Spirit Caravan part 3, Path. In which even Frye can be a Pathfinder.
All the good things belong to MonolithSoft.
The entrance door was half open, skewed off its tracks. Frye breezed in, plastered himself against an inner wall, then scanned the first room. Only when he was certain it was empty of Ganglion did he gesture for H.B. to join him.
"I'm the Pathfinder," H.B. pointed out sharply. "I'm supposed to do the scouting."
"You already did. Door, enter, go. I'm the Interceptor. You know, disposable." He looked around the room. Drifts of spore sand were filling it from the door and from a few windows that were flush against the canyon wall. Empty bronze crates were piled in the corners, mossy filaments draped over them. Frye poked at them with the hilt of his melee weapon. "You think this is the same stuff that grows on the trees here?"
H.B. was fiddling with his comm device, in a highly technical way. "The mapping function won't assemble a floor plan from the data," he announced calmly.
Frye had circled the room, twice. "Why am I not surprised? I don't see any sign of occupation. Do we leave or...?" He looked disappointed but willing to follow H.B.'s directions.
"Up."
Frye shot up the open staircase. It was curious to watch him approach the next floor. As the twisted ramp ascended, Frye flowed into a natural crouch. His head didn't pop up over the next floor until the last second. H.B. stayed close, so Frye didn't have to shout back. "Clear."
The same scene greeted them, with fewer mounds of sand and more creepers flooding the windows and trailing the floor. Frye kicked a few, experimentally, then started dragging his boots against the floor. Once the first traces of rusty patterns showed, H.B. joined in. A minute later, they had kicked clear a decent patch of floor.
"These look like Nopon markings, mixed with some of the stuff they have carved on the castle in Cauldros," H.B. mused. One row of leafy vines curled toward a dark door. "What do you think?"
"You're the Pathfinder," Frye responded, gun at the ready.
This time H.B. slipped into the open space first, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. The corridor sloped up and down every few paces, switching enough times that he wasn't sure if they had gone higher or not. He stopped when he could feel a larger opening ahead.
Frye didn't stop, pausing only to shove H.B. slightly back into the safety of the corridor. His boots sounded loud in the closed space, striking a clean floor. No spores this time, thought H.B. Then he heard a slithering movement. He didn't have time to give a warning, but it wasn't necessary. Frye had heard it too and lit up the space with a rattle of bullets.
There was a sighing whine and a rustle away. H.B. pulled out a flashlight and swung it around the new room. Rusty markings showed clearly on the naked floor. Painted vines meandered along the edges of the room, joined and twisting into a path towards a new door.
"I'm not liking this floor map," Frye said. "It feels too easy."
H.B., being closer to the corridor, had noticed something else. Now he found that he had to swallow quickly before answering. "We should follow it."
"Okay, but then we go back."
"Not the old way. That door disappeared."
a/n: Okay, I got the boys lost. Now to get them back out.
Next up: More Spirit Caravan.