The Worlds of the Sheaf

The Confrontation - Part 4

     The rest of their journey was uneventful, and three days later they saw a great open space ahead of them where the skyscrapers ended. They crept onwards a step at a time as if expecting hordes of Masters to jump out at them at any time, but the area was spookily quiet, without even a breath of wind to disturb the fallen leaves. It gave the Tharians the very strong impression that they were approaching a graveyard. Of course, the whole continent was a graveyard, with the skyscrapers the tombstones of the civilisation that had once flourished here, but whatever ghosts had once lurked within them had long since departed.

     The place they were now approaching, though, was, they could somehow sense, a place of much more recent death. A place where corpses still stirred uneasily in their graves and rose on occasion to torment the living. Thomas couldn't help but notice that the signs of human occupancy had completely ceased some miles back. The road they were following now was evenly overgrown, without the track worn along the centre by travellers, and the buildings they were passing showed no signs of having been entered by curious explorers. Both the southerners and the feather people avoided this area, Thomas thought. Maybe we should also think twice before going any further. But Saturn and the others might be waiting up ahead. Thomas knew they had to go on, but he had the uncomfortable impression of being watched every step of the way.

     They hugged the crumbling skyscraper when they came at last to the spaceport, and crouched behind a pile of overgrown rubble to have a look at what lay ahead. The silver ships of the Masters were there, just as they'd expected, their metallic hulls gleaming in the light of the sun. Clearly still largely intact and in good condition. Between them, though, half buried in the rising soil and tangled undergrowth, were other shapes, reduced by the ages to little more than bare frameworks of corroded girders, like the bare skeletons of long dead monsters. Ships, thought Thomas, but dating back to the days of the original Ringbuilders. It was a miracle that anything of them remained at all.

     "Look over there!" hissed Roj Villa.

     The others looked in the direction indicated. Across on the other side of the landing flat, which had to be at least a mile across, was a collection of metallic buildings, smaller and of a different architectural style from the skyscrapers. Newer looking too, like the ships.

     "The Masters' encampment," said Matthew quietly, as if the inhabitants might hear him. "Where they co-ordinated their activities. Wonder if anyone's home?"

     "Looks deserted to me," said Drenn. "There's greenery growing right up against the door. No-one's been in or out for some time."

     "Maybe there's a back door," suggested Jop Sonno, but even he sounded doubtful. The whole complex had a deserted look to it. There were vines and creepers growing up the walls and across the roof, reaching even up the cluster of antennae standing at the far end with loose tendrils hanging down and sprouting bright flowers.

     "Look over there!" cried Matthew, however, with alarm and urgency in his voice. "Over there, by the biggest ship. The one with the holes in the side."

     They immediately saw what he meant. The vegetation had been trodden down around the ship, and a wide area around the nose had been cleared completely. Also, the holes in the ship's hull were clean and rectangular. Not areas of damage but places where panels had been deliberately removed to allow access to what was inside. Clearly a sign that maintenance and repair was going on. Masters, or felisians from the Bescot? Did they dare hope?

     "We need to get a closer look," said Drenn. "I'll go in alone. The rest of you..."

     He was interrupted by a wild shout from Jop Sonno, however. "Look! Look! It's them! It's them!"