0180: An Air of Steady Confidence

Ziggurat #88

Lamont lowered his voice until, mere inches away, the colonist had to watch his lips to be sure of his words. “It’s one thing to suspect a trap. It’s another to lead others into it.”

Lamont’s lips were drawn in a tight line as he turned into the elevator once more and stood against the metal-filamented wall beside Constance.

“Did he just say what I think he said?” Constance whispered.

“He didn’t say anything,” Lamont insisted. “And you’re not saying anything either.”

Constance was irked, and was about to respond hotly when the hulking figure of Rico in her peripheral vision suddenly disappeared. Just then, another movement caught her attention: A mirror-like spherical object that she had assumed to be a fixture of the elevator’s ceiling was slowly descending to their level, as if suspended from an invisible line. “What’s happening?” She asked.

“So far,” Lamont replied thinly, “exactly what happened before.”

The small chamber was filled with murmured exclamations and conversations as the sphere settled into its middle. Reese Howard, who was being held snugly by her parents, reached her little hands toward the shiny new object and started in alarm when it responded by drifting in her direction.

“Everybody keep your hands down!” Lamont directed. Then he extended his own hand, nodding in satisfaction as the orb obediently moved in his direction. This small wonder was suddenly outdone by a new one: The silvery surface of the object suddenly seemed to explode into countless particles of glittering dust, which then arranged themselves into a shape that Constance quickly recognized as a translucent cross-section of the tower in which they stood. The newspaperman made a few experimental movements with his hand, and Constance realized that the shimmering image was reacting, changing its perspective in response. Standing close to him, she felt a strange sensation, as if something were tugging at the fine hair of her cheeks. Within a moment, Lamont seemed to have gotten the hang of it; he made a few manipulations of the apparition and then jabbed a pointed finger into the center. The sphere reacted by pulling back into the center of the elevator. At the center of the projection was a pill-shaped object that glowed red, casting light on the highly reflective particles that flowed past it, representing the passing of walls in the tower. The feeling of her stomach moving up into her ribcage told Constance that they were moving, probably very quickly. The Downs boys complained to each other as they began to slide downward along the wall, half an inch per second. As Lamont withdrew his hand, Constance noticed that it was trembling.

“You’re terrified,” she whispered.

“No,” Lamont hissed, “I’m projecting an air of steady confidence.”

“I’d hate to see what mild anxiety looks like,” Constance remarked.

Lamont lowered his voice until, mere inches away, the colonist had to watch his lips to be sure of his words. “It’s one thing to suspect a trap. It’s another to lead others into it.”

“How sure are you?” Constance asked, her eyes flickering to the children.

“Not sure enough to risk the alternative,” Lamont admitted. “But it’s hard to imagine that there isn’t someone, somewhere, wringing their hands–or whatever–in satisfaction right now.”

“Did Rico say,” Constance persisted, “that somebody has already been left behind here?”

“We left in a bit of a rush is all,” Lamont hissed.

“Who?” Constance asked.

Just then, her stomach settled again. Her realization that the elevator had stopped was emphasized by the sudden retreat of the ghostly image back into the sphere, which slowly returned to its nest in the ceiling. A few of the refugees pulled themselves impulsively away from the wall, and suddenly the curved surface in front of them was replaced by a rectangular opening. Constance jumped in surprise, not at the strange vision of garden-like open space that lay outside, but at the unexpected figure that occupied it. Standing about six feet from the elevator was a slender, hunched figure in a metallic United Space compression suit. He appeared to have been pacing in agitation, and suddenly turned toward the elevator as soon as it opened, his eyes wide behind round spectacles.

“Ashton!” Lamont exclaimed, pulling himself from Constance’s involuntary grip.

“Welcome! Welcome back, Mr. Townsend,” Ashton gushed excitedly, lurching toward them. “They told me to expect you here!”

Next: The Safest Place of All