Wasteland of flint

'They were destroyed.' Hummingbird's statement was flat and cold. 'There were – there are – powers which exceeded them in all ways. In age, though the First Sun races are impossibly ancient by our measure, in strength, though the least of the First Sun valkar could smash Earth to a cinder.'

He tilted his head toward the vast sweep of mountains and canyons and plains. 'One of the valkar was here, remaking this world into something pleasing – if such a term can be used. Then it fled to safety.' Hummingbird fixed Gretchen with a piercing stare. 'What made it run? What drove it away, what frightened a power capable of shattering an entire planet?'

'I…' Gretchen couldn't think of anything to say.

'Not man.' The nauallis shook his head, laughing bitterly. 'Not man! Not our tiny little empire! We are very small. Insignificant. But think about what happened in the cave – Russovsky left something behind, something equally small. What did you find?'

'A pebble.' Gretchen squinted, trying to make out the man's expression. 'Just a water stone, like the old-timers use on Mars. She'll have taken it out of her mouth at night and put it aside. Then she forgot in the morning and left. There are plenty of other smooth stones here.'

'You saw what happened. The things which live in the cave reacted – their current was disturbed – I venture they were trying to eject the stone, like shrapnel from a wound. You saw what kind of distortion such a small, tiny object created.'

Gretchen nodded. 'But how -'

Hummingbird raised a hand, cutting her off. 'This world is filled with echoes, Anderssen- tzin. Echoes of destruction and fear. Echoes of the dead. There are shades all around us, even now. You cannot see them – they are faint even to me – but enormous forces have been at play. The tread of the gods, if you wish to think of the First Sun people as deities. Your precious cylinder was in a fragment of stone – even I recognize the fossils in the ancient layers of sediment. The valkar consumed a living world and was then defeated in turn by something even more monstrous.'

Pursing his lips, the nauallis stared off into the emptiness. 'But I do not think it fled.'

'What do you mean?' Gretchen moved into Hummingbird's line of sight.

'It is still here, somewhere. In hiding.'

'Oh.' Gretchen shook her head, trying not to laugh. His statement seemed preposterous. She wasn't quite sure if she was afraid or exasperated with the old Mйxica. 'It's…hiding here? In a cave or something?'

'I don't know.' Hummingbird looked entirely grim. 'We see only echoes of its effects – ripples from a stone thrown a million years in the past. These crystalline entities, whatever consumed Russovsky and then vomited her up again, the corrosive dust, the fields of pipeflowers – they are reflections of a hidden power.'

'Have you been taking some kind of psychotropic while I wasn't looking?' Gretchen failed to hide her complete disbelief. 'How can you reach such a conclusion after only being planetside for, what – three days? You don't have any data!' She stopped, mouth open. A nagging thought had blossomed into certainty, watching his inscrutable old face.

'You knew what was here before you came.' Gretchen felt a little sick. Russovsky. The crew on the ship. Doctor McCue…everyone who'd already died…'Did the Company know?'

'No. No one knew.' Hummingbird adjusted the hood of his kaffiyeh to shade his goggles. 'I have data – but not from this world. From another ruined planet. If the proper authorities had known what was here, no civilian ship would have been allowed in the system.'

'Which authorities,' Gretchen replied testily, 'are the proper authorities for dealing with gods?'

'I am,' Hummingbird said quietly. 'This is my responsibility.'

'You? Just you by your lonesome or the whole of the tlamatinime?'

Hummingbird almost smiled. 'Not all of the judges are privy to everything, but as a whole we are entrusted – by both Emperors, by the Fleet – with keeping a guard upon humanity.'

'Do we need to be guarded?' Gretchen felt cold, even in the direct unfiltered blaze of the Ephesian sun. 'Are we sheep, who need a watchdog prowling? What would you do if one of these…these valkar attacked a colony world or even Anбhuac itself?'

'The world would die,' Hummingbird said tonelessly. 'But the valkar – the gods of the First Sun – are scattered or dead.' He paused. 'Or sometimes they lie hidden, trapped in a kind of sleep. This one must be dreaming, waiting for the stars to change in their courses so it may wake again.'

'What good can you do, then, if you cannot stop these powers?'

Hummingbird's eyes glinted angrily and Gretchen swallowed another acerbic comment.

'We watch, Anderssen. We watch in the darkness at the edge of human space. As a famous general once said, 'We stand guard so you may enjoy the untroubled sleep of the innocent.' Your attitude, I realize, is a testament to a job well done by my brothers and their predecessors. We are rarely idle. Many times men have stumbled into danger. Colonies have been abandoned, stations lost. Ships disappear with dreadful frequency. In Tenochtitlбn, in the district of the Weavers, there is an unremarkable building which holds room after room filled with anthracite tablets. The names of my brothers who have fallen in our quiet, unseen struggle are inscribed therein. This is not a pleasant universe, Anderssen-tzin, where man can roam without care.'

The old Nбhuatl scratched the back of his head. 'We might be lucky here. The dust will help consume our tracks, our equipment, all traces of our visit. We just have to make sure there are no more 'memories' trapped along Russovsky's path.'

'What about the cylinder on the Palenque?' Gretchen asked quietly. 'You really think it is a trap? That it will have to be destroyed?'

Hummingbird nodded. 'I know what the cylinder means to you. But such devices are far too dangerous to be deciphered or allowed into human space.'

'I see.' Gretchen felt ill. 'Does your 'unseen struggle' include explaining these things to my Company? Maybe a receipt? Or am I expected to suffer quietly as well?'

'I will do what I can.' The old Mйxica did not look away, but Gretchen didn't see the slightest hint he would help her, either. She sat down on the forward wheel of the Gagarin.

'What do you think will happen now?'

Hummingbird shrugged, squatting easily on the windy ledge. 'All we can do is follow her trail and clean up what we can. There will be other…apparitions. We will have to break up their patterns, try and return things to their usual course. And quickly too, before we become part of the flow ourselves.'

'Do your skills let you tell which boulders should be removed from the 'stream'?'

He nodded sharply. 'The tlamatinime learns first to see. If the gods smile, what I cannot perceive, you will.'

'Me?' Gretchen's nose twitched as she made a disbelieving face. 'What do you mean see? '

'Perceive, then,' Hummingbird said in a wry tone. 'In the cavern, you felt something was out of place – this is the beginning of the seeing. I was surprised at your reaction. Most humans are nearly blind.'

Gretchen felt insulted. 'I'm a trained, experienced observer, Hummingbird-tzin. It's my job to see subtle differences in a substrate, in a dig layer, a field of loose stone and gravel.'

'Trained by science,' he said, almost dismissively. 'Trained with one set of tools at the expense of others. You're a specialist, Anderssen. A tool designed for a single task. Your personnel records are filled with praise, but this is not an archaeological excavation. This world is not depth-tagged or laser-gridded.'

'The science you dismiss has built an entire civilization, crow.' She tapped the breather mask covering the lower half of her face. 'We're alive because of specialized tools. I wouldn't dismiss them as if they were toys!'

Hummingbird looked at his gloved hands, then at her. 'Do you believe everything can be measured? Everything can be described?'

'What?' Gretchen was nonplussed. 'Well…yes, I think so. Eventually. Our tools and techniques are constantly improving.'

'I thought so once.' Hummingbird turned his hands over, apparently interested in the pattern of the material