Seeds of Earth

by Michael Cobley

  the vertigo surge, and that momentary impression of

  coming to a dead stop without the slam of deceleration.

  Drazuma-Ha* hung before the console in silence while

  his field aura shimmered with arrays and streams of

  ghost symbols and the main console flickered with

  waves of computation.

  'So, Drazuma-Ha*, what did you do to attract such

  relentless pursuit?'

  'Simply put, Gowchee, I am their enemy.'

  He frowned. 'You'll forgive me for saying so but that

  sounds more serious than a bad debt.'

  'They have their purpose and I have mine, which is to

  prevent an ancient, terrible weapon from falling into

  the hands of their masters.'

  Kao Chih listened in amazement and growing annoy-

  ance. 'You lied to me, right from the start... and who are

  these droids' masters? And who are you working for?'

  'This explication is straining your credulity,

  Gowchee. Perhaps I should say no more.'

  'I would rather you continued.'

  'Very well, although I can only offer my word that I

  am speaking the truth. The droids pursuing us are emis-

  saries of the Legion of Avatars, a long-forgotten enemy

  of civilisation, and I am an agent of a machine intelli-

  gence called the Construct.'

  'And what's this weapon ...'

  'A fearsome device built millennia ago on the world

  you call Darien ... ah, wait, look!'

  On the long-range scanner, the freighter appeared

  1,332 kilometres away and immediately started moving

  towards the Castellan.

  They jumped again.

  The sequence of events was repeated four times,

  while the droids' ravaged, mutilated ship continued to

  dog them, their exit point coming closer and closer. As

  Kao Chih stared at the sensor sweep holo, where a

  tagged symbol denoting the freighter had just winked

  into existence 495 kilometres away, he said:

  'Drazuma-Ha*, this cannot continue - anothe two

  jumps and they may have us.'

  'I agree, but our options are limited,' the mech said.

  'Therefore I propose that we employ the same tactic

  that led us into the deepzone.'

  Kao Chih stared at the mech, still trying to come to

  terms with the earlier revelations. 'Er, dropping out of

  hyperspace partway through the jump?'

  'Exactly so, Gowchee. My hypothesis is that our pur-

  suers drop a beacon-probe in hyperspace just before

  exiting to our position in normal space. When we make

  our next jump the beacon analyses our vessel's multi-

  field burst and deduces the jump course and duration,

  which are passed on to the droids, probably via subspace

  link. I am now merging new course data for a longer

  jump in the direction of Darien's possible location - I

  plan to disengage the hyperdrive a quarter of the way

  into the jump. Does that meet with your approval?'

  'It does, Drazuma-Ha*,' he said, eyeing the sensor

  holo in which the freighter's distance was down to 120

  kilometres and closing. 'I suggest that we leave now.'

  The mech's reply was to engage the hyperdrive.

  Minutes later they emerged into normal space, the pale-

  blue console holo lighting up as the sensor came back

  online. And Kao Chih groaned when he saw the glittering

  symbol of a ship sitting there, out at 1,081 kilometres.

  'They got here ahead of us! - how could they possi-

  bly

  'Calm yourself, Gowchee - it is not them but another

  vessel entirely, a cloud-harvester.'

  He sat up, loosening the couch straps a little, trying

  to contain his excitement as he peered into the holo.

  'It is at rest, Drazuma-Ha *. It couldn't be abandoned,

  could it, or a wreck?'

  'No, its emissions curve indicate that it is functioning

  nominally with an active ident that says it is the

  Harvester Viganli. The most likely reason for it being

  stationary would be a pause for refining or repairs.'

  'I cannot help but notice that we too are stationary,

  rather than heading towards the harvester,' Kao Chih

  said.

  'We must wait to see if our tactic has worked,' said

  the mech. 'It has been one minute since our arrival - we

  should make sure that we have evaded them.'

  Vexed, Kao Chih, could only agree, then settle down

  to gaze at the console's shiptime counter. A minute

  passed with infuriating slowness and the next few went

  no faster. After ten languid minutes Drazuma-Ha *

  decided that the tactic had succeeded and started the

  thrusters, laying in a course for the Viganli.

  'We seem to be proceeding at a somewhat leisurely

  pace, Drazuma-Ha*,' said Kao Chih, still disgruntled.

  'It will reassure the harvester's crew or command AI

  that we have no aggressive intentions. Covering this dis-

  tance should take just under an hour.'

  'Sufficient time for you to tell me about your mission

  to Darien?'

  'I am sure that it would be, Gowchee.'

  'Excellent, now tell me about your boss, this

  Construct...'

  52

  ROBERT

  At last - the Great Terrace, a title which by no means

  did it justice. As he followed the three mechs-Reski out

  of the low, lamplit cavern (into which the tunnel from

  Abfagul had led) he thought he heard the rushing sound

  of strong winds, a shuddering, sky-filling roar. Then the

  cavern opened out to show him that they stood, insect-

  like, at the edge of an edifice of incomparable grandeur.

  Lit by pearly light from far above, an immense stone

  promenade about 100 yards across extended from a

  high bank out over the white, hazy curve of a waterfall.

  This was fed by numerous sources arriving from further

  back, rivers and streams that gushed in from many

  directions, splashing among mist-blurred rocks, down

  over ledges and runnels and levels of pools that gave

  forth their own lesser cascades. Except that both the

  promenade and the falls stretched off into the distance

  for perhaps a mile, matching the hundreds if not thou-

  sands of inflows that coursed down an immense,

  boulder-strewn slope where little clumps of trees and

  bushes stood like pale ghosts amongst the surging

  streams. At the far side, rock walls soared up and up,

  pale, sheer, rising to heights obscured by the pure white

  light that poured down from what might be a long fis-

  sure in the vast cavern's veiled ceiling.

  'This is . . . incredible,' he said. Next to this, the

  Gangradur Falls were like a decorative garden water fea-

  ture. 'Who built this?'

  'A race called the Teziyi,' said Track-Reski. 'They

  were very fond of statement projects like this.'

  'Did they build other things on this scale?'

  'Several just after the fall of their universe, while their

  species still had the will and the resources.'

  Robert frowned - the mechs were sticking to their

  stratified universe fantasy. Very well, then he would

  observe and deduce for himself. />
  The flat expanse of the Great Terrace was largely

  deserted, apart from a few far-off figures standing along

  the balustrade in ones, twos or small groups. As he fol-

  lowed the mechs he began to notice more details, the

  small buildings constructed along the side overlooking

  the falls, the basket balloons that hung out over the

  hurtling torrents and were winched in from time to time

  to offload sightseers and take on new groups. As for

  the other promenaders, few were bipeds, never mind

  even vaguely humanoid, the majority being insectile or

  reptilian, with occasional hybrids and frequent cyber-

  augments. More than a few gave Robert and the mechs

  disapproving looks, but he was scarcely concerned

  about that as he was leaning on the balustrade, gazing

  down in disbelief.

  The curved mile-long falls plunged several hundred

  feet to a small lake where tiny, sailless boats and galleys

  sculled about. Further on the lake narrowed a little to

  where another imposing promenade spanned the waters

  as they rushed over another brink to another bridged

  falls and another after that. The moisture-laden air

  hazed the distant downward depths and Robert's mind

  reeled as he tried to imagine the scale of it. Doubt crept

  in and nibbled at the roots of his assumptions - how

  could something like this exist on Darien but not show

  up on the Heracles's orbital sensor sweep? Were the

  mechs telling the truth?

  As he stood there, wondering, a red dart shape shot

  out from under the promenade some way along,

  wheeled over the hazy spray then swooped and banked,

  descending. A glider, he realised as he saw another

  launch out over the falls.

  'Human Horst,' said Tripod-Reski, 'we have received

  a message from Conveyance 289, asking to meet us at

  the lower level. We must hurry - there is a ramp nearby'

  'There is another level?' Robert said, hurrying after

  them.

  'Three,' said Hover-Reski.

  'They were originally made for the worker dorms and

  materials storage,' Track-Reski said. 'When the construc-

  tion was complete, they were closed up and forgotten as

  the survivors of the great Teziyi civilisation took up resi-

  dence, here and elsewhere. That final era began in

  defiance but ended amid forgotten purposes and cultural

  senescence. The last of the Teziyi finally abandoned their

  cities, leaving no records when they either transcended or

  were consumed. Then the remnants of other lesser civili-

  sations wandered down here to settle, opening some of

  the lower levels where refugees could find a place to rest.

  Communities grew, vendors found customers, and a few

  finessers even have set up glider stations...'

  'This is not how I imagined this would be at all,'

  Robert said.

  'This is a rarity,' said Tripod-Reski. 'A small pocket

  of existence amid hyperspace's twisted layers of wrecked

  continua. Many here would escape to the real, but there

  are no safe routes up the levels.'

  The mechs were heading for a fence-enclosed, roofed-

  over set of stairs. The steps were wide and fairly shallow,

  decorated with colourful mosaics which the many cen-

  turies had worn away, although some bore evidence of

  unimaginative repairs. At the foot they encountered a

  strange thoroughfare that was far busier and noisier than

  the promenade. Shops and stalls sold all manner of goods

  while gastronomic kiosks provided a tantalising array of

  flavours and savouries. The number of species on show

  here was prodigious, and he recognised very few. One

  common factor was the bulky, trailing clothing almost

  everyone wore, along with floppy, decorated hats and

  gauntlets. But Robert's opportunity to study this clam-

  orous, bustling market (which stretched as far as he could

  see) was cut short when the mechs steered him to another

  stairway which spiralled down to the next level.

  It was quieter down here, darker, with lowlit pas-

  sages passing between long featureless blocks and a few

  solidly impenetrable iron doors, some of which were

  guarded. These were the lower floors of the expensive

  residences whose first levels looked out over the falls.

  The passages also connected with a wide walkway

  which ran along the back of the Great Terrace, provid-

  ing an imposing view of the rivers and currents that

  poured in from above. It was there that they met

  Conveyance 289.

  At first there was a scraping, clinking sound from

  somewhere very close yet unseen, then a large iron grid

  in the flagstones just ahead of them swung open and a

  shiny black, elephant-sized insect clambered out. Robert

  was alarmed and ready to flee until he saw his mech

  companions approach the massive creature ... which on

  closer inspection proved to be a machine, not a beast. It

  had a segmented metal carapace, fluted cables, access

  covers bearing blocks of text in tiny characters, heat-

  vane clusters at the rear, effectors and the main

  interaction unit at the front. It moved around with sur-

  prising agility on four pairs of articulated limbs and on

  its back was what looked like a passenger recess covered

  by a darkened canopy. Fascinated and a little wary,

  Robert advanced and was introduced by the mechs.

  'I am pleased to meet you,' he said. 'Are there another

  288 like yourself?'

  'In all, Human Horst, the Construct's tectories have

  produced 3,739 of my series, of which less than a hun-

  dred are still in operation.' The machine's voice wis

  expressive, almost musical, and possessed an odd

  buzzing harmony. 'It will be an honour and a privilege

  to fight alongside you.'

  Robert froze. 'Excuse me, but did you say "fight"?'

  'Indeed so. I have already updated the Reski Emantes

  via proximal databurst but I am equipped to deliver a

  verbal summary - in essence, our goal, the upgate, is

  located below us in one of the empty storage vaults but

  unfortunately a small covey of vermax have got to it

  first, five of them, and are guarding it.'

  'Five of us,' said Hover-Reski.

  'Vermax?' Robert said. 'What are . . .'

  'When we traversed the Refulgence, you may recall

  that we were pursued by polymorphic hunters,' Track-

  Reski said.

  'The black snake things?'

  'Those are the vermax. We do not know who their

  creators are but they originate in the Abyss, which sug-

  gests several possibilities. They eat metal and are

  especially fond of the submesh array where our sen-

  tience patterns reside.'

  'A dedicated design,' said Tripod-Reski.

  'They are also dangerous to organic lifeforms,' said

  Conveyance 289 as a niche opened in its side. 'Which is

  why you should have this.'

  From the niche an arm telescoped out, holding a

  long, narrow case. The case then split open lengthways

  to reve
al a slender black object about three feet long

  with a red hilt. It was so black that Robert could see no

  surface detail or texture, only a thin silhouette tapering

  to an unseeable point. Light seemed to be devoured by

  it.

  'It's a sword,' he said, confused.

  'It is called a kezeq shard. Against creatures like the

  vermax, it is deadly. Handle it carefully, however - the

  cold of it would cause irreparable damage to your flesh.'

  Robert lifted the kezeq by its hilt and found it to be

  as light as a wooden metre rule. He had once learned

  some fencing when he was at college in Bonn, but that

  was 40 years ago - how much could he remember in a

  few minutes?

  'You will ride in my guest compartment, Human

  Horst, while the Reski Emantes will be our valiant van-

  guard.'

  Five minutes later he was seated and strapped into an

  odd, high-backed couch in Conveyance 289's passenger

  recess as the machine clambered back down into the

  open grating. It was a descent from light and cool fresh-

  ness into dank, musty gloom.

  'This is a very old storage area,' said Tripod-Reski.

  All three mechs were in the recess with him. '289 says

  that the upgate is in the next vault along.'

  On eight mechanical, multijointed legs, Conveyance

  289 provided a surprisingly smooth, comfortable steed,

  although stealth demanded that lamp radiance be kept

  to a meagre peep. In this murky grey halo, they picked

  their way through the immense storeroom, past myste-

  rious mounds of belongings, or carefully stacked crates

  wrapped in glittery tendrils. Before long they reached

  the other side and a rounded, open passage leading to

  the next storage vault.

  If anything, this room was even more crowded than

  the previous one, with many stacks reaching from floor

  to ceiling. A poorly assembled few had given way,

  becoming huge, slumped heaps blocking corridors or

  sometimes providing a short cut over slopes of dusty,

  enigmatic debris. Finally they came to a halt at the corner

  of a plinth of a huge statue depicting a creature with

  seven legs and three heads about to smash a hammer

  down on a ringed planet resting on an anvil, or maybe an

  altar. With one of its extensible arms, Conveyance 289

  held up a triangular mirror, looted from one of the col-