We walked all the way to the north wall of the valley and found an entrance carved into the stone. A glowing pair of lanterns hung there, marking the spot. We walked through and found a warren of tunnels and chambers inside.
Most of the stone-carved homes were empty now. The human population had once huddled inside these stone walls, desperate to hide from raiders like the dead squid we’d seen in the pit back in town. After that menace had been removed with Earth’s help, the inhabitants of Dust World had become braver. They’d moved out into the brighter, more cheery world of the valley floor.
But not the Investigator. I knew he was stuck in the old ways. He rarely came out to walk the valley, except maybe at midnight. He liked the natural quiet of his spider-hole, and he liked his solitude. Down here in the old abandoned shelters he had ample quantities of both.
“This place is spooky,” Floramel told me. “I can hardly believe Etta was born here.”
“Born and raised until she was about ten years of age,” I said with a hint of pride. “She’s a tough girl, I’ve always said it.”
Floramel glanced at me, but then she went back to examining various artifacts that had been discarded by people who had moved on long ago.
“There’s so much junk here… ancient technological equipment.”
“Don’t scoff at it. The Dust World people were free to experiment with science and make discoveries for seventy years after Earth stopped advancing.”
“Yes. Earth was calcified in her development by the Galactics.”
“The Dust Worlders figured out how to manufacture nanites—all kinds of stuff.”
Floramel toyed with a metal box with wires hanging out of it. “Much of their work was deemed criminal until recently, much like the work of my people was.”
I thought about that and some of the things I’d seen the Investigator get up to down here. Earth didn’t know the half of it, and I hoped they never would.
Finally, we saw a wan light up ahead. It flickered out as we approached. Cast again into darkness, we lit our own personal lights up on our tappers, raising our arms high so we could see in the gloom.
“What was that?” Floramel asked me. “I got the impression someone ahead doused a light upon seeing us.”
“That’s very possible. The Dust World people… well, they aren’t always as friendly and kind-hearted as they might be.”
She gave me a strange look then slowed down. Soon, she was walking behind instead of beside me as we advanced deeper into the tunnels. That was a damned smart idea on her part, so I didn’t remark upon it.
When we reached the point where the lights had gone out, I lifted a hand to my cheek and called out loudly.
“Investigator! This is James McGill. I’m here to make a social call.”
For a few seconds, no one spoke. But then the light went on ahead of us again, shining from another dark cave entrance.
“That’s not the same spot that was lit before. James… I don’t like this place.”
“Don’t worry overly much. If he kills us, he’ll probably put us in line for a revive back on Earth.”
“We’re not even supposed to be on this world.”
I shrugged disinterestedly. That ship had sailed long ago. If the girl hadn’t wanted to get into any more trouble, she’d chosen the wrong man and the wrong planet to get involved with.
“Are you truly… McGill?”
That sonorous voice. It was interesting, almost haunting. There was a strong hint of madness in it, just as there had always been.
“That’s right, sir. I’ve come to pay my respects.”
The light shifted, and we realized that the lantern we’d seen as fixed to the wall wasn’t. A powerful, ropy arm held it up high. Had he truly held that heavy light aloft for several minutes, not moving a muscle? It was my impression that he had.
The Investigator was one of the strangest people I knew. He was Della’s father, and he was old. Just how old? Well… he was too old. When I’d last visited him during the Clone World campaign, he’d been experimenting with revival techniques of his own design. It was my impression that he was tinkering with rebirth and genetics in general.
I didn’t have any proof of this, except for the fact he looked more or less the same as he had around twenty five years ago. I didn’t mention any of this to Floramel, naturally. She’d just get freaked out by it all.
“There you are!” I said in a cheery tone, as if we were besties. “Hello, sir! It’s so good to see a family relation again.”
“You would call me a relative? Hardly, McGill. Here on Dust World no one is a kinsman unless they share genes.”
“Well… we share a kinsman then.”
“This is undeniable.”
It didn’t sound to me like he was overly happy to know I was the father of his granddaughter. That had been a sore point between us from the beginning, but I didn’t take offense. I probably wouldn’t choose a baby-daddy like me for Etta, either.
“Sir, can we talk to you about an important matter?” Floramel asked, speaking up for the first time.
The Investigator lifted the lantern higher and peered into her face. “A tech-smith. A twisted abomination, torn from our own genes by force. You profane this place, woman.”
“Hey now—” I began.
But Floramel raised a hand to stop me. She faced the Investigator with a flat stare of her own.
“We didn’t leave this colony by choice. We were taken away from our homes—and we no longer serve the Cephalopods.”
“No. You serve
