Dead silence, and darkness, broken by the crossing beams of the brilliant lamps. Garth listened.
“Hear anything?”
Brown shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Okay. We’ll try this way.”
Then went into a passage that sloped down, ending in a vaulted room larger than the first. Brown swung up his gun abruptly as a figure seemed to leap from blackness in the ray of the lamp. Garth caught his arm.
“Robot. Unpowered. They’re all over the city.”
The robots—slaves of the Ancients, Garth thought, who had died with them, lacking the fuel that could quicken them to life. No Earthly scientists had ever been able to analyze the construction of the machines, for they were built of an alloy that was apparently indestructible. Acid and flame made no impression on the smooth, glittering black surface.
This one, like all the others, was roughly man-shaped, nearly eight feet tall, and with four arms, the hands extended into limber jointed fingers almost like tendencies. From the mask-like face complex glassy eyes stared blankly. It stood motionless, guarding a world that no longer needed guardians.
With a little shrug Garth went on, his ears alert for sounds. From the walls bizarre figures in muraled panels watched. Those murals showed a world of incredibly advanced science, Garth knew. He had seen them before. He spared them not a glance now.
The machines—
What were they? They loomed like dinosaurs in the endless chain of high-domed vaults. They had once given Chahnn power and life and strength. The murals showed that. The Ancient Race had used antigravity—a secret unknown to Earthmen—and they had created food by the rearrangement of atomic patterns, not even requiring hydroponic tank cultures. They had ruled this world like gods.
And they had passed with no trace, leaving only these silent monuments to their greatness. With the power of the Ancients, Earth’s lack of fuel-reserves would not matter. If the secret of atomic power could be found again, these machines would roar into thundering life—and machines like them would rise on Earth.
Power and greatness such as civilization had never known! Power even to reach the stars!
And—Garth thought wryly—a power that would be useless unless a cure for the Silver Plague could be found.
He was almost running now, his footsteps and Brown’s echoing hollowly in the great rooms. Silently he cursed Paula Trent. There were other levels below, many of them, and she might be down there—which would make the task almost impossible.
A distant flicker of light jerked Garth to a halt. He switched off his lamp, motioning for Brown to do the same.
It came again, far away, a firefly glimpse.
“Paula?” the Captain said.
“Guess so. Unless they’re after us already.”
“Take it easy, then.”
They went on, running lightly on their toes. The light had vanished, but Garth knew the way. Suddenly they came out of a short tunnel into one of the great rooms, and relief flooded Garth as he saw Paula’s face, pale in reflected light, a dozen feet away.
Simultaneously a faint sound came rhythmically—like dim drums.
Garth said sharply, “Hear that? Men coming down a ramp. Get the girl and let’s go!”
But Paula was already coming toward them, blinking in the glare. “Who’s that? Carver? I—”
Brown gripped her arm. “There’s no time to talk now, Paula. We’re in a jam. Keep your mouth shut and come along. Garth, can you get us back to that secret passage?”
“Maybe. It’ll be blind luck if we make it. Turn your lamps out and link hands. Here.” He felt Paula’s firm, warm palm hard against his, and remembrance of Moira was suddenly unexpectedly painful. He had not seen an Earthgirl for years. …
What of it, now? Garth moved cat-footedly forward, leading the others. He went fast. Once or twice he clicked on his light briefly. They could hear the noise of the search-party now, and a few times, could see distant lights.
“If they find that open panel—” Brown whispered.
“Keep quiet.”
Garth pressed them back into an alcove as footsteps grew louder. Luck stayed with them. The searchers turned off at another passage. After that—
It was like a nightmare, a blind, stumbling race through the blackness of Chahnn, with menace hiding everywhere. Garth’s hand was slippery with perspiration against Paula’s by the time he stopped, his light clicking on and off again almost instantly.
“This is it,” he said. “The panel’s shut.”
“Good. Sampson must have had sense enough to close it. Unless—”
Garth found the spring and pressed it. He flashed his light into the darkness, to see the familiar faces of Brown’s men staring at him. The Captain thrust him forward. Paula was instantly beside him, and then Brown himself was through the oval gap.
“They’re coming,” he murmured. “How in hell does this work?”
“Here.” Garth didn’t use his light. Under his deft fingers the panel slid back into place, shutting off the noise of approaching steps. He gasped a little with relief.
“Okay,” he said in a natural voice. “These walls are soundproof. We can use our lights. We’ll have to.”
“What happened?” Paula’s voice said. “You said we were in a jam, Carver. Well?”
“We’ll talk as we go. Garth, you first. Paula, stay with me. Sampson, bring up the rear, will you?”
Garth obediently set out down the sloping tunnel, scarcely listening to Brown’s explanation. There were side branches to the passage here and there. He had to use his memory, which seemed less accurate than he remembered. Once he almost blundered, but caught himself in time.
Brown said, “Garth, we’ve got thirty miles of tunnel and twenty more above ground till we hit the Forest. Right? This is rough going. We won’t get out of here till daylight. So we’d better camp in the passage, at the other end, till tomorrow night.”
“We don’t have to do that,” Garth grunted. “This isn’t Earth. Jupiter won’t rise for thirteen hours.”
“The men have heavy packs.” Brown shifted his own big one uncomfortably. “Fifty miles is quite
