Chapter 3: Into the
City of the Singing Shadows
Proceeding to rally point coordinates. Tracking human target range 653.1278
meters. Target emitting recognition
signal. Recognition signal
verified. Receiving command
confirmation code. Decrypting. Confirmation code verified. Human Lara Croft removed from targeting
list. Modified Asimov protocols
engaged. Self-awareness mode
initiated. Artificial personality
matrix engaged.
I am moving to rendezvous with my new commander. It has been 482 standard days, 16 hours,
39.108 minutes since termination of my last full operational mode session. I have received updated mission orders from
high command. My new tactical commander
will require my capabilities to achieve mission objectives. I
am to ensure she enters underground opening grid TR 8390597250 in fully
functional condition. I will then
assume overwatch in standard patrol pattern until end of mission. It has been long since I have served under
a human commander. I look forward to
performing my duty. I will not fail.
Lara watched the
sentry machine speed towards her.
Moments like these she didn't care for.
There was really no way to affect her own fate here, she suspected,
despite having the anti-armor grenade locked and ready in the launcher. She had to trust in the "good will" of a
machine that thought itself alive. In
her experience, trust had often proved untrustworthy.
She stood her
ground as the machine moved in on her.
From the treads up to the top of the hull the thing was built like a
military tank, maybe eight metres from stem to stern.
The low turret proclaimed it to be something else. In addition to twin cannon, grenade
launchers, and a powered gatling, several small armoured cupolas were arranged on
top like the eyes of a spider. Sensor
equipment, no doubt. Other protrubences
along the turret's sloped sides held who knows what. Painted on the hull's prow, a stylized, lance-wielding centaur
pranced rampant above the UN Space Force symbol.
The sentry stopped suddenly in front of her,
its bulk pitching slightly up and forward on the treads before settling level
again. The "eye" cupolas swiveled in
her direction. A pair of long seconds
passed, then the twin cannon elevated skyward as if in benediction. Lara breathed a small sigh of relief.
The machine
spoke in a curiously mild but distinctly male baritone voice. "Unit BLS zero-three reporting for duty,
Commander Croft. I will transport you
to mission objective coordinates at your earliest convenience."
Oh, this is
truly, truly rich, Lara thought with no small amusement. A polite Terminator on tracks. "It's convenient now, thank you very
much. A word, though. You may call me Lara, really don't fancy the
military title. And I shan't be calling
you "Unit BLS zero-three", either, much too clumsy. Let me see, from now on your name is… Belisarius. That's the name of an old Byzantine general
whose sword I had occasion to find once in a rather nasty hole near the
Bosphorus, you'd have liked him, I think.
He'd have positively LOVED you.
All right, then, where do I ride?"
A hatch on the
hull just forward of the turret opened.
Lara clicked the switch to "Safe" on her grenade launcher, slung it over
her shoulder, and climbed up to the hatch opening. Balancing her body on both hands, she tucked her legs up under
her and lowered herself inside. The
seat was padded and comfortable, but not too comfortable. There were no manual controls apparent. She took the pair of VR view glasses from
the recess on her right and put it on.
When she flipped the tiny toggle switch on the frame, she saw a perfect
stereoscopic outside panorama, changing as she turned her head, giving her an
unobstructed 360-degree view. As the
hatch sealed overhead, "Belisarius" spoke again. "Please buckle your seat restraint, Lara. We will now proceed to the objective area,
ETA 12.35 minutes. At any time you
would like to see in your visor non-visible electromagnetic spectrum radiation
patterns or radiant heat imaging, please let me know. I will inform you of any anomalies or potential threats we
encounter on the way."
"Thanks,
Belisarius, that would be nice." She
settled back and enjoyed the ride. Mars
was a desolate and hauntingly beautiful place, and as far as she knew no one
had yet written a decent travelogue, other than the inevitable Michelin guides
to major cities like Syrtis Minor and Syria Planum. Aside from not having written one in a while, she could actually
use the money these days. Might get to
it after her monograph on the Martian civilization and ruins. Not that the monograph really mattered, of
course, being the first, the first to see, touch and understand the soul of the
past, that was what mattered.
Monographs and papers and academic acclaim were things she was
indifferent to, never missed those things, vanities, really. Still, the monograph would be an interesting
intellectual exercise, and if it were received with the professional respect it
deserved, so much the nicer. Not that
it mattered. Of course.
Belisarius' calm
voice interrupted her musings. "Lara, I
detect a small object shadowing our path at 1.297 kilometers distant. There is a high probability that it is a
surveillance drone. It is well
camouflaged visually and emits little measurable electromagnetic
radiation. Radar signal indicates
tactical-grade stealth enhancement. If
it did not briefly emit a tight-beam microwave transmission I may not have
detected it. Would you like for me to
destroy it?"
Ah, at last "they" join the chase. "Can you identify its origin?"
"No, I am unable
to make any positive identification.
Recommend immediate destruction of the device to deny hostile forces
targeting and intelligence data."
"Let's not do that
just yet. Let them believe they are
undetected for a while. If the drone is still about when we're within half a
kilometre of …the objective, I don't want them seeing how I get into the place,
you may destroy it then."
"Yes ma'am."
"And don't call
me "ma'am". Do I look like anyone's
gran to you?"
"I will comply,
Lara. You do not appear to be an
elderly human female."
"Thanks so very
much."
························
Scott Collins
walked into his old friend and employer's office. Randy Webb was speaking commands, tapping controls, shifting his
attention between several monitors and holographic displays, and was generally
trying to control everything in his universe, as usual. Hell of it was he usually succeeded. Also unsurprisingly, sappy old music from
the deepest depths of the data retrieval cores played with mock operatic
grandness. This one was something about
"Hold me, thrill me, kiss me" or some such.
At least it wasn't "Blue Velvet" again.
Scott hated that one. Sort of
creeped him out.
"Scotty C.,
Vice-President in Charge of Damn Near Everything! What brings you into my lair today?"
"Randy, you know
what brings me here. You're planning to
go into the City. We're thin on the
ground, the Earth and Europa operations have most of our security folks way too
far out to get back here to cover this thing.
The other side's on the ground in force, waiting to snatch whatever your
pet project manages to find in that ruin.
Provided she survives to snatch anything at all, that is. Randy.
This is not how you operate.
This is not how you always win.
This has more to do with sentiment than strategy. This is something I
want you to seriously reconsider."
RC Webb sat
slowly up in his chair, and spoke his "you're missing the trees for the forest"
tone. "I'm fully aware of the
situation. I created the situation. We've got all the assets we need to
accomplish the mission. My "pet
project", as you call her, is perfectly capable of doing what we need her to
do. You do not understand or believe in
her capabilities, although you should.
She will get to the starship if it is at all possible to do so. This operation requires a low signature,
finesse and an instinctive feeling for what works that nobody else on Ares' Red
Mars has. We don't need an army for
this. We need her."
This was going to
be useless. Time to try a different
tack. "OK, let's say she finds it. Let's say she gets the information it contains. Are you sure, really sure,
that she is going to deliver to you? I
know enough about this project to have doubts about her reliability. You made certain she's "Lara Croft". What happens when she finds out there is
no Lara Croft? If she's as intelligent
as you say she's supposed to be, the inconsistency between her "memory" of 2002
and her short-term memory of now will eventually push through to the forefront
of her mind. What happens then, Randy? What happens when she figures it out?"
Webb looked at
his friend in pity, as one would a failed old acquaintance at a high-school
reunion. "I'm counting on it,
Scott. Your reasoning is valid but your
assumption is wrong. She's not going to
find out there is no Lara Croft. She's
going to find out she's not the Lara Croft she thought she was."
························
Bertrand DeGrelle
watched the progress of the robot carrying the Croft "woman" with mixed
emotions. If she failed, there would be
plenty of time to take the ship from FutureTech or its resting place later, but
he wanted this victory now. If she
succeeded, he would have victory, and hopefully the power to gain his
goal. The cost, however, might leave
him weakened. It matters
not. The others are not all fools, but
enough of them are.
Just as the
robot neared the expected position, the display went blank. Ah, so they had been noticed. Inevitable, one supposed. There would be no display of the great "Lara
Croft's" hazard negotiation skills today.
Fortunately, enough personnel were available to expend on entry
clearance procedures before DeGrelle himself would need to climb down that hole
in the ground. Very well, time
to begin. He issued the needed
orders, and the "mining base" came alive, quietly, with order and purpose.
····················
Lara watched the
pyramids of sand fill her field of view and looked in vain for an opening or
sign of hidden entry into what lay beneath.
The drone of Belasarius' power plant was broken by the low whine of
servos and a quick deep reverb, vibrating in the back of her teeth. A bright flash of light in the edge of her
view glasses made her turn and see a small spray of debris float lazily to the
ground.
"Surveillance
drone destroyed. Our position was
500.025 meters from edge of objective area at time of destruction." Lara was sure she only imagined the smug
tone in Belasarius' machine voice.
"Belasarius. What weapon did you
use to destroy the drone?"
"Weapon employed
was my starboard main battery mini-rail gun, Lara."
"That's very
well, but don't you have a gatling gun or some such to use against small flying
objects? Just curious, you understand,
I would think a purpose-made air defence weapon would have been your weapon of
choice for that drone. Tell me if I am
missing a point here, please."
"Odds of
destroying the target with my gatling approach 100%. Odds of destruction by one firing of my rail gun were
99.15%. Practical chance of
non-destruction of drone in any case approaches null."
"Very well, but
why take even the smallest chance of a miss?
Not criticizing, now, B, just rather curious why a machine, even a
marvelously intelligent one such as yourself, would do such a thing."
There was a
brief pause before the war machine answered.
"I am not entirely sure why. Primarily
I desired to test my capabilities under circumstances that did not allow a
significant risk element to intrude in event of failure, but still achieved a
desired practical goal. Do you wish me
to adhere to standard doctrinal programming in future operations?"
"Oh no,
Belasarius, do as you see fit, I am no expert on your capabilities. I'd prefer if you used a bit of imagination
while we are working together. No
worries. Now, next subject: Where exactly is the opening into the
city?"
"Follow the moving light-tail in your
visor. The rock wall segment
highlighted is a façade erected three meters in front of the fissure leading
into the objective. The previously
dispatched human team disappeared as they reached the point of the fissure, as
did the rescue and recovery team's search drone sent afterward. Imagery of the event shows them to have
disappeared completely and without apparent cause at an event horizon congruent
with the opening. Solid rock is
immediately beneath the event area."
"Thanks, B., I
knew that. Do these glasses work
outside this compartment?" The machine answered affirmatively. "Good.
Destroy the façade please."
Without the firing of a weapon, the seemingly solid rock wall instantly
disintegrated and twirled away in several orange dust devils. "Façade wall
command demolished, Lara."
"Nice trick, a
poof beats a boom every time. I'm going
to do a bit of recce, B.; you display what I request on my glasses. I will want sensor reports verbally, as
well." She opened the hatch and stepped
out into the chilly Martian morning again.
Her black environment suit, which she rather thought of as a "catsuit",
automatically darkened its hue deeper to better absorb what heat the rays the
far-off sun could provide. Walking up
to and around the newly uncovered entrance, she could see nothing but darkness
beyond a few metres, and no sign of artificial crafting in the rock walls.
"Belasarius,
display any unusual electromagnetic energy or radiation present, in green
vector lines or grids, please."
"No such energy
is present. All magnetic and
radioactive levels are at Mars norm."
"Very well,
then, search for something that should be there, but isn't. Any variation at all from what should be
present under the circumstances.
Display any "dead spots" in the same manner as requested before."
"There are seven
areas of zero-magnetic field strength, linear-radial in nature, displaying
now. Ambient heat levels in these areas
are also .03 degrees Celsius cooler than expected."
Lara saw the
green vector lines displayed in a three dimensional pattern overlaid on the
fissure before her. The lines covered
the entrance thoroughly, except for one fairly sizable gap, about one and a
half metres in the air, near the left side.
She took a carefully measured step back, and tucked her ponytail in
behind her backpack. Turning to
slightly aside from straight on to the gap, she breathed in, exhaled, and took
three powerful strides forward, jumped and twisted her body to the side while
tucking her arms and legs up in front of her chest. She sailed through the gap, landed on her feet, and looked back
at the entrance. The green lines in her
glasses were gone.
"All background
magnetic levels are now normal, as of the moment of completion of your jump,
Lara", Belasarius intoned in his calm, bland baritone.
"Thanks, I can
see that. Many thanks for your kind
assistance, B; do keep the riffraff out until I return. See you later!" Lara popped a Cyalume stick and walked into the darkness, which
grudgingly receded before the green light.
····················
Randolph Webb
and Bob Shimotsu settled into their seats in the cockpit of the Barsoom. As the pilot performed preflight checks,
Shimotsu turned to Webb and asked; "Sir, no security team for this trip?"
"None needed,
Bob. Just drop by mining camp
Islandlwana on the way, we need to stop in, get a cup of good strong joe, and
make a little pickup."
The Barsoom
slowly rose above the spaceport center, hovered over the city that grew
out around it in concentric rings of light industry, shops, and housing, and
headed off beyond the few roads going back towards Syria Planum. Soon they flew out over the deep Martian
desert, where no patches of green or works of man marred the view. The sky was clean and open with only a few
wispy rose clouds in the red-blue sky.
Yes, a beautiful day, a good day for the doing of great and glorious
things. Webb planned to enjoy it.
·················
The Prime
Acolyte of the Order of the All-Seeing-Eye listened to the equivocations and
blathering of the Mage with increasing impatience. The Mages refused to believe their calling and craft were nothing
more than someone else's science. They
persisted in imputing greater significance than deserved to what was no more
than another tool in the group's toolbox.
The chief mage blithered on, oblivious to the Prime's mounting
impatience.
"…And so, sir, the side-effects of using purely terrestrial
magicks on Mars, especially where an elder race has once dwelt, cannot be
predicted with any great degree of accuracy.
The spells themselves may simply not work at all, and…"
"Enough! I tire of your dissimulation! The team now on Mars has successfully
accomplished its work before off-world, oddly enough under your direction. I am aware of the risks, and they are
entirely acceptable. You will instruct
your team to watch and to clean up after DeGrelle, should he fail, and to
ensure he does not use his discovery to ends that are incompatible with those
of the organization. You will do this
or you will no longer be Magus Magister of this group. You understand what that means, no? Now, go."
The chastened
mage slunk out of the room, gratifying the Prime, since the mage was accustomed
to inspiring fear in others. Humility
did wonders for the arrogant. Prime
climbed the steps to higher parapets of the fort. Sunset on the Med was something he rarely missed. His long ago predecessors, those before the
one who came with the invading forces of Napoleon that had finished the old
enemy here, the Knights St. John Hospitaller, would have relished the view
beyond their wildest imaginings.
···················
Lara carefully
picked her way through the rocks littering the tunnel's incline. The path had gone down deep for a while, but
now had been going back up for almost 15 minutes. The Cyalume light stick still glowed brightly, they must be
making an improved model from what she was used to. This was good, she resented the space those things took up in
her pack. The cool dry air on her face
began to stir gently; a larger chamber would not be far away. She'd seen nothing made by hands, claws, or
other unknown digits, but the tunnel was clearly not a natural formation. The occasional ants, flies, and other
terrestrial insects she had seen on the surface were nowhere in evidence.
At last, she saw
a light not her own ahead. Loping
forward over the odd stones, Lara looked for anything that could be another
trap, since her visor no longer worked so far from its hulking data processing
unit.
An opening in the rock wall two meters tall
and one across afforded her the first glimpse of the hidden Martian city. A huge underground cavern lie ahead, the
view blocked by a featureless polished wall of stone. She tossed a rock through the opening into the area. Nothing.
She flicked the end of her ponytail past the opening, on the off chance
a trap might be set off only by biological material. Nothing. Tentatively, she
poked a finger past the edge of the rough doorway. Again nothing. She stepped
on through.
Lara looked up
at the night sky. Beyond the high wall,
above the slender towers and spirals and half-arches that rose above it, she
could see the clear night sky, every star visible, the Milky way distinct and
bright in this deserted place. Two
brighter stars which could only be the moons Phobos and Deimos hung just above
the highest tower.
How did
they manage THAT? There's nothing but
sand and daylight up beyond that starry night!
Lara was dumfounded, a difficult accomplishment in even the most
freakish of circumstances. The scene's
eldritch beauty only made it more unbelievable. Well, she'd soon get to the bottom of it, no use wasting time
puzzling it out here.
She looked to
the right along the outer wall and saw a huge gate. Running to it, she backed up to get a better view of the next
amazement before her eyes.
The gate itself
was of polished metal, the starlight twinkling off a surface unbroken by any
visible separation. Great statues
guarded the gate on either side. At
least forty meters tall, Lara beheld depictions of the ancient race that had
built and dwelt in this place. The
figures depicted sinuous, vaguely feline bipeds whose slender forms hinted at
controlled but explosive strength.
Their massive heads were triangular, with large foreheads. Great almond eyes of onyx glinted
enigmatically in the half-light. The
eyes were set wide apart but straight ahead for stereoscopic hunter's
vision. They and mildly elongated
snouts spoke of the race's evolution from a hunter species that would have
stalked the skin of this world when Mars was green and teeming with life.
Well-defined chins broke the illusion of cat-faces. She saw no sign of visible ears. Each figure held its upper arms to its sides, forearms extended,
four-fingered hands palms up as though carrying an unseen and revered
burden. The hands had opposable thumbs
on either side of the palm. The
figures' stony clothing was skintight and adorned with odd forms that might be
decoration or practical equipment.
She had once
been given three wonderful books for her birthday as a girl, gifts from old
Winston to his beloved young Miss Lara.
The Lord of the Rings had taken her away from the
sometimes sterile and chill halls of Croft Manor, and here she saw a favourite
scene from the epic saga that had enthralled her so long ago. Before her in alien splendour stood the
Kings of Numenor, guarding the ancient kingdoms of Middle Earth on Mars. She'd seen this place in her mind and heart
a hundred times, but now saw it in reality, hundreds of thousands of miles from
the green river vales of England that inspired it.
Lost in her
reverie, Lara caught a brief movement in the corner of her eye. She leapt backward, the grenade launcher off
her back and in her hands before her feet touched the firm sandy ground. She was certain she had seen the eyes of the
right statue blink, a quick nictation that had covered the black gleam for a
fraction of an instant. She stared at
the face. The face stared impassively
back. Nothing moved. Nerves, even she had them. Hmfph!
Lara walked
forward to examine the gate. The gate
sank into the ground with out a sound.
The city invited her inside, and she accepted the invitation. Nothing stirred inside the city, whose
towers lie beyond what was clearly a plaza larger than three Trafalgar
squares. Fountains and channels and
basins now long empty of anything but dust showed the love of water the
inhabitants had once cherished here.
Great buildings, temples or the lairs of alien bureaucrats she could not
tell, stood at the end of the plaza.
Other fanciful yet functional towers and solid, window-pierced
multi-story buildings lined the streets, which spread out from the plaza in
regular radial fashion. The scene was
prosaic in its surface and hauntingly alien at the same time. Minds like hers had built this place, but
she knew those minds had thought thoughts she would likely have never
understood.
No sign of
machinery or vehicles could be seen. Very
little damage and decay of the ages was evident, although occasional smaller
buildings had tumbled to ruin, and no glass gleamed in the empty eye sockets of
the city's windows. The city looked
asleep, as though it could wake up in some never-to-come morning with throngs
of citizens going about their long-gone lives. Here inside the walls, she saw a rosy penumbra on the broken
horizon, giving her the distinct impression of sunset rather than sunrise. She'd be interested to see if the light
receded or the stars rotated in their courses through the impossible heavens
during her time here.
She would have to
look about for a spaceport or hanger complex, perhaps there was some key or map
to the city here in this obviously public place. She walked forward toward the huge circular truncated cone of a
structure at the far end of the plaza.
As she did, the air darkened almost imperceptibly, and the fixed shadows
on the walls and the fountains shifted and slowly danced her way. Lara stopped and whipped out her
pistols. The shadows converged on her,
and she could see that they were no longer flat things on the surfaces of her
surroundings, but were become standing forms of darker twilight, the stars
behind them gleaming more dimly through the shadow that now towered above her
twice her own height.
She began to run
back to the gate, but stopped in mid stride, and turned around. The shadows sang to her. They sang a wordless song in her mind, a
song of endless sorrow but avid hope, a song of welcome and a song of
warning. Images in her mind showed her
flayed, mutilated, crushed, impaled, and slain in a hundred vivid flashes of
horror. Interspersed with these were
images of her, safe, secure, and full of unknown wisdom and endless
contentment. The shadows sang a song of
unfathomable horror and boundless beauty, of unquenchable despair and
never-ending hope. Lara listened to
their song.
