Was Once a Hero (36 page)

Animal
life constantly skittered away from them.
 
Enshar’s equivalents of rats, mice, bats and other burrowing life had
moved unchecked into the city’s corpse.
 
Mmok’s robots could sense further than the humans and were programmed to
fire on moving targets closing on them or standing their ground.
 
The non-enhanced members of the group found
themselves starting at sounds, snapping up weapons at any sound or
movement.
 
Fenaday finally ordered
everyone but Shasti to shoulder their weapons for fear of wild shooting.

“I
thought it would be silent,” said Shasti, at one rest stop.

Fenaday
looked at her in surprise, realizing she was correct.
 
His brain had tuned out most sounds, other
than those of the animals.
 
Barjan was
far from silent.
 
Metal creaked and
groaned as it expanded and contracted.
 
Water dripped.
 
Air currents
wafting past them emitted a soft sound as well, nearly flute-like.
 
He looked up to see a small bundle of pipes
on the ceiling.

Duna
caught his gaze.
 
“My people developed in
caves and caverns,” he said, “the song of wind through rocks is almost lulling,
part of the ambiance.”

“My
people feel the same way about wind chimes,” said Li, from his seat on a small
powered cart.

“On
Denla we prize the sound of the ocean,” Telisan said.
 
“We make many different types of machines and
waterfalls so that the sound of rushing water is always near.
 

“What
sounds are the Irish fond of?” Telisan asked.

Fenaday
thought a moment.
 
“Potatoes growing.”

Shasti
sighed.

“Now,
Captain, you know it’s the bagpipes that make the sound of Eire,” Connery said.

“What
does that sound like?” Duna asked.

“Imagine
a man strangling a cat,” replied Li, “while biting it on the tail.”

“I
will try,” Duna said dubiously.

Fenaday
smiled.
 
“It’s time to go.”
 
He turned to Duna.
 
“Which way?” he said, looking at the
bewildering maze of tunnels and caverns around them.

“We
designed our cities for mass transit,” Duna said, standing and brushing dust
off his uniform, “with an abundance of walkways and trams.
 
None of these still operate though.
 
I fear we must simply travel by the
underground streets.”

The
streets started off as broad thoroughfares in the commercial areas, where small
carts supplemented pneumatic tubing as a means of delivering goods.
 
As the spacers moved into residential
districts in their downward course, they began to narrow.
 
On either side of them, stacked up in the
thirty-meter diameter passageways, stood Enshari apartments.
 
Occasionally, a well-off family had a
separate, circular home, with a small garden of fungus or other dark-loving
plant life.

The
thought of all the slaughtered families lying in the underground apartments
nearly broke their nerves.
 
They forged
forward, close to each other, casting anxious glances in all directions.
 
Only Shasti and Mmok seemed unaffected by the
oppressive atmosphere.
 
Mmok idly kicked
bones out of his path in a move that made Fenaday’s teeth grate.

“Have
a care with your feet,” he finally snapped at the cyborg.
 

“Quit
giving me orders, pirate.”
 
Mmok glared
contemptuously.
 
“I work for Mandela.”

Fenaday
felt his own temper flash in response.
 
He dropped a hand to brush the holster of his weapon.
 
Mmok’s single eye noted the gesture.
 
He smiled coldly.
 
His wolfish grin dimmed as he noticed
Rainhell’s weapon already on him.
 
Shasti
smiled back equally coldly.
 
The robots
stopped moving.

“I
fear,” Duna said, “that you are not seeing Barjan at its best.
 
It was not always such a darksome place.
 
It was filled with light and laughter when I
was here last.
 
Very reminiscent of your
Paris, Captain.”

“Never
been there,” Fenaday said tightly.

“You
should go, when we get back,” said the little Enshari, as if nothing were
wrong.
 
“Mr. Mmok, if I read my map
right, we go down this spiral stairway to the next level.”

Mmok
and the robots started moving again.

Fenaday
spotted Telisan.
 
The Denlenn had drifted
to where he had a clean shot at Mmok.
 
His heavy laser pistol sat in its holster, but Fenaday spotted something
small and black in Telisan’s long-fingered hand.
 
The Denlenn palmed the device and walked up
to pat Fenaday on the shoulder.

“He
is good.
 
Is he not?” Telisan said.

“He’s
got my vote,” Fenaday whispered back.

Their
larger feet managed the broad, shallow Enshari stairs easily and they dropped
another level.
 
The side of the
combination road-stairwell opened to the left.
 
As if to back up Duna’s earlier assertions of Barjan’s beauty, it
yielded a view of a wide cavernous space.
 
In it they could see a formerly prosperous section of Barjan, lit by Mur’s light pouring down the shaftways.
 
Arches buttressed the roof sections.
 
Hundreds of the larger Enshari domes dotted
small plots of lawn, like delicate mushrooms in creams and gold.
 
A fountain sparkled under a shaft of
sunlight, too far away to be heard.
 
Fenaday wondered what kept it going.
 
Perhaps it was gravity fed, like the embassy.
 
There was a hushed, cathedral-like feeling to
the scene.
 
It looked as if any moment,
people would begin to stream, quietly and orderly, into view.
 
The space was large enough for a cold wind to
be blowing.

“Tis
a damned shame,” Connery said suddenly.
 
Li nodded and zipped his jacket against the breeze.

“Yes,”
Fenaday agreed, shivering despite his jacket.

“Thank
you, my friends,” Duna said, his voice low.

“We
should get moving,” Mmok said.
 
“We have
to settle the hash of whatever did this so it does not happen again.”

Fenaday
looked at him.
 
“No argument there.”

They
continued down the broad staircase with glances at the ruins of Barjan.
 
The next level was particularly dark, and
they moved through it cautiously, splashing through ill-smelling puddles when
they could find no way around.

Duna
turned, coming out of a narrow side street onto a broader roadway.
 
“We are just above Barjan Old Town now.
 
The area will be, for the most part, smaller
and older.
 
In some places, it will be
uncomfortable for you, Shasti, because of your height.
 
The temperature should remain fairly
steady.
 
Do not fear its older
appearance.
 
The area was always well
maintained.
 
Modern engineering supports
the roof sections.

“I
hope to reach the area of new construction soon.
 
It will be more comfortable for you large
folk.
 
It will also mean we are near the
site of the archeological dig.
 
They were
erecting new homes when they found the vault.”

“We
are going to feel real damn silly,” Mmok said, “if we get there, and there is
no bogeyman.”

“It’ll
be worse than that,” Fenaday added.
 
“Where do we go looking for our enemy then?”

Mmok
grunted.

They
walked into the oldest section of a city built before the other species of the
Confederacy discovered fire.
 
An
atmosphere of age was omnipresent.
 
Carved or painted decorations covered every square inch of the walls
around them.
 
Smaller Enshari structures
served as museums or shops.
 
Fewer
Enshari dead lay underfoot.
 
The spacers
saw no evidence of powered vehicles.
 
Here and there, a cart or pedicycle stood among the bones of its former
owner.

The
team walked on for the better part of an hour, descending through levels in
various stages of preservation.

“These
levels were once very near the surface,” said Duna, “back in Barjan’s
youth.
 
Like Earth’s Troy, the city has been built and destroyed
several times and settled in on itself.
 
The original rock and wood would have made for perilous mining, but
there are no greater subterranean engineers than the Enshari.
 
Look up.”

They
all gazed at the ceilings.
 
Broad beams
of metal ran through them, with spider webs of thinner metals radiating off
them.
 

“Engineered
lattices of nuclear dense metals,” continued Duna, “indifferent to loads, hold
up the city above.
 
It is a very good
thing that tectonic plate movements on Enshar are so docile.
 
The rare earthquakes that have happened were
utter disasters in our history, and one of the reasons the city had been
rebuilt and re-dug several times.”

The
team broke out into a wider, open section, lit by the ever-present
bioluminescent panels.

“Here
is the new section I promised,” said Duna.
 
“You can see the homes here are of different styles than the usual
domes.”

“Yes,”
said Telisan.
 
“I see one that looks like
a Denleni design.”
 
He pointed to an
elven construction of delicately carved wood and stained glass against one
wall.

Fenaday
saw a house that looked vaguely Colonial-human.
 
The Enshari who had sought to recolonize the preserved and abandoned old
town area were non-traditionalists in every sense.

“Open
up your intervals,” Mmok growled.
 
“One
grenade would get all of you.”

They
spread, out glad for the space.
 
Mmok
sent Vermilion, fleet and silent, ahead to scout.
 
They walked on, alert, moving slowly.

Suddenly
the robots stopped.
 
Mmok raised a hand
in a signal, sinking to one knee.
 
Everyone’s hands flew to weapons as they leapt for the nearest
cover.
 
Fenaday squatted next to
Mmok.
 
The man turned his metallic,
artificial eye toward Fenaday.
 
“I am
looking through Vermilion’s scanner.
 
I
see open ground and digging equipment.”

“We
have arrived,” Fenaday whispered.

Chapter Seventeen

Ahead
of them lay an area of flat, scraped ground over a thousand meters long and
nearly as wide, dotted with construction equipment and small trailers for
workers and archeologists.
 
The cavern
was dimly lit, more so than any other section they had been through.
 

“The
bioluminescent-panels here are obviously temporary,” said Mmok.
 
He pointed.
 
“Look, cart-mounted power generators.
 
Bet they’re dead though.”

“Have
the crab robots illuminate the area with red light,” Fenaday whispered.
 
“I don’t want our low-light vision
screwed.”
 

Combined
with the bio panels, the robots gave sufficient, if bloody, light to the area.

“I
don’t see anything,” said Shasti.
 
She
had the best night vision of any, save Mmok with his artificial eye.

“There
is a depressed area in the far distance,” said Mmok.
 
“The ground slopes down behind it.”

“Send
an HCR forward,” Fenaday ordered.

Mmok
nodded.
 
His throat moved as he
subvocalized to Vermilion.
 
The HCR went
forward without hesitation.
 
Smooth and
noiseless, the machine dropped into a crouch the humans couldn’t match, keeping
its Gatling tri-auto at the ready.
 
Vermilion could barely be seen as the HCR approached the far area.

Mmok
spoke up.
 
“This must be the place, raw
earth and a huge pit area.
 
I see a wide,
flat, metal section in the center, with a hole in the middle of a metal panel.
 
Near that is a tall metal obelisk, I
guess.
 
It’s huge.
 
There’s a derrick over a hole.
 
It looks like it was used to drop people in… wait
a minute.”

“What?”
Fenaday demanded.

“Ah,”
Mmok said, “Eureka, I have found it.
 
I
have the image from your computer video, Duna.
 
This is the spot.
 
I can project a
side-by-side comparison from memory.
 
This is where Creda’s call came from.”
 
The half cyborg hesitated for a second, then continued diffidently.
 
“More confirmation.
 
I found Creda.
 
The clothes are intact enough for an
identification.
 
Sorry.”