Free Jaydium by Deborah J. Ross

very much like hers, only his had a hollow handle containing a back-sharpened knife blade, a length of permawire and three large-eyed needles.
    â€œI’ve got the whip and my emergency kit,” he said. “You take your little stun-popper there, and the water container. He turned to the spacer and said slowly, emphasizing his words with gestures, “Lennart, I don’t have a weapon for you, so I want you to stay close to us. In fact, I want us all to stay together. No exploring on your own, and if I say ‘Jump,’ I don’t want you to stop and ask ‘How high?’ I just want you to do it. Understood?”
    â€œYou’re taking a lot for granted, throwing around orders like that,” Kithri said, lifting her chin. “We’re not a pair of recruits — or babies.”
    â€œAnd I’m no nursemaid,” he said. “But we don’t know what nasty surprises the city-builders left for us. You haven’t had training in how to deal with such things, and I have. I may not have any fancy infiltration equipment, but I’ll do my best to keep us alive.”
    A stormy expression flickered across Kithri’s gray eyes. “Okay,” she said after a moment, “you’ve made your point. You don’t have to rub it in. I’ll go along with you. For now, anyway. You too, Lennart?”
    â€œDun luh to me lie arm fortreh, buh I’m ease. Tever yoosay, baw.”
    o0o
    The parkland ended abruptly in a narrow apron of quartz-like stone. The grass grew right up to it, and on the other side lay pale satiny pavement that marked the beginning of the city. Eril kept to the cover of overgrown bushes and umbrella trees as long as he could, searching for any traces of automatic weaponry. There was no response when he hailed the city or rolled a clod of earth over the threshold. He took a deep breath, drew his force whip and stepped cautiously into the open.
    He wasn’t sure what he expected to find or what he’d do when he found it. Neither his Academy training nor his wartime experience had prepared him for First Contact. If the city builders — assuming there still were any — were anything like the gentle, timid aliens known to the Federation, then the last thing he’d want to do was blast them away with the force whip. He slipped it back into its holster and adjusted the straps so he could draw it again quickly.
    Eril started down a broad avenue flanked on one side by a lacy, pearlescent rectangle. On the other side sat a delicate spindle, two stories high and faceted like rubies. His boots crunched shards of multicolored crystals that littered the street. There was no other sound except for the rasping of his breath in his throat and the muted pounding of his heart.
    He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hallo! Anybody out there? Hallo!”
    â€œH-a-a-l-o-o-o...” His voice echoed down the spacious avenue. It sounded eerie, barely human.
    He stopped in front of the spindle and studied it for a moment. It was about fifteen feet on each side of its square base, and deep crimson in color. The nearby buildings, pearly shades of pastel, looked anemic by comparison.
    â€œEril!” Kithri yelled from the bushes. “What’s going on out there?”
    â€œNothing so far,” he called back. “Stay where you are! I want to check —”
    â€œThe hell you are!” Kithri strode across the stone border, Lennart at her heels. She halted in front of Eril and set her fists on her hips. “We’re not going to wait back there while you go off by yourself!”
    Eril, realizing the futility of arguing with her, turned his attention back to the spindle. Kithri followed his gaze, throwing her head back to stare.
    â€œWow,” she said in a hushed voice.
    Lennart grinned, poked Eril with one elbow, and repeated, “Wow.”
    Eril placed his flattened hand on the side of the spindle. The faceted wall felt