No, sir. It was Moguhn speaking. Palmer recognized his quiet but commanding voice. We scanned down two hundred meters, as far as we could, and theres no body but the one.
And no chance he surfaced? This was Brock again, the one who had asked about the diver. There was no mistaking his strange accent. He mustve been away from camp. Just returned with the hiking party. But from where? Palmer listened.
No chance at all. This time it was Yegery, Palmer was sure of it. One diver out of four can go that deep, and thats what weve got. One in four of them made it. The sand down there makes it impossible to breathe and move at the same time. Besides, its been four days. Hes gone.
Four days, Palmer thought.
I tried to tell you , his belly said.
So is this heavy-ass thing what we were after? someone asked. They sounded doubtful. Disappointed. Palmer couldnt see what it was they were referencing.
This is it, Brock said.
Does that mean we can break camp? someone else asked.
Yes. First light, and then we head south. We leave no trace.
You sure this thing does what you say it does?
Lets see it, someone said.
Set it on the table, Brock ordered.
Two sets of hands drifted down right in front of Palmer to grasp the large metal cylinder. Palmer took
a deep breath to expand the sand around his chest, then powered his suit down. He couldnt have more than a trickle of a charge left. He was buried up to his armpits, but he could still breathe.
You sure the table will hold it?
Itll hold.
Above Palmer, the metal table creaked and strained from the weight of the thing. He had only gotten a glimpse of the object in the lamplight, but it looked like old tech, something scavenged, a cylinder with wires and small pipes, made with precision and expensive-looking. Expensive and old.
Damn things heavy, someone said, as the table somehow didnt buckle. Palmer kept a hand on his chest, ready to dive at any moment. He could feel that object overhead like a dark thought.
Looks busted to me. Wirings fucked. And look at this here. Aint no fixing that.
Ignore that, Brock said. Its whats inside that matters. The rest of this is for setting it off, but we dont need that.
The men grew quiet as they studied the object. The scavenger in Palmer grew intensely curious.
Its a thing of beauty, Yegery whispered.
But how does it work? Moguhn asked.
I dont know, Yegery admitted.
There was an uncomfortable shuffling of heavy boots.
I mean, I dont understand the principle, the science. But the book says one of these can level an entire town
An entire town, someone scoffed.
Shaddup, Brock ordered. He told Yegery to go on.
Its just a little sphere in there. Thats all the stuff on the inside is. Its inert enough. The book says it stays good for hundreds of thousands of years. All you do is tighten that little ball real quick, like turning a fistful of sand into a childs marble, and everything goes boom. This thing will send dunes to the heavens and turn the desert to glass.
And youre sure about that? someone asked.
Yeah, but its fucked, another said.
Itll work, Brock said. Trust me. We could level all of Low-Pub with one of these.
What about Springston? someone asked.
We stick with the original plan for Springston, Brock said. We blow the wall, and then we hit Low-Pub. If theres anything left of either of them, well go back for another of these. Now that weve got a reference point for the map, we can grab as many as we like. Before long, there wont be a structure standing south of our dunes, and the Lords can rule over the flat sand we leave behind.
There was chuckling at this, which grew into laughter. Someone bumped into the table, and there was the clink of a jar tipping on its side. Fucking idiot, someone grumbled. There was a rush to remove gear, the scrape and slide of bags and swords and guns. Get the map, Moguhn said. A rustle of paper and boots stomping into action. Palmer wondered when the fuck they were going to get out of there so he could grab something to eat, and then an object hit the sand in front of him, a dagger, plunging blade-first. A hand dropped down to retrieve it and gripped the hilt. And then a stooped head. Eyes flashed in the darkness.
What the fuck? the man said.
And then an angry roar as the pirate pounced toward Palmer.
32 Run
He went sideways as fast as he could to clear the tent walls before rising toward the surface. There was drag in the sand, like something was wrapped around his feet, was wrapped around his entire body. The sand grew thick. Dense. His fucking suit was dying. Or the band had been damaged when the visor was ripped free.
He went up as fast as he could, blind, half a breath in his lungs, and came up flat, was partway out, his head clear, when the sand froze around him. No more charge. Palmer grunted and worked his shoulders back and forth until he got an arm free. He began digging himself out of the sand, the stars twinkling serenely above, while two meters away, men were hurling insults and curses and shouting for help as they tried to dig themselves out as well.