Atomic Underworld: Part One by Jack Conner Page A

his hand
and commenced to read.
    Little
was known of the strange race. They had lived millions of years ago and few of
their writings had survived. It was known that they had been highly advanced
technologically, and that some of their technology had been quite otherworldly,
unlike anything men knew. Nothing was known of the reasons behind their
disappearance, though other races of the same time had left bas-reliefs of some
awful cataclysm. Early man had worshipped in the ruins of the Iuss’ha, thinking
whatever race had left them must be gods, but they were not unique in this.
Beyond that nothing was known, at least in the volume Tavlin had before him.
    There
was certainly no mention of the jewels Boss Vassas and Madam Elana claimed came
from them. Nor was there mention of mysterious ghost women.
    Tavlin
tried several more books, found nothing of any further use, then spoke with
Guyan.
    “Perhaps
another library,” Guyan suggested.
    “This
is the only one in Muscud.”
    “Try
the one in Urst, or Hadmar. There’s more than just this one. You don’t remember
the raids the Urstian librarians pulled a few years back? We’re just now
recovering from them. Had to replenish the entire letter H.”
    “Well,
I’m off.”
    Tavlin
left the library and set out for the Wide-Mouth, and Boss Vassas. He had a few
questions to ask of his old employer.
     
    *
     
    “The
mayor won’t say jack,” Boss Vassas said. “Not because he’s tight-lipped—shit,
he’s as loose as Jasmine downstairs—but because he’s scared shitless. Those
boys in that factory aren’t your usual renters.”
    Tavlin
was stuffing his pipe. He raised his eyebrows without looking up and said, “How
so?” They sat in Boss Vassas’s study, which was part of the suite that had been
attacked last night, though this room had seen no violence. Rich rugs covered
the floor and murky oil paintings of mutant heroes and battle scenes covered
the walls. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the whole room smelled of
smoke. Tavlin knew the smoke from the chimneys of Muscud gathered at the apex
of the cistern chamber, where a vent with a fan in it drew the smoke out; every
now and then the motor running the fan would break down and the whole town
would fill with an acrid cloud. Fortunately that was a rare occurrence.
    Boss
Vassas stared out the window overlooking the city. Turning, he said, with a
half smile on his face, “Because they’re not. Remember, I own a good chunk of
those warehouses and factories. The boys in that particular one came to me
first, looking for a place to rent, but I didn’t have any vacancies, so I
directed them to the mayor, who owns a couple himself, and one I knew happened to
be empty.”
    “Who
are they?”
    “Hell
if I know, my friend. But I’ll tell you one thing. This one day, after they’d
been comin’ round for a while, tryin’ to build up trust, I guess, ‘cause they
were from outta town, well one day they asked to use my phone. There ain’t many
in Muscud and they were willin’ to pay for it, so I said alright. I even left
the room for ‘em.” His face was hard. “I listened at the keyhole.”
    Tavlin
lit his pipe and sucked in the first mouthful. He swirled it around his tongue,
then breathed it out. Seeing that Boss Vassas needed prompting, he said, “Yeah?
And?”
    Firelight
crackled in Vassas’s eyes. “They spoke with an Octunggen accent.”
    A
shudder coursed up Tavlin's spine. Perhaps the chill came from the open window.
It was certainly hot enough in here. “A lot of people have Octunggen accents,”
he said. “Octung used to control a bunch of countries, you know.”
    “Yeah,
but they didn’t speak with any accent when they were in front of me. Only when
they were by themselves, when they didn’t think anyone was listening. And then
only a little, like it just slipped out.”
    Tavlin
frowned. “So what do you think they’re up to?”
    “I
don’t know, but I got a bad vibe from them, and so did