The twosome entered the passageway designated as DR- 2N. It began to turn as streaks of reflected light washed back over tiled walls, and they heard unintelligible shouts off in the distance. Then, just as Rebo and Norr rounded a curve, there was a disturbance up ahead. Half a dozen
blue
lights appeared as Pyra’s lum bugs soared out of a ventilation duct, sought the white lights below, and opened fire. Each robot was armed with a nose-mounted laser. Their energy weapons made sizzling sounds as they targeted the tomb raiders below. Shouts of pain were heard as some of the energy bolts struck home, quickly followed by the stutter of a submachine gun, and the deliberate
bang
,
bang
,
bang
of a semiautomatic carbine. “Uh-oh,” Rebo said grimly, as the squeeze light was returned to its holster. “It looks like we have company. . . . Keep your light handy—but let it go dark.”
Norr complied, but if the runner hoped to escape notice, the plan didn’t work. Even as one of the airborne lum bugs exploded, another broke away from the battle with the tomb raiders and hurried to intercept two additional heat signatures before they could do damage to the city beyond.
Rebo had drawn both handguns by that time, but rather than pepper the quickly advancing machine with 9mm slugs, opened up with the Sokov instead. The six-shot dart gun bucked in Rebo’s hand as the first self-propelled round left the barrel, deployed its stabilizing fins, and accelerated away. The dart hit the lum bug head-on, smashed through the robot’s outer “skin,” and detonated within. There was a red-orange explosion as the machine came apart, followed by a wild
clatter
, as bits of metal sprayed the immediate area. Then came a satisfying
crash
as what remained of the construct hit the pavement and skidded for ten feet before finally coming to a stop.
But there was no reason to celebrate because
two
additional units were on the way. Bursts of ruby red energy stitched black scorch marks onto the duracrete where the humans had been standing moments before as the wily intruders ducked into an alcove marked FIRE FIGHTING STATION 89. Rebo stood ready to attack the machines the moment they appeared, but Norr had doubts about the runner’s ability to destroy the first robot before the
second
machine could fire, and took matters into her own hands by dashing out into the center of the passageway.
Rebo swore, fired the Sokov for the second time, and was rewarded with another explosion. Then, even as the runner swung the handgun around to acquire the second target, Norr charged straight for it. The sword, which was held high, came down with all the strength the sensitive could muster. And because the edge of the blade had been made from a single “stretched” molecule—it cut through the lum bug’s fiber-composite body like a hot knife through butter. There was a loud
bang
, followed by a brilliant discharge of electricity, and a clatter as both halves of the robot landed on the pavement.
A beam of light came into existence as Rebo shifted the Sokov into his right hand and began to pump the squeeze light with his left. A blob of illumination wobbled over the machine’s burned-out remains before turning toward Norr. “That was a stupid thing to do,” the runner observed darkly.
“What am I supposed to do if you go and get yourself killed?”
“You could find yourself
another
sensitive,” Norr replied lightly. “One who’s a lot less demanding. Come on—Sogol is somewhere up ahead.”
There were no sounds other than the steady
click-whir
of their squeeze lights, and the soft
scuffle
of their footsteps as the twosome advanced down the passageway and past the point where the earlier battle had been fought. The floor was slick with blood, and two of the three dead men were still present, standing over their badly charred bodies. They weren’t sure what to do, and the sensitive was tempted to stop and help them, but knew she should focus on finding the all-important AI. The green gemstone glowed brightly as the passageway terminated in front of a raised loading dock. Stairs led up to a flat surface where bodies had been stacked during the early days of the plague before eventually disintegrating to a heap of bones.
The runner followed a badly faded yellow line back to an open door and the narrow corridor beyond. “The ring is getting warmer!” Norr proclaimed as she gripped the object in her hand. “I think we’re almost there.”
“Good,” Rebo responded soberly. “The sooner we can get out of this place, the better.” Then, as if to underline the truth of the runner’s statement, one of the tomb raiders screamed.
lntelligent though she was, Sogol failed to recognize the
trap for what it was until she was inside it. Though unable to prevent the AI from opening a section of the city to the tomb raiders, Pyra had been able to carry out projections based on past behaviors and positioned her robots accordingly. So, as One-Two slithered into the sector served by Ramp-47, the computer discovered that her forces were being systematically slaughtered. Once cornered, the lightly armored utility bots were easy prey for the flying lum bugs, which seemed determined to eradicate the multilegged creatures as they scuttled for cover. Lasers stuttered as the killers pursued their unarmed prey down darkened aisles, around corners, and between dusty storage modules.
At least fifteen of Sogol’s machines had been taken off-line by the time the AI entered Storage Facility-972, and more were being destroyed with each passing minute. And, because each robot was analogous to a nerve ending, One-Two processed something akin to pain as her functionaries died.
But the
real
target, from Pyra’s perspective at any rate, was Sogol herself. Who, though extremely small, could be “seen” electronically as she sent signals to her robotic minions. And it was then, having established the AI’s exact coordinates, that Pyra ordered her lum bugs to attack the high-priority target. Energy beams sizzled as they crisscrossed the duracrete floor, and the air grew thick with the stench of ozone as the golden serpent propelled herself toward a shelving unit and the inviting darkness that lay below it. But Sogol knew she wouldn’t be able to make it, and had already prepared herself for an ignominious death, when the first of the tomb raiders charged into the warehouse.
Having already survived one lum bug attack, the humans were in no mood to leave themselves open to a second assault, and immediately opened fire on the flying robots. But the lum bugs answered, and there was a piercing scream as an energy beam took a tomb raider’s arm off at the shoulder and cauterized the wound as part of the process.
One of the flying machines staggered as a hail of bullets struck it, drifted off course, and made violent contact with a second machine. Both robots exploded, light strobed the grimy walls, and avaricious humans flooded down the aisles. Some continued to do battle with the lum bugs, even as others scooped artifacts off the surrounding shelves and hurried to stuff the loot into large duffel bags.
And that was when Rebo and Norr entered the bloody fray. Tracers drew lines through the murk. A lum bug vanished in a bright
bang
, and razor-sharp shrapnel flew every which way. “The ring is starting to cool,” Norr warned, as the off-worlders worked their way along a laser-scorched wall. “Let’s turn back!”
Sogol had been dimly aware of the ring’s presence for some time. But now that the artifact was in the same room with her, it seemed to glow like the external sun. Having taken refuge beneath one of the artifact-laden shelving units, the AI hurried to close with the ring and the people who possessed it.
In the meantime the airborne machines were well on their way to winning the battle with the tomb raiders when Rebo opened fire with the Sokov. One lum bug exploded, and was quickly followed by a second, and a third.
And it was then, just as the last electromechanical carcass hit the debris-littered floor, that Norr felt something cold wrap itself around her left ankle. The sensation was so disconcerting that the sensitive bent over to grab it, felt whatever the thing was slither up her arm, and had just wrapped her fingers around a slim body when she found herself looking into the eyes of a snake. The serpent’s voice was all out of proportion to her small size. “Are you the ones Emperor Hios sent to get me?”
“Yes,” Norr replied, as Rebo inserted a fresh clip into his pistol.
“Good,” Sogol said. “I suggest that you pull out before Pyra sends more lum bugs.”
Norr didn’t know who Pyra was, but the term “lum bugs” was self-explanatory, and the variant had no desire to be in the neighborhood when the additional machines arrived. “We’ve got what we came for!” the sensitive announced excitedly. “Let’s get out of here!”
Rebo didn’t need to be told twice and made use of a fresh magazine to hose the surrounding area with explosive darts as they backed toward the door. Then, once the Sokov clicked empty, the off-worlders turned and fled.
Pyra “sensed” Sogol’s impending escape but couldn’t move enough additional robots into the area quickly enough to stop the AI, and had little choice but to turn her attention back to the tomb raiders. Disappointing though the situation was, Pyra was still able to process a sense of completion when Ramp-47 closed thirty-two minutes later, thereby locking Sogol outside. Finally, after more than a thousand years of internal warfare, the city of Kahoun was at peace.
lt was relatively quiet within the Techno Society’s sprawl
ing compound. Partly because it was extremely hot, and any creature that could was waiting for the blazing sun to fall toward the west, and partly because Shaz, Phan, and a large contingent of metal men were out in the desert, where a newly opened ramp led down into the city of the dead.
But Dyson/Kane had begged off. And, given the way he/they smelled, the others had been happy to leave the steadily decaying sensitive behind, thereby providing Kane what he desired most, an opportunity to steal Logos. More than that, to kill Tepho, seize control of the Techno Society, and reactivate the star gates. All of which explained why Dyson, who understood the spirit entity’s intentions, found himself standing outside of Tepho’s tent with a razor-sharp knife in his skeletal hand.
The dry, hot air was perfectly still, and the soft murmur of voices could be heard from within the tent as members of the technologist’s household staff poured gallons of cool water into the large hip bath where the administrator typically took refuge during the hottest part of the day. It was the one moment when Kane could not only be sure that Tepho would be vulnerable, but wouldn’t be wearing Logos, which would simplify the attack. Because the last thing the disincarnate wanted to do was stab the human
through
the AI, thereby damaging the very thing he hoped to steal.
Suddenly one voice was raised over all the rest as the attendants hoisted the naked technologist’s badly deformed body into the air. “Watch that arm! Careful damn you! Or would you like a taste of the lash?”
There were earnest apologies, followed by a loud groan of unrestrained pleasure, as the administrator was lowered into the cool water. Finally, having been positioned on some carefully placed supports, Tepho was ready for some privacy. “That’s enough fussing about,” he said gruffly. “You can leave now. . . . But return in half an hour.”
It was the same command that he
always
gave, so none of the staff members were surprised as they bowed and backed out of the heavily curtained enclosure.
Silence fell after that, and while it was tempting to enter immediately, Kane forced himself to wait for a full sixty seconds before bringing the knife up over his head and stabbing downward. The tip of the blade penetrated the thick fabric and there was a gentle ripping sound as the sharp knife sliced downward. The unauthorized entrance was
behind
the metal tub, which meant that Kane didn’t expect Tepho to notice, but the disincarnate paused just to make sure.
Not having heard any alarm, the spirit entity forced Dyson to stick his head in through the newly created slit. That was followed by an arm, a shoulder, and the rest of the sensitive’s steadily rotting body. The platform the copper tub rested on was about ten feet away. And, draped across the custom-built chair that sat beside it, was a long, white robe. And not just
any
robe, but the AI called Logos, who— important though the construct was—still had to wait while his current master enjoyed a cooling bath.
In the meantime, Tepho caught a whiff of corruption, recognized the odor for what it was, and felt a sudden stab of fear. Because that particular section of the tent was supposed to be empty, and what he thought of as “the creature” had no business being there. But, during the technologist’s long, painful childhood, he had learned to suffer even the cruelest beatings without revealing the emotions that his tormentors so wanted to see. And that capacity still came in handy from time to time. “It isn’t nice to skulk about,” Tepho commented without turning his head. “You might as well come out where I can see you.”
The request caught Kane by surprise, but the spirit entity was quick to adjust and forced Dyson’s body to approach the copper tub. Tepho saw the knife, wished the raptor was present, and made a note to tighten his personal security. He could call for help of course, but had serious doubts about whether it would arrive in time and resolved to deal with the situation himself. “So,” Tepho said, as Dyson/Kane took up a position next to Logos. “It’s the AI that you’re after.”
Kane tried to say, “Yes,” but found Dyson was blocking him. That forced the disincarnate to clamp down on the sensitive and start all over again. “Yes. But more than that—I came for
you.
I think the time has come to bring your current incarnation to its logical conclusion.”
Tepho allowed his right hand to slide down into the water. “So you can take over.”
Dyson’s once-handsome face bore a number of open sores, which when combined with his hollow eyes and unshaven countenance, combined to make the variant look like a recently exhumed corpse. Kane sought to make the sensitive nod, encountered a moment of resistance, and struggled to overcome it. “That’s the plan,” the dead man agreed stiffly. “So, as long as we understand each other, we might as well get the unpleasant part of the transition over with. Who knows? You might be grateful! That’s an extremely ugly body that you’ve been forced to live in.”