Читать книгу The Vault of Finished Goods - Назар Валерьевич Валеев - Страница 5

The landing platform, according to Arma’s calculations, was expected to be relatively even. For additional safety, she set the ship down upon a massive slab of blue granite. Climbing onto it from below would have been quite difficult, and that alone became one of the key arguments in favor of choosing this spot. A faint vibration passed through the hull, as if the planet itself beneath them did not wish to be disturbed again.

Smorg stood in the airlock, breathing heavily inside his helmet, though the suit was steadily maintaining pressure and oxygen flow. His gear was designed for expeditions – comfortable, reliable, providing both protection and long-term life support.

«Opening the outer hatch», Arma said. «Temperature is within norm. Atmosphere is suitable for breathing. No biosignatures detected. Of known lifeforms – so far only mosses, microflora, and pollen bacteroids.»

«Well, rather lively for a dead planet», Smorg muttered.

The airlock exhaled with a sigh, followed by a scrape of metal and the sound of wind. He gathered himself and stepped outside.

The suit’s braking modules and exoskeleton softened the impact as he jumped down from the granite slab. Dust rose around him. The ground beneath his feet was firm, yet had a slight spring to it. Something old, and possibly even technological, lay beneath this layer. He bent down, touched the surface with a gloved hand, and a grey-blue residue clung to his fingers, like ash, only with a metallic sheen.

«Are you detecting some kind of structure underneath?» he asked, addressing Arma.

«Scanners indicate at least three volumetric levels beneath you. There is something below those as well, but I can’t resolve it. The signal is being shielded. The entrance to the upper tier is most likely blocked or buried under debris. I am detecting localized power. At least part of the old system appears to still be active.»

«This may be what we’re looking for», Smorg said. «The pattern on these tiles is familiar to me.»

«And in what way, I wonder?» Arma inquired in the tone of a caring, attentive mother.

He hesitated for a moment, then replied with a slight stammer:

«Fragments of this ornament… were shown in the old schematics. I must have gone over them a thousand times while living on the orbital station, and even tried to make them out on the planet through telescopes.»

He took a few steps forward, slowly and cautiously, as if hoping the planet would notice him… and recognize him.

«When they were here last time… I went outside only for a moment… and then I stayed on the ship», he said quietly. «And now… I’ve come on my own.»

Arma did not reply. For a few seconds she analyzed the incoming signals, then issued a command to the airlock of the technical bay.

«Activating an escort droid», her voice sounded at last. «Model online, all systems nominal. It will accompany you, and this way I will remain with you at all times. I have calculated – under current conditions, this option is far more effective than a biodrone.»

One of the combat droids appeared in the side airlock. Massive, yet rather agile and reliable, it resembled modern Vriinian military support units. Under Arma’s watchful supervision, several such models had been refitted for autonomous patrol duties during ground reconnaissance missions. Its sensitive sensors and detectors were already studying the surroundings, transmitting all data to the Armaon.

«Well then», Smorg said, giving the droid an approving once-over as it came to stand beside him. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice. «At least someone else didn’t go on vacation either.»

«He is fully under my control», Arma replied. «Please try not to stand in his way or run ahead of him. Otherwise, I will shock you.»

He looked at the droid, remained silent for a moment, then added:

«We’ll get along. As long as he isn’t too noisy.»

«He is definitely not noisy», Arma answered. «If anything, he is lethally quiet.»

Smorg nodded with respect.

Ahead, at the foot of the hill, an opening was visible – a shaft, spiraling like a seashell. Its smooth, almost mirror-like edges glowed with faint shades of blue and dark grey.

«Be careful. Who knows who might have been here before us. There could very well be defensive circuits or traps left behind», Arma warned.

«I will», Smorg said with a nod. «Though this place isn’t easy to find. I learned about it only from the archives.»

He stepped into the spiral and began to make his way down. The combat droid followed, moving soundlessly yet ominously, like inevitability clad in armor, fitted with positional actuators and kinetic joints.

Arma activated the tracking protocol, bringing up the feed from the droid’s sensors. On her screen, Smorg was merely a small figure in a tunnel, yet she clearly registered his footsteps, his breathing rate, and the characteristic pauses in his movements, as if he were walking along the traces of his own past, and she was following after him.

The underground passage sloped gently downward. At times, the walls seemed to pulse with a faint reflected glow, as though something within them absorbed the beam of the lamps and sensed their movement. The air was dry and clean. Too clean. The spiral tunnel soon ended, giving way to a rectangular corridor of the underground complex.

«Air filtration is still functioning», Arma remarked with a barely noticeable hint of sarcasm. «Strange, and yet somehow all too typical.»

«Smart Smorgs always did everything with foresight», Smorg replied, with a touch of stubborn pride. «As if they knew something hidden.»

He walked slowly, examining every recess, every turn. A symbol flashed by – faded, yet recognizable – the mark of the ancient jewelers’ clan. One of those he had seen in the archival capsules on the station.

«Something important is down here», he said. «Perhaps a route to the central vault. Or to the workshop of synthetic prototypes.»

«There is another cavity below», Arma noted. «Large, but closed.»

«All right», Smorg answered brightly. «Let’s try to get in.»

He went up to the panel. Thick with dust, it nearly merged with the wall. Smorg reached out and drew his finger along the raised holographic markers, tracing the ancient symbol of the local clan. The panel flared with a soft light.

«It’s strange that this responded», Arma’s voice held a thread of irony. «And why, I wonder, aren’t there hordes of lucky tourists and seekers of Smorg exotica roaming here yet?»

«The system reacted to my biosignature», Smorg answered, humbly. «A reliable way to keep out uninvited guests. And the sequence itself – there it is, right under our noses.»

«Ah, the romance of engineering thought», Arma remarked. «John would have agreed with me.»

«He’d be taking notes right now», Smorg replied, as if in agreement. «And I’m just remembering. I hope he’ll forgive me for that.»

The wall at the base hissed, drawing a stream of air inward, and then slid aside. Beyond it lay a corridor paved with even slabs, leading to the lower tier. The air carried a faint smell of metal and stone – materials untouched by anything living for many centuries.

«Ready?» Arma asked.

Smorg did not answer. He simply stepped forward, and the combat droid followed in silence.