In the center of a plaza, three obelisks stood pointing toward the dark night sky. The obelisks were made of a material that glimmered like gemstone beneath the light of countless spotlights. Several dozen ropes extended from the obelisks out through the crowd toward the edges of the circular plaza, making the whole thing look like a giant wheel, with the obelisks for an axle and the ropes for spokes. The crowd shouted in unison as they pulled on the ropes. With each coordinated pull, the three obelisks wobbled. Flares went up, one after the other, creating tiny stars of light above the surging throng. From somewhere rumbled the sound of explosions.
Suddenly, a swarm of rotodynes descended from the sky onto the tops of the tall buildings around the plaza, from where they unleashed aqua laser rays upon the crowd below. Flames rose up in every direction—people swarmed away from one blaze only to be engulfed by another. Their shouts and cries gradually became one unified scream, like the roaring of the sea. The obelisks toppled, then fell—slowly at first, then quickly, until they lay flat on the ground, pointing toward one edge of the plaza. The impact when the obelisks struck the ground sent up great plumes of dust, and one of the buildings standing at the edge of the plaza collapsed from the power of the shock waves.
The rotodynes began tossing small explosives down into the plaza. The charges were small, yet they exploded with such ferocity that even from a distance they echoed in Siddhārtha’s gut. Flares of light shot into the sky from where the explosives landed, sending up a spray of severed hands and feet. The remaining crowd flowed into a single line like a river and made for the far side of the plaza.
Another explosion rang out, not loud enough to drown out the cries and screams of terror.
The three travelers pressed themselves against the cavity high up on the wall of one of the towering buildings, looking down at the chaos far below them.
“This is more than just a demonstration. This is rebellion,” Siddhārtha observed.
“Look,” Asura pointed out across the city. “Another fire over there.”
An eerie crimson light soaked the sky behind a tall cluster of buildings. More explosions echoed from that direction, accompanied by distant columns of flame.
“We must find the Planetary Development Committee,” Orionae said, his eyes filled with the sort of abject terror that comes from deep experience. “This city will soon cease to function.”
The three went in through an open window in the side of the building and found themselves in a wide corridor. Several rooms lined the sides, but the walls had been stripped and the doors blown off their hinges into the rooms. All had been abandoned for a very long time. They found the doors that had once opened to a lift, long since blown in, the metal remnants hanging like scraps of torn paper.
“Guess we’ll take the stairs,” Siddhārtha said dryly.
The paneling of the stairs and parts of the walls had been stripped, exposing the skeletal framework beneath and making the footing treacherous. They descended cautiously. Halfway down the building, they found more chaos—a wide corridor filled to bursting with people chanting “Death to the leader! Kill the leader!” As one, the crowd lifted their arms and opened their mouths wide, shouting for blood.
“You!” Siddhārtha shouted, grabbing the shoulder of a man passing by them. “Where is this leader of whom you speak?”
The man turned eyes like lenses toward Siddhārtha.
“Where is your leader, the one who governs you?”
The man paused, considering the meaning of the words. “Our leader, yes, our leader . . .” he mumbled.
“Yes, your leader, where is he?”
The man grabbed Siddhārtha’s wrist. His grip was incredibly strong.
“What are you doing?”
“I will take you to him. I will take you to our leader,” the man said.
“I only require you to tell—” but before Siddhārtha had finished speaking, the man broke into a run.
“Wait, hold up! Let go of me!”
The man dragged Siddhārtha along as though he weighed no more than a burlap sack. Though it should have been an easy thing for Siddhārtha to wrest his arm free, the man moved with superhuman speed, not giving Siddhārtha time to think. The crowd turned at the sound of the shouting, dark suspicion in their eyes. Abruptly, those around them stopped moving and surrounded Siddhārtha and the man. With eyes devoid of emotion they reached out to grab him. He felt a grip like iron close around the antenna on his shoulder, and left with no other recourse, Siddhārtha diverted power to his discharge panels and generated a fireball. A ball of flame swelled to an enormous size, rolling through the crowd around him, the smell of ions mingling with the stench of scorched flesh. One of the walls burst into flames. The rage of the crowd quickly transformed into terror. Siddhārtha took advantage of the confusion to slip from the main corridor into a side passageway, leaving both the crowd and his companions behind.
“You have come from another star, haven’t you,” said a voice.
He whirled around and saw a man standing in a brown and yellow jumpsuit. The man’s porcelain-smooth forehead gave off a cool gleam in the glow from the luminescent walls.
“Another star? I suppose so, yes.”
“You wish to meet the leader?”
“That was my intention in coming here, but I’m afraid I got caught up in the crowd—”
“Come with me,” the man said, turning and walking away.
Hoping that Asura and Orionae would be able to determine his location, Siddhārtha followed after the man.
The man passed from corridor to corridor, increasing the distance between them and the confusion back in the hallway. From windows opening in the corridor wall, Siddhārtha occasionally caught glimpses of red blazes in the city.