James Axler – Parallax Red Parallax Red

“What did you do with the gunstrash ’em?”

“No, Sindri locked ’em up. Said they weren’t safe for us to handle, even with no rounds for ’em.”

Kane and Grant entered the large dome where they had breakfasted. David stayed outside in the tunnel with Elle. “You two want anything?”

“Not at the moment,” Kane answered. “Is there an intercom or something in here so we can let you know if we change our minds?”

David shook his head. “No. Just knock on the door. Elle will be out here.”

The hatch hissed shut. Immediately Grant and Kane paced around the chamber, scanning for spy-eye vid lenses or eavesdropping microphones. Since the curving walls were basically featureless, it took only a couple of minutes to decide the room was clean.

“Trusting bunch,” Grant muttered, speaking quietly just to be on the safe side.

“Inexperienced,” said Kane. “Besides, can you think of a better prison than an alien planet with a toxic environment? Anyway, we know there’s some blasters in the compound and only a few of the opposition.”

“Define opposition,” Grant remarked dourly. “I’m sure we’re still outnumbered by a two-to-one margin.”

Kane nodded agreeably, looking around the lounge for anything that could be used as a weapon. All the furniture was molded from plastic and a chair leg wouldn’t make much of a bludgeon, even if he managed to break one off.

“Right before we left the pyramid,” whispered Grant, “the old man, Harwin, told me Sindri was a liar.”

Kane snorted. “Big revelation.”

“And when he shook my hand, he traced a letter on my palm. I think it was the letter X.”

” X ?” Kane questioned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grant’s eye went thoughtful. “This is just a guess, but maybe he was trying to tell me where the mat-trans unit was located.”

“Hmm,” Kane said softly. “Maybe. Construction specs, blueprints use the alphabet when a foundation is being laid out.”

“That’s what I figured. But we don’t know where we are in the compound.”

On impulse, Kane strode over to the bookshelves. Swiftly he rifled through the spiral-bound technical manuals, tossing aside volumes devoted to geothermal dynamics, the theory of terra-forming and cybernetic microlinkages. Flaking gold letters on a deep blue cover caught his eye Habitat Maintenance/Cydonia Compound One .

Taking it from the shelf, he carried it over to the table and sat down. Grant leaned over his shoulder as he flipped the volume open and turned the pages. Fortunately they were of slick, coated stock and showed only a little yellowing from mildew.

The majority of the pages contained dense blocks of copy, detailing construction materials and optimum stress points. In the middle of the book, Kane found a trifolded sheet of vellum. When pulled out, it displayed a line-drawing aerial view of the entire compound.

The blueprint showed the Cydonia Compound’s layout as a basic wheel, with the tunnel-passages like spokes connecting two dozen domes. All of them radiated out from a central hub, which bore the letter A . To Kane’s relief, all the domes were alphabetized, but to his disgust, when he located the dome designated X, he had no idea of its location in relation to their position.

“Hell,” growled Grant. “We could be in X for all we know. Or B. Or Z.”

Kane nodded in irritation. Rising from the table, carrying the book, he went to the wall switch he had seen Sindri manipulate and turned it. The far walls became transparent

He walked to the window, studying the view, consulting the blueprint, frowning, turning it upside down and sideways, cursing softly.

After a few minutes of watching and listening impatiently, Grant snapped, “Well?”

Gusting out a sigh, Kane replied, “I think we’re in U.”

“You think?”

Kane jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Or T. I think X is that way, out the door and to the left.”

“You think,” Grant muttered. “I wish Brigid was here.”

“Even with her photographic memory, she couldn’t do any better,” Kane retorted acidly. He thrust the book into Grant’s hands. “See what you can do.”

Grant chuckled mirthlessly. “It doesn’t make any difference even if you’re right. We’re still a long way from X, with God-only-knows how many little goblins between us and it.”