What were they? They loomed like dinosaurs in the endless chain of high-domed vaults. They had once given Chahnn power and life and strength. The murals showed that. The Ancient Race had used antigravity—a secret unknown to Earthmen—and they had created food by the rearrangement of atomic patterns, not even requiring hydroponic tank cultures. They had ruled this world like gods.
And they had passed with no trace, leaving only these silent monuments to their greatness. With the power of the Ancients, Earth's lack of fuel-reserves would not matter. If the secret of atomic power could be found again, these machines would roar into thundering life—and machines like them would rise on Earth.
Power and greatness such as civilization had never known! Power even to reach the stars!
And—Garth thought wryly—a power that would be useless unless a cure for the Silver Plague could be found.
He was almost running now, his footsteps and Brown's echoing hollowly in the great rooms. Silently he cursed Paula Trent. There were other levels below, many of them, and she might be down there—which would make the task almost impossible.
A distant flicker of light jerked Garth to a halt. He switched off his lamp, motioning for Brown to do the same.
It came again, far away, a firefly glimpse.
"Paula?" the Captain said.
"Guess so. Unless they're after us already."