Rebka swore and backed away. “Don’t go near it.”

“No.” Darya was moving forward. “I don’t know what’s inside, but so far nothing here has tried to hurt us. If they wanted to kill us, they could have done it easily. Come on. What do we have to lose?”

“Other than our lives?” But he was following her.

The opening that they entered was filled with the green glow of hidden lights. From the outside it could have been of any depth. One step inside, and Darya realized that she was actually in a small entrance lock, three meters deep. When she went across to the inner door and pushed it aside, an open chamber with slate-gray, somber walls and a high ceiling was revealed.

Too high. She walked through and stared upward. Forty meters, to that arched, pentagonal center? It had to be at least that — which meant that she was in a room taller than the outside dimensions of Speaker-Between. And that was physically impossible. Before she could move there came a sighing, slithering noise. Sections of the chamber’s level floor in front of her began to buckle and lift. Partitions and furniture grew upward, thrusting like strange plants though a soft, springy surface.

“A place prepared for us? I’m not so sure of that.” Hans Rebka advanced cautiously past her, toward a cylindrical structure that was still emerging from the floor. It had a bulbous, rounded upper end, and it was supported on a cluster of splayed legs. “Now this is really interesting. It’s a food-storage unit and food synthesizer. I’ve seen one like it, but not in use. It was in a museum.”

“It’s not typical Builder technology.”

“I’m sure it’s not.” An oddly perplexed expression crept into Rebka’s eyes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start wondering…”

The top of the cylinder was surrounded by a thin fog, and a layer of ice crystals covered its surface. Rebka touched it cautiously with one fingertip, then jerked away.

“Freezing cold.” He turned up the opacity level of his suit to provide thermal insulation and reached out with a protected hand to pull a curved lever set into the upper part of the cylinder. It moved reluctantly to a new position. Part of the cylinder body turned, revealing the interior. Three shelves stood inside, loaded with sealed white packages.

“You’re the biologist, Darya. Do you recognize any of these?” Rebka reached in and quickly lifted out a handful of flat packages and smooth ovoids, placing them on the saucerlike beveled top of the cylinder. “Don’t touch them with your bare hand or you may get frostbite. They’re really cold. We can’t eat yet, but you can tell your stomach we may be getting close.”

Darya set her suit gauntlet to full opacity and peeled open a rounded packet. It was a fruit, mottled green and yellow, with a thin rind and a fleshy stalk at one end. She turned it over, examining texture and density and scraping a thin sliver from the surface, then allowed the gauntlet to heat it. When it grew warm in her hand she sniffed it, tasted it, and shook her head.

“Fruit aren’t my line, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. And I don’t think I’ve ever read anything about it, either. It could be from an Alliance world, but it’s not a popular fruit, because they tend to be grown everywhere. Do you really think it’s edible?”

“If it’s not, why would they have stored it here? I’m using your logic, Darya — if they want to kill us, they can find easier ways. I think we can eat this, and the other food. Speaker-Between didn’t seem too happy to see the two of us, because it was expecting something else. But we’re part of the show, too. We have to be fed and watered. And you don’t bring somebody thirty thousand light-years and then let them accidentally poison themselves. My worry is a bit different.” He rapped the bulging side of the cylinder. “I know construction methods in the Phemus Circle and the Fourth Alliance, and I’ve been exposed to the way they do things in the Cecropia Federation. But this isn’t like any of them. It’s—”

He was interrupted by the creaking sound of long-neglected hinges. Thirty meters away, the whole side of the room was sinking ponderously into the floor. Beyond it stood another chamber, even larger, with a long bank of objects like outsized coffins at its center.

Darya counted fourteen units, each one a pentagonal cylinder seven meters long, four wide, and four high.

“Now those are Builder technology,” she said. “Very definitely. Remember Flambeau, near the boundary between the Alliance and the Cecropia Federation? That artifact is filled with units just like this, a lot of them even bigger. They’re all empty, but they’re in working order.”

“What do they do? I’ve never seen anything like these before.” Rebka was walking cautiously forward toward the nearest of the fourteen. Each of the monster coffins had a transparent port mounted in its pentagonal end. He put his face close to it, rubbed at the dusty surface with his gauntleted hand, and peered in.

“No one is sure what they were intended for originally.” Darya rapped the side of the unit, and it produced a hollow booming sound. “But we know they can be used to preserve things pretty much indefinitely — objects, or organisms — and we assume that was their main purpose. There’s a stasis field inside each unit, externally controlled. You can see the settings on the end there. Clock rates in the interior have been measured for the Flambeau units, and they run an average of sixty million times slower than outside. Spend a century in one of those stasis tanks, and if you remained conscious you’d feel as though one minute had passed.”

Rebka did not seem to be listening. He was still poised with his face against the port.

She tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Hans. Come up for air. What’s so fascinating in there? Let me take a peek.”

She moved to his side. The stasis tank did not seem to be empty, but its inside was almost dark. Darya could see vague outlines, but for details she would have to wait a couple of minutes until her eyes had adjusted to the interior light level.

She took his arm and squeezed it. “Can you see what’s in there? Come on, if it’s interesting don’t keep me in suspense.”

Still he did not speak, but at Darya’s words and touch he finally turned to face her.

She looked at his twitching face, and her grip on his arm slackened. Her hand dropped to her side.

Nothing shocked Hans Rebka. Nothing ever touched his iron self-control.

Except that now the control had gone. And behind his eyes lurked an unreasoning terror that Darya had never expected to see.

After Atvar H’sial had knocked Julius Graves headlong into Birdie Kelly, broken the connection between E. C. Tally’s brain and body, and sent J’merlia rolling and spinning into the pattern of concentric rings, Louis Nenda did not hesitate.

As the Cecropian went scuttling out of the chamber, wing cases wide open, Nenda followed at once.

Let the mess back there sort itself out!

He was cursing — silently. It was no use shouting. Atvar H’sial had astonishing hearing, but she did not understand human speech. And his own pheromonal augment was worthless when she was in full flight, because the necessary molecules had no chance to diffuse into her receptors.

The near-darkness of Glister’s interior made no difference to Atvar H’sial. Her echolocation vision worked as well in pitch blackness as in bright sunlight; but it made things hellishly difficult for Louis Nenda. A Cecropian did not care where she moved, into chambers light or dark, just so long as there was air to carry sound waves. But he sure cared. He was bouncing off dark walls, tangling in nets, tripping over loose cables, diving down steep slopes without any idea what he would meet at the bottom. And all the time he had not the slightest idea where she was heading. He doubted that she knew it herself.