Heaven's War (23 page)

“Now, that was weird,” Pav said. “There was no echo.”

True; something had struck Rachel as wrong, but she had not realized there was no echo. “What do you suppose that means?”

“Either this passage is kind of small, or the walls are coated with some material that absorbs sound.”

She kept going forward, half-step by half-step.

Pav was playing the Slate light up, down, and sideways. Up showed a low ceiling with the same texture—smooth dirt and rock—as the floor. The walls were different, however. They looked…moist, like the opening, now a full two meters behind them.

Just then the dog barked. “He’s not far,” Pav said, “not if we can hear him.”

“What do you think?” Rachel said. “Good for another two meters?”

“Sure,” he said, slipping the Slate back to his belt and taking her hand again.

They stepped forward confidently—

—and fell into darkness.

“You don’t look so good, mister.”

Xavier Toutant found Gabriel Jones flat on his back behind a rock, out of sight of the Temple or, indeed, anyone.

Xavier had just returned from one of several trips to the rubbish heap, a newly designated area near the down-habitat latrine that now served as the resting place for any garbage.

Not that there was much. Manufactured items brought from Earth were the closest thing the combined HBs had to money; no one would be throwing even a milk carton away. Hell, cut off the top of a milk carton and you’ve got a pot or a cup!

But there were rinds and leaves and stray bits of vegetation that needed to be collected and removed from the eating area up against the Temple’s south wall, and without hearing any discussion, or seeing anyone doing the work, Xavier had started the cleanup. It wasn’t that he was especially tidy by nature; his room back in La Porte never passed one of Momma’s infrequent inspections. But he was clean.

And he knew from experience that you didn’t want trash around when you were dealing with food. Bad enough that there were no tables, no pots and pans, no fire, no utensils. This was seriously stone age, except that, from what Xavier knew, even stone-age people had fire.

Mr. Jones opened his eyes. “Hey, brother,” he said. His voice was weak.

“This ain’t the best place to be resting.”

Xavier offered his hand and helped Jones up. “I didn’t plan to rest,” Jones said. He looked ashamed.

“Well, we’re all so tired and strung out that I’m surprised we aren’t trippin’ over bodies.”

Jones smiled now and seemed to be stronger. “You got that right. Xavier, right?”

“Right, Dr. Jones.” He and Jones had been introduced at least twice before, but Xavier was used to the fact that it seemed to take a while before he got really noticed.

“Gabriel.” The two of them resumed Xavier’s journey back toward the Temple. “You’ve been doing a hell of a lot of work around here,” Jones said. “Don’t think no one’s noticed.”

Xavier thought that was nice, if funny, given that Jones barely remembered his name. “Things gotta be done.”

“That’s right.” He nodded toward the Temple, which rose in front of them, fifty meters away. “Like figuring out how to work this thing.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Xavier wondered what Jones and the other NASA guys, including the new mayor, were actually up to. It had seemed that they spent most of their time shaking their heads and complaining to each other.

Jones must have sensed his contempt. Now apparently fully recovered, he smiled, took Xavier by the shoulder, and said, “Come see.”

Like most of the Houston-Bangalores, Xavier had been inside the Temple, but only as far as its massive ground floor. The scale of things—everything seemed to be twice as high as needed, including the ceiling—unnerved him. But it also had benefits; the high ceiling and open side let in enough light to let the ground floor serve as a shelter.

Not that the HBs needed it, yet. There had been no rain. There was light, but no harsh sunlight. No wind. The temperature had not changed in any way that Xavier could determine. It was all very…well, Momma would have called it the Garden of Eden.

Xavier knew better, of course.

He followed Jones to where most of the members of the new HB Council were clustered. Weldon was one. So was Harley Drake. Vikram Nayar. The pretty tall girl, Sasha. “There you are,” Weldon said to Jones. He glanced at Xavier, as if to say,
What the hell are you doing here?
But only for a moment.

“What are we up to?” Jones said.

“Based on what we see and think we understand from looking at the exterior, we’ve got three stories of structure,” Sasha said. “And those stories are double height.”

“So…close to thirty meters high?” Jones said.

“Right.” Sasha was moving around the floor, pointing up, then to the corners. “That’s in one dimension. This chamber here is twenty meters by fifteen. But the outer perimeter is twenty by twenty.”

“So we’ve got a hidden chamber on this ground floor?” Jones looked at Xavier, as if to say,
Someone’s got to state the obvious
.

“And two double-sized floors of possible chambers above us.”

Nayar said. “But how did they access them? There are no stairs, no elevators.”

“These Architects build ramps,” Weldon said. “At least, they did in the vents outside.”

“Zack said the Architect guy was big, on the order of twice human height,” Sasha said. “I don’t know, maybe they just…climbed up?” She smiled awkwardly, knowing it wasn’t the best suggestion.

Harley said, “Maybe this is easier for me because I’m closer, but look at the floor.”

To Xavier it appeared as if a third of the floor had been scraped. “Well,” Jones said, “were they moving something? A piece of equipment, maybe?”

“They could have been peeling off a layer,” Nayar said.

“Something moved across this floor,” Harley said.

Xavier squatted down and touched the scraped area. He could feel tiny grooves. He looked at the near wall. “I think it was the wall,” he said. He walked over to it…something about the combination of the position and the grooves on the floor convinced Xavier that that was what had happened. “They moved it,” he said.

“Maybe,” Jones said. “Why?”

“To give us room?” Harley said.

As the great minds debated this, Xavier followed the wall to where it joined the adjacent one. This wall was also featureless…except for one object up high, as much as four meters. It was a round plate probably a third of a meter across, slightly darker than the dun-colored wall.

“What do you suppose that is?” Xavier said.

Jones was with him now. Xavier was aware of the man’s heavy breathing; shit, he was one sick dude. “Some kind of sensor, maybe?”

Xavier looked around. Between Jones, on the verge of another collapse, and Harley in his wheelchair, it was hardly an able-bodied group. But between Weldon, Nayar, and Sasha Blaine—

“I need you guys to boost me up there,” Xavier said.

Fortunately, there was limited discussion. Jones did point out, “We’re dealing with a lot less gravity, folks.” He showed his spirit by steadying Xavier as he raised his foot to step into Sasha Blaine’s clenched hands. Sasha and Jones boosted him onto Weldon’s shoulders.

Xavier told Weldon to take him right up to the adjoining wall. Steadying himself with his hands, he carefully pulled himself up. Finally he was standing…still a good half-meter short of the plate.

“Do you see anything?” Jones asked.

“Get ready,” Xavier told Weldon. “I’m gonna—”
Jump
was the word he didn’t say. He popped up and slapped the plate with his hand.

Weldon went tottering backward, and Xavier scraped against the wall as he hit the floor. But Jones had been right about the low gravity. He had almost felt as though he were flying…and the fall took twice as long, giving him sufficient time to tuck and roll.

Nevertheless, the floor was hard. As the others complained about the silliness of his actions, Xavier lay on his back, looking up at the plate—

Which had changed color, from a dull purple to a brighter shade. “Anyone feel that?” Sasha Blaine said, alarmed.

Xavier had; a pulse had just rippled across the floor.

“Everybody out!” Jones was saying, because the ripple was clearly a signal that something was about to happen to the Temple.

First the wall began to move back to its prior position…

And the ceiling began to drop. “Move, move!” Weldon shouted. “It’s going to squash us!”

Xavier stood his ground for several moments, fascinated by the relative smoothness of the operation. There was no horrific grinding, no screech of stone or metal or whatever it was being wrenched from place to place. Just a slow, relentless glide. He could see a fluid of some kind forming at the top, bottom, and side edges of every moving slab, as if the elements were self-lubricating.

The fluid had a funny but familiar smell, too, almost like the pawpaws—

But then Sasha Blaine tugged his shirt and pulled him away.

He joined the others just outside the big opening. A larger crowd had formed, too, mostly Bangalores. Like those who had fled the Temple, all of them stared in openmouthed amazement as they watched the interior of the Temple rearrange itself. “Should we move farther back?” Nayar said.

“Excellent idea,” Weldon said, pointing to either side of them.

The exterior walls were moving now, too, shrinking the opening to a third its original width and two thirds its original height.

As a final touch, once the new exterior seemed to be settled, a doorlike covering swung into place, too. Unlike the other surfaces of the Temple—exteriors layered and textured, interiors flat and smooth—the door bore markings and irregular bumps. “Bas relief,” Sasha said to Harley.

Who said, loud enough for Xavier and the others to hear, “But carved by a crazy person.”

“Carved by an alien,” Jones said.

“What’s the difference?”

“How long do we wait before we go in?” Sasha Blaine had somehow managed to pick up the baby and was sitting next to Harley, rocking. It had been fifteen minutes, by Xavier’s best guess, since the shiftings and movements inside the Temple had stopped.

“Jones, Nayar, and Weldon are walking the perimeter,” Harley told her. “Let’s wait until they get back. Besides,” he said, indicating the new door, “we don’t have a key.”

Hearing this, Xavier rose from the ground and marched directly toward the door. Harley called, “Hey, friend, what’s the rush?” But Xavier was simply tired of waiting.

He was also quite curious.

He stopped in front of the door, which was still wider and taller than any door ought to be. The various protuberances made it look odd, too.

And there was no obvious handle.

Well, what the hell. He simply pushed on the right side, hoping the Temple had thought to create alien door hinges on the left.

Nothing. He only established that the door was solidly in place.

So he pushed on the left side, reasoning that alien beings might not share his particular preferences regarding right and left. Even some humans didn’t.

Nothing again.

“Xavier, what the hell are you doing over there?” Gabriel Jones and Shane Weldon had returned from their scout around the Temple.

Xavier was tired of the timidity.

“Trying to get the door open!”

More out of frustration than logic, he simply leaned forward and pressed in the middle.

The door divided itself in two from top to bottom, swinging open to reveal a ground floor that was smaller, but now internally lit.

“Xavier,” Jones said, still a good distance behind him, “before you enter…be sure there isn’t something nasty waiting for you.”

“Yes, Momma,” he said, but under his breath. Did the man think he was an idiot? Xavier stood in the opening and looked at the interior…which was now shorter, smaller, more normal looking.

There were lighted tubes all around the room, where the walls met the ceiling. They looked a little funny: too bright. When Xavier took a step inside, he noticed that the dust and who-knew-what-kind-of-fragments on his shirt gave off a glow, which reminded him of the black lights used in bars. His teeth were probably blinding.

And along the right side, rising to an obvious opening in the ceiling, was a long, gently sloped ramp.

“It’s okay,” he said.

As Sasha carried the baby in, right behind Harley in his wheelchair, she said, “So the aliens use French doors. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah,” Harley said, “maybe
Architects
is the wrong name for them. Maybe we should call them the Interior Designers.”