the vertigo surge, and that momentary impression of
coming to a dead stop without the slam of deceleration.
Drazuma-Ha* hung before the console in silence while
his field aura shimmered with arrays and streams of
ghost symbols and the main console flickered with
waves of computation.
'So, Drazuma-Ha*, what did you do to attract such
relentless pursuit?'
'Simply put, Gowchee, I am their enemy.'
He frowned. 'You'll forgive me for saying so but that
sounds more serious than a bad debt.'
'They have their purpose and I have mine, which is to
prevent an ancient, terrible weapon from falling into
the hands of their masters.'
Kao Chih listened in amazement and growing annoy-
ance. 'You lied to me, right from the start... and who are
these droids' masters? And who are you working for?'
'This explication is straining your credulity,
Gowchee. Perhaps I should say no more.'
'I would rather you continued.'
'Very well, although I can only offer my word that I
am speaking the truth. The droids pursuing us are emis-
saries of the Legion of Avatars, a long-forgotten enemy
of civilisation, and I am an agent of a machine intelli-
gence called the Construct.'
'And what's this weapon ...'
'A fearsome device built millennia ago on the world
you call Darien ... ah, wait, look!'
On the long-range scanner, the freighter appeared
1,332 kilometres away and immediately started moving
towards the Castellan.
They jumped again.
The sequence of events was repeated four times,
while the droids' ravaged, mutilated ship continued to
dog them, their exit point coming closer and closer. As
Kao Chih stared at the sensor sweep holo, where a
tagged symbol denoting the freighter had just winked
into existence 495 kilometres away, he said:
'Drazuma-Ha*, this cannot continue - anothe two
jumps and they may have us.'
'I agree, but our options are limited,' the mech said.
'Therefore I propose that we employ the same tactic
that led us into the deepzone.'
Kao Chih stared at the mech, still trying to come to
terms with the earlier revelations. 'Er, dropping out of
hyperspace partway through the jump?'
'Exactly so, Gowchee. My hypothesis is that our pur-
suers drop a beacon-probe in hyperspace just before
exiting to our position in normal space. When we make
our next jump the beacon analyses our vessel's multi-
field burst and deduces the jump course and duration,
which are passed on to the droids, probably via subspace
link. I am now merging new course data for a longer
jump in the direction of Darien's possible location - I
plan to disengage the hyperdrive a quarter of the way
into the jump. Does that meet with your approval?'
'It does, Drazuma-Ha*,' he said, eyeing the sensor
holo in which the freighter's distance was down to 120
kilometres and closing. 'I suggest that we leave now.'
The mech's reply was to engage the hyperdrive.
Minutes later they emerged into normal space, the pale-
blue console holo lighting up as the sensor came back
online. And Kao Chih groaned when he saw the glittering
symbol of a ship sitting there, out at 1,081 kilometres.
'They got here ahead of us! - how could they possi-
bly
'Calm yourself, Gowchee - it is not them but another
vessel entirely, a cloud-harvester.'
He sat up, loosening the couch straps a little, trying
to contain his excitement as he peered into the holo.
'It is at rest, Drazuma-Ha *. It couldn't be abandoned,
could it, or a wreck?'
'No, its emissions curve indicate that it is functioning
nominally with an active ident that says it is the
Harvester Viganli. The most likely reason for it being
stationary would be a pause for refining or repairs.'
'I cannot help but notice that we too are stationary,
rather than heading towards the harvester,' Kao Chih
said.
'We must wait to see if our tactic has worked,' said
the mech. 'It has been one minute since our arrival - we
should make sure that we have evaded them.'
Vexed, Kao Chih, could only agree, then settle down
to gaze at the console's shiptime counter. A minute
passed with infuriating slowness and the next few went
no faster. After ten languid minutes Drazuma-Ha *
decided that the tactic had succeeded and started the
thrusters, laying in a course for the Viganli.
'We seem to be proceeding at a somewhat leisurely
pace, Drazuma-Ha*,' said Kao Chih, still disgruntled.
'It will reassure the harvester's crew or command AI
that we have no aggressive intentions. Covering this dis-
tance should take just under an hour.'
'Sufficient time for you to tell me about your mission
to Darien?'
'I am sure that it would be, Gowchee.'
'Excellent, now tell me about your boss, this
Construct...'
52
ROBERT
At last - the Great Terrace, a title which by no means
did it justice. As he followed the three mechs-Reski out
of the low, lamplit cavern (into which the tunnel from
Abfagul had led) he thought he heard the rushing sound
of strong winds, a shuddering, sky-filling roar. Then the
cavern opened out to show him that they stood, insect-
like, at the edge of an edifice of incomparable grandeur.
Lit by pearly light from far above, an immense stone
promenade about 100 yards across extended from a
high bank out over the white, hazy curve of a waterfall.
This was fed by numerous sources arriving from further
back, rivers and streams that gushed in from many
directions, splashing among mist-blurred rocks, down
over ledges and runnels and levels of pools that gave
forth their own lesser cascades. Except that both the
promenade and the falls stretched off into the distance
for perhaps a mile, matching the hundreds if not thou-
sands of inflows that coursed down an immense,
boulder-strewn slope where little clumps of trees and
bushes stood like pale ghosts amongst the surging
streams. At the far side, rock walls soared up and up,
pale, sheer, rising to heights obscured by the pure white
light that poured down from what might be a long fis-
sure in the vast cavern's veiled ceiling.
'This is . . . incredible,' he said. Next to this, the
Gangradur Falls were like a decorative garden water fea-
ture. 'Who built this?'
'A race called the Teziyi,' said Track-Reski. 'They
were very fond of statement projects like this.'
'Did they build other things on this scale?'
'Several just after the fall of their universe, while their
species still had the will and the resources.'
Robert frowned - the mechs were sticking to their
stratified universe fantasy. Very well, then he would
observe and deduce for himself.
The flat expanse of the Great Terrace was largely
deserted, apart from a few far-off figures standing along
the balustrade in ones, twos or small groups. As he fol-
lowed the mechs he began to notice more details, the
small buildings constructed along the side overlooking
the falls, the basket balloons that hung out over the
hurtling torrents and were winched in from time to time
to offload sightseers and take on new groups. As for
the other promenaders, few were bipeds, never mind
even vaguely humanoid, the majority being insectile or
reptilian, with occasional hybrids and frequent cyber-
augments. More than a few gave Robert and the mechs
disapproving looks, but he was scarcely concerned
about that as he was leaning on the balustrade, gazing
down in disbelief.
The curved mile-long falls plunged several hundred
feet to a small lake where tiny, sailless boats and galleys
sculled about. Further on the lake narrowed a little to
where another imposing promenade spanned the waters
as they rushed over another brink to another bridged
falls and another after that. The moisture-laden air
hazed the distant downward depths and Robert's mind
reeled as he tried to imagine the scale of it. Doubt crept
in and nibbled at the roots of his assumptions - how
could something like this exist on Darien but not show
up on the Heracles's orbital sensor sweep? Were the
mechs telling the truth?
As he stood there, wondering, a red dart shape shot
out from under the promenade some way along,
wheeled over the hazy spray then swooped and banked,
descending. A glider, he realised as he saw another
launch out over the falls.
'Human Horst,' said Tripod-Reski, 'we have received
a message from Conveyance 289, asking to meet us at
the lower level. We must hurry - there is a ramp nearby'
'There is another level?' Robert said, hurrying after
them.
'Three,' said Hover-Reski.
'They were originally made for the worker dorms and
materials storage,' Track-Reski said. 'When the construc-
tion was complete, they were closed up and forgotten as
the survivors of the great Teziyi civilisation took up resi-
dence, here and elsewhere. That final era began in
defiance but ended amid forgotten purposes and cultural
senescence. The last of the Teziyi finally abandoned their
cities, leaving no records when they either transcended or
were consumed. Then the remnants of other lesser civili-
sations wandered down here to settle, opening some of
the lower levels where refugees could find a place to rest.
Communities grew, vendors found customers, and a few
finessers even have set up glider stations...'
'This is not how I imagined this would be at all,'
Robert said.
'This is a rarity,' said Tripod-Reski. 'A small pocket
of existence amid hyperspace's twisted layers of wrecked
continua. Many here would escape to the real, but there
are no safe routes up the levels.'
The mechs were heading for a fence-enclosed, roofed-
over set of stairs. The steps were wide and fairly shallow,
decorated with colourful mosaics which the many cen-
turies had worn away, although some bore evidence of
unimaginative repairs. At the foot they encountered a
strange thoroughfare that was far busier and noisier than
the promenade. Shops and stalls sold all manner of goods
while gastronomic kiosks provided a tantalising array of
flavours and savouries. The number of species on show
here was prodigious, and he recognised very few. One
common factor was the bulky, trailing clothing almost
everyone wore, along with floppy, decorated hats and
gauntlets. But Robert's opportunity to study this clam-
orous, bustling market (which stretched as far as he could
see) was cut short when the mechs steered him to another
stairway which spiralled down to the next level.
It was quieter down here, darker, with lowlit pas-
sages passing between long featureless blocks and a few
solidly impenetrable iron doors, some of which were
guarded. These were the lower floors of the expensive
residences whose first levels looked out over the falls.
The passages also connected with a wide walkway
which ran along the back of the Great Terrace, provid-
ing an imposing view of the rivers and currents that
poured in from above. It was there that they met
Conveyance 289.
At first there was a scraping, clinking sound from
somewhere very close yet unseen, then a large iron grid
in the flagstones just ahead of them swung open and a
shiny black, elephant-sized insect clambered out. Robert
was alarmed and ready to flee until he saw his mech
companions approach the massive creature ... which on
closer inspection proved to be a machine, not a beast. It
had a segmented metal carapace, fluted cables, access
covers bearing blocks of text in tiny characters, heat-
vane clusters at the rear, effectors and the main
interaction unit at the front. It moved around with sur-
prising agility on four pairs of articulated limbs and on
its back was what looked like a passenger recess covered
by a darkened canopy. Fascinated and a little wary,
Robert advanced and was introduced by the mechs.
'I am pleased to meet you,' he said. 'Are there another
288 like yourself?'
'In all, Human Horst, the Construct's tectories have
produced 3,739 of my series, of which less than a hun-
dred are still in operation.' The machine's voice wis
expressive, almost musical, and possessed an odd
buzzing harmony. 'It will be an honour and a privilege
to fight alongside you.'
Robert froze. 'Excuse me, but did you say "fight"?'
'Indeed so. I have already updated the Reski Emantes
via proximal databurst but I am equipped to deliver a
verbal summary - in essence, our goal, the upgate, is
located below us in one of the empty storage vaults but
unfortunately a small covey of vermax have got to it
first, five of them, and are guarding it.'
'Five of us,' said Hover-Reski.
'Vermax?' Robert said. 'What are . . .'
'When we traversed the Refulgence, you may recall
that we were pursued by polymorphic hunters,' Track-
Reski said.
'The black snake things?'
'Those are the vermax. We do not know who their
creators are but they originate in the Abyss, which sug-
gests several possibilities. They eat metal and are
especially fond of the submesh array where our sen-
tience patterns reside.'
'A dedicated design,' said Tripod-Reski.
'They are also dangerous to organic lifeforms,' said
Conveyance 289 as a niche opened in its side. 'Which is
why you should have this.'
From the niche an arm telescoped out, holding a
long, narrow case. The case then split open lengthways
to reve
al a slender black object about three feet long
with a red hilt. It was so black that Robert could see no
surface detail or texture, only a thin silhouette tapering
to an unseeable point. Light seemed to be devoured by
it.
'It's a sword,' he said, confused.
'It is called a kezeq shard. Against creatures like the
vermax, it is deadly. Handle it carefully, however - the
cold of it would cause irreparable damage to your flesh.'
Robert lifted the kezeq by its hilt and found it to be
as light as a wooden metre rule. He had once learned
some fencing when he was at college in Bonn, but that
was 40 years ago - how much could he remember in a
few minutes?
'You will ride in my guest compartment, Human
Horst, while the Reski Emantes will be our valiant van-
guard.'
Five minutes later he was seated and strapped into an
odd, high-backed couch in Conveyance 289's passenger
recess as the machine clambered back down into the
open grating. It was a descent from light and cool fresh-
ness into dank, musty gloom.
'This is a very old storage area,' said Tripod-Reski.
All three mechs were in the recess with him. '289 says
that the upgate is in the next vault along.'
On eight mechanical, multijointed legs, Conveyance
289 provided a surprisingly smooth, comfortable steed,
although stealth demanded that lamp radiance be kept
to a meagre peep. In this murky grey halo, they picked
their way through the immense storeroom, past myste-
rious mounds of belongings, or carefully stacked crates
wrapped in glittery tendrils. Before long they reached
the other side and a rounded, open passage leading to
the next storage vault.
If anything, this room was even more crowded than
the previous one, with many stacks reaching from floor
to ceiling. A poorly assembled few had given way,
becoming huge, slumped heaps blocking corridors or
sometimes providing a short cut over slopes of dusty,
enigmatic debris. Finally they came to a halt at the corner
of a plinth of a huge statue depicting a creature with
seven legs and three heads about to smash a hammer
down on a ringed planet resting on an anvil, or maybe an
altar. With one of its extensible arms, Conveyance 289
held up a triangular mirror, looted from one of the col-
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