He climbed up the steps, joined the two in the cockpit at the rear of the lifter. Althea and Kyso were in the midst of an animated conversation, looked over when he entered, then continued.

“…fantastic,” she was saying to him, as they looked forwards to the dead, grounded metropolis. “How many years was it in the sky?”

“Almost five hundred, so beautiful and vast,” Kyso had agreed. “I used to spend days, weeks exploring its riches. They were extravagant, even by Makani standards. The views from the top were unequaled, I remember.”

No looking down now, the original city had been a high-flying rounded disk; now much of it was flattened, twisted – impacted solidly into the ground.

With the thrusters alternating between whining and belching, they were able to get enough altitude to land the lifter on the body of the city, parking against a leaning wall under an overhang that, they hoped, would provide protection without sacrificing mobility. Althea and Kyso came down from the cockpit, went over the map drawn from his memory, listened carefully to Teffa’s comments. Despite evidence of lingering fears, as Teffa continued to offer disturbing glances in Althea’s direction, she was willing to argue with Kyso on several points of travel.

“We cannot use the main plaza; there are towers collapsed over it and around it,” she noted, pointing out a different route, the first of several debates in approach. “This would be the best route.”

With only the signs of any life a couple avians floating overhead, they started up the lifter again, heading through the quiet boulevards and abandoned plazas of Merk’apas.

The silence didn’t ease anyone’s tension, a simple touch on his shoulder made Traejan jump.

“Streck man, it’s dead out there,” Peca shook his head, “Did you like of the fungi? Want more?”

He hadn’t touched them, shook his head, turned to look out at the white shrouded buildings, searching for something in the darkened maws of former doorways, arches, windows – seeing nothing but blackness.

Through the stumps of the remaining buildings, the center towers swung again into view. Around them, the light snow blown into the air provided a glittering, sparkling contrast in sudden, brief sunlight.

“Look,” Peca pointed. “Almost there.”

The last turn brought them into the main square, empty of life like the rest of the city. Littering the grand plaza were stumps – of statuary, of crumbling smaller structures, of dead trees. They had arrived.

Fifty meters from the grand entrance to the central tower the lifter shuddered to a stop, with a final burst of blown snow, settled down. With a whoop, Peca pulled open the lifter’s side door – jumped out – started running around the lifter.

Traejan scrutinized the pieces of fungi again.

Is that what those things do to you?

He looked around. The others were already pulling on their outer gear, strapping on equipment. Kyso, followed by Althea stamped down the metal steps from the cockpit.

“Grab your packs,” Althea told them. “Check to make sure you have everything you need. If any of your equipment isn’t working, tell us. Kyso and Traejan will try to provide you with what you’re missing.”

Amek Goa turned to him, held up a powered torch, shook it. Traejan could hear the rattle.

“Got an extra light?” the tall man asked.

Traejan nodded, pulled out his, clicked to confirm operation, then threw it to the man. Goa looked it over, grinned, winked. Traejan turned away.

“Traejan,” He heard Althea calling him. He turned to see her looking out of the cage, the wind blowing her hair across her face. He watched her brush it away, then caught himself.

“What is it?” he called back.

She pointed out.

“Could you get Peca?” she shouted.

Traejan trudged through the snowdrifts, following the man’s boot prints. He found the man standing by the stump of a column, staring up at a circling bird.

“Time to come back.”

“If only we could be like them,” the small man muttered, not looking down, back. “Then we could live wherever we wanted.”

“Sure,” Traejan told him, touched his shoulder, trying to attract the man’s attention. “Time to get ready – remember what we’re doing here?”

Peca nodded, came back – started to gather his pack while everyone else stood around watching, waiting. Finally, he was ready.

“Let’s check our transceivers everyone,” Althea commanded. “Can you all hear through your ear buds?”

Traejan nodded, hearing her tinny voice in his ear.

“Are you sure these are safe?” Obe wanted confirmation. “The mechs won’t be listening in?”

“These are analog coded,” Kyso assured him. Traejan wondered why the experienced gregga would keep questioning their setup.

“Is there anything else?” Althea asked impatiently. She’d completely given up on the pretence of being like them, now only wearing only a light coat covering her light grey Consortia bodysuit and tunic. The others answered her, each in their own way, not apparently caring about the change. Traejan wondered if they were going to last an hour, let alone the days it might take to find something useful.

“Good. Then let’s move. The sooner we find what we’re looking for, the sooner we’ll be out of here.”