They ate in silence. If this day were to follow the pattern of the last few, Diamandis would now have fallen onto the cot Venera had just vacated, and would immediately commence to snore in competition with the wind. Instead, he looked at her seriously and said, Its time for you to make a decision.
Oh? She folded her hands in her lap listlessly. About what?
He scowled. Venera, I utterly adore you. Were I twenty years younger you wouldnt be safe around me. As it is, youre
it. Ive got it! she said. I know why you stayed.
He turned toward her, a black cut-out against distant lightsand for once Venera didnt simply blurt out what was on her mind. She could be perfectly tactful when her life depended on it but in other circumstances had never known why one should bother. Normally she would have just said it: Youre still in love with someone. But she hesitated.
In there, said Diamandis, pointing to a long, low building whose roof was being overtaken by lopsided trees. He waited, but when she didnt say anything he turned slowly and walked in the direction of the building.
A wise woman wouldnt be entering such a place unescorted, said Venera lightly as she took his arm. Diamandis laughed.
I am your escort.
You, Mr. Diamandis, are why escorts were invented.
Pleased, he developed a bit of a bounce to his step. Venera, though, wanted to slow downnot because she was afraid of him or what waited inside the dark. At this moment, she could not have said what made her hesitate.
The concrete lot was patched with grass and young trees and they scuttled across it quickly, both wary of any watchers on high. They soon reached a peeled-out loading door in the side of the metal building. There was no breeze outside, but wind was whistling around the edges of the door.
It puzzles me why there isnt a small army of squatters living in places like this, said Venera as the blackness swallowed Diamandis. She reluctantly stepped after him into it. The pressures of life in these pocket states must be intolerable. Why dont more people simply leave?
Oh, they do. Diamandis took her hand and led her along a flat floor. Just a bit further, I have to find the door through here. Wind buffeted her from behind now. Reach forward heres the railing. Now, follow that to the left.
They were on some sort of catwalk, its metal grating ringing faintly under her feet.
Many people leave, said Diamandis. Most dont know how to survive outside of the chambers where they were born and bred. They return, cowed; or they die. Many are shot by the sentries, by border guards, or by the preservationists. Ive buried a number of friends since I came to live here.
Her eyes were starting to adjust to the dark. Venera could tell that they were in a very large room of some sort, its ceiling ribbed with girders. Holes let in faint light in places, just enough to sketch the dimensions of the place. The floor
There was no floor, only subdivided metal boxes with winches hanging over them. Some of those boxes were capped by fierce vortices of wind that collectively must have scoured every grain of grit out of the place. Looking down at the nearest box, Venera saw that it was really a square metal pit with clamshell doors at its bottom. Those doors vibrated faintly.
Behold the bomb bays, said Diamandis, sweeping his arm in a dramatic arc. Designed to rain unholy fire on any fleet stupid enough to line itself up with Spyres rotation. This one chamber held enough firepower to carpet a square mile of air with bombs. And there were once two dozen such bays.
The small hurricane chattered like a crowd of madmen; the bomb bay doors rattled and buzzed in sympathy. Was it ever used? asked Venera.
Supposedly, said Diamandis. The story goes that we wiped out an entire armada in seconds. Though that could all be propagandaif true, I can see why people outside Spyre would despise us. After all, there would have been hundreds of bombs that passed through the armada and simply kept going. Who knows what unsuspecting nations we strafed?
Venera touched the scar on her chin.
Anyway, it was generations ago, said Diamandis. No one seems to care that much about us since the other great wheels disintegrated. Were the last, and ignored the way you pass by the aged. Come this way.
They went up a short flight of metal steps to a catwalk that extended out over the bays. Diamandis led Venera halfway down the long room; his footfalls were steady, hers slowing as they approached a solitary finned shape hanging from chains above one of the bays.
Thats a bomb! It was a good eight feet long, almost three in diameter, a great metal torpedo with a button nose. Diamandis leaned out over the railing and slapped it.
A bomb, indeed, he said over the whistling gale. At least, its a bomb casing. See? The hatch there is unscrewed. I scooped out the explosives years ago; theres room for one person if you wriggle your way in. All I have to do is throw a lever and it will drop and bang through those doors. Nothings going to stop you once youre outside, you can go a few hundred miles and then light