The rock underfoot was crumbling and he had to watch where he put his
feet. At the same time he fought a constant impulse to look up, watching
for anything falling from above. Nothing happened. When he reached the
top of the wall he was breathing hard, sweat moistened his body. There
was still no one in sight. He stood on an unevenly shaped wall that
appeared to circle the building. Instead of a courtyard inside it, the
wall was the outer face of the structure, the domed roof rising from it.
At varying intervals dark openings gave access to the interior. When
Brion looked down the sandcar was just a dun-colored bump in the desert,
already far behind him.
Stooping, he went through the nearest door. There was still no one in
sight. The room inside was something out of a madman's funhouse. It was
higher than it was wide, irregular, and more like a hallway than a room.
At one end it merged into an incline that became a stairwell. The other
ended in a hole that vanished in darkness below. Light of sorts filtered
in through slots and holes drilled into the thick stone wall. Everything
was built of the same crumble-textured but strong rock. Brion took the
stairs. After a number of blind passages and wrong turns he saw a
stronger light ahead. There was food, metal, even artifacts of the
unusual Disan design in the different rooms he passed through. Yet no
people. The light ahead grew stronger as he approached, the passageway
opening and swelling out until it met the larger central chamber.
This was the heart of the strange structure. All the rooms, passageways
and halls existed just to give form to this gigantic hall. The walls
rose sharply, the room circular in cross section and growing narrower
towards the top. It was a truncated cone since there was no ceiling; a
hot blue disk of sky cast light on the floor below.
On the floor stood a knot of men staring at Brion.
Out of the corner of his eyes, and with the very periphery of his
consciousness, he was aware of the rest of the room. Barrels, stores,
machinery, a radio transceiver, various bundles and heaps that made no
sense at first glance. There was no time to look closer. Every fraction
of his attention was focused on the muffled and hooded men.
He had found the enemy.
* * * * *
Everything that happened to him so far on Dis had been preparation for
this moment. The attack in the desert, the escape, the dreadful heat of
sun and sand. All this had tempered and prepared him. It had been
nothing in itself. Now the battle would begin in earnest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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