Soul Pipes

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WE WORKED THE RUINS EVERY day under the brown sun, and every night I wished I were elsewhere. Initially I was bored and resentful, but soon I grew fearful.

It wasn't that our discoveries were so disturbing, at first. When we landed on Graylin IV, the ruins seemed benign, ground down into the innocence of great age, scoured clean by emptiness. Of course, something had killed the colony. But that fatal unpleasantness was long gone, worn away with the walls. Graylin IV was an inhospitable world and the colonists were religious crazies... an infinite variety of unfortunate events might have ended their attempt to sink human roots into alien soil.

Still, as the days passed my uneasiness grew, for no apparent reason. The wasteland where we'd pitched our small camp wasn't haunted in any obvious way by hungry ghosts. Ravening night-monsters weren't stalking the darkness outside the perimeter, so far as I could tell.

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