Seeds of Earth (42 page)

'Your secretary must have disabled it soon after,' Theo said. 'Advance preparation - he couldn't have known that we were coming or what we had to show you.'

'So he knew that Kuros was planning my arrest,' Horst said slowly, then glanced sideways. 'They are? Thank you, Harry . . . Major, it's not safe here. Those Brolturan fliers will soon be here.'

'Then we need transport,' Theo said, trying not to think about the AI as he took out his comm and called Alexei, who was still down at the entrance with his brother.

'Yes, Major?'

'Alexei - Brolturan troops are on their way here to arrest the ambassador so I need you and Nikolai to head back to the zeplin and tell Gunnar to cast off, fly over and pick us up from one of the residencies - we'll be the ones on the roof, waving.'

'We're on our way, Major.'

Theo closed his comm and turned to Horst. 'Time to go, Ambassador.'

From the viewing balcony outside, a stairway curved up to a railed-in sunbathing deck on the roof. The view of the thundering Gangradur Falls in the rosy late afternoon light was breathtaking but all eyes were fixed in the other direction, towards the guesthouse's mooring grove and the sparkling grey expanse of Loch Morwen beyond.

Theo had been racking his brain to think of somewhere safe to hide both Horst and themselves. Then as the bulbous, boxy shape of Gunnar's zeplin rose over the treetops he realised that there was one place which was perfect and took out his comm, hoping that he would be able to get through.

42

GREG

Greg was on his way back from having sent provisions down to the well chamber with Chel (who had recently arrived by zeplin) when his comm. chimed. Seeing who it was, he grinned and quickly answered.

'Uncle Theo, good to hear from you. How are you today?'

'I'm well enough, lad. Listen, would it be all right to impose myself and a few friends upon you just for tonight? We'll be up and away early tomorrow.'

'Aye, that shouldn't be a problem, Uncle. When can we expect you?'

'We're coming in by zeplin so we'll be with you in about half an hour. Oh, and there's no need to tell the station warden - our pilot is going to let us down on that grassy stretch behind the ruins. Can't thank you enough for your help - you're a good lad. Right, be seeing you.'

As the line went dead Greg lowered the comm and stared, half-annoyed, half-amused at having been unable to get a word in.

He's almost a force of nature is Uncle Theo. What must he have been like when he was youngerl

At the site huts he quickly checked the state of the rec room then looked in on the stores to see what bedding was available. He also stopped at his own hut to assess how much work he had to cover later on, then put on a heavier jacket and went back outside.

Dusk was his favourite time of the day he decided as he strolled through the darkening ruins. Dawn could be very special if it was bright and dry - a rainy dawn felt as if the world's burden was being reluctantly dragged into the daytime. Whereas dusk looked great whatever the weather, be it cloudless skies or overcast, clement or a downpour. A few times he had been out and about at sundown with mist or fog creeping down from the dense forest slopes, and every time it was a splendidly Gothic experience.

Now, in the fading, grainy light, the surfaces of ancient broken walls and columns were beginning to grow dark and foreboding, the stonework looking increasingly eroded and time-worn, until the night finally claimed them, turning them into black shapes, silently looming. Then, as the sun's last glimmer sank away, leaving only a dwindling radiance on the hori zon, Greg heard the hum of approaching engines. A minute later he saw the faint edges of a light beam wavering along the cliffs that led east from Giant's Shoulder. After that it wasn't long before the bulky mass of a zeplin nosed up over the natural ramparts of the promontory, a solitary spotlight probing the gloom.

As it descended, engines idling, Greg ran over, exchanging a wave with the pilot in his glowing cockpit. When it got to about ten feet off the ground it paused, hovering, while a rope ladder was flung out of a side hatch and several figures climbed down. By his own torch Greg recognised Uncle Theo and Rory but not the other three, one of whom was dressed in what seemed to be an elaborate dressing gown. Greg went over to greet them, but before he could even say hello, Theo had a hand on his shoulder and was steering him back towards the huts.

'Good to see you, boy. I hope you didn't let anyone know we were coming.'

Behind them, the zeplin was gaining height and turning south to head over the ridge.

'Didn't tell a soul, Uncle. So, what's all this about?'

By the meagre torchlight he saw Theo's craggy features crease into what his mother once called his 'devil-may-care' smile, which was usually a sign of trouble ahead.

'Ach, well, it's quite a tale,' his uncle said. 'One that should be told with a glass of the fair dram in hand.'

'I believe that I can unearth a bottle of Glenmarra . . .'

'Good man! Always prepared for guests, that's what I like.'

But when they reached Greg's hut, Poul, one of the interns, was waiting for him. 'Poul, what's the problem?'

'Not sure, Mr Cameron, but a weird message came through to our hut terminal from the university, warning us that those Brolturans are sending troops here to search for the missing ambassador.'

'What?' Greg said. 'To search for who?'

Poul shrugged. 'Seems that the Brolturans are accusing the Earth ambassador of being involved in all the bombings and that assassination. It's been all over tha vee-news since this afternoon.'

'Aye, well I've not had the vee on all day, Poul - too much to do. Look, thanks for letting me know - could you pass that on to the other teams, tell them to get ready?'

As the intern headed off, Greg looked at his uncle, black suspicion in his thoughts.

'If this has anything to do with you,' he said,
you should tell me now.'

Theo sighed, then beckoned forward the man in the long robe, who had been hanging back.

'Greg, let me introduce you to the Earthsphere ambassador to Darien, Robert Horst. Mr Horst, this is my nephew, Gregory Cameron.'

Up close he recognised the grey-haired man from the news reports, while feeling a slight sense of unreality as he shook his hand.

'So, er, Mr Horst, what do the Brolturans want with you?'

The ambassador looked tired and haggard yet he managed a smile. 'Mr Cameron, I assure you that I had nothing to do with the murders at the airport yesterday, or any other terrorist acts. I was
there,
I saw it, I could have been killed myself! . . .' Horst's anger ebbed as quickly as it had surged. 'The Brolturans usually do what the Hegemony tells them, so Ihave to assume that it is all Kuros's doing. Mr Cameron, until I can make contact with the captain of the
Heracles
I must appeal to you and Major Karlsson and his friends for help. I have no wish to end up in a Brolturan interrogation chamber!'

'Greg, those Brolturans will be here soon,' Theo said. 'We need to find somewhere safe to hide, like in the forest back there. Are there any caves up behind that ridge?'

'I don't know, I think so,' said Greg. 'Some of the Uvovo scholars would know, but it would take time to reach the nearest, and wouldn't these troops have some kind of nightvision tracking technology?'

Theo nodded. 'They're bound to.'

Greg ran a hand through his hair. 'Right. Fine. Then there's only one place you can go - follow me.'

Once everyone was down in the entrance corridor, he told the Uvovo scholars Teso and Kolum (whom he had woken earlier) to dismantle the winch and the canopy and stow them in the storage hut. They were then to reassemble them about an hour after the intruders had left. As he watched the empty body harnesses rise up and out of sight, he muttered a prayer that his instructions had been clear enough, then turned to take stock of the situation. At least everyone had a blanket, and there was a satchel filled with whatever food had been in his cupboard, along with a couple of hand torches. Which should keep them from getting too cold and hungry for a while.

'Never heard o' this place,' Rory said, glancing around. 'You scientists been keepin' it secret, aye?'

'Didn't know about it myself until a coupla days ago, Rory,' he said, and launched into a brief summary while omitting the bit about it having been built as a weapon, as well as any mention of an ancient, intelligent guardian, not wanting to have to deal with alarm, much less disbelief. His audience was nevertheless silently astonished as they followed him along the corridor and down into the icy room of pillars.

'This is incredible,' Ambassador Horst said, peering by torchlight at the carved walls. 'Could this be the work of the Forerunners?'

'Going by Uvovo histories and the few datings I've done so far, the time period seems to be about 100,000 years ago,' Greg said. 'Which apparently puts it near the end of the Forerunner era, going by what I've learned from offworld sources. But if you come through here you'll see the main attraction . . .'

Warming to his tourist-guide role, he led them into the well chamber, torchbeams lighting the way through the heavy, cold darkness. Two figures were visible off around the boundary wall, Chel and Weynl huddled over something in the lamplight. Then one of them must have heard the clatter of footsteps, straightened and looked round. Greg waved and the Uvovo stood and started towards them. As he drew near Greg saw it was Chel.

'It is a remarkable edifice,' Horst said, approaching the boundary wall. 'And you say this circular area has
a
ritual function?'

Greg nodded. 'There's also some kind of highly advanced Forerunner technology embedded in . . .'

A shattering, stentorian drone blasted through the chamber as spears and swirling webs of brilliant radiance erupted from the surface of the well next to where Ambassador Horst was standing. Everyone reacted the same way, rearing away from the noise and the dazzle, except for the ambassador, who was trapped in a cage of light, quivering meshes interleaving. The roaring drone lessened in force, becoming a resonant, booming voice speaking incomprehensibly in a demanding tone.

'What in hell is that, Greg?' yelled Theo. 'Is the ambassador in danger? Are we?'

'The chamber . . . the well has a guardian . . .'

But before he could continue, Chel came running up followed by Listener Weynl. Chel's forehead was bare and the outer pair of eyes were open.

'Who is he, Greg?' said Chel, pointing at Horst. 'Who is this man?'

'He's the Earthsphere ambassador.'

At the same time, Listener Weynl was shouting at the coruscating maelstrom of light, responding to the immense voice that thundered forth from it.

Chel stared at Horst, who was on his knees, looking terrified and hugging folds of his gown to his chest.

'Does this man carry one of the thing you call AIs?' he said.

'Yes, he does,' said Greg.

Chel shook his head, teeth bared. 'A Dreamless . . . we will try to save him from the Sentinel, Greg, but you must trust me and not interfere.'

Greg breathed in deep, trying to steady himself, then nodded and watched as Chel and Weynl bared their arms and crouched down near Horst. There was a moment of stillness, then they swiftly thrust their arms through the bright shifting mesh - Greg saw the short, dense fur on their arms begin to char and smoke - and touched the ambassador's head.

And the ambassador cried out, the muscles on his neck taut as cables, his eyes wide with pleading.

43

CHEL

When Greg and the other Humans appeared at the door, Chel and Listener Weynl were sitting cross-legged on the walkway floor with a blanket between them and the cold stone. By the lamp's golden glow they were examining hand-drawn copies of several patterns recently uncovered in a very old stone tile archive on the forest moon. They were comparing the tile patterns with sketches they had made of portions of the well surface, looking for similarities. The tiles also contained commentaries, but they appeared to be written in some kind of abstruse cipher which no one had thus far solved.

So it was over these that the two Uvovo were poring when Chel heard the hard, dry sound of footsteps and looked up. He had been using the outer pair of his new eyes to regard the well patterns, but now he saw a strange, spiked nimbus around one of Greg's companions. At the same time, a faint amorphous radiance was gathering at the edge of the well nearest the newcomers.

'Something is wrong, Listener,' Chel said, getting to his feet. 'The well is behaving strangely.'

Without waiting for Weynl's reply he started round towards the group of Humans. He had gone a few paces when a bright column of energies erupted from the well's edge, near where the man with the disturbing aura was standing. A cacophonous, blaring drone accompanied the outburst of light, almost painful to Uvovo ears, yet he broke into a run. He could see that the man had been caught in a bright cage of well energy, and he could hear the blasting drone subsiding into speech, words in the Uvovo tongue.

INTRUDER! ENEMY DETECTED! THE HIGH PATHMASTER MUST INSTRUCT ME ON THE MODE OF ERASURE.

'No, Sentinel, wait,' Weynl cried out. 'This is a friend.'

CAPTIVE IS IMPLANTED WITH A FABRICATED ENTITY - THIS ENTITY MAINTAINS A COHERENT CHANNEL INTO TFIE UNDERD OMAINS OF THE REAL. THIS CHANNEL MUST BE SHUT OFF OR ERASURE WILL BE ENACTED - YOU ARE NOT A PATHMASTER.

Chel hurried up to Gregori, who was talking with his uncle.

'Who is he, Greg?' he said, pointing at the man in the cage. 'Who is this man?'

Gregori looked stricken by what was happening. 'He's the Earthsphere ambassador . . .'

Chel gazed at the ambassador, a terrified, grey-haired man who had slumped to his knees, holding the folds of his robe close to his chest for some reason.

'Does this man carry one of the things you call AIs?'