The left arm flopped free, shriveling but not in the flux. Its bandage flashed a brilliant reflection of the beam which had vaporized Grumio.
Augens had started to rise and was not in the angled beam, but his helmet was. Bronze, gaseous or molten depending on how close it was to the center of the flux, spewed in a green flood from the impact of the light.
Reflection from the cave floor, burned white and heated to thousands of degrees by the pulses it absorbed, vaporized the legionary’s feet and crisped his legs and lower body to glowing cinders. The rest of him toppled into the flux which devoured him so completely that only splinters of calcined bones reached the floor.
Unlike his companions, Decimus Helvius had time to understand what was happening to him.
The blaze behind the centurion threw his shadow in troll-like distortion down the path of his attempted flight. The beam was angled away from him, deeper into the cave, and it seemed for a moment that he might escape.
Helvius lunged forward, aided by the light though his calves burned black and the bronze studs dropped from the holes they had charred in the leather that protected his thighs. Then the cave roof collapsed onto him.
The laser continued to play on the rockface for some further seconds. Even with his eyes closed, Vibulenus could see his comrade’s right foot charring in the dazzle reflected as the flux ate its way far beneath the cave.
The sky-shaking hum ended as the crew of the other vehicle shut off their weapon. A moment later, the echo from the ground ceased also. A violet nimbus around the gunvessel dissipated more slowly, as did the white glow and sound of crackling rock at the point of impact.
Vibulenus sat down. He was crying, though the fact humiliated him. When his eyes were shut, his memory reviewed the instant of destruction, but his overloaded retinas continued to pulse bright green, shrouding the horror somewhat.
“All of your fellows have watched the display,” said the Commander in satisfaction, “but I’m glad you three were present at the scene, so to speak.”
The rush of wind past Vibulenus indicated the vehicle was moving again. He thought of taking his hands away from his face and turning into the airstream to dry his eyes . . . but that would have meant turning toward Falco, which was unthinkable.
“There will be those who believe the scene was generated by a machine and didn’t really happen,” the Commander went on. “You’ll be able to convince them that it was real. After all, we don’t want to have to repeat the demonstration.
“This has been too expensive already.”
Neither of the centurions had made a sound that Vibulenus could hear, so he had no idea of what they were thinking. For his own part, he thought he needed a woman.
And for the first time, he was willing to accept one of the creatures which the guild offered in place of women.
“I want Quartilla,” the tribune said to the ship.
His companion at the head of the line, a file-closer, looked at him curiously but stepped into the doorless alcove without saying anything.
Vibulenus followed, feeling a cool touch across his body as the blank wall appeared to open before him.
He had no idea of whether the vessel would or could deliver him to the female he requested. He had nothing to lose by the attempt. What he had to gain was tenuous, but sex is a game of the mind even if the mind sometimes plays to the body’s prompting. The tribune had had personal contact with Quartilla. That made her a person, even if it could not shape her into a human being.
“Oh,” said the figure on the couch. Then, “Ah, tribune . . . would you like the lights higher?”
“Quartilla?” Vibulenus said hesitantly. “You remember me?”
“You’re Gaius Vibulenus Caper,” the female said. “The ship told me after the other time you were here.”
She paused. The lights had not gone up — Vibulenus did not know whether or not he wanted them to — but his eyes had adapted enough to see that her lips wore a smile of sort.