The serpentine stolen from Yuen the Alpha Chimera was lying near his hand, and it was extended to its full length: it lay like a thread of silver water across the empty expanse of steel floor, winding here and there to avoid buried mines and pressure plates, reaching from the sandbags to the door controls, where it had found a compatible plug.

“Impossible,” Montrose muttered in English, his eyes narrowed. Larz could not have hacked his locks and wards. Either Soorm had opened the Tomb doors from the inside, or something equally unlikely. Could Larz be a Hospitalier in disguise?

He tried to stop and speak to Larz, but Larz, thinking him a Beta Chimera from his era, cowered back, whimpering and calling on the dogs to protect him, and the dogs in turn hustled Menelaus down the corridor past Larz.

Midway between the northern and southern defensive positions were bales of ammo and other supplies, as well as angry digging automata in need of minor repair.

Nearly a score of figures could be seen there, separated by armed automata and watched by their assigned guard dogs, who were looking with envy at their dancing brothers not far away, yapping and yammering, tails wagging.

The prisoners were all dressed in their period costumes. Menelaus wondered why the prisoners, now, had their garments returned to them. The Blue Men were very naïve and stupid in some ways, but sharply intelligent in others, close enough to posthuman in their thinking patterns that they could control lateral thought-techniques to see gestalt patterns in events. A man with his clothing and possessions on him altered his “tells,” his body language and subconscious reactions. All the Blues need do, if they were as smart as Menelaus thought they were, was observe the prisoner’s behavior in the Tombs, and compare this to the reactions of any undamaged information systems in the Tombs to the prisoners. Any wrong reactions would pinpoint the imposter. Had Montrose been visible to the Tomb systems, this tactic would have no doubt already revealed him.

Coming down the corridor, passing within perhaps three feet of Menelaus, was Invigilator Illiance in his jeweled coat. He gave Menelaus a polite nod, but did not pause to exchange any words.

In his hands was the coffeepot from Menelaus’ workroom.

Illiance glided down the corridor toward the silent firing range chamber. He was too small to block the light from the door when he went downstairs, or at least, not enough to alter the reflection of the light bouncing from a distant floor to the nearby wall, but Menelaus could hear the soft, light footsteps passing without hurry down and down.

Menelaus observed his fellow prisoners.

There were seventeen Thaws here: First was the waif perhaps named Alalloel from the Eleventh Millennium. Only four hundred years displaced from her native time. He attempted to contact her with his implants, but the signal did not generate any return. Perhaps she was ignoring him, or perhaps the Blue Men were wise enough to dampen her instruments.

Second and third were the two gray twins, a male and a female, from the Ninth Millennium. They were very similar to the Blue Men, but seemed to be a later development from them.

Next were two Hormagaunts, two Clade-dwellers, and three Donors from the Iatrocracy period in the Eighth Millennium.

After that were four Chimerae and three Kine from the Sixth Millennium.

The Thaws were not standing together, but rather were grouped by aeon, so that Alalloel had a group of cringing dogs around her, away down the corridor, out of sight; the gray twins were next, and armed dogs separated them from Alalloel on the one side and the Iatrocrats on the other.

There were more guards blocking the way between the Iatrocrats and the Chimerae, the group to which Menelaus was brought. He saw no Nymphs, nor anyone of earlier eras. He wondered if they had been taken below.

The Chimerae were closest to the line of sandbags facing the firing range; Alalloel was farthest. All prisoners were huddled against the eastern wall, since the wind was less there.

Now he was among the Chimerae. Here were three underfed and overworked Kine, muscular dark-haired men with dark and stoical expressions. There were subtle asymmetries and incongruities in their features, odd shapes to their teeth or ears, which hinted at experiments done on generations of their forefathers. Their names were Franz, Ardzl, and Happy.

Their native garb was not that different from the overalls the Blue Men provided, except that each sported a short half cape, where emblems showing their names and assignments were displayed. Menelaus was pleased to see, from certain irregularities in the way their overalls hung, that they had sharpened tent pegs into knives and had them hidden under their clothes.

Near them were two Beta maidens. Above knee-length skirts they wore tight, dark pinch-waisted jackets that buttoned up the side like fencing jackets, tight at the neck, with decorations on the exaggerated shoulder pads. Menelaus was reminded of doormen’s costumes at old hotels. Their world had been warmer than that of the gray twins: instead of boots, they wore sandals with laces that ran up their thighs.

The warrior maidens had carved serviceable bows out of the branches of yew trees and strung them with strands of their gene-modified, nigh-unbreakable hair. Each maiden had fletched a dozen arrows, feathered from slain owls, but knapping flint to make a workable arrowhead was beyond what their auxiliary corps girls’ schools had taught them. The arrowheads were shards of glass taken from shattered bottles from the infirmary tent, lashed to the arrow shafts with adhesive medical gauze. From the way their tunics hung, he guessed that wider strips of medical gauze had been used to bind their breasts flat: impromptu plastrons. More medical tape wrapped their left arms from palm to elbow, as protection against the bowstring, and their left sleeves were folded up and buttoned short.

Here also was a Gamma. His skin was peeling and pockmarked, a mixture of dark and white patches, and his lower jaw protruded like a Neanderthal’s. He had clipped a lock from his long brown hair and woven the strands into a functional Goliath-killing-type sling.

The sleeve of his uniform bulged, showing he kept the water-smoothed stones that formed his store of ammunition in his rolled-in shirtcuffs. His name was Buck Gamma Joet Goez Phyle of Bull Run, Lineage Discontinued.

The male uniform was severe and unadorned, except for a cloak of livid scarlet; shoulder boards extended a hand’s length beyond his shoulder, giving his costume something of the look of an ancient samurai’s. On these shoulder boards were small electric pins displaying his line, rank, and regiment. His only other adornment was a cloak pin of brass shaped like an upside-down letter L. On his head was a cap of leather and horn.

Alpha Lady Ivinia, splendid in the metal breastplate and tiara of her dress gear, a jet-black tunic decorated with silver skull ornaments, and a long black leather skirt hemmed with iron bosses, still carried her spear. Her red cloak was pinned with a letter shaped like a fish.

3. Reporting for Duty

In his role as Beta Sterling Anubis, he crossed over to her, and knelt, head bowed and hand out in a straight-armed salute. “Milady. Uh, reporting for duty, Ma’am.”

She bent and touched him on the shoulder, which surprised him; and drew him to his feet and kissed him on the cheek, which surprised and alarmed him. (She was a tall woman, but even she had to stand on her tiptoes to do this.)

Lady Ivinia said, “This is not I who gives you this kiss, Loyal and Proven Beta, but, rather, the motherhood of all the race, including your own mother, who is not present to give it.”

Menelaus touched his cheek, strangely moved. He knew what a horrid and bloodthirsty race the Chimerae were, and yet still they were human beings. Almost.