Realizing that, Pyra hurried to reenergize the door in an attempt to close it but soon discovered that critical cables had been severed. Lum bugs were dispatched to make the necessary repairs, but that would take hours even as a horde of tomb raiders poured down into the city. It was a maddening game, but one that Pyra had thus far been powerless to stop since One-Two had been able to outsmart her. Until now that is, because having accumulated a considerable amount of data regarding such incursions, Pyra could predict what Sogol would do next. And, based on that ability, Pyra planned to find the little worm and kill it.
Meanwhile, the orange-clad wings circling two hundred feet above Surface Ramp-47 were privileged to witness a rare sight as a rectangular section of the desert floor seemed to collapse in on itself. Tons of sand poured down into carefully prepared cavities below, a column of dust rose to point fingerlike at the newly opened pathway, and hundreds of avaricious eyes were quick to take notice. Telescopes swiveled in that direction, airborne scouts vectored in, and no more than five minutes had elapsed when the race began.
Thanks to a warning from Norr, and eager to recoup his recent losses, Kufu was the first artifact king to respond. A flight of twenty wings were dispatched, even as five three-man chariots raced pell-mell toward the new opening, each creating its own column of dust as it cut across the desert floor. Rebo stood to the left of the red-clad charioteer, and Norr stood to the right, both straining to hold on as the specially bred angens hauled the two-wheeled conveyance over all manner of bumps, ridges, and other irregularities. It was a hard ride, but an exhilarating one, and the runner couldn’t help but enjoy the way the wind pressed against his face, the thrill as the chariot went momentarily airborne as it hit a bump, and the solid thump as it hit the ground again.
Not all of the charioteers were so fortunate however. As their vehicle topped a slight rise, Norr saw a black chariot break free of its team, and tumble end over end as what looked like little stick figures flew through the air. What happened next was obscured by a cloud of dust, the driver’s wildly flapping headscarf, and a competing two-wheeler. Then they were there, at the center of a maelstrom of multicolored chariots, each fighting for space as drivers cracked their whips, and angens turned to nip at one another. Kufu’s chariot shook, and loose gear clattered, as competing chariots closed in from both sides. “Watch out!” Norr shouted, and pointed across the driver’s chest.
Rebo turned to his left, saw that a green-clad passenger was in the process of bringing a double-barreled shotgun to bear, and readied one of two pistols requisitioned from Kufu’s armory. They weren’t identical, as the previous pair had been, but each weapon had certain advantages. The 9mm Tombo barked twice, the shotgunner collapsed against the driver, and the entire rig veered away.
Nor were the off-worlders the only ones forced to defend themselves as more than fifty chariots converged on the entry point and became part of a confused mass of wildly thrashing angens, screaming drivers, and murderous tomb raiders. In the meantime firearms boomed, banged, and popped even as a hot-air balloon drifted in over the crowd and three green-clad norms began to rappel toward the ground. They were only halfway down when a group of multicolored wings took offense and opened fire on the orange-striped envelope. Hot air escaped through dozens of holes, and the pilot fired wildly as the quickly deflating airship collapsed onto the tightly packed mob below. “Come on!” Rebo yelled over the surrounding din. “Let’s proceed on foot!”
Norr nodded, reached back to draw her sword, and followed the runner as he jumped to the ground. It felt strange to enter the melee without Hoggles at her back, but the sensitive thought she could feel the heavy’s protective presence and felt better as a result.
The majority of the tomb raiders had abandoned their chariots by then and were busy fighting their way forward. Most were focused on entering the newly revealed passageway rather than battling their competitors but there were exceptions, and Rebo heard the occasional bang as someone fired a weapon at point-blank range. Those who were lucky fell dead—whereas the wounded were often trampled to death as the mob pressed forward. The runner tried to avoid stepping on the bodies, but that was increasingly difficult to do, and there was more than one occasion when Rebo felt flesh give under his boots.
Then, like some subterranean monster, the steeply sloping ramp opened its dark maw to swallow the tomb raiders whole. Rebo and Norr were jostled back and forth as oil-fed lanterns were lit, cell-powered glow lights came on, and handheld flares were hoisted high. The off-worlders still had their trusty squeeze lights, but felt no need to use them so long as the rest of the tomb raiders were willing to illuminate the ramp for them. A trio of metal men, their eyes aglow, brushed past.
In marked contrast to the pyramid’s richly decorated interior, the walls to either side of the ramp bore little more than badly faded admonitions to activate headlights, watch for oncoming traffic, and obey the posted speed limit. There was some graffiti, however, including one entry that might have been spray-painted onto the wall during the final days of the plague, when Surface Ramp-47 had been packed with infected people all trying to find a way out of the doomed city. It read, WHY, GOD? WHY US?
But Norr saw no answers as the ramp leveled out and gave way to what might have been some sort of checkpoint, before splitting into half a dozen competing two-lane pathways. Orders were shouted, and blobs of light wobbled over ancient walls as teams of loot-hungry tomb raiders plunged into the branching corridors. All according to protocols established by their patrons. But the truth was that every pathway would lead them to artifacts! Because Sogol wanted the thieves to succeed and had gone to considerable lengths to make sure that they would.
Unlike the rest, however, Rebo and Norr were after one particular artifact. That’s why they stood off to one side and let the others rush by. The light level began to drop as Norr removed the ring from her belt pouch, and most of the mob surged past. The first thing Rebo noticed as he began to squeeze the glow light’s curved handle was the fact that the ring’s green gemstone was lit from within and seemed to flicker as the sensitive moved it from left to right. Norr noticed the phenomenon as well. “Look!” she exclaimed. “It’s brightest when I point it at the second passageway from the left.”
“At least that gives us something to go on,” Rebo acknowledged. “Let’s see where that tunnel leads.”
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 t
he 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 sprawling 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.
Logos Run Page 22
