than the time it takes a standard human to blink – it would collide with the floor.
Havoc’s suit could withstand many things, but a block massing a hundred thousand tonnes wasn't one of them.
79.
“Has anyone told you you're very good looking?”
Weaver looked up at Darkwood. She could hear a woman’s voice. Whoever the woman was, Weaver thought, she was really embarrassing herself.
“You have beautiful eyes.”
It dawned on Weaver that it was her. She jerked up, her cheeks burning. A wave of nausea hit her. Darkwood caught her nicely as she dropped back to the floor.
“Evelyn, you're in the library under the Colosseum. You've had a bit of an accident. Can you hear me?”
Weaver felt her face turning scarlet.
“Sorry. About the eyes, I mean.”
“You were knocked out while you were accessing the plinth.”
“Not that they aren't–– The plinth?”
“Lie down for as long as you want to.”
Weaver felt clarity returning.
“I'm ok, I think.”
She sat up slowly. Someone had re-suited her hand. There was a dull ache from the freeze injury that Havoc had dressed. Havoc. He had gorgeous eyes. She gave herself a mental slap. What the hell was wrong with her?
Beyond the concerned faces around her was the section of curved wall that together with the plinth that she’d accessed comprised the stack she’d been working on. An image was projected onto the wall. The image looked familiar.
Touvenay gestured at the image. He looked impressed.
“You got a lot of information. It's certainly useful.”
Fournier leaned forward, his voice rasping.
“These equations suggest something extraordinary.”
“A possible step change in energy generation,” Kemensky said.
Darkwood extended his hand.
“Would you like to get up?”
Weaver took Darkwood’s hand and he effortlessly pulled her upright.
“Thanks.”
Touvenay rewound the video projected onto the wall. Weaver realized that Touvenay was projecting a recording of what had appeared while she was accessing the stack. Touvenay paused at an image of some three dimensional mapping and pointed at a glowing cluster of symbols within it.
“You navigated via a symbol analogous to the ship’s energy system to this mapping. The cluster of symbols here suggests a store of energy systems, seven large and seven small, in this shaft. The associated information even describes dimensions and energy outputs. I’ve cross referenced the geospatial topology to our surface survey and we’ve got a clear match.”
Darkwood’s face lit up.
“You think you know where it is?”
“Precisely. We could try and recover the energy systems from the shaft.”
“Shaft?” Weaver said.
Touvenay projected their mapping of the surface of Plash onto the wall.
“There's a deep shaft south east of here. The mapping you accessed suggests that set into the side of the shaft, four kilometers down, is a series of tunnels and hangars and located within these are the energy systems.”
Kemensky whistled softly.
“Alien technology.”
Fournier smiled at Weaver.
“Well done.”
Darkwood smiled at her too. He was startlingly attractive.
“Yes, well done. Are you alright now?”
And considerate too, she thought.
“Yes, thank you.”
“You should probably visit the medstation,” Fournier said.
Darkwood nodded.
“Definitely.”
Weaver realized that her nose was trickling blood. Her eyes hurt a little. When she checked her vitals she realized she'd sustained some minor damage, resembling light burns, to the tissues in her brain.
Darkwood gestured toward the plinth.
“We're going to have to leave shortly. Do you mind if I...?”
Weaver shook her head, understanding Darkwood’s desire to make the most of their time here.
“No, please.”
Weaver tasted the blood in her mouth. The power levels she’d accessed had been pathetically low. The consequences of failing to access anything higher looked serious. Deadly serious.
“Be careful, Lucius.”
Darkwood smiled and nodded.
Weaver watched the curving wall as Darkwood accessed the plinth. It was fascinating, but she felt a pang that someone else was getting the rush of access instead of her.
She was jealous.
80.
A viper can initiate a bite and return to its starting position in five hundred milliseconds. It moves faster than a standard human eye can follow. That was longer than Havoc had to escape the falling roof.
He dived for safety.
He cleared the edge of the roof. There was an explosive thunderclap as the ceiling hit the floor. The boom echoed up and down the entrance hall.
He rolled onto his back and lay there. That had been too close to call.
“I might just lie here for a minute.”
Kemensky looked down at his hand, horrified.
“Gosh. Sorry.”
“That was the fastest I've ever seen anyone move,” Tomas said.
Havoc breathed out.
“Same here.”
“Ever. In my life,” Tomas said.
Kemensky stared at his hand as if it somehow had a mind of its own.
“It just...”
Charles shook his head at Kemensky.
“Idiot.”
Havoc glanced at Charles. The hypocrisy was overwhelming. Tomas frowned at the collapsed corridor.
“Seriously, that was the fastest I've ever see anyone move.”
Havoc’s reaction time had been unusually fast. He wasn't complaining.
“Seriously, same here.”
Kemensky waved his hand in front of the panel. Nothing happened. Kemensky persisted and after a minute as he swiped upward the roof ascended as quickly as it’d fallen.
Havoc stood up.
“You two. Move away from the wall.”
Havoc waited unti
l Kemensky and Charles were clear.
“Nobody move.”
Havoc jogged down the ramp, across the lowered section of corridor and up the other side. He passed the flattened remnants of two of his microdrones on the way. What the hell was this place?
He turned and waved for the others to join him. They jogged across together. No one wanted to be last and they accelerated as they advanced. Their unacknowledged race ended in a sprint up the final ramp before they bundled to a stop in front of him.
He shook his head.
“A foot bath, eh?”
81.
Tyburn sat in the mission control hab of the Intrepid, reviewing the findings being relayed from the surface. He examined Touvenay’s discovery of the possible location of fourteen alien energy systems.
Whittenhorn and Yamamoto stood nearby, studying a holo of the other ships taking up station off Plash. Ekker sat in the corner with his face expressionless and his eyes vacant. God only knew what was going on in Ekker’s mind – Tyburn didn't need, or want, to know.
Ekker blinked into awareness as Tyburn cast to him.
> Inform our colleagues about Touvenay's discovery.
> You mean at the shaft?
> Exactly.
> Do I say they're energy systems, weapons, ship drives...?
> All of the above.
> Numbers?
> Not all fourteen. Say... five. We'll give some to the ORC, that'll be our side of the bargain.
> Some?
> They sound too good for the ORC.
> Isn't everything too good for the ORC?
> Not while we need them.
> I still can’t believe Havoc hasn’t worked out who you are.
> He’ll get there.
> And then?
> Forewarned is forearmed, Ekker.
82.
Havoc slowly approached the entrance to a huge amphitheater located in the center of the pyramid.
“Let's take this nice and slow.”
Havoc peered through the columns that created an arcade encircling the entire chamber.
The central space was immense. In the center, two crystalline staircases spiraled around each other like perfect strands of a double helix. The staircases rose to a translucent disc high above and from there another four staircases climbed to a central altar.
The ceiling was a spectacular dome comprising countless interlocking onyx tiles. It was like being inside the multi-faceted eye of an insect. The ceiling was speared by seven wide tunnels that disappeared upward. Dim illumination flickered between the enormous tiles, giving the chamber a mystical feeling.
Havoc advanced with the others through the colonnade to stop at the edge of the amphitheater. Tomas turned slowly in a circle.
“This is amazing.”
“Unbelievable,” Charles said.
Kemensky frowned at the princes.
“Why are you two whispering?”
“Out of respect,” Charles said.
Havoc checked the time.
“We need to go soon.”
Charles turned to him.
“Can we go up the stairs?”
Havoc masked his surprise. Charles was asking his permission for something in advance. This was major progress.
Charles’s face looked optimistic, presumably taking Havoc's silence to mean that Havoc was considering his answer, rather than trying to accustom himself to the novel experience of Charles asking permission.
Havoc studied the spiraling staircases.
“You stay behind me.”
“Ok.”
Havoc turned to Kemensky and Tomas.
“You coming?”
They both nodded. The amphitheater was incredible. Maybe there really were some places so inspiring you’d be happy to die in them.
Havoc made his way over to the stairs. He scanned across the chamber, ready to engage. A spiraling staircase stretched away above him. One hundred and fifty meters of vertical. Each step was over a meter high.
Havoc placed a hand on the first step, facing outward as he scanned the amphitheater. He swung himself up, coming straight to a standing position on the first step.
Where was everybody?
83.
Weaver found it a shock to step from the tranquil library back into the roaring wind at the base of the Colosseum. A glow was visible on the horizon. Dawn was coming.
Stone jogged down the avenue to meet them. Weaver looked past Stone, drinking in the astonishing alien architecture lining the avenue. Plash was another world, beyond her expectations.
“This place is amazing.”
Darkwood stepped alongside her.
“It's inspirational. Just imagine that humanity grouped together to create something like this.”
Weaver smiled at Darkwood, enthused by his passion. Stone slowed to a walk as he neared them.
“Let's show Weaver the minaret.”
“I'm not sure we have time,” Karch said.
Stone was undeterred.
“Yes we have. Come on, I wanted to show Saskia, but she's too professional to leave the ship while we're all outside. She wants to protect me.”
Novosa's voice came over the radio.
“I heard that, little man.”
Stone grinned as he took hold of Weaver's arm. He leaned into the wind and set off toward the triangular plaza next to the Colosseum.
“Come on. You will love this. Love it.”
“I’ll see you back at the shuttle,” Darkwood said.
Weaver nodded as she was dragged away. Karch tutted as she followed a few paces behind.
“Not long.”
Stone dropped Weaver's arm and scurried forward.
“We don't need long.”
Ornate carvings lined the triangular plaza. In places they’d toppled like defeated chess pieces. Stone kicked one as he passed.
“Solid.”
A true scientist, Weaver thought, smiling to herself. A thought struck her as she inspected the carving.
“This isn't right.”
Karch spun, scanning for threats.
“What do you mean?”
Weaver raised her hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it’s dangerous.”
Karch looked at Weaver expectantly.
Weaver pointed at a carving on the edge of the plaza.
“The images of this plaza in the library and carved on that obelisk very clearly show the minaret.”
Stone inspected the carving.
“So?”
“And there isn't a crater in those images.”
Stone raised an eyebrow. He began speaking slowly.
“Well I don't want to get too technical on you, Weaver, but the crater was probably made after the images were created.”
Weaver laughed.
“I'm not an idiot, Stone. It's just that the images of the plaza show the minaret at the dead center of the plaza. Right where––”
Karch frowned.
“The crater is now.”
“Right.”
Stone paused for a moment then shrugged.
“Weird. But not as weird as this. Come on.”
Stone hustled forward and Weaver followed him toward the white minaret that stood on the edge of the deep crater.
Stone seemed incredibly excited, far more than was good for him. Weaver couldn't conceive of anything that would be as exciting as the library. Accessing the knowledge of Plash through the mind interface was exhilarating. Intoxicating, even.
Weaver peered into the colossal crater. Whatever had collided with the surface must have impacted with incredible force.
“Don't go near the edge, Stone,” Karch said.
They approached the soaring white needle. Three walkways rose up from the plaza to join the three walls of the minaret low on each side. The walkways were wide at the bottom and narrowed rapidly as they curved up to the structure. Weaver studied the building, suddenly interested.
“Have you been inside?”
&nbs
p; “No,” Karch said.
“Er, no,” Stone said.
There was something in the way that Stone said it. Nevertheless, Weaver felt her interest waning. It might just be the small matter of the fires of hell, or more properly Jötunn, racing toward them across the surface of Plash at over fifteen hundred kilometers per hour.
Stone came to a halt by the nearest walkway. He gestured Weaver on.
“Go ahead.”
Weaver frowned at Stone as she kept walking.
As soon as she put her foot on the walkway she felt something. She walked into honey and then a padded wall. She leaped back.
Stone grinned.
“Ah hah!”
Frowning, Weaver slowly put her hand out. She could feel it being pushed back. This wasn't right. Magnetic? Gravatic? But that was impossible. She tried to move forward again, stepping slowly. For every centimeter that she moved forward, the resistance on her body increased. She tried to stop, perhaps ten centimeters onto the walkway. Something pushed her back with constant force. She tried to move forward. The force increased exponentially. It was bizarre. It was like––
“It’s magic,” Stone said.
“No,” Weaver said, a little harshly. “I mean, no.”
“Why not?” Karch said.
“We just don't understand, that's all. If this is to do with gravity though...”
Stone laughed.
“Then that would be magic then, wouldn't it?”
Weaver looked up at the minaret, shaking her head. She was dumbfounded. If the forces increased at the same rate all the way to the tower... She couldn't fit the idea into her head.
Karch pointed at the horizon.