Chapter Five
"It's... it's not quite what I expected."
Olivia blinked, trying hard to focus in the poorly-lit celebration hall. She turned around, trying to get her bearings from the small kitchen door they had entered from the tunnel access staircase. They'd ignited several decorative torches affixed by sconces along the long walls, but now the chamber was cloaked in long shadows cast by the flickering flames. Mahvet, however, was more familiar with the layout, and took a confident stroll about the room.
Gone were the benches, chairs, and long tables she recalled from her one visit to the grand gathering place. She had been called the guest of honor at their "feast" then. Thanks to Hernando, she knew it meant her blood was to be the main course, a special treat to perk up the clan's lagging energy. The feasting hall had been crowded with Pure Bloods parading about in their high fashion then, laughing and showing off to each other. Now it stood empty except for a fragile-looking tripod scaffold structure, soaring upward in the center of the room.
The beam transmitting unit suspended above a small staging area mimicked the much more imposing Portal which had transported her from Earth to BloodDark and back again several times now. This replica was, at most, a quarter of the original Portal's size. Small control panels scattered about the scaffolding appeared to be the computational processors necessary to calculate the direction and duration of the beam. Olivia doubted somehow they were anywhere near as efficient as the main Portal unit's computers. Its control center of computers and consoles filled a room at least half the size of this hall.
"You were thinking it would be larger?" Mahvet chuckled. "Considering they were working with what parts they could scavenge and working covertly, you have to admit my fellow clan members are quite industrious and innovative."
"I don't doubt their intelligence for a moment. It's their morality I find suspect." Olivia wound her way through the maze of control panels and computer units to the staging area, curious to know if any clues to what they had last transported to Earth remained. "It takes quite a bit of space to safely beam objects, or so this layout suggests. Don't they need a hole in the roof as well?"
She looked upward, then bent to examine a black spot on the stage floor. It looked like a scorch mark. She reached out to touch it.
Mahvet rushed to her side and took her by the arm. "Stop. Don't touch anything. It could be booby-trapped. Look." He nodded toward the three-storey high ceiling. "See that small skylight? It's more than wide enough to allow the beam to pass."
Olivia stood and tilted her head back, noting several more scorch marks scattered around the diamond-shaped window. "Ah, but they experienced some trouble getting the beam through it at first. Wonder what happens to the object being beamed into space if it hits a ceiling on its way to Earth?"
Mahvet grimaced. "If it's an inanimate object, it might arrive slightly dented or squashed. If it's alive..." He shuddered. "You don't want to know."
His reaction intrigued her. "Did you study to become a Portal technician, Mahvet?"
He shook his head. "I thought about it, but after a few introductory classes I decided transdimensional, electro-magnetic, geospatial engineering was not my strength. I know enough to know I don't know enough to build or operate a machine of this complexity. There are very few who possess this level of knowledge in any of the clans, and they are growing fewer by the day. It's one reason why we need to..." He paused and held up his hands. "Never mind."
Mind. Suddenly Olivia “saw” the reason why Mahvet had stopped in mid-sentence, reading long-suppressed thoughts he had pushed deep into his subconscious. Yours is a dying race. The DNA transfers can only do so much. You aren't able to reproduce at a fast-enough rate to avoid total extinction in a matter of a generations. Your sole hope is to gain fresh blood from Earth and to find a cure for whatever it is that’s causing your kind to die out.
"So. There aren’t many who know how to use this kind of machine, or how to build it?" she asked, trying to sound optimistic. "Hmm, it should eliminate a lot of potential suspects. I can see why they only attempt to transport artworks and not people now. Let the people stay in one piece and travel through the established Portal with its failsafe mechanisms. If you ding a vase or crumple a painting, it could be fixed on the other side. Or not—the wear and tear could make it worth more as an antique."
"An antique?" He pursed his lips. "I have come across this word in Earth literature. It's a very odd concept. Very old things used a long time ago are called antique. Correct?"
"That's right."
"Then I am an antique—or perhaps I'd be better termed an antiquity." There was a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Do you know how old I am, young Olivia?"
She was horrible at guessing ages. She hated to insult him, so she went with a low number. "I'd say you were about thirty-five? Am I close?"
His laughter echoed off the hard surface of the empty walls. "Very good. I stopped aging outwardly around age forty Earth years, but I'm much older than forty. Most Pure Bloods are."
Including Moreau? Olivia gulped. Moreau appeared to be about twenty, but if Mahvet was a lot older than the forty years he appeared to be... No wonder they were able to create such sophisticated technology. They could study a problem and experiment with various solutions for decades – centuries, even.
"Mahvet, could this rogue Portal device be an antique as well? Something your ancestors stored away for a rainy day maybe?"
"Rain?" His puzzled expression was priceless. "Ah, liquid precipitation, you mean? It's been many, many cycles since we had much rain here in BloodDark City. I think you're correct
