Dire Steps by Henry V. O'Neil Page A

brunette’s face was smudged in soot, and a dark bandana held her hair in place. She wore black fatigues and combat boots, and Ayliss detected a slight smell of smoke.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked, pressing into the group as if trying to keep the conversation secret. Her weight rested against Blocker’s armor, who turned concerned eyes in her direction before surreptitiously sliding an arm around her waist to hold her up.
    â€œThere’s been an accident.” Wary eyes jumping from Selkirk to Blocker to the walls of the building constructed by Zone Quest. “Hurry.”
    I n spite of Blocker’s protests, and his solicitous palm applied to her forehead that took Ayliss back to the age of five, the group was soon rolling down the slope in an armored mover. The mining complex blazed with light, and the roar of an engine could be heard from the small Zone Quest spacedrome on the mountain’s top.
    Ayliss had changed into a set of dark green fatigues festooned with the Auxiliary’s patches, and she gritted her teeth while they rolled down the road toward the entrance to the Sim tunnels. Weak and dizzy, hot but not nauseous, she had no idea what she might have caught. Blocker had already diagnosed it as a NOA, an acronym she’d never heard before that stood for NonSpecific Outerspace Ailment.
    â€œWe have to get you into the ZQ infirmary as soon as we’re done with this.” Blocker had grumbled, still displeased by her handling of Rittle. “If they’ll take us.”
    The main entrance to the tunnels was an arch cut into the stone right at the end of the road. A dozen armed veterans wearing torso armor stood in a loose group outside the gate, and they waved the mover to a stop. There was some argument about who was going to be allowed admittance, but Tin’s insistence got them all through.
    Selkirk had already described those parts of the underground warren that he’d been allowed to see, and so Ayliss wasn’t surprised to find the main tunnel well lit and clean. The Sims had smoothed and painted the stone walls once the minerals were extracted, and the floor was flat and level. Selkirk and Tin preceded them through the entranceway, and Ayliss concentrated on walking normally inside the circle of her bodyguards.
    The entrance tunnel had been dug perpendicular to the ridge itself, and so they reached the main transverse corridor in no time at all. More armed veterans were posted there, and Ayliss recognized one or two of them in the light. They stopped the visitors, instructing them to wait in tones that were not friendly.
    Tin stayed with them, and Ayliss was finally able to see that the short Banshee’s fatigues were indeed singed. The soot on her face was night camouflage, but fire had come very close to her in the last few hours. Swimming inside the fog of her illness, Ayliss still detected the agitation that filled the air.
    Moments later Lola approached, also dressed for night maneuvers but not smelling of smoke. “Come with me, please.”
    They only went a few yards down the ridge’s center core before Lola stopped them at a side room. Looking down the long passageway, Ayliss detected several more entrances and decided these were the quarters the Sims had made for themselves. There appeared to be a lot of them, and she wondered again why Hemsley had refused her small party a place to stay.
    â€œMinister.” The voice came from inside the room, male and menacing.
    Ayliss forced herself to look calm and then passed between Selkirk and Tin. She only got to the doorway, as the room wasn’t large, and three stretchers were laid on supports inside it. Two of the stretchers supported boot-­clad bodies that were concealed beneath blankets, and the third was occupied by First Sergeant Hemsley. His shirt was off, revealing a pale torso half-­covered in a gleaming salve coated over angry pink flesh. More of the salve was on the left side of