Empyrion II: The Siege of Dome Read Online Free Page A

There's a whole world to learn.” He waved his bread in an arc that took in the whole of the Empyrion horizon, glittering with the sun off the distant pavilions.
    “And what will you do when you learn everything?”
    “I don't know. Write it down, maybe. It doesn't matter. I want to know all about you.” Pizzle tucked the last morsel of bread into his mouth, lay back, and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift in the glory of the day. He felt positively reborn. Nothing else mattered but that he was here and that he would always stay here, just like this, now and forever. He felt his shriveled soul expand, shaking out folds and wrinkles he'd thought were permanently impressed.
    He breathed a long sigh of profound contentment and let the gentle waves rock him to sleep as Jaire composed a nursery song she would sing to her infant charges later that night. Yes, thought Pizzle dreamily, this was the life. Heaven itself could not be sweeter. A man would be a fool to leave—for any reason.
    Treet hung on the metal ladder in an agony of indecision. Should he go back and wait until whatever was happening up there in the Archives was over, or should he risk discovery to find out what was going on? This debate raged for several minutes, and would have gone on longer, but his fingers grew tired. Rather than drop back down, it was easier to go up—which he did with utmost caution, inching up the ladder, watching the hole overhead for any sign of discovery, ready to let go and fall the instant he saw anything suspicious.
    He saw no reason for retreat, however, though the clangor and rumble grew perceptibly louder the higher up the ladder he went. At last, clinging to the top rung, he pushed his head up just above floor level to see that nothing had been touched near his secluded hole. The sounds he had heard came from a point midway between him and the inner doors of the enormous circular room. A quick check confirmed what he already guessed—that the outer doors were now sealed tight once more. Whoever was running the machine stood between Treet and his only exit.
    Wasting no time, Treet pulled himself the rest of the way out of the manhole and darted to a nearby stack of electrostatic filter frames, crouched, and peered cautiously around. He saw no one nearby, so began threading his way through the mazework of discarded machines and obsolete junk, creeping with all the stealth he could muster.
    The din grew as the incessant clang began to include other sounds as well: the screech of rending metal, the groan and pop of fibersteel breaking, the crash and clatter of objects being thrown and smashed against one another. Treet worked his way toward the activity, pausing frequently to look over his shoulder. If he were caught now, it would be over before it began. Fortunately, the noise of the wreckage covered any inadvertent sounds he made, allowing him to get closer than he might have otherwise.
    What he saw when, crouching behind a plastic water tank, he peeped out across a cleared expanse of Archive floor was a huge orange machine lumbering across the floor and stirring up the fine gray powder into a thick haze. The thing was little more than an engine on treads, with a flat metal plate hung on the front for banging a pathway through the accumulated jumble. A half-dozen Saecaraz stood watching the mayhem as the improvised bulldozer rammed the circle larger, punching the perimeter outward from the center. The heavy metal plate smacking against the treads created the deafening clang that he'd first heard.
    The Saecaraz seemed intent on what they were doing—creating more room, Treet guessed, though why they should care about that now puzzled him. After all, the Archives had been ignored and unvisited for generations. Perhaps it had something to do with the events which had taken place here recently. Treet did not especially want to see those events replayed; so he ducked down and looked across to the doors. He saw that one was open