Descending Road - HIS WORMLIKE STEED by Dana W. Paxson

HIS WORMLIKE STEED

1563 4D

The air, no longer circulating in this quarter, hung with a malevolent stench in their throats, clinging to them, as they returned to the door that had opened for a second. They argued with the woman, Melasine, stopping when Grendel walked up. “Let me pass,” he growled, taking off his helm; she let him in. Andrew looked in after him.

Melasine touched Andrew‘s bloody shoulder. “Here, guy, I’ll fix that,” she said. Taking his other arm, she led him inside.

Most of these andros, a mixed group, worked as bedservants and nursers; but a few young men among them watched Grendel with widened eyes. “You know me? You know who I am?” he asked, towering over all but two of them. They nodded uncertainly. “So who’ll join me? Had enough yet?” Silence. “All right. Inside.” Grendel closed his eyes. While Melasine dressed the slash wound in Andrew‘s shoulder, they all stood motionless. Then their eyes opened in unison. Three of them came to Grendel. He opened his eyes said, “Go see him,” and pointed to Ellichik, who had come up to watch. “Ellichik, these guys say they’ll haul stuff for you. Let them take your man back to get fixed.”

“Come on,” Ellichik said to them, “Names later. I’ll give you directions.” They all filed out into the steaming understreet, Ezzar shouldering past Andrew to catch up with Grendel.

“What did you do?” Ezzar asked him.

“I went inside, and convinced them.”

Andrew watched Ezzar‘s eyebrows go up. She had removed her helm; her braided hair gleamed wet and black, tight against her scalp. Now, her eyes weary, she replaced her helm. What an attractive woman. Irritated at himself, Andrew turned away. He had been so long without anyone, they all looked good, even in a mess like the current one.

A roar came from the opposite wall near them. Andrew grabbed Ezzar‘s and Grendel‘s arms and pulled them back just as a stonehoser nearly the height of the entire understreet bit through from behind the wall, driving ahead of it a tide of rock dust, paint shards and steam. Everyone aimed weapons at it; behind its leading disk, the chill-suited driver, haggard, coated with grime, sweat and bloody scrapes, his hair matted, ripped away his airmask, raised his hands and yelled, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m here to seal off the bugs!” They drew back, lowering guns, and he drove his articulated machine out into the understreet, its short tracked segments loaded with seething rock liquid groaning into view behind it.

These machines, using tuned and focused ultrasonics to shatter native rock, digested it the way a hydrotorch melted snow, refilling the space behind them almost completely with their petrified defecations.

Bending into the round, jagged depression of the machine’s exit from the wall, Andrew looked into the end of a long wrist-narrow twisted tunnel, the only track the machine had left. The air grew even more oppressive as the stonehoser swung a great nozzle forward and vomited tons of hot fluid rock into an instant-hardening wall, sealing off the corridor.

The driver wheeled the machine about, the articulations forming a U past him, slapped his mask back in place, and urged his wormlike steed back to retrace the path he had made, exploding it open again, jolting into the recreated hole, and sealing it shut behind him again with fresh, hot rock.

“Let’s get back down to 38,” Ellichik said. His hands shook slightly, then steadied. “There’s no time yet to stop. We still don’t have our primary objective.”

“I thought we were in the Complex,” Grendel said as they double-timed back to the lift.

“Yeah, but not the part we gotta have,” Ellichik answered. “We have to try this way again, bullets or no bullets. Get your ballistics out and ready.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	HIS WORMLIKE STEED 1563 4D The air, no longer circulating in this quarter, hung with a malevolent stench in their throats, clinging to them, as they returned to the door that had opened for a second. They argued with the woman, Melasine, stopping when Grendel walked up. “Let me pass,” he growled, taking off his helm; she let him in. Andrew looked in after him. Melasine touched Andrew‘s bloody shoulder. “Here, guy, I’ll fix that,” she said. Taking his other arm, she led him inside. Most of these andros, a mixed group, worked as bedservants and nursers; but a few young men among them watched Grendel with widened eyes. “You know me? You know who I am?” he asked, towering over all but two of them. They nodded uncertainly. “So who’ll join me? Had enough yet?” Silence. “All right. Inside.” Grendel closed his eyes. While Melasine dressed the slash wound in Andrew‘s shoulder, they all stood motionless. Then their eyes opened in unison. Three of them came to Grendel. He opened his eyes said, “Go see him,” and pointed to Ellichik, who had come up to watch. “Ellichik, these guys say they’ll haul stuff for you. Let them take your man back to get fixed.” “Come on,” Ellichik said to them, “Names later. I’ll give you directions.” They all filed out into the steaming understreet, Ezzar shouldering past Andrew to catch up with Grendel. “What did you do?” Ezzar asked him. “I went inside, and convinced them.” Andrew watched Ezzar‘s eyebrows go up. She had removed her helm; her braided hair gleamed wet and black, tight against her scalp. Now, her eyes weary, she replaced her helm. What an attractive woman. Irritated at himself, Andrew turned away. He had been so long without anyone, they all looked good, even in a mess like the current one. A roar came from the opposite wall near them. Andrew grabbed Ezzar‘s and Grendel‘s arms and pulled them back just as a stonehoser nearly the height of the entire understreet bit through from behind the wall, driving ahead of it a tide of rock dust, paint shards and steam. Everyone aimed weapons at it; behind its leading disk, the chill-suited driver, haggard, coated with grime, sweat and bloody scrapes, his hair matted, ripped away his airmask, raised his hands and yelled, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I’m here to seal off the bugs!” They drew back, lowering guns, and he drove his articulated machine out into the understreet, its short tracked segments loaded with seething rock liquid groaning into view behind it. These machines, using tuned and focused ultrasonics to shatter native rock, digested it the way a hydrotorch melted snow, refilling the space behind them almost completely with their petrified defecations. Bending into the round, jagged depression of the machine’s exit from the wall, Andrew looked into the end of a long wrist-narrow twisted tunnel, the only track the machine had left. The air grew even more oppressive as the stonehoser swung a great nozzle forward and vomited tons of hot fluid rock into an instant-hardening wall, sealing off the corridor. The driver wheeled the machine about, the articulations forming a U past him, slapped his mask back in place, and urged his wormlike steed back to retrace the path he had made, exploding it open again, jolting into the recreated hole, and sealing it shut behind him again with fresh, hot rock. “Let’s get back down to 38,” Ellichik said. His hands shook slightly, then steadied. “There’s no time yet to stop. We still don’t have our primary objective.” “I thought we were in the Complex,” Grendel said as they double-timed back to the lift. “Yeah, but not the part we gotta have,” Ellichik answered. “We have to try this way again, bullets or no bullets. Get your ballistics out and ready.”