Resurgence

The Cecropian turned and made her way steadily back toward the flagpole. Louis trailed after her. This was the other side of the story. Now it was At who could see what they needed, while Louis and Sinara were blind. Before you started to feel sorry for a Cecropian, you had to remember that there was more than one way to define “vision.”

When they reached the pinnace, Claudius was standing outside it. Either he had recovered from his hangover or his greed was stronger than his discomfort.

“Fifty percent,” he said as they approached. “Remember? Fifty percent of everything we find.”

“Right.” Louis was watching Atvar H’sial, who seemed to have discovered some kind of downward ramp by one of the major roads. “I think we just found a way to explore underground. You can go first and earn your fifty percent.”

He knew there was little chance of that. Polyphemes were as cowardly as they were mendacious. He left Claudius behind and followed Atvar H’sial down what began as a steep ramp and rapidly became a dark tunnel.

“Black as a Rumbleside scad merchant’s heart. Hope you can see your way in here.”

“I can indeed see, most excellently. I judge this to be the entrance to some municipal building rather than to a residence. That would be consistent with its size and central location.”

“So unless everybody works in the dark—I’ve known whole governments seemed to operate like that—there oughta be a way to turn on lights.”

They were approaching a wide pair of doors. Atvar H’sial swung them open. Louis, using the light of his suit and of Sinara’s who was walking beside him, searched the wall for some kind of switch or bar. He saw nothing, and went on, “Guess we’ll have to rely on you, At.”

But as he spoke, the darkness ahead was slowly relieved. Light, dim at first, bled in from fixtures in a low ceiling. Atvar H’sial was forced to stoop far over, while even Nenda had to dip his head.

“Motion sensitive.” Sinara waved her hand, and the lights brightened. “Smart design. When everyone leaves, the lights fade automatically.”

“Or when everything stops movin’. Nobody’s left this place for quite a while.”

They had entered one end of a huge room. Its low ceiling, although ample in height for the diminutive Marglotta, made the other walls seem even farther away. Big machines of unfamiliar design and purpose stood in long rows, connected to each other in complex ways. One or two Marglotta stood by, apparently responsible for each production line.

“Dead.” Sinara spoke in a whisper. “Hundreds of them, and every one dead.”

“But that is not the most striking element of this scene.” Atvar H’sial, forced to bend far over and walk on all her legs, was almost too wide to fit between the rows of machines. She crept forward along one of the aisles. “Observe the postures. Every one died while engaged in routine operations. They had no warning, no suggestion of what was coming.”

Louis examined each Marglotta as he passed down the aisle behind Atvar H’sial. One studied some kind of read-out, another was employing a tool with a clawed end. A third stooped at the end of one machine, in the act of picking up or putting down an empty black container. He, Sinara, and Atvar H’sial had entered a busy factory, full of life and action, frozen at a single moment of time.

“You’re right, At. All without warning, and all at once.” Louis halted. “Unless you think there’s more to learn in some other room, I’d say we’re about done in here.”

“I agree.” Atvar H’sial could find no space big enough for her to turn, so she was forced to retreat backwards along the aisle. “What they were producing is unclear, but that knowledge would probably tell us little or nothing. Also, although this machinery appears of sophisticated design and enjoys a high level of automation, I see nothing that we might wish to remove for our own commercial advantage. These machines confirm the notion that Marglot supported a civilization with good technological capability. However, when disaster came, that technology was unable to save the life of even a single Marglotta.”

Sinara had been unusually quiet. Now she said, “Louis, are we in danger?”

“Not right this minute. Whatever did for the Marglotta here has been and gone. But we’d better be real careful when we go other places. I’m ’specially thinkin’ about those bursts of radio noise we picked up from orbit. They sounded like gibberish, but nothing I’ve ever seen in nature produces that kind of output.”

“One of those sources is close to E.C. Tally’s location. He has probably had dealings with them. Won’t we need to do the same?”

“Yeah. That’s a real comfort. We should get rollin’. Tally’s across at the opposite edge of the warm side. We’ll take a look as we go, an’ see if there’s anything interesting at lower altitude that Archimedes didn’t spot from orbit.”

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