The Garden - Melissa Scott [93]
Torres glanced at the walls, noting increased lights and movement among the plates of machinery, and there was a new edge to the sound that filled the air. "Where are they?"
"I thought Tuvok said you'd been informed," Silver-Hammer said, startled, and Torres made a face. She could remember hearing Tuvok's voice half a dozen times through the long day-warning her that an Andirrim had entered the system, she remembered, and then that the Kirse had agreed to let them trade, but after than, nothing more. Which either means that I wasn't paying attention-possible, but not likely-or things moved a lot faster than the captain expected.
She said, "The last thing I heard was that the Andirrim were here to trade, and that Adamant was letting them land. What happened?"
Silver-Hammer made a face. "What one might expect. Instead of proceeding to the rendezvous, the shuttle dropped a drone cloud and is heading here." She glanced at the walls again, eyes moving rapidly as she read the patterns of motion. "And we should hurry."
"Right." Torres took a step toward the door, but Silver-Hammer lifted her hand.
"This way. It's safer should the drones reach us."
The Kirse transporter sounded, and a new door opened in the far wall, its upper edge barely a finger's width from the lowest copper-bronze coil of tubing. Torres eyed it warily as she passed through the arch, judging tolerances, and shook her head. Entirely too close for comfort, she thought, but so far, at least, they
don't seem to miss. Though I would hate to be there when they do.
Another door opened in front of them, and beyond it a short flight of stairs rose to a wider hall. The light was brighter there, and more focused, emanating from crystal strips set into the ceiling. Torres squinted at them-the first actual lights she had seen since she'd entered the citadel-but looked away quickly, dazzled, unable to see any details against the brilliance. She expected to reach one of the courtyards soon, but instead Silver-Hammer led her along the corridor, following the bands of crystal until they reached a second, wider corridor. They turned into it, but before they had gone more than twenty meters, the lights began to flash. Torres glanced up, and Silver-Hammer caught her by the arm.
"Quick, this way." She tugged the Starfleet engineer toward an alcove set into the steel-gray walls. Torres let herself be drawn, and heard a distant drumming, matching the rhythm of the flashing lights.
"What is it?" she called, but Silver-Hammer didn't answer until she had dragged the oth er into the shelter of the alcove. The sound was louder now, not a single drum, but thousands, the noise of a thousand hand-drummers, all keeping the same beat. She started to lean forward, to peer out of the alcove, but the Kirse pulled her back.
"You mustn't," she shouted, her voice barely audible over the approaching roar.
"Why not?" Torres screamed back, and Silver-Hammer shook her head, mouthing something the other could no longer hear.
Torres put her hands over her ears, and saw Silver-Hammer do the same. And then the wave of sound broke over them, and the corridor in front of the alcove was suddenly jammed with running figures.
They were all identical, squat and gray, all carrying phaser rifles at port-arms against armored chests, and no one of them was taller than Torres's shoulder. They were like the gwarhai of childhood story, she thought, dazed by the flashing lights and the noise, or the dwarf-armies of human legend. Then the last rank of them was past, and the lights steadied to normal.
"What was that?" Torres asked, and had to clear her throat before she could speak aloud.
"The third line-third line of defense," Silver-Hammer answered. "Come on, we have to hurry now."
Torres followed obediently, but the image, the running dwarfs, stayed with her, and she asked, "Third line?"
"The first is the orbital system," Silver-Hammer answered, and lifted her hand to create another door. This one