Constantine watched the third grey figure hand Mary something, then turn and move quickly back toward the flier. Mary watched him go, then looked at the object in her hand. A bottle.
As the flier rose into the air, Constantine watched her take a deep drink, then begin to head toward the buildings that lined the perimeter of the open space in which the Source sat. Late-night sightseers moved out of her way as she staggered past. The flier climbed until it was just higher than the surrounding buildings, still much lower than the branches of the Source, and then it began a long dive down toward the second level. Constantine caught a last glimpse of Mary moving through the sparse crowds. The passersby continued to pay no attention to her. An embarrassment, it was as if she wasn’t there.
As if she were a ghost.
Herb 2: 2210
Herb gazed upward in awestruck silence. He had never seen so many spacecraft: layer upon layer of silver-grey disks, rising higher and higher into the night sky. Stacks of silver pennies thrown into the air, the farthest seeming no bigger than the cold diamond stars that twinkled behind them.
On an intellectual level, Herb had known that the sky was big, but those thousands upon thousands of ships floating above gave it a depth he had never seen before. A feeling of vertigo swept over him and he wanted to sit down on the soft, spongy road and hold on tight. Beside him, Robert Johnston stood gazing upward without any apparent concern.
“Impressive, huh?” he said.
“Oh, yeah. Very impressive. Where are we?”
Herb felt giddy: a man who had suddenly become aware of the cathedral vaulting that held up the sky. Johnston smiled delightedly and leaned closer.
“On a staging planet.” He placed one finger to his lips and whispered, “At the edge of the Enemy Domain, just beyond the wave of expansion.” His eyes slowly slid from left to right in an exaggerated survey of the twisted buildings that surrounded them. “I think we’re okay at the moment, though.”
Herb curled his lip at Johnston’s play-acting and began to walk along the soft road, looking all around. Now that he was getting used to the wonder of the night sky above, he had time to pay attention to his immediate surroundings. Hideously warped and melted buildings hemmed them in from all directions, leaning over above them like trees in a forest. They had a stretched-out look about them; they seemed too tall and thin to remain standing. Shadowy and lopsided drooping windows formed eyes that looked down upon them, silently pondering their presence. The air was warm and smelled of machine oil; from every direction there was a gentle hum that almost sounded like voices.
Everything about this place seemed wrong. Even the road felt strange beneath his feet; it seemed to bounce and give as he walked on it. Herb got the impression that at any moment it would suddenly wriggle and turn around on itself, a large black snake turning to see who was walking along its spine.
Johnston was following him. “What do you think of the Necropolis, then?”
“The Necropolis?” Herb came to a halt and looked around. He gave a thoughtful nod. “An apt name. What’s the matter with this place? It looks like someone took a picture of a city and then smeared it down a wall. What are we doing here?”
“Spying on the Enemy. We must be careful not to be seen.”
At that, Johnston began creeping forward on tiptoes, his hands raised close to his chest. Herb remained where he was.
“Come on,” Johnston called over his shoulder. “This way.” He continued his exaggerated movement down the road.
Herb sighed and began to follow. He wondered if he was dreaming. He had no recollection of arriving on this planet.
He remembered going to sleep on his ship, thoughts of Johnston’s descriptions of the Enemy Domain spinning through his mind. Five minutes ago he had woken to find himself standing, gazing up at the endless tiers of spaceships. Maybe Johnston had drugged him again, slipped something extra into the whisky. Herb certainly felt as if he was still under the influence of something, walking along a rubbery road, twisting between strangely warped buildings, beneath those pale static disks far above.
Johnston had abandoned his exaggerated gait and was now walking normally, seemingly heading for the heart of the city. The buildings ahead loomed taller; they seemed to be draped with thick steel cobwebs that connected their roofs to each other and spilled to the ground. They had the look of melting toffee that had been pulled and stretched so that long sticky strands ran drooping in all directions. A low note sounded through the air and Herb thought he saw a flicker of movement in the distance, barely seen through the crowded misshapes of the buildings. He broke into a run to catch up with Johnston.
“What was that?” he hissed.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Johnston pushed his hands into his pockets and continued strolling, singing softly to himself as he went. Herb fell into step next to him, glancing around nervously. They rounded a corner.
Johnston broke off his singing unexpectedly. “Look!” he said, pointing upward, a cufflink made of four balls of multicolored metal peeping from the edge of his suit. Herb felt his stomach sink as he looked up.
A tower stretched up into the very sky, rising higher and higher above the rest of the city, dwarfing all the other buildings. A tapering needle of steel piercing the clouds of silver spaceships that hung silently above them. Herb wondered how it could remain standing; it seemed too thin to support itself. He had a sudden urge to run, convinced it was going to come crashing down on him-
Johnston interrupted his thoughts. “We need to get up to where the spaceships are. I’m guessing that building is a space elevator.”
“Oh.” Herb bit his lip thoughtfully. “You said we were spying. What are we looking for?”
“Lots of things. Size of Enemy resources, possible intentions, possible weaknesses, but mostly we’re looking for a way back.”
“A way back? I still don’t understand how we got here.”
Before Johnston could answer, the humming noise was heard again, only closer. A yellow pod with black stripes appeared in a gap between two buildings, only a couple of hundred meters away. It rotated 360 degrees on its axis and then moved off again, vanishing from their view among the forest of towers.
“What was that?” whispered Herb. “It looked like a giant bumblebee. I think it was looking for us. Should we hide?”
“I don’t think so,” said Johnston. “Not yet anyway. Now…look at that. That’s interesting.” He pointed to the building next to them.
Herb gazed at it, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said. “It just looks like the entrance to a shopping center.”
He was led by Johnston to a wide portico. It was too high, of course, like everything else in the Necropolis. Away above them, a silver-grey pediment seemed to melt into a colonnade that oozed down around them to merge with the ground. Herb felt as if he was standing in a rib cage. They peered through tall windows into a brightly lit atrium, lined on all sides by small glass-fronted rooms. Deformed escalators climbed the walls at too steep an angle. Herb shivered at the thought of what goods might be sold in such a place.
Johnston seemed delighted, however. “It does look like a shopping center, doesn’t it?” he said. “Now doesn’t that suggest something?”
“Yeah,” muttered Herb. “This would not be a good place to ask for a refund.”
The strangeness of his surroundings was making Herb light-headed.
“Was that supposed to be funny?” Johnston said sharply. “I do the comedy stylings: you just listen and learn. No. The fact that this place looks like a shopping center suggests that this planet is intended for a civilian population. Furthermore, one that resembles an Earthlike society. Do you think they have shops on Delta Scuti 4?”
“You’d be astonished how rarely I think about such things.”
