gain his position of eminence at the port, and he had done his best to eradicate evil from the city. Granted, the execution of those he considered unworthy had done little to undermine the rampant spread of evil, but the fact remained that he had done his best. Thanks to him, Earth was a better place, and it was his duty to do the same for Homefall.
He listened to Bennett as he spoke to Mackendrick. A period of silence was followed by Bennett talking to a woman called Ten Lee about how he had discovered the softscreen on Earth. Then they were joined by a number of the renegade colonists. Evidently they were looking at a map, charting the position of the mountain entrance.
“When do you want to set off?” Bennett asked.
“We’ve been ready for months,” a renegade said. “It really depends on how you’re feeling. Are you up to an immediate start?”
“I can’t think of any reason to wait,” Bennett said.
Klien felt his pulse quicken. Soon they would be flying to the entrance of the underground passage which, sixteen years ago he, Quineau and Carstairs had stumbled upon. He considered the fact that, but for that accidental discovery, the entire course of his life would have been completely different. He could only assume, in the circumstances, that his had been a God-given mission.
Thirty minutes later he heard the sounds of footsteps moving through the ship. The ramp was retracted and the engines powered up. He reached out for his laser pistols, reassured by their presence. Soon, he would be fulfilling the very last act of his long and arduous task.
The Cobra lifted. Klien closed his eyes and waited out the journey. In the warmth of the engine compartment, lulled by the vibration, he dozed. He was awoken, later, by the sound of voices. They had landed. Bennett and the others were preparing themselves for the descent into the subterranean caverns. He listened to their brief conversation, heard the ramp go down and the sound of departing footsteps. He waited ten minutes. Judging by the laboured breathing communicated through his ear-piece, Bennett and the others were climbing up the side of the valley.
Klien moved from the engine compartment and hurried to the flight-deck. Through a sidescreen he made out five tiny figures climbing towards the overhang. He considered what to do now.
If he could contact the Council via the ship’s radio and tell them that he had returned… But how would that help the council? He had no idea of the position of the renegades’ hide-out.
Then, on the console before the command-couch, he saw a folded map. With trembling hands he opened it out.
There were two red circles marked on the map, and a line marked in red which he judged to be the route he and the others had taken sixteen years ago. One circle was situated high in the western mountains, and could only be the entrance to the underground chambers. The other was two hundred kilometres to the south. This southernmost circle had to be the position of the renegade camp.
He activated the radio and attempted to get through to someone, anyone, on Homefall. If he could contact the Council, inform them of the whereabouts of the renegades’ camp…
He tried every wavelength, every band, but without luck. The receivers relayed only the white noise of static. Evidently he was too far away, or perhaps atmospheric conditions were scrambling the signal.
Very well, he would try later. He would follow Bennett and the others underground, choose his moment and kill them. He would take their protective thermals, return to the ship, and try to contact the Council again. If unsuccessful, he would make the long trek to home valley, equipped with supplies from the ship, and the map. He had done it once before; he would do it again.
First, though, he had to eliminate the enemy.
In his ear-piece he could hear the heavy breathing of Bennett, the sound of ringing footsteps on rock.
He lowered the ramp and left the ship with his laser pistols. The wind was biting, and he was hardly dressed for the conditions, but soon he would be in the caverns, warming himself with the thrill of the chase. He followed the trail of footprints through the snow to the overhang of rock. The sight of it, the grey slab jutting out over the valley, brought back a slew of memories. He moved from the snow and clambered up the slope, soon locating the narrow entrance.
He began a cautious descent, the sound of Bennett’s breathing playing in his ear.
He removed the ear-piece so that he might hear his quarry naturally and so judge how far away they were.
Over the period of the next six hours, Klien followed Bennett and the others down the sloping corridor and the long, panel-flanked passage, until they came to the head of the natural valley. For the first time he caught sight of them as they stopped to make camp for the night. He inserted his ear-piece as they settled down to sleep, so that he would be alerted when they awoke and set off again. He found a natural mattress of fungus and napped.
Hours later they set off again, and Klien followed at a safe distance. Soon, he knew, they would be coming to the amphitheatre containing the ziggurat of the Ancients.
He recalled Carstairs, and what they had witnessed in the chamber so many years ago. He had not been able to let Carstairs go after that, could not let him spread the word of the Ancients. So he had killed him… and tried to kill Quineau as well. But Quineau had managed to flee the temple, escape the mountains before he, Klien, could silence him.
He tried to shut out the terrible images, concentrate on what lay ahead.
He realised that he could have killed Bennett and the others ten times over during the past few hours, but something had prevented his doing so. Not mercy, or anything like compassion, because he knew he would take great delight in eliminating Bennett and his cohorts, preventing their disseminating the evil ways of the Ancients to the universe.
No, something else had stayed his hand so far.
Only as he came to the end of the valley, and paused on the lip of the vast amphitheatre, did he understand. As he watched Bennett and the others climb the steps of the ziggurat, Klien knew suddenly why he had been brought to this place.
Not only would he kill Bennett and the other humans, he would use his considerable firepower to rid Homefall of every last Ancient as well.
Filled with the fervour of the righteous, Klien activated his lasers and descended into the amphitheatre.
24
Bennett stared at the gaunt figure of Carstairs in the entrance of the temple.
“Welcome,” Carstairs repeated. “We are preparing a ceremony of reception for you.”
“Klien killed you?” Mackendrick said, voicing Bennett’s incredulity.
“We never really die,” Carstairs said. “We merely relinquish our physical forms when the time is right, and, move on. When I died, the time was not right for me to move on. First, I had to learn.”
Bennett heard Ten Lee beside him. “Yes…” she whispered to herself.
Carstairs lifted a hand. “Come, I will explain. If you would care to follow me.”
Mackendrick looked around the group, his face frozen with shock and hope. He gripped Rana’s hand and followed as Carstairs turned and walked into the shadowy portal. Bennett, Ten Lee and Hupcka joined them.
They passed down a wide, high corridor, leaving the pink fungal glow behind them. They switched on their flashlights and filled the corridor with a hundred dazzling reflections.
Carstairs turned. “Please, in the temple, only the light of naked flames.”
Obediently they switched off the flashlights. Bennett walked on, blinded by the absence of light in this midnight tunnel. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he saw a faint source of illumination far ahead. He felt a hand grip his, small and warm: Rana. They left the corridor and entered the great circular chamber, illuminated by the flames of perhaps a hundred tiny candles set high in the curving walls.
Mackendrick, Rana and Bennett were the first into the chamber after Carstairs, and they stopped and stared at what was revealed in the fitful candlelight. Bennett’s pulse quickened and fear clutched at his chest.
Stationed like silent sentries around the circumference of the chamber, Bennett made out the tall and shadowy shapes of the Ancients—the Ahloi, as Carstairs called them. They stood unmoving, their long arms by their
