But nothing came at me. Instead I heard a low growl from somewhere in the vast room where the shapes of big machines loomed up like dead metal giants. Hover trucks, earthcutters, transport platforms. Equipment once used to manipulate and exploit an earth no longer owned by those who thought of themselves as near gods. My eyes were getting more used to the dim light in the room, light that shone not from any local power source but from the oldest fire of all — the sun itself. Translucent roof panels sifted in that light, and there was daylight coming in over my shoulder from the doorway. I took another step and the growl got a little deeper. “Oh,” I said. “What?” Phil said. He’d come in the door right behind me and was holding his unholstered .45 in both hands. “You can put away your gun,” I said, flicking on the safety of my sawed-off. “We got nothing to worry about.”
