There were other inscriptions. These were short, usually only two-or three-word groups. Hutch recognized the characters from the uppermost line on the artifact they'd found at the site of the hovercraft.

She tried to imagine the concourse when it was alive.

They came to a series of wide doorways, all on the right-hand side. Each opened into a chamber about four meters wide. The rooms were devoid of any kind of furniture.

She poked her head in, saw nothing, and went to the next one.

There were eight of them, of identical dimensions. Hutch looked in each, hoping to be surprised. They had low ceilings. Designed for the crickets.

At last they stood together in the eighth room, at the end of the passageway. There were no artifacts, no inscriptions, nothing. Just bare rooms. "Let's go," she said.

She started out, and the room moved. It was a momentary quiver, as if a pulse had gone through the building.

Quake, she thought.

Something began to grind in the walls. The room lurched.

"Get out, Randy!" She bolted for the exit. A door was already sliding, banging, clanking down out of the overhead. Nightingale froze, and she turned back. And then it was too late. She pulled up, and her chance was gone. The door chunked to a stop, a hand's width off the floor, and then crashed down onto the dirt. It cut off the light, and Hutch found herself crouching in the dark. She turned on her wrist-lamp.

"This is not good," said Nightingale.

The grinding in the walls got louder. The floor inched up. And fell back.

Mira's voke broke over the circuit: "What happened?"

"Don't know. Stand by."

Nightingale aimed his laser at the door and thumbed the switch. A white beam licked out, and the gray surface began to blacken. Then the floor dropped abruptly. Startled, he lost control of the laser and swept the room with it before dropping it. As designed, the thing automatically snapped off.

The room fell. Stopped. Slipped down a few meters.

"My God," said Nightingale. "What's going on?"

"Another elevator. A working one, looks like."

The chamber crunched down again. Marcel was on the circuit now. "What's happening? What's your situation?"

Canyon was still there, but aside from a word of encouragement, he kept mercifully quiet. They continued to bump, vibrate, and drop.

"On my way," said Kellie.

"No. Stay with the lander."

"I can't help from here."

"I don't think there's much you can do over here either."

Nightingale looked panicked. Probably like herself.

Something rattled beneath the floor.

The ceiling was too low for either of them to stand straight. They picked a corner of the room and retreated into it.

The grinding eased off, but the elevator continued its erratic descent. She used her laser to finish the job Nightingale had started, cutting a substantial piece out of the door. It was dark outside, and the fog was thick as ever. But the glow of her lamp revealed no wall. Instead she saw only a gridwork of struts and beams.

"What do we do?" asked Nightingale.

She widened the hole, making it big enough that they could get out if the opportunity offered. "It'll have sharp edges, though," she cautioned him. "Be ready to go if we get the chance."

The ride continued. Nightingale came over, looked out, but was careful not to get too close. There was still nothing to see except the gridwork, moving sporadically past as they continued down.

"I think we're in the basement somewhere," she said. And then, moments later: "I can see daylight below."

The elevator rattled and shook, and there were squeals and shrieks in the floor and ceiling. Suddenly a void opened. The mist was gone, and they were dropping through bright day.

"Where the hell are we?" demanded Nightingale.

She looked down the side of a sheer gray wall that fell forever toward green hills. "This is how the crickets got up to the skyhook."

Nightingale peered out and trembled. "You don't think we're going all the way to the bottom, do you?"

"That would be my guess. Unless their technology isn't too good. If that's the case, we might stop partway down and be expected to switch to another elevator."

It was hard to determine whether Nightingale thought that would be good news or not. There were a few clouds below them and others out on the horizon. Nightingale steeled himself, looked down, and gasped. "My God," he said.

"Stay away from it." She pulled him back.

Kellie heard it. "I don't care what you say," she said. "We're going to saddle up and come over there."

"No point. You can't reach us. Wait until we see how this plays out. I want you to be ready in case we need you in a hurry."

"Okay." She sighed. "Keep the channel open."

The banging and grinding subsided somewhat, and the ride smoothed out, became more constant, less bone-rattling, as if the machinery was becoming unlimbered.

They slowed, accelerated again, and jerked finally to a halt.

She looked down at a river valley so far below it made her head ache. They were, she realized, on the north face of the mountain, the section that appeared to have been artificially carved.

"What are we going to do?" breathed Nightingale. "We're stuck here."

The elevator trembled.

"Quake, I think," she said.

"That's what we need." He looked at her, his eyes full of fear. "Hutch, we need help."

"You've a talent for understatement, Randy."

"Can you give us a description," asked Kellie, "of where you are?"

She told her, and added "Pretty high up. I guess we're going to need air-to-air."

"Okay. Sit tight. We're on our way."

"How do you mean, 'air-to-air'?" asked Nightingale privately. "That doesn't mean what I think it does, does it?"

"Unless you want to try climbing down." Above them she could see the framework of girders, crossbeams, , and diagonals, the grid within which the elevator rode. The rear of the elevator was fitted against the face of the mountain. They were about fifty meters down. The cliff, as best she could see, was lined with shelves and outcrop-pings and even a few trees, but it would under no circumstances provide a means to scramble back up to safety.

"Can they really get us out of here?" asked Nightingale.

"It's lemon pie," she said.

The comment did nothing to alleviate his state of mind. "How?"

"Just ferry us out. Sit tight until she gets here."

He looked down, and she watched the little color that was left drain out of his face. The elevator dropped again, slightly, probably no more than a few centimeters. He gasped and turned a terror-stricken face toward her. "Best to stay away from it," she said.

"What are we going to do? Jump?"

"Something like that, Randy. But you'll be tethered, so you can't fall."

He shook his head. "Hutch, I don't think I can do it."

"Sure you can. No matter what, we can't stay here."

She could see that he felt humiliated as well as frightened.

They began descending again, slowly and steadily. "We're getting there," he said. "If we're patient, maybe everything'll be okay."

She said nothing, but simply sat down and waited for the lander to appear.

"What's holding the elevator up?" Marcel asked.

"The cable, I guess," said Hutch. She heard the welcome rumble of jets.

"That's a negative," said Kellie. "We do not see a cable."

Marcel made a worried noise. "Are you sure?"

"Yep. No cable."

"Then," pursued Marcel, "it must be a different kind of system from the one we use. Maybe they don't use cables. Maybe they glide up and down some sort of magnetic rail."

"I don't think so," said Kellie. "It has a cable mount on top."

"You sure?" asked Hutch.

"There's a couple meters of cable dangling from it."