Again his breathing, his heartbeat, the slow wash of stale air.
The tunnels led on into the deep night of the ancient rock like an insidious, circular maze.
“The war won’t end," Aviger said. “It’ll just die away." Horza floated along the tunnel, half listening to the others talk
over the open channel as
they followed behind him. He’d switched his suit’s external mikes from the helmet speakers to a small
screen near his cheek; the trace showed
silence. Aviger continued, “I don’t think the Culture will give in like everybody
thinks it will. I think they’ll keep fighting because they believe in it.
The Idirans won’t give in, either; they’ll keep
fighting to the last, and they and the Culture will just keep going at each other all the time, all over
the galaxy eventually,
and their weapons and bombs and rays and things will just keep getting better and better, and in the end the whole galaxy
will become a battleground until they’ve blown up all the stars and planets and Orbitals and everything else big enough to
stand on, and then
they’ll destroy all of each other’s big ships and then the little ships, too, until everybody’ll be living
in single suits, blowing each other up with
weapons that could destroy a planet… and that’s how it’ll end; probably they’ll
invent guns or drones that are even smaller, and there’ll only be a
few smaller and smaller machines fighting over whatever’s
left of the galaxy, and there’ll be nobody left to know how it all started in the first
place."
“Well," said Unaha-Closp’s voice, “that sounds like a lot of fun. And what if things go badly."
“That’s too negative an attitude to battle, Aviger." Dorolow’s high-pitched voice broke in, “You have to be positive. Contest
is formative;
battle is a testing, war a part of life and the evolutionary process. In its extremity, we find ourselves."
“… Usually in the shit," Yalson said. Horza grinned.
“Yalson," Dorolow began, “even if you don’t be—"
“Hold it," Horza said suddenly. The screen near his cheek had flickered. “Wait there. I’m picking up some sound from ahead."
He stopped,
sat still in midair and put the sound from outside through the helmet speakers.
A low noise, deep and boomy, like heavy surf from a long way off, or a thunderstorm in distant mountains.
“Well, there’s something making a noise up there," Horza said.
“How far to the next station." Yalson said.
“About two kilometers."
“Think it’s them." Neisin sounded nervous.
“Probably," Horza said. “OK. I’m going ahead. Yalson, put Balveda in the restrainer harness. Everybody check weapons. No noise.
Wubslin,
Neisin, go forward slowly. Stop as soon as you can see the station. I’m going to try talking to these guys."
The noise boomed vaguely on, making him think of a rockslide, heard from a mine deep inside a mountain.
He approached the station. A blast door came into view round a corner. The station would be only another hundred meters beyond.
He heard
some heavy clunking noises; they came down the dark tunnel, deep and resonant, hardly muffled by the distance, sounding
like huge switches
being closed, massive chains being fastened. The suit registered organic molecules in the air—Idiran scent.
He passed the edge of the blast
door and saw the station.
There was light in station six, dim and yellow, as though from a weak torch. He waited for Wubslin and Neisin to tell him
they could see the
station from their tunnels, then he went closer.
A Command System train stood in station six, its rotund bulk three stories tall and three hundred meters long, half filling
the cylindrical
cavern. The light came from the train’s far end, high at the front, where the control deck was. The sounds
came from the train, too. He moved
across the foot tunnel so he could see the rest of the station.
At the far end of the platform floated the Mind.
He stared at it for a moment, then magnified the image to make sure. It looked genuine; an ellipsoid, maybe fifteen meters
long and three in
diameter, silvery yellow in the weak light spilling from the train’s control cabin, and floating in the
stale air like a dead fish on the surface of a still
pond. He checked the suit’s mass sensor. It registered the fuzzy signal
of the train’s reactor, but nothing else.
“Yalson," he said, whispering even though he knew it was unnecessary, “anything on that mass sensor."
“Just a weak trace; a reactor, I guess."
“Wubslin," Horza said, “I can see what looks like the Mind in the station, floating at the far end. But it’s not showing on
either sensor. Would
its AG make it invisible to the sensors."
“Shouldn’t," Wubslin’s puzzled voice came back. “Might fool a passive gravity sensor, but not—"
A loud, metallic breaking noise came from the train. Horza’s suit registered an abrupt increase in local radiation. “Holy
shit!" he said.
“What’s happening." Yalson said. More clicking, snapping noises echoed through the station, and another weak, yellow light
appeared,
from beneath the reactor car in the middle of the train.
“They’re fucking about with the reactor carriage, that’s what’s happening," Horza said.
“God," Wubslin said. “Don’t they know how old all this stuff is."
“What are they doing that for." Aviger said.
“Could be trying to get the train to run under its own power," Horza said. “Crazy bastards."
“Maybe they’re too lazy to push their prize back to the surface," the drone suggested.
“These… nuclear reactors, they can’t explode, can they." Aviger said, just as a blinding blue light burst from under the center
of the train.
Horza flinched, his eyes closed. He heard Wubslin shout something. He waited for the blast, the noise, death.
He looked up. The light still flashed and sparkled, under the reactor car. He heard an erratic hissing noise, like static.
“Horza!" Yalson shouted.
“God’s balls!" Wubslin said. “I nearly filled my pants."
“It’s OK," Horza said. “I thought they’d blown the damn thing up. What
is
that, Wubslin."
“Welding, I think," Wubslin said. “Electric arc."
“Right," Horza said. “Let’s stop these crazies before they blow us all away. Yalson, join me. Dorolow, meet up with Wubslin.
Aviger, stay with
Balveda."
It took a few minutes for the others to arrange themselves. Horza watched the bright, flickering blue light as it sizzled
away under the center
of the train. Then it stopped. The station was lit only by the two weak lights from the control deck
and reactor car. Yalson floated down the foot
tunnel and landed gently at Horza’s side.
“Ready," Dorolow said over the intercom. Then a screen in Horza’s helmet flashed; a speaker beeped in his ear. Something had
transmitted a signal nearby; not one of their suits, or the drone.
“What was that." Wubslin said. Then: “Look, there. On the ground. Looks like a communicator." Horza and Yalson looked at each
other.
“Horza," Wubslin said, “there’s a communicator on the floor of the tunnel here; I think it’s on. It must have picked
up the noise of Dorolow setting
down beside me. That was what transmitted; they’re using it as a bug."
“Sorry," Dorolow said.
“Well, don’t touch the thing," Yalson said quickly. “Could be boobied."