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roved us in。
It was a prospecting pod； similar to ours； but bearing the crest of Ortog Promethium。 It had been crushed and split like an old can； the
stanchions of its cabin protruding from the metal hull like ribs。
'Hell…' Medea murmured。
'Mining's a dangerous job；' I said。
'That's recent；' Aemos said； appearing at our shoulders。 'Look at the tephra。'
'The what？' asked Medea。
'It's a generic term for clastic materials。 The dust and shale bed the wreck's lying on。 Move the lamp round。 There。 The tephra's
yellowish…white gypnate all around； but it's scorched and fused under the wreck。 Mineral smoke from the fumaroles we passed just
now vent back down here and cover everything with oxidised dust。 I'd wager if it's been there more than a month； the powder would
have overlaid the scorching… and coated the wreck。
'Pop the hatch；' I said。
THE SUBTERRANEAN ATMOSPHERE seemed scalding hot and I began to sweat freely the moment I jumped down from the sill。 I could
hear nothing except my breath rasping inside my rebreather mask。 I trudged round to the front of the hovering pod into the cones of its
lights； and saw Aemos and Medea in the lit cockpit； both hidden behind rebreather masks of their own。
I waved once and crunched off over the dusty sill； my bootcaps catching the occasional geode which scattered and flashed in the light。
There was no mistaking the blast holes in the wreck's hull。 Sustained fire from a multi…laser had split the pod wide open。 I shone my
hand torch in through the rents and saw a blackened cabin space； burned out。
The three crew members were still in there； at their posts； reduced to grimacing mummies by the acidic air； and by the hundreds of
glistening white worms that writhed and burrowed as my light hit them。 It figured that with its hot； wet； gaseous interior； Cinchare was
a far from dead world。
More troglobyte things scurried and squirmed around my feet。 Long…legged metallic beetles and inflated； jelly…like molluscs； all drawn
to this unexpected source of rich nutrients。
Something moved beside me and slammed into my left hip。 I fell hard against the broken hull； cursing that I hadn't been wearing my
motion tracker。 It came in again； and this time I felt a sharp pain in my left thigh。 I kicked out with a mask…muffled curse。
It was about the size of a large dog； but longer and lower； moving on lean hind limbs。 Its skin was nearly silver； and its eye…less head
was just a vast set of jaws filled with hundreds of transparent fangs。 All around the maw； long sensory bristles and tendrils twitched
and rippled。
It lunged again； its thin； stiff tail raised high as a counterbalance。 This thing； I guessed； was top of the food chain in Cinchare's
lightless cavities。 Too big to force its way inside the wreck to get at the corpses； it had been lurking outside； feeding on the carrion
worms and molluscs that had congregated on the crash。
With a twist of its head； it had a good grip on my left ankle。 I could feel the tips of its teeth biting through the heavy leather of my
boot。
I managed to tug my shotgun from the scabbard on my back and shoot it through the torso at point black range。 Viscous tissues and
filmy flesh scattered in all directions and the thing flopped over。 By the time I had prized its jaws off my boot with my knife； the
carrion…eaters had begun to swarm over it and feed。
WE MOVED OFF again； down a gour…lined spur and into a cavern breathtak…ingly encrusted with glass…silk and billions of cavepearls。
'There's been fighting down here；' I told Aemos and Medea； raising my voice to be heard over the re…cycling cabin air as we pumped
the last of the coarse Cinchare gas…soup out。
'Who's fighting who？'
I shrugged； and sat back to tug one of the predator's broken fangs out of my boot leather。
'Well；' said Aemos； 'You'll be interested to know that the cavern with the wreck in it matched one of the spectroscope traces from the
Mechanicus transmissions exactly。'
'How long ago？'
'About two weeks。'
'So… Bure could have been the one who did the shooting。'
'Bure… or whoever's sending transmissions back to the annex。'
'But why would he take out a prospector pod？' I wondered aloud。
'Rather depends on what the prospector pod was trying to do to him；' said Medea。
Aemos raised his tufty eyebrows。 'Most perturbatory。'
ANOTHER THREE HOURS； another two kilometres down。 It was damn hot； and the air outside was thick with venting steams and gases。
Fumaroles； some large； some in scabby clusters； belched black smoke into the caves； riddling some areas like honeycomb。 Several
caverns and domepits were home to luminous acidic lakes； where the geothermals steadily simmered the water。 Gorges and the
occasional pitch showed flares of red light from lava rivers and asthenospheric cauldrons of molten rock。
We no longer had to rely on the lamps。 The cave systems were lit by streams of glowing magma； flaming lakes of pitch and
promethium and thick； sticky curtains and rafts of bio…luminescent fungi that thrived in the heated ducts。 The pod's air…scrubbers were
no longer able to remove the scent of sulphur from the cabin air； and the cooling system was inadequate。 We were all sweating； and so
were the interior walls of the cabin。 Condensation dribbled down the bare metal of the hull's inner skin。
'Dead stop； please；' Aemos said。
Medea cut the thrusters and let us coast slowly over a seething lake of lava that radiated a glare of almost neon brilliance from beneath
its blackened crust。
Aemos checked the chart against the spectroscope readings that the min…eralogicae assayer was sending to a small repeater screen in
the cabin bay。
'This is it。 The source location for the last transmission。'
'You're sure？' I asked。
He gave me a withering look。 'Of course。'
'Swing us around； slowly；' I told Medea。 We craned to look out of the pod's front ports； playing the lamp array up and down to make
sense of the stark shadows in the cavern walls。
'What are those？ Tube tunnels？'
'Auspex says they pinch out in a few hundred metres。 God…Emperor； it looks pretty primordial out there！' Medea wiped a trickle of
perspiration out of her eyes。
'What's that the lights are catching there？'
'Aemos peered to where I was pointing。 Amygdules；' he said。 'Cavities filled with quartzes or other secondary minerals。'
'Okay；' said Medea； unscrewing the stopper of a water…flask。 'Seeing as how you know everything… what's that？'
'Well； I… most perturbatory。'
It was a hole； perfectly circular； thirty metres in diameter； cut into the far rock wall。
'Edge closer；' I said。 'That's not a natural formation。 It's too… precise。'
'What the hell made a hole like that？' Medea murmured； nudging us in。
'An industrial mining drill could—'
'This far down？ This far from any mine infrastructure？' I cut Aemos short。 'Look at this place。 Only sealed units like this pod can
function at this depth。'
'Barely；' Medea commented； ominously。 She was keeping a weather eye on the hull…integrity read…out。 Amber runes were twitching on
and off。
'It's deep；' I said。 I looked at the display for the forward scanners。 'Goes off as far as we can read and maintains its shape and size。'
'But it's cut sheer through igneous rock… through the side of a forty kilometre square batholyth！ That's solid anthragate！' There was a
note of confusion in Aemos's frail old voice。
'I've got tremors；' said Medea suddenly。 The needles on the rolling seismograph had been scratching away for a good hour or more；
such was the background instability this deep down。 But now they were skritching back and forth wildly。
'There's a pattern to them；' Aemos said。 'That's not tectonic。 That's too regular… mechanical almost。'
I paused for a moment； considering our options。 'Take us into the shaft；' I said。
Medea looked at me； as if she was hoping she'd misheard me。
'Let's go。'
THE CUT SHAFT was so perfectly circular it was scary。 As we sped down； we could see that the inner surface of the tube was fused like
flowstone； with radiating patterns of furrows scooped into it。
'This was plasma…cut；' said Aemos。 'And whatever cut it； left an impression of its motivators in the rock before it cooled and hardened。'
The tube snaked occasionally； whilst maintaining its form。 The bends were long and slow； but Medea took them cautiously。 The
seismograph was still jiggling。
I took out a holoquill and wrote a phrase down on the back of a chart…pad。
'Can you convert this into simple machine code？' I asked Aemos。
He looked at it。 'Hmmm… 〃Vade elquum alatoratha semptus〃… you have a good memory。'
'Can you do it？'
'Of course。'
'What is that？' asked Medea。 'Some kind of sorcery？'
'No；' I smiled as Aemos got to work。 'It's like Glossia。 A private language； one that hasn't been used in a long time。'
'There；' said Aemos。
'Punch it into the vox…ponder and set it to continuous repeat；' I said。
'I hope this works；' said Aemos。 'I hope you're right。'
'So do I；' I said。
Instrumentation pinged。 'We're approaching the end of the bore…hole！' Medea called。 'Another kilometre； and then we're out into a huge
cavity！'
'Get that signal going！' I urged my elderly savant。
WE WERE ON it almost before we were ready。 A massive tube of machined metal； thirty metres in diameter and se