5: Piran
1303 Words
5: Piran
Piran
Piran had only been in the room for about fifteen minutes—enough time to figure out that the dispenser was basic, the mattress was decent, and the shower had high-blast air-dry—when the door slid open to reveal Macklyn Grivas. Piran stood, shuffling the terminals he’d already placed on the desk.
“Mister Remis,” Macklyn said, stepping into the room. “Good to see you’re already making yourself at home. The room’s satisfactory?”
“Bigger than the one on Metis.”
“And for what you’ve uncovered so far you deserve it.”
“Suppose.”
“Eloquent as ever. But I have something to show you. Are you up for a short walk?”
The question sounded so b****y innocent, and a chill ran down Piran’s spine. But this couldn’t be anything bad, could it? If Macklyn wanted to get rid of Piran, he’d have done it by now. Wouldn’t do it personally, either. He’d have arranged an accident up on Metis—had Piran investigate a tech glitch in an airlock or something. Oh, the man would watch, either in person or through sensors, and he’d enjoy every second of the entertainment, but he wouldn’t do the deed himself.
Which meant it was safe to go with him.
“Be good to get a bit of exercise.”
He followed Macklyn from the room, conscious that there were no guards in sight. They walked along the corridor, turned and entered the lift, just the two of them.
But others watched. Piran pushed into the system. Techs monitored the feeds, and guards stood ready behind doors.
Macklyn sent the lift down five levels. When the door opened, the air was chilled—not cold, but getting there. The light was bright, clinically white.
Again, there was nobody around.
“Where are we going?” Piran asked.
“All in good time, Mister Remis. I have a surprise for you.”
“A good surprise?”
“An interesting one.”
Their boots echoed in the empty corridors. Macklyn led Piran through a maze of junctions and doors, and at one point they descended a flight of rough-cut stone stairs. The walls seemed carved from the rock too, and Piran thought of the volcano crater, and the caverns Ryann had been working in.
“You got a dig down here?” he asked Macklyn.
The man tilted his head. “Perceptive. You continue to surprise me.”
“Don’t like being too predictable.”
Piran coughed after he said that. The words sounded wrong, more like something he’d say to Casey.
They reached a solid-looking metal door, and Macklyn placed his hand on the terminal. Piran pushed, felt both the terminal and Macklyn’s lattice. He sent a couple of routines and ran the data across his lenses.
There was a connection, but the terminal—and the door—requested physical confirmation. The terminal buzzed with activity as it read Macklyn’s palm-print, at the same time sending data requests to the man’s lattice node. Hard to tell if his responses were automated or conscious, but they seemed to work for the terminal, and the lock disengaged.
Macklyn pushed the door open.
The area beyond was dark until both Macklyn and Piran had stepped inside and the door had sealed behind them. Only then did soft light fall from strips running along the ceiling.
No. Not a ceiling. They were in a rough-cut passage, and the light strips were fixed to the n***d rock a good three metres overhead. But the passage was wide enough for them to walk abreast in comfort, so long as they watched their footing.
The passage angled down, and turned to the left. Piran knew they were far beneath the base now, possibly out under the forest.
Why not? Like the volcano, the basin around Haven’s Deep was riddled with underground passages. All down to the geology of the area—something like that, anyway. They’d given him a briefing tour, back when he’d first been in Haven, and even though it bored him stupid some of it must’ve stuck.
But these passages didn’t look natural. Sure, they were carved from the rock, but…but that was it, right? Carved, not worn away by water or whatever.
“This tunnel been here long?” he asked.
“You’re wondering if these tunnels were being excavated when you were last in Haven, aren’t you?”
“Suppose. Told us this was going to be a mining operation, so it’d make sense they’d done some prelim work, right?”
“Yes.” Which wasn’t a proper answer. “This whole project has a long history. And I believe we’re now entering a new chapter, possibly even the final act.”
They reached another solid metal door, like the first. Again, Macklyn placed his palm on the terminal while interfacing with his lattice. Piran concentrated, recorded as much as he could through his own connection, stored the data in the folds of his node.
Behind the door was a short passage, the end shrouded in darkness as Macklyn led the way, light grew.
The light was sickly pale, and Piran couldn’t tell where it came from—fittings hidden in the rock, he reckoned. The light grew, but somehow the shadows didn’t retreat. Instead, they intensified at the edges of the cavern, hiding the rock.
Like the cavern didn’t really exist. Like the floor sat in a void. There was no roof, no walls.
Except one. Bright beams arced over the far wall. And it wasn’t rock.
Okay, there was rock at the edges, where the ink-black shadows swallowed the light. But the rock fell back, revealing a vast expanse of…of what, Piran couldn’t tell. It wasn’t stone, he was certain of that. Could’ve been metal, but what metal swallowed light like that? And the surface swirled, dark colours spreading.
Like oil on water. On very black water. On very black, very deep water.
Piran swallowed. He rubbed his neck, and his skin was warm.
His lattice node throbbed.
“Ancients,” he said.
“Ancients.”
Piran turned. He’d forgotten that Macklyn was there. The man stood tall, watching the wall. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, then he turned to Piran.
“An entrance, we’re assuming,” he said. “And—unless you have contrary evidence—we’re assuming those beyond were behind the signal intercept.”
Piran worked through that jumble of words. “So the Ancients are behind that wall?”
“That’s one theory.”
“Only a theory?”
“Without firm evidence, can it be anything else?”
And there was a further question in that, one Piran couldn’t understand. Macklyn’s eyes were wide. They scared the hell out of Piran.
Macklyn leaned in close. Piran found himself unable to retreat.
“You can feel them, can’t you?” Macklyn whispered.
“Feel them?”
“Them.”
ThemThe warmth in Piran’s neck increased, and he rubbed it again. A buzzing filled his head. Wasn’t loud, but it was constant.
Piran turned his gaze to the swirls of colour that danced on the wall.
But Macklyn had called it an entrance, hadn’t he? Reckoned it was some kind of door. Or gate.
Which made sense, if Ancients were behind it. If they existed. If they hadn’t died out years ago.
There were too many questions. Like Macklyn said, it was all theory. Couldn’t be anything else.
At least, not yet. Not without proof.
Piran shuddered.
“You want me to open it, don’t you?”
- Writer
