What were they? They loomed like dinosaurs in the endless chain
of high-domed vaults. They had once given Chahnn power and life
and strength. The murals showed that. The Ancient Race had used
antigravity--a secret unknown to Earthmen--and they had created food
by the rearrangement of atomic patterns, not even requiring hydroponic
tank cultures. They had ruled this world like gods.
And they had passed with no trace, leaving only these silent monuments
to their greatness. With the power of the Ancients, Earth's lack of
fuel-reserves would not matter. If the secret of atomic power could
be found again, these machines would roar into thundering life--and
machines like them would rise on Earth.
Power and greatness such as civilization had never known! Power even to
reach the stars!
And--Garth thought wryly--a power that would be useless unless a cure
for the Silver Plague could be found.
* * * * *
He was almost running now, his footsteps and Brown's echoing hollowly
in the great rooms. Silently he cursed Paula Trent. There were other
levels below, many of them, and she might be down there--which would
make the task almost impossible.
A distant flicker of light jerked Garth to a halt. He switched off his
lamp, motioning for Brown to do the same.
It came again, far away, a firefly glimpse.
"Paula?" the Captain said.
"Guess so. Unless they're after us already."
"Take it easy, then."
They went on, running lightly on their toes. The light had vanished,
but Garth knew the way. Suddenly they came out of a short tunnel into
one of the great rooms, and relief flooded Garth as he saw Paula's
face, pale in reflected light, a dozen feet away.
Simultaneously a faint sound came rhythmically--like dim drums.
Garth said sharply, "Hear that? Men coming down a ramp. Get the girl
and let's go!"
But Paula was already coming toward them, blinking in the glare. "Who's
that? Carver? I--"
Brown gripped her arm. "There's no time to talk now, Paula. We're in a
jam. Keep your mouth shut and come along. Garth, can you get us back to
that secret passage?"
"Maybe. It'll be blind luck if we make it. Turn your lamps out and link
hands. Here." He felt Paula's firm, warm palm hard against his, and
remembrance of Moira was suddenly unexpectedly painful. He had not seen
an Earthgirl for years....
What of it, now? Garth moved cat-footedly forward, leading the others.
He went fast. Once or twice he clicked on his light briefly. They could
hear the noise of the search-party now, and a few times, could see
distant lights.
"If they find that open panel--" Brown whispered.
"Keep quiet."
Garth pressed them back into an alcove as footsteps grew louder. Luck
stayed with them. The searchers turned off at another passage. After
that--
It was like a nightmare, a blind, stumbling race through the blackness
of Chahnn, with menace hiding everywhere. Garth's hand was slippery
with perspiration against Paula's by the time he stopped, his light
clicking on and off again almost instantly.
"This is it," he said. "The panel's shut."
"Good. Sampson must have had sense enough to close it. Unless--"
Garth found the spring and pressed it. He flashed his light into the
darkness, to see the familiar faces of Brown's men staring at him. The
Captain thrust him forward. Paula was instantly beside him, and then
Brown himself was through the oval gap.
"They're coming," he murmured. "How in hell does this work?"
"Here." Garth didn't use his light. Under his deft fingers the panel
slid back into place, shutting off the noise of approaching steps. He
gasped a little with relief.
"Okay," he said in a natural voice. "These walls are sound-proof. We
can use our lights. We'll have to."
"What happened?" Paula's voice said. "You said we were in a jam,
Carver. Well?"
"We'll talk as we go. Garth, you first. Paula, stay with me. Sampson,
bring up the rear, will you?"
* * * * *
Garth obediently set out down the sloping tunnel, scarcely listening
to Brown's explanation. There were side branches to the passage here
and there. He had to use his memory, which seemed less accurate than he
remembered. Once he almost blundered, but caught himself in time.
Brown said, "Garth, we've got thirty miles of tunnel and twenty more
above ground till we hit the Forest. Right? This is rough going.
We won't get out of here till daylight. So we'd better camp in the
passage, at the other end, till tomorrow night."
"We don't have to do that," Garth grunted. "This isn't Earth. Jupiter
won't rise for thirteen hours."
"The men have heavy packs." Brown shifted his own big one
uncomfortably. "Fifty miles is quite a way. Still, the quicker we reach
the Forest, the safer we'll be."
"There's a river." Garth's voice was doubtful. "We might use that."
"Would it help?"
"Yeah. But it's dangerous."
"Why?"
"Spouts. Geysers. The water's apt to explode under you any time. And
there are big lizards--"
"Would it take long to make a raft?"
Garth shook his head. "_Lata_-trees are better than balsa, and they
grow on the banks. Plenty of vines, too. But--"
"We'll do that, then," Brown said decisively. "Speed it up. We've got
thirteen hours. We can make it, all right."
Garth didn't answer.
After that it was pure monotony, a dull driving march through a bare
tunnel, up slopes and down them, till leg muscles were aching with
fatigue. Garth dropped into a state of tired apathy. He had no pack
to carry, but nevertheless his liquor-soaked body rebelled at the
unaccustomed exertion. But he knew that each step brought him closer to
his goal.
The thoughts swung monotonously through his brain. Doc Willard. The
notebook. The cure. The Plague. Maybe--maybe--_maybe!_
If he got through--if he found the notebook--if it had the cure--that
was what he wanted, of course.
But suppose he also found the skeleton of Doc Willard on an altar, with
a knife-hilt protruding from the ribs?
He couldn't have killed Doc consciously. That was unthinkable. Yet the
damnable influence of the Noctoli pollen did odd things to a man's mind.