"When I had some idea of what they're up to," he said. "That may be once we've had a look at what the Guard is doing at the center of that ice-free area.
"Anyway," he added as he tossed off the last of the rum, "I didn't know how far I could trust you."
"Captain! City's in sight!" Jacoby and Antaea looked at one another, then both bolted for the door.
* * *
"I TOLD YOU," Keir insisted. "That way is too dangerous."
"Did you see those missiles?" Piero Harper crossed his arms and glared at him. "We have to get home."
The Virgans had him surrounded--or thought they did. Actually it was Keir's second body they were looming over. He was able to watch the confrontation from thirty feet away, in his real one. Still, he felt the intensity of their desperation, and it struck a chord with him.
"Where does this other door actually go?" asked Leal. "You just said it went to Virga."
"It's a city on the Virgan side," he told them. "Beyond that, we don't know much."
"And the inhabitants of this city? They're hostile?"
"There are no inhabitants. It's like Brink, empty, except for guards that the virtuals put there. Those will tear you apart before you get ten meters."
"But not," said Piero, "if we were suitably armed?"
"Sure, but I--" He'd been about to say I'm not allowed to evolve weapons. And of course that was true; Keir had never had any means of equipping himself to fight the guardians of that gate.
Not four meters away from where his main body stood, two Edisonians were vomiting weapons onto the floor.
Piero Harper had seen this activity, and now he walked over to the members of the Renaissance who were outfitting themselves there. "Pardon, but this is our fault," he said. "There ain't no need for any of you to get hurt if they come down here."
Gallard shook his head. "We can send our second bodies in," he pointed out. "We don't die if they're destroyed. Can you say the same?"
"We're willing to take that risk. And this is our fault."
Gallard cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. He was consulting with the rest of the Renaissance. Keir tried to remain silent and small, willing them to trust the Virgans. Of course, the weapons could be remotely disabled at a command from the Renaissance; there was no danger these people could pull a coup.
Gallard gave a sharp nod. "All right. Equip yourselves. And good luck."
As the Virgans picked up the new guns, Keir broke out of the shadows and joined his second body. "Surely we can't just abandon these people?" one of the airmen was whispering.
"They'll be fine," he said. "They know the city. And now that they're forewarned, they can build weapons that can eliminate another attack from a hundred kilometers away."
Keir saw Maerta approaching from the far end of the hall. If she realized what they were planning ... But before she got within voice distance, a deep rumble shook the floor under them.
"It's a second attack!" Suddenly everybody was running again.
Maerta turned to talk to somebody.
"This way! Now!"
Keir ran with both his bodies, hoping that in the chaos, nobody would wonder where they were going until it was too late.
* * *
AS THE SHIP'S searchlight played over the ice-choked domes and spires of the lost city, Jacoby felt an unnerving sense of doubt. The frozen towers were clutched by the fingers of a glacier that encircled most of the world. Yet on one side of the city, they stopped. The wall of the world that underlay them was swept clear here. A black plain, it stretched away into obscurity, utterly empty of any feature the eye could use to judge its scale. Two hundred miles away across that flat blackness, a hundred Home Guard ships were building a base of some kind.
These lightless windows in empty facades, the grasping iceberg wall--even to Jacoby, this place looked like nothing so much as a gateway to the afterworld.
The city had never known gravity, so its buildings grew out of Virga's wall at all angles. Black glittering windows corkscrewed around the towers and swept in spirals and whorls across the vast gray domes. Girdered docking gantries stood into the air, faint whiskers in the distance. No ships were berthed on them.
The pastel airs of his home were far away, veiled behind more than two thousand miles of air. The influence of the sun of suns itself was barely felt here; nothing grew, and not even the poorest or most desperate souls would try to subsist in this place. What mad impulse would lead a people to colonize such empty desolation?
"Captain?" said Mauven from behind him.
Jacoby blinked away his distraction. "Yes, yes," he said, then cleared his throat. "Locate an area that's clear of ice and has a view of the blank area. Forget the docking gantries, we'll lash the ship directly to whatever building we choose to camp in. That'll make for a speedy exit if we have to."
Antaea was waiting at the main hatch with a sizable crowd of airmen. They were all holding the straps of packs that were bigger than they were--carrying tents, heaters and stoves, gas supplies, guns big and small, ammunition, food supplies, extra clothing, blankets, and personal items. They looked ready to settle in for a long stay; good.
"What's that for?" Antaea pointed at two men who were struggling with a huge reel of rope.
Jacoby grunted. "When we triangulate the direction of that nest of Guard ships, we'll unreel that behind us as we go, to make a road back. We're bringing black cloth to make a blind we can hide behind when we get close enough to watch them."
"Ah. Clever."
"We wouldn't have to be clever if the Guard trusted you better," he said. "Then you could have just asked them what they were up to."
She scowled at him. With one last look at the readiness of his men, Jacoby swung out the hatch and into the darkness of the lost city.
The air smelled of stale ice. One by one the others left the warmth of the ship behind, gathering in a knot around Jacoby. There were already several crewmen out here manning searchlights and telescopes; the telescopes were aimed into the black-on-black geometry of the city, but the searchlights were roving over the tower that they had stopped next to. This was cylindrical, with one band of glass windows that spiraled around it from its base to its crown. The windows were unbroken, and Jacoby had seen no wreckage drifting in the air. Whatever ancient event had caused its citizens to abandon the place, it seemed not to have been a war.
"Find a way through that glass," he said. "If you have to break it, then break it. I want this tower thoroughly searched and secured within one hour." Then he turned to Antaea. "Can you fly a bike?"
"Mine is in the hold, remember?" He heard the eagerness in her voice, and smiled.
"We have six. Break 'em out, boys!"
The bikes were simple: wingless jet engines with a saddle and handlebars. Each was capable of accelerating hard enough to knock its rider off, and cruise fast enough that the headwind would snap your neck if you poked your head out from behind the windscreen. Jacoby had no special ambitions for them today, of course; they were convenient for reconnoitering the ruin. He and Antaea each took one, and some of his men doubled up on the other four. They growled and grumbled into the grasp of the towers, listening to echoes murmur back from dead walls.
One of the men quickly spotted a set of big square doors gaping at the base of the docking gantries. He swung his headlight in. "Sir? Can we?"
The boys were nervous, and that was making them dare one another to go farther. Well, Jacoby could play that game, too. He turned to Antaea, who expertly straddled her bike a dozen feet away. "Shall we?"
"You brought rope?" He nodded. "Then let's not waste time," she said. "Remember, the Guard may be on its way here."
They lashed the bikes at the base of the docking gantries, and left the icy air of the outdoors for even colder inside air. One of the crew whistled as he played his little magnesium lantern around the walls.