by Worth, Dan
Their comms. crackled into life: it was Steelscale.
‘I’ve found something you might want to see,’ said the flat tones of the translation software. ‘A place of worship of some kind, I think. I’ve marked it for you on your maps and I’ll wait here until you arrive. Plenty of the internal decoration has survived. I’ll think you will find it interesting.’
‘That’s wonderful, Steelscale,’ replied Katherine and checked her comm.’s mapping function where a new icon had appeared. ‘We’re on our way, though the going’s a little rough around here, so we could be a while. See you when we get there.’
‘Interesting,’ said Rekkid. ‘I wonder what he’s found?’
As Katherine predicted, the journey to Steelscale’s position proved difficult. They scrambled over piles of rubble, through buckled and shattered streets, through the remains of collapsed buildings and across what had once been broad public spaces but were now littered with massive chunks of debris and shallow dunes of accumulated grit and dust. More than once, Katherine and Rekkid were forced to assist one another in clambering over huge lumps of fallen masonry, pulling one another up and over cyclopean blocks where entire sides of what had once been skyscrapers had come tumbling down. Eventually they arrived at a solidly built structure with high, narrow windows and the smashed remains of what had once been spires at each corner. The masonry was heavily weathered, but the remains of ornamental carvings depicting various figures accompanied by the faint remains of an alien script could be seen on the exterior. Aside from the damage to the towers, the main building, shaped somewhat like an upturned boat, seemed largely intact. An ornate entrance, the doors having long since disintegrated, was set into the nearest side. Breathless from their exertions, Katherine and Rekkid headed inside and gratefully removed their rebreathers.
The appearance of the temple was deceptive. Inside the entrance, broad stone steps led downwards into the earth until they opened up into the nave, the increased roof height created by sinking the floor giving the illusion that the temple was bigger on the inside than from without. Heavy stone columns supported equally massive arches that held up the roof. The floor was a mosaic of tiny tiles set into complex geometric patterns and was strewn with the remains of what must have once been chairs or pews.
Steelscale was waiting for them. He sat curled, catlike, at the end of the nave where the altar lay, lit by the glow of the torch he had set upon the ornamented stone wall that separated the altar from the rest of the nave, the torch’s beam angled so that it illuminated the end wall.
‘Katherine, Rekkid. So glad you could make it at last.’ Steelscale’s translator was difficult to hear over his natural rumbling, guttural voice that echoed in the vaulted space. ‘I thought you would never make it.’ The last sentence was followed by a short bark, the K’Soth equivalent of a laugh.
‘You should see some of the terrain out there in the city, Steelscale,’ said Rekkid breathlessly, still sweating profusely despite the cool of the temple’s interior. ‘Those ruins aren’t exactly easy to scramble over.’
Steelscale laughed again. ‘Four legs and talons have their uses. Personally, I enjoyed the exercise. Gave me a chance to ‘stretch my legs’ as I believe the humans say.’
‘Yeah well, remind me to grow an extra pair,’ Rekkid replied. ‘Now, what is it that you’ve found here that you just had to show us?’
Steescale gestured at the wall above the altar, where the faint remains of frescos could still be seen, remarkably preserved.
‘As you can see, this building appears to be a place of worship. Many of my kind would simply dismiss this as pagan imagery and burn the place to the ground in the name of the Light, but I think we can learn much here.’
‘Yes we can,’ breathed Katherine. ‘Such as: what the people who built this place looked like. Look, in the lower left corner, there are figures, can you see?’
Rekkid followed Katherine’s pointing finger. Sure enough, there were humanoid figures depicted in the fading paint. Whether the figures were stylised was unclear as they had no point of reference, but the stocky forms were clearly visible. Brown, near black, skin tones contrasted with brightly coloured clothing, the painted textures of the cloth just visible in places. Their arms seemed to be held up in worship of something towards the upper middle of the fresco. Just what they were worshipping was, however, unclear, that portion of the fresco having fallen away, but traces of what appeared to be divine rays could be seen reaching out to the figures.
‘Fascinating isn’t it? We seem to have an image of this planet’s former inhabitants. What is also interesting, however,’ continued Steelscale, ‘is that there appear to be two images on this altar, one painted over the other, the most recent, the one with the figures, having replaced something quite different. Here.’ He picked up the torch and moved the beam so that the right hand portion of the wall was better illuminated. Here, the uppermost layer had flaked away revealing a series of large symbols and columns of smaller, unreadable alien text. There were no depictions of any kind. ‘It is clear that at some point this temple was heavily redecorated,’ said Steelscale. ‘I have examined the rest of the building and found other areas where a layer of frescos displaying symbols and texts had been covered over with an additional layer, in many cases with another set of artwork. Sadly I have not been able to uncover precisely what these figures in the later frescos appear to be worshipping. Some sort of divine being perhaps?’
‘Seems that way,’ said Rekkid. ‘Those rays of holy light, if that’s what they are, would seem to indicate as much. What do you think this over-painting points to? Some sort of religious change or schism or just a change in fashion?’
‘It does bear a resemblance to some of the medieval cathedrals in Europe,’ said Katherine. ‘The colourful decorations of formerly Catholic churches were whitewashed or plastered over to conceal them to create a simpler more ascetic look. So yes, it could point to some sort of drastic religious episode, or as you say, a simple change in fashion in how they liked to decorate their temples. We’ll need more evidence before we could draw any sort of concrete conclusions and so far we know very little about these people.’
‘It would help if we could decipher their language,’ said Rekkid. ‘Some sort of key or primer. But after such a long time I don’t hold out much hope of finding anything useful. Any books would have long since disintegrated.’
‘Some of their machines must have survived,’ said Steelscale. ‘Or else what is generating that signal that the Shining Glory picked up from orbit? Maybe we can find electronic records there. Whatever is beaming out that signal could be in some sort of hardened facility if it still works after the bombardment and after all this time. We should head to the source. We’re bound to find out more once we investigate it, I’m certain.’
‘Agreed,’ said Rekkid. ‘We should record images of this place and move on. We can always return with scanning equipment and see if we can reveal some more of the images on these walls. We need to press on with what Mentith sent us here to do in the first place: find the source of those signals.’
They spent a while taking pictures of the interior of the temple, then after a brief rest and a spartan meal from their ration packs, the three archaeologists continued into the city. They’d been heading roughly northwards into the city centre, however the source of the signals lay within the area that orbital imaging had revealed as being totally flattened by whatever weapon had struck the city ten millennia previously, at the centre of which was a crater around half a kilometre in diameter.
Steelscale led the way, his lithe, muscular body powering him over the rubble with surprising speed as he scouted out easier routes for his two humanoid companions to take. He seemed unbothered by the dusty atmosphere - membranes in his eyes and nose allowing him to cope with the particles in the air.
As they pushed deeper into the city, the state of the buildings began to deteriorate. Here they had obviously been tall, many storied structures,- judgin
g from the sheer volume of debris - but increasingly these former monoliths had been reduced to little more shattered stumps. Occasionally, they came across a lone building that had survived nearly intact. Something about their orientation or construction had saved them. Some leaned at unsettling angles, looking as though they were ready to topple. In other places, the central cores of the buildings were all that had survived, massive pillars of a concrete like substance from which had presumably hung metal and glass floors and walls. They stood over the devastation like stele in an ancient necropolis.
Eventually, they arrived at the edge of the area where the destruction was near total and stood for a moment, looking inwards towards the vast crater at its heart. A sea of rubble stretched for several kilometres to the horizon. The central crater was just visible amid the shifting dust storms.
A single structure remained standing amid the ruins. It was a squat ziggurat several hundred feet in height and about a kilometre distant. Presumably, the solid construction of its sloping walls had saved it from destruction. It appeared to be the source of the transmissions.
Katherine looked at the undulating expanse of smashed buildings between them and their destination and felt doubt creeping into her mind.
‘I’m not sure how we’re going to cross all that,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should contact the Glory and get them to send a shuttle down to take us across all of this.’
‘Wouldn’t that be like admitting defeat?’ said Rekkid. ‘We’ve come this far by ourselves. I’m sure Mentith’s people have got better things to do at the moment than ferry three hapless academics a mere kilometre or so. How would that look?’
‘You have a point,’ Katherine agreed. ‘Okay, come on, let’s scramble for it.’
Once more, Steelscale led the way, clambering to the tops of the highest rubble piles to spot easier paths for his colleagues. The three archaeologists plotted a zigzag path amidst the crazily angled rubble until their radiation detectors began to beep shrilly. Panicked, the three of them back-pedalled until the devices ceased their warning signals. Gingerly, Steelscale held his detector at arm’s length and began probing the edge of the radioactive zone. Evidently, it encompassed the ravine between two smashed buildings they were now standing at one end of.
‘So, it looks like this place was nuked after all,’ said Rekkid. ‘Ten thousand years is a long time, but these isotopes must take a lot longer than that to decay. I guess rain and wind must have dispersed a lot of it over time, but down here in these sheltered spots they still remain.’
‘Looks like we might need that shuttle after all,’ replied Katherine. ‘We can back-track and find another way through, but there could be dozens, even hundreds of these hotspots. I don’t know about you, but getting radiation poisoning wasn’t on my list of things to do today.’
‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ said Rekkid.
‘There is another way,’ said Steelscale.
‘There is?’ said Rekkid.
‘Yes. I could... I could carry you both on my back if you wish. I am able to climb over the rubble, avoiding the sheltered areas where the radioactive material is likely to be hiding. I can easily cope with the weight of your bodies.’
‘Why thank you Steelscale, that’s very generous of you,’ said Katherine. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘No it’s no trouble. Just don’t... just don’t tell anyone about this. In my culture... it’s embarrassing, acting like a pack animal for others.’ His normally russet scales rippled with orange pigment for a second in embarrassment.
‘We won’t tell, Steelscale,’ said Katherine. ‘Your secret is safe with us.’
Katherine clung to Steelscale’s torso as the K’Soth leapt and scrambled across the broken terrain, scaling massive, slanting blocks in a single leap and hurtling at breakneck speed along narrow ridges and angled, cracked surfaces. She could feel the sheer animal power contained within the K’Soth’s muscles, the coiled spring of his long, flexible spine, the strength of his mighty legs, the toes that, tipped with wicked, hooked talons, sought purchase on the slightest crevice or ridge to catapult them onwards and the solidity of the muscles in his upper body and forearms as he pulled himself up and over fallen rubble. It put her in mind of riding on the back of a big cat from Earth, albeit one covered in an armoured skin of dark red-brown scales. The harsh environment of the K’Soth home-world had made Steelscale’s people into formidable predators before they had escaped its bonds and unleashed themselves upon the galaxy, seeing all other races as potential prey. Steelscale, and a few others that she had met, were proof that not all K’Soth could be tarred with the same brush, but still, his raw physical strength was a reminder that he was quite capable of tearing them both apart without a second thought if he chose. Quite how men and women had fought the K’Soth at close quarters and survived was a mystery. It was a terrifying prospect.
Rekkid sat behind Katherine, hanging onto her with one hand and onto Steelscale’s equipment harness with another. After a few moments of riding she realised that the Arkari had screwed his eyes tightly shut behind his re-breather and seemed to be muttering something. Knowing Rekkid it was probably an endless stream of expletives in a number of different languages.
Occasionally, their radiation alarms started to beep, and Steelscale immediately changed course, leaping away in a different direction to take them away from danger.
Eventually, they reached the foot of the ziggurat. Katherine and Rekkid dismounted and thanked Steelscale, who stood panting from his exertions, thick tongue lolling between his knife-like teeth. They stood looking up at the structure. It was faced with some sort of jet black material that had survived the bombardment and the long decay of millennia remarkable well. A few of the blocks that formed its smooth exterior had cracked or had fallen away, but other than that the building appeared remarkably undamaged. It, like the temple they had investigated earlier, was covered with carvings. Though they were high up on the structure, they showed the same, squat humanoid figures engaged in what appeared to be both scenes of worship and of war. Figures could be seen battling with one another on the ground and in the heavens. Elsewhere they were depicting kneeling as if in supplication.
‘What do you suppose this place is?’ said Katherine. ‘A place of worship, or a military installation? It’s decorated like a temple, but it’s built like a damn bunker. I can’t see a single window in this place and it’s survived a nuclear explosion that took place only a short distance from here.’
They walked around the base of the ziggurat, trying to find a way inside. Eventually they found the entrance. A shallow ramp led up to the building, but the entrance was barred by massive blocks of the same black material. Each must have been originally moved by machinery within. Obviously weighing many tonnes, the blocks were unmoveable without the use of heavy equipment.
‘Looks like we’ll need the help of the Glory’s ships after all,’ said Katherine. ‘I don’t see us getting inside unless we can lift these blocks out of the way. Rekkid?’
Rekkid hadn’t heard her. He was transfixed by the carvings above the main entrance. It was a repeat of the image that they had found earlier within the temple, but in this case it was complete. Divine rays were streaming from the centre of an elaborately carved circle to touch the figures all around it.
‘Look! Look at the writing!’ said Rekkid, pointing a shaky hand at the carvings. Below the image was a line of indecipherable alien script, the local language of the planet’s former inhabitants that they had seen elsewhere. Below that was another block of characters. There was no mistaking the complex geometric forms. The language was that of the Progenitors.
Chapter 9
At the edge of the solar system, out beyond the Oort cloud, space rippled gently as the Profit Margin slipped back into real space. The vessel hung for a moment, flimsy radiator panels extended in a broad X like the wings of some bizarre insect. They glinted dully in the weak light from the distant Sun, visible as little more than a
slightly larger background star here at the cusp of interstellar space. In the infrared spectrum, the Profit Margin’s radiator panels shone brilliantly as they dumped excess heat from the ship’s drive. Thrusters in the nose fired briefly and brought the craft to a dead stop.
Isaacs sat, hands poised over the ship’s controls as Anna scrutinised the displays from the ship’s scanning equipment.
‘Anything?’ said Isaacs, tensely. ‘Have they noticed us?’
‘I’d be surprised if the detection arrays in the system haven’t picked up something, but it’s a question of whether the operators know what they’re looking at, and if they see us as a threat. If they do, they aren’t reacting,’ said Anna.
‘What ships can you see in the system?’ said Isaacs, checking the drive readouts for any abnormalities.
‘Just a second,’ Anna let out a low whistle then said. ‘There are a lot of ships in the Solar System.’
‘How many is a lot?’
‘Well, just around Earth I’m picking up a couple of hundred capital ships of all classes. There’s a lot of activity in Jovian space too, particularly above Io where Galileo Station ought to be.’
‘What do you mean by “ought to be”?’ asked Isaacs.
‘Well, as far as I can see from here, it isn’t there anymore. The traffic control beacon isn’t showing up and there’s a whole bunch of ships in the vicinity.’
‘Jesus,’ replied Isaacs, and shook his head in disbelief. ‘Are they a rescue party, or did they destroy the station?’