"Then what?"
It was hard to tell whether the light in Skull's eyeholes came from real or reflected fires.
"And then nothing. Nothing left."
"Well, then we act. Tonight. How long do we have before sunrise, Copper?"
A short, bright redheaded man at her left looked at an ancient time piece on his wrist. He shook it, cursed, "Wait a minute," he said, and scampered out of the room, returning a few minutes later.
"By the stars, I'd say six hours."
"Six hours." Minnow seemed to mull this over. "You say you don't think we have another day?"
"I'd say no," replied Skull.
"All right. We have a vague plan, you can come along if you like. We know how to get in down there, that's all. From then on we're on our own. You have anything to add?"
"I've been down there once. All the way."
Again a gasp.
"You've been all the way down?"
Softly. "Yes."
"You'll lead with me. Copper and Cave behind. Goat and the rest after. Take whatever tools we have. Think you can get us all the way through, using our entrance?"
Skull leaned back into his shadow. "No doubt. The system is a continuous grid; there's no one major focal point. Break them all, break any one, it all goes apart like a broken chain."
Minnow couldn't help keeping the awe out of her voice; she feared her mouth was hanging open.
"What is it like? What is the beat like?"
There was quiet.
"You'll see," he said, and then his death's head was silent.
They found the hole with no trouble. Minnow had been afraid it would be covered, or worse yet, gone; but apparently the beat had not detected their advent the first time she and Copper had stumbled onto it after a day of fevered dancing, or, if it had, had not thought it worth its while to do anything about it.
When she told Skull all this he merely grunted and led on.
They had a few crude lights that Copper had wired together, ancient acid batteries goosed into life and connected to unbroken 25 watt bulbs. Those in the back carried tarred and oiled rags in case the batteries went dead.
They went down steeply for awhile, first descending a vertical greasy ladder and then, after traversing a short tunnel, a long staircase that led down in a slow arc. There were puddles at intervals, and the smell of dead matter: Minnow turned to Skull but his head only seemed to grin at her in the sour light. There were rats, too, large ones; with red tight eyes like small laser tracks. They were bigger than the ones on the surface, some a good three feet long: Minnow commented that the reason the ones on the surface didn't grow bigger was that the beat got to them there.
"I saw one dance itself to death one day, just before twilight," she said in hoarse whisper. "He was squealing like mad up on his hind legs, blood and spittle coming out of his mouth. You could see the strength seeping from his limbs. He kept dancing till the beat stopped. And then he seemed to fold up and blow away."
"They have the beat down here, too," was all Skull said as they pushed on.
They wound downward for about a half mile before Minnow motioned for them to halt. "Copper, how much time left?"
The redhead gave his wristwatch a bang. "I'd estimate four hours, give or take a half hour." His eyes were huge with fear. "The way I see it, we'd barely have enough time to get back to the surface again. If we get caught under—"
"We die, just like above," Skull cut in. "Let's move."
They continued for another mile. The walls were slicker now, and there was an acrid smell in the air, like burning metal or wires.
"Are we close?" Minnow asked.
"I can't say. I think so."
"I thought you said you were down here?"
"Only once," Skull replied.
One of the electric lanterns began to dim so they lit the other, but this too faded, victim of a fragile bulb. They went on by torchlight.
Abruptly, the steps ended and their pathway ahead widened. Minnow saw that it was brighter around them, despite the weaker light of the torches.
"There's something up ahead," she said unnecessarily.
Skull didn't acknowledge, but only walked on.
The five things were on them without warning. There was a shriek, and the torches were knocked aside by furiously flapping wings, leaving them all in a weird orange glow like sickly twilight.
"Run ahead!" cried Skull, and they followed.
The things—like huge hummingbirds with rotating metallic heads—followed them into a small amphitheater. This was the source of the light. It looked like a storage area or hexagonal locker: two of the walls were lined with storage bins and dusty metal cages, most of them empty. Tools and what looked like discarded uniforms jutted out of others.
The hummingbirds forced them into a corner. They hung back a moment. Then, with frightening slowness, they began to move forward. Each had a finely honed set of whirring blades where its beak should be.
"What the hell are they?" Minnow asked, pressing her back against the metal cabinet behind her. Her muscles tensed.
"I don't know precisely," Skull answered. "Some sort of guard device, probably the only one still working. Maybe they're just outlaw machines." He gestured at all of them. "Spread out and wait for my signal. I should be able to draw them back away from you, and when I do, you run for the doorway behind us and move on."
"What about you?" Minnow asked.
"I'll catch up." He waved an arm. "Go!"
Minnow hesitated, then moved quickly off to one side as she saw, with amazement, Skull leap straight at the hummingbirds. His jump was graceful, the gazelle-like arc of a ballet dancer—and in mid-leap he suddenly dropped to all fours. The hummingbirds seemed startled, and then, after hesitating a moment, fixed all their attention on Skull. Their wings dipped down, along with their deadly beaks; but by then Skull had rolled lithely off to the left and regained his footing, standing on his toes and bobbing lightly from side to side.
Minnow stood transfixed in the doorway by his movement, and only when he shouted angrily did she duck back to the corridor where the others were waiting. They had managed to get out without any serious injuries, though Copper had sustained a large welt from bashing into a storage bin.
They stopped halfway down the corridor, and waited. Ten minutes went by, and Minnow was just getting restless enough to start back toward the storage room when Skull appeared.
"Are you all right?" She couldn't keep the note of concern out of her voice.
He nodded curtly. "Let's move."
Goat started to open his mouth but the look Skull turned on him made him stop.
"I said let's go."
Another hour and a half of forward and downward progress and they halted again. They were back in the same sort of tunnel they had started in; had passed two more storage areas, each larger than the last and both empty of hummingbirds or any other surprises.
"How much time left?" Minnow asked hollowly.
She already knew the answer.
"Twenty minutes," Copper said in a dull voice.
There was silence, and then Skull spoke.
"I suggest we keep pushing," he said simply.
No one moved.
A sudden chill went through Minnow. Down here, a mile or so below the surface, it struck her like a hammerblow that she knew nothing about this man. He wore a mask, and sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and danced with a frightful grace she had never seen before—and that was all she knew about him. In twenty minutes the horrible dance would start again, as it did every dawning, and they would be trapped in a Skinner box on the word of someone they had trusted—she had trusted—for no other reason than that she had wanted someone to trust.
"You knew we wouldn't make it," she said in a whisper.
The twin caves where his eyes should be seemed to glow amber, then reverted back to dark tombs.