Quest for the Well of Souls - Jack L. Chalker [100]
The rest followed cautiously. Vistaru took advantage of the atmosphere and uncluttered corridor to fly; her race was not really built for walking, and she was otherwise too small to keep up. The lower gravity, which made the others feel wonderfully relieved, proved a problem at first, but she found the condition tolerable as long as she didn't get fancy or ambitious. No use in slamming full tilt into a wall, she scolded herself.
Outside, the terminal looked like a Roman ruin. The grass was high, and the lawns were dotted with flowers. The walks were just about overgrown, and trees were more abundant and less perfectly manicured than those who had previously been to New Pompeii remembered. Ivy, ferns, and mosses had overgrown some of the buildings, giving them a haunted appearance. Antor Trelig had dreamed of a new Roman Empire with himself as God-Emperor, Caesar. New Pompeii reflected this; its architecture was Greco-Roman, with lots of columns, arches and domes. As a ruin, it was in some ways even more impressive and awesome than it had been.
"It's incredible," Wooley breathed.
Yulin nodded. "In its own way a great achievement. Under the dome, this world is completely self-sufficient. The plants have probably added too much carbon dioxide to the air, but the animal-plant balance was about perfect in the old days. The air's clean, pure, and it's cleansed continuously. The automatic monitors keep the oxygen—nitrogen—trace-gas balance from deviating too far from optimum. Water vapor is injected from the subsurface tanks, and reclaimed. Trelig even had his own rainfall in there—on demand."
"That's a pretty thick forest over there," Vistaru noted, pointing to the left, beyond the buildings.
He nodded. "A nice forest, yes: And somewhere in there are glades where exotic fruits were grown. Some deer and minor wildlife have probably survived. Insects, too. You can hear them if you listen."
They could. It was eerie.
"Bozog, you having any problems?" Renard asked.
"None," responded the creature. "If necessary, I can feed on one of the buildings."
They walked on, heading for the largest structure in sight, the great hall where Trelig had held court and entertained guests—willing and unwilling.
"Yulin?" Mavra called.
He stopped. "Yes?"
"I'm sure it's occurred to you that at least a few people could survive here on the animals and fruit."
Yulin nodded.
"The sponge would have polished them off long ago," Renard retorted.
"You forget, Renard, there were others for Trelig's big show—councillors and councillors' representatives. Some of them were pretty tough people."
Yulin reconsidered. "Could be," he admitted. "If the spongies didn't kill them off."
"A couple of those people were professional agents like me," Mavra noted. "They'd have been a lot harder to take, and time was on their side. I think we'd better assume that somebody's still around."
"That clean lounge," Yulin said softly, now suddenly alert again, looking around. "They sure haven't taken care of the rest of the place."
Renard agreed with her the more he thought about it. "That's true, but you have to figure that they'd be pretty normal for a while. But it's been twenty-two years now, without hope, without communication. Who knows what kind of life they'd develop, what would happen in their minds?"
"I think you're right," Renard agreed. "There are no bodies. No skeletal remains. Organic material decays slowly here because of the purification system used to filter out microorganisms."
"No graves that I can see, either," Vistaru pointed out.
"They'd be overgrown," Mavra responded. "No, I think we'd better assume we're not alone here and treat this as we would a hostile hex."
Yulin had a sudden thought. "The ship! It's not secure! Maybe we'd better—"
"Yes, maybe we'd better," Wooley agreed.
* * *
After securing the ship, they returned to explore the ruins. Power was still available, even the video equipment that spied on people everywhere. But aside from the fact that a kitchen area had been cleaned out, which was to be expected