She puffed her cheeks out, partly from the heat and partly from the improbability of the vista. “And this is just the transport route?”
“One of them,” Aaron replied. “There are short-length wormholes and some T-spheres operational within the structure. However, they are under the control of the species which installed them. The tubes provide a general connection between chambers.”
“We walk?” she asked incredulously.
“No.” Aaron looked up.
Corrie-Lyn followed his gaze, seeing a dark triangle descending out of the glaring light straight toward them. As it grew closer, she could see it was some kind of aircraft, maybe twenty meters long and quite fat given its otherwise streamlined appearance. Human lettering was stenciled on the narrow swept tail fin, registration codes that made no sense. Landing legs unfolded neatly fore and aft, and it settled on the tough wiry grass. A door swung open halfway along its bulging belly. No malmetal, then, she mused. She couldn’t see any jet intakes, either. Whatever propelled it had to be similar to ingrav.
The cabin interior was basic and somehow primitive to anyone accustomed to the Commonwealth’s ubiquitous capsules. She sank into a chair that could have been designed only for a human body. The hull wasn’t transparent, either, which disappointed her. Inigo picked up on the feeling. “There’s a sensor feed,” he told her, and gave her u-shadow a little access routine that wasn’t like any program she was familiar with.
“How do you know that?” she asked as the aircraft’s camera views unfolded in her exovision. They were already lifting fast, not that the acceleration was apparent.
“I’m monitoring Aaron’s datatraffic,” he replied levelly.
After it rose above the thick winding clouds, the aircraft shot forward. The speed made Corrie-Lyn blink. “Wow,” she murmured.
“As best I can make out, we’re doing about Mach twenty,” Inigo said. “Even with the way this tube bends about, you can probably get from one end of the Spike to the other in a couple of hours.”
“So what’s the place we’re going to?”
“The chamber has been named Octoron,” Aaron said curtly.
“How far?”
“Flight duration approximately three minutes.”
She rolled her eyes, hoping her mind wasn’t showing just how unnerving she found this machinelike version of Aaron, though presumably he no longer had the thought routines that bothered about such emotional trivia. When she concentrated on the few thought impulses inside his head, they were all calm and cool, so much so that it was hard to sense them at all.
Their little plane looped casually halfway around the axial light, then slowed quickly to begin its vertical decent. They landed close to a broad low dome of some silver-gray fabric that had wide arches around the base. It was obviously a transport hub; several other planes were landing and taking off. People came and went from the cathedral-sized dome, dressed like any citizens of the Outer Commonwealth worlds in a mix of styles from ultramodern toga suits down to the whimsy of centuries past.
Sitting right at the center of the airy dome was a gold-mirrored sphere whose lower quarter was hidden belowground. People were walking in and out of it, pushing through the surface as if it were less substantial than mist. As she walked toward it, Corrie-Lyn was conscious of the suspicion and curiosity starting to emanate from the minds around her. Her consternation that Inigo at least would be recognized was acting as positive feedback. Several people stopped to stare. She felt their astonishment as recognition dawned. It was swiftly tinged by anger and resentment.
Just before they reached the gold surface, Aaron took Inigo’s hand. “Do not attempt to evade me,” he warned.
“I have no intention to,” Inigo told him.
Aaron was still holding him as they all went through the sphere wall. Corrie-Lyn felt the surface flow around her like a pressure curtain. Then she was falling slowly as gravity shrank away again. It was gloomy inside. Her macrocellular clusters ran vision-amplifying routines, enabling her to see the wide shaft she was dropping down. It was a variant on a null-grav chute, about three hundred meters long. Aaron and Inigo were a couple of meters ahead of her.
The descent took barely a minute. Whatever gravity distortion was gripping her, it began to flip her around so that she wound up rising to the far end of the chute. It was covered by a murky barrier identical to the one at the other end of the chute. Her skin tingled as she passed through.
Emergence location: plaza.
Active› Grade three integral force field
Active› Level two biononic field scan. Scan summation: plaza one hundred seventy-eight point three meters major diameter. Three main access roads, five secondary streets. Immediate population eighty-seven adult humans, subdivision fifty-three Higher; nineteen children under twelve. No alien life-forms. Surrounding buildings average height twenty-five meters, facade composition high-purity iron. Domestic power supply one hundred twenty volts; high rate communication net. Visible transport: bicycles. Gravatonic fluctuation indicates seven ingrav drive units operational within three kilometers.
Preliminary assessment: secure environment. No threat to subject alpha. Subject alpha restrained by physical grip; maintain restraint condition.
Primary mission commencement: Determine location of Oswald Fernandez Isaacs.
Four options.
Initiate option one: ask.
“You.”
Octoron citizen one: male, height one point seven two centimeters; biononic functionality moderate: “Yes?”
“Where is Oswald Fernandez Isaacs?”
Octoron citizen one: “Who? Hey, aren’t you Inigo?”
Subject alpha: “Yeah, ’fraid so.”
Octoron citizen one: “You bastard. You stupid selfish bastard. What are you doing here?”
Subject alpha: “Look, I’m sorry. This is complicated. Please answer his question. We need to find Ozzie.”
Octoron citizen one: “Hey, why can’t I sense your thoughts?”
“Irrelevant. Do you know where Isaacs is?”
Octoron citizen one: “You’re with Inigo? Go screw yourself.”
Scan› Octoron citizen one altering biononic field functions. Skin temperature rising, heart rate increasing, muscle contraction, elevated adrenaline. Analysis: possible aggression.
Threat.
Response.
Activate› Biononic weapons field.
Armed› Disrupter pulse. Target: midsection Octoron citizen one. Fire.
External sound level increasing. Human screaming.
Subject beta: “Oh, great Lady! You killed him.”
“I neutralized the threat.”
“Threat? What fucking threat, you monster?”
Primary mission: option one failure. Go to option two.
“You.”
Octoron citizen two: female, one point five eight centimeters, zero biononics, full Advancer macrocellular sequence. Running.
Capture.
“You.”
Octoron citizen two: “What? I haven’t done anything. Let me go. Help! Help!”
Subject beta: “Put her down, you bastard.”
“Is Oswald Fernandez Isaacs resident in the Spike?”
Octoron citizen two, no response.
Option two, second level.
Octoron citizen two: incoherent scream.
“Is Oswald Fernandez Isaacs resident in the Spike?”
Octoron citizen two: “Yes, yes, he’s here. Oh, shit, that hurts. Stop it, please. Please.”
Subject beta: “Let her go.”
Subject alpha: “Stop this now.”
Scan summation: twenty-three Higher humans activating high-level biononic fields.
Approaching. Interperson data exchanges increasing.
Threat imminent.
Response grade one to hostile enclosure situation.
“Halt now or I will kill her.”
Subject beta: “Stay back. Back. The maniac means it. Please, stay back.”
“Where is Oswald Fernandez Isaacs?”
Octoron citizen two: “I don’t know. Please.”
“Who knows where Isaacs is?”