Furious Gulf by Gregory Benford Page B

the two of them, by getting Toby out from under his
     father’s thumb. Maybe his father wanted that, too, because Killeen looked relieved.—Um. Very well.—Quickly the Cap’n turned
     his attention to other matters.
    Into the Chandelier, Toby’s pulse quickening. They followed tracers that pulsed on the inner visors of their helmets. Already
Argo
’s computers had built up a rough three-dimensional map of this vast derelict, using the exploration team’s data. They guided
     Cermo and Toby through dark lanes, down shafts, through the wrecked corridors of far antiquity. They sped through utter blackness,
     guided by their helmet beams.
    Toby caught glimpses of tattered clothing, trashed factories, gutted offices. Each glance was a momentary message of beleaguered
     lives lost for millennia, known now only by pathetic scraps.
    They reached the yawning round airlock. Their helmet beams showed a crewwoman, who waved them on in.—Can you believe it?—she
     sent.—There was air inside. When we opened the lock, it near blew me away.—
    The blackness all around them gave way to a broad, phosphor-lit square. The team was there, working among ranks of machinery.
     Cermo gave orders for them to search the area. Toby stood, listening to other teams report their findings. They had found
     nothing as unusual as this.
    Toby asked Cermo,—Why you figure the phosphors work here and nowhere else?—
    —Maybe there’s still a power source in here.—
    —After twenty thousand years?—Somebody guffawed.
    But there was. A crewman found electricity coursing through conduits high above. Cermo said,—No bodies, so far?—
    —Nobody’s reported any.—Toby answered.—They’re gone, I guess. Evaporated away, like the plants in the parks.—
    —But why not in here? I mean, this was sealed.—
    Toby wondered why mechs would leave this vault under air pressure, if they were the last ones here. He walked among the ranks
     of shadowy machinery and puzzled over what it was for. There was a certain cast to the bulky assemblages, a style that was
     not like the mech machines he had feared and hated all his life.
    It struck him that these were
human
machines, by far the largest he had ever seen. He smiled with pride. Men and women had once worked on the scale of mechs.
     He had lived with the automatic assumption that only the malevolent, intelligent machines could achieve great works.
Argo
was an ancient human work, of course, but it was of the Arcology Era, used to fly between the Hunkered-Down colonies on the
     far-flung planets. And
Argo
had used many parts scavenged from mechs. These old human artifacts were different. Beautiful, he decided.
    Killeen sent,—Team Lambda has found same engraving in a wall. I want full spectro-copies of it.—
    Toby had the gear for that.—Yeasay, coming.—
    He turned to go and a sudden blaring signal erupted through the comm line.
    I AM A BOMB. I AM SET TO EXPLODE IN THREE HUNDRED TIME INTERVALS. *
BEEP
* THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING OF A TIME INTERVAL. THERE ARE TWO HUNDRED NINETY-NINE TO GO. I AM A BOMB. I AM SET TO EXPLODE IN
     THREE HUNDRED TIME INTERVALS. *
BEEP
* THERE ARE TWO HUNDRED NINETY-EIGHT TIME INTERVALS TO GO.
    The signal came from somewhere in the vault, Toby’s locator told him.—Evacuate!—he called and started for the lock.
    It was closing. Cermo was in front of him, moving with a speed and dexterity surprising for his size. Cermo aimed his weapon
     at the lock and blew off a hinge. The door stopped.
    Toby got through the entrance and then stopped.—You figure it’s a nuke?—
    —Might be,—Cermo sent.—Move!—
    —Let’s push the lock door back in place. It might contain anything less than a nuke.—
    Cermo swore but agreed. They swung the door shut with the help of three other crew. The time wasn’t lost anyway, because others
     were still coming out. The last crewwoman squeezed through and they slammed the bulky steel shut.
    Nobody wasted time on breath. They rushed down