She did not have long to ponder the matter, because as soon as her bare hand made contact with the wall, the thick, heavy barrier began to descend. It came down fast, though not so fast that she failed to observe Bac’cul’s startled reaction and the Vrizan’s angry response. Led by the tall female, several of the visitors rushed toward the tunnel. They failed to reach it only seconds before the base of the dark barrier slid into its matching groove in the ground.
Myssari and Vrizan alike might have been yelling loudly at her from the other side. They might have been firing weapons at the doorway. She had no way of knowing because she could hear nothing. Pleased and relieved, she spun and retraced her steps at a fast walk, heading for the waiting rank of lifts. To find out if another of the six was functional, she would try a different one this time. She and Bogo were committed now. Even if they weren’t sure to what.
“We’re secure.” Lying flat on the smooth floor, she put her hands behind her head and gazed at the softly radiant ceiling. The inexplicable contentment that had enveloped her ever since she had been freed from the hell that was her childhood on Daribb had bequeathed her the aspect of a tarnished angel. “For how long I don’t know. But the Myssari couldn’t break through the door. I imagine the Vrizan can’t do any better.” Rolling her head to one side, she met his gaze. “I imagine that after a while they’ll both agree to listen to whatever we decide and we can ensure that whatever happens here is done to our satisfaction, not theirs. The Myssari are always willing to accommodate us. The Vrizan are belligerent, but they’re not stupid. I’m willing to bet they’ll fall in line with whatever arrangement we make with the Myssari.”
Ruslan was less sanguine. “Unless they brought heavy weapons with them. If they did, they’re liable to try forcing an entrance before agreeing to anything. The Vrizan I’ve met turn reasonable only when all their other methods of achieving what they want have failed.”
From where she lay sprawled on her back on the floor, Cherpa mustered a shrug. “We’ll just have to wait and see. I really think that door will keep them out.”
“I wonder…” Ruslan’s thoughts were drifting. “Important institutions on Seraboth were protected by mechanized safeguards. Even after most of the population had succumbed to the Aura Malignance, you had to be careful trying to enter certain buildings because their defensive automatics still functioned.” Slowly he scrutinized their silent surroundings, from the slightly arched ceiling to the unmoving figure lying within the single transparent cylinder. “Though we’re still not certain of its purpose, it’s not inconceivable that a place like this is similarly protected.”
Sitting up, Cherpa wrapped her forearms around her knees and hugged them to her chest. “If it’s not, then maybe it’s not as important as we think.”
“Maybe there are defenses but they’re not automatic and have to be activated.” He studied the rippling walls and their inscrutable projections. “It would help if we could find something like a switch or haptic contact or other control.”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe all you have to do is ask.” For no particular reason she gestured upward. “Whatever kind of AI is implanted here is capable of speech. We know it listens because it has already asked for one reply.”
He remained doubtful. “It asked a short question to which we could supply no answer. That may be all it’s programmed to do.”
“Only one way to find out.” Rising to her feet, she cupped her hands to her mouth, and before he could restrain her or offer a counterargument, she was yelling at the top of her lungs.
“HEY! BE CAREFUL! NONHUMAN BIPEDS MAY TRY TO FORCE THEIR WAY IN HERE! DON’T LET THEM IN!” Lowering her hands, she grinned at the look on his face. “That should do it, if there’s anything that can be done.”
He swallowed before replying. “Admittedly, most of my contact on Seraboth was with administrative instrumentation, but in my experience AI’s tend not to be deaf.”
Extending her arms out to her sides, she performed a perfect pirouette before bowing in his direction. The woman before him was all grown up, Ruslan knew, but parts of the wild girl with whom he had bathed in the muck of Daribb were still present. They were also liable to rise to the surface at unexpected and sometimes awkward moments.
“I wanted to make sure that there was no equivocation in any response.” Disarmingly, she giggled.
“What response?” he countered. “Nothing’s happening.”
“What about that?” She pointed. Upward again.
The overhead illumination was changing. The warm yellow glow was taking on overtones of pale orange and carmine. Lowering his gaze, he saw that the walls were coming alive. Swimming through the vitreous material like bioluminescent ocean dwellers, blobs of brighter colors began to congregate at various high points while darker hues concentrated themselves in dips and crevices. While most of the new lights shone steadily, a few surged with recurring pulsations. Looking down, a mesmerized Ruslan saw that the floor beneath him was now likewise alive with dancing luminosities. A subtle vibration filtered upward through his feet. The heartbeat of distant machinery coming alive after a long dormancy was perceptible in the depths. He looked over at an equally enthralled Cherpa.
“Something’s happening. I wish we knew what.” Remembering his communicator, he attempted to call Bac’cul. His efforts met with silence. He contemplated the information displayed on the readout before glancing up. His voice was grim.
“We’re being blocked.”
“You cannot do this. We had an agreement.”
The Vrizan Zizanden did not look down at the Myssari researcher. Her attention was on the tech team that was positioning the shock cannon they had unloaded from their transport.
“Our agreement was to share information about this archeological site. This will be done. But in order to share information, we must first acquire it. Whether in response to an action by the female human or something else, the entrance to the site is now shut. Since it cannot be opened by pacific means, we will open it by those means that are available to us.”
“But the doorway itself is an artifact!” A protesting Bac’cul waved all three arms in the direction of the heavy weapon. “ ‘Opening’ it in this fashion will render it useless for study.”
“It is a door,” Zizanden observed curtly. “It is not unique.”
Seeing that he was making no progress with the headstrong Vrizan commander, Bac’cul backed away and moved to rejoin his equally aghast colleagues. He did not need the situation explained to him. By forcing an entrance to the site while simultaneously insisting they would “share” any discoveries, the Vrizan hoped to conduct a preliminary survey and exploration of their own before the Myssari could conceal or mask anything of special significance. Had their positions been switched, Bac’cul might have felt similarly. Except no Myssari would resort to so crude a means of gaining entrance to a blocked site. Outnumbered and heavily outgunned, his team could do little except retreat to the vicinity of their driftec. From there they could wait, watch, and wonder if the Vrizan weapon would succeed in penetrating the barrier when their own less powerful devices had failed.