The Dig

  "I cannot explain it." Brink rose from the bench. "I just know."

  "Suit yourself." Low followed him through the exit. "Next maybe you can 'feel' a way to reactivate the asteroid. I just 'know' you can."

  An uncertain Brink did not return the Commander's smile.

  CHAPTER 13

  "They continue to make progress." The thousand and one perceptions projected positive assurance. "The life crystals have given them no trouble. They have not misused them nor attempted to make invalid applications."

  "Common sense does not equal true intelligence." Five hundred and two dissenters dismissed doubtful assertion. "An animal that walks into an electric barrier learns not to repeat the experience. This constitutes learning, but in the absence of real intelligence."

  A couple considered. "In addition to the life crystals, they have discovered and made use of the map spire as well as the interisland transportation system. We will bet the scent of a flowering fungus that they will now move on to explore the other towers."

  The doubters were disdainful. "Anyone can bet freely with that which they do not possess, cannot obtain and can hardly remember." There was a distinct note of wistfulness in the rejoinder. "Would that it were otherwise."

  "Unmoderated curiosity can be detrimental." The great majority of observers remained noncommittal, genuine emotion being too precious a commodity to waste on misplaced hopes.

  "Doing nothing would be more detrimental still." This exclamation came from a platoon of the purely prosaic. "They must move on in spite of risks they cannot envision, for to stand still is to begin to die."

  "Except for us," remarked several others. "More's the pity."

  "How can we die?" They were all philosophers, out of necessity if not desire. "Is this existence we enjoy a kind of life or of death?" It was a question that had been debated for hundreds of years, and for which they had yet to concoct a satisfactory answer.

  "Observe. Already they advance toward the next tunnel."

  "Another obstinate door might be enough to defeat them," theorized three-and-thirty.

  "Not these." It was the first who spoke now, the one who had made the original desperate attempt at contact. Its failure had only inspired fresh thinking. "They are resourceful beyond the bounds of prediction. Did you not see how they dealt with the barrier?"

  "Unsophisticated," remarked an arc of mind-thoughts. "Inelegant."

  "But in the final analysis, effective," argued the first. "And that is all that matters." Drifting low, it hovered somewhere between the crest of the central island and Brink's eyebrows. "If only we could break through and warn them! If only we could provide assistance instead of mild bemusement. Who did not see during the last attempt? Exerting to the utmost, those who strove achieved only futility."

  "Perhaps the occasion will arise in which to try again." A number of the first's supporters gathered close. One moment there were three or four of them, and the next, half a million. "Perhaps circumstances we cannot foresee will prove more fortuitous."

  For all their accomplishments and all their learning, for all the time that they had existed in first one dimension and then another, one thing the Cocytans could not do was see into the future. Had they been able to do so, they would not have been in the stultified state in which they found themselves now. For as surely as Cocytus rotated on its axis, they would have chosen a different path into the future. One that would have allowed them to show all that they had left behind to their latest visitors. One that would have allowed them to explain.

  For the second time that day the two men spent time calling out to Maggie Robbins, and for the second time there was no response to their shouts.

  "Something's happened to her," Low muttered uneasily. He started to reach for his pen communicator.

  "Not necessarily." Brink considered the possibilities. "Perhaps she has climbed up the rubble pile and is exploring outside. Seeking familiarity among the unfamiliar, she may have returned to the asteroid. Or possibly she is bathing in the waters of this ocean, seeking temporarily to distance herself from the overwhelming difficulties that face us. If the latter, then I envy her her sense of proportion. I could do with a swim myself."

  "Later," snapped Low. "We have spires to explore."

  "There, you see?" Brink gently chided his companion. "That is exactly the kind of attitude I mean. If we are not careful, the stress and strain will do us more damage than any uncooperative alien device."

  Low whirled on him. "You want to go swimming?"

  The scientist glanced away. "Well, not just now. As you say, there are two other spires to inspect."

  Low grunted his satisfaction. "Thought so. You're as driven as I am."

  "I regret to say that you are right. But let us not condemn the resourceful Ms. Robbins for possibly believing and acting otherwise. If she is indeed taking time to relax and mentally recuperate, then she is behaving in a more sensible fashion than you or I. Anyone who can survive and thrive in the inhospitable universe of international media can surely keep her wits about her on a mere alien planet."

  Low had to smile. "Glad to see that your sense of humor survived too."

  "I am pleased you find it so. I have, on occasion, been accused of not having one. Perhaps the application of the crystal, which, by the way, I should like to call a life crystal, improved upon it. Nothing like dying to enrich one's sense of the comic."

  "I'll take your word for it." Low gestured. "But I still think it's time we checked in." So saying, he pulled the pen communicator from his belt and switched it on. The corresponding LED for Brink's unit glowed brightly, but the third remained blank.

  "Doesn't matter," he grunted. "She's switched her unit off. I can't contact her until she turns it back on." Frustration was evident in his tone. "Dammit, she knows she's supposed to keep her unit activated at all times."

  "You see, Commander? She wishes to preserve her solitude."

  "Fine," he snapped. "I can't order her to turn her unit back on until she turns it back on. So for right now it looks like we've no choice but to let her be for a while longer yet. Let's get going. I don't fancy getting caught out on one of the smaller islands after dark. Maybe the transport system shuts down at midnight."

  "Or if we do not return here in time, we both turn into pumpkins, perhaps?" Brink chuckled softly. It didn't sound quite normal, somehow, but Low had other things on his mind besides the nature of the scientist's laugh.

  As they walked toward the third beckoning archway, they continued to call to the absent Maggie. Despite Brink's sensible reassurances, Low remained concerned.

  "Even if she was off resting somewhere, she ought have come back by now, if only to check up on me."

  "Perhaps she has been trying to do just that." Brink had to break into an occasional jog to keep up with his companion. "She may have circled this chamber a dozen times while you were sifting through the contents of the museum island or the two of us were learning the secrets of the map spire. Not finding you, she may have gone searching elsewhere. Maybe we will find her on the third island, or the fourth, awaiting us with characteristic impatience.

  "I would not worry about her overmuch, my friend. I suspect she has survived worse than this."

  "How would you know?"

  Brink eyed him uncertainly. "I am not sure that I follow your meaning."

  "Never mind, it's nothing. You're probably right, Ludger. I'm driving myself nuts worrying about her while she's probably off somewhere divining alien secrets and wondering where the hell I've been. We'll find her soon enough."

  As on previous occasions, the door to the sphere cycled silently shut behind them as soon as both were properly seated on the passenger bench. For the second time, Low found himself wondering how many Cocytans the transport was designed to hold. A dozen, or one unimaginably large one? His contemplation was cut short as the sphere began to roll.

  "I've been wondering about these tunnels." Low spoke as the two men sat side by side, staring ahead, waiting
for the inevitable light. "Been wondering about them since the first time I saw one. Wondering about them now."

  Brink replied tolerantly, since it was obviously expected of him. "And what have you been wondering, Commander?"

  "If they're all intact. If any of them happen to have ceilings as weak as the one doming the big chamber we just left. It collapsed and killed you." He glanced significantly upward. "A breakdown here would kill both of us, and even if Robbins figured out how to use the crystals, it wouldn't do any good. I don't think the crystals are capable of resurrecting pulp."

  "For a supposedly phlegmatic type, your images are very vivid, Commander." Brink considered the possibility. "I would think that the engineers of this world would have ensured that any type of undersea excavation would be built to far more exacting standards than simple land-based edifices. In my opinion, these tunnels are probably the sturdiest structures we are likely to encounter. In addition, they are doubtless equipped with any number of fail-safe and backup systems designed to deal with the first sign of structural failure.

  "For example, at the first hint of flooding I would expect these spherical transports to be shut down. Therefore we may assume that so long as we are moving, there is no structural danger." Low was about to comment, but Brink forestalled him.

  "Nor do I believe that conclusion means that I am 'thinking like a human.' I would expect sensible engineering to transcend species."

  "Sounds good to me." The seat quivered ever so slightly beneath Low's backside. "Unless the fail-safe mechanisms have failed first. Then there'd be no warning."

  "I can see why they made you a shuttle commander, Boston Low. You worry not only about the obvious but about the invisible. I suspect that if you were sitting motionless in a completely empty dark closet, you'd find time to worry about the makeup of the atmosphere within."

  "Shoot, I do that all the time. Comes from spending so much of my professional life carrying my own air around with me. Your nose gets real sensitive and you find yourself starting to question individual molecules." He lapsed into silence, staring down the tunnel.

  Having completed two successful journeys via the spherical transport system, they felt comparatively confident when they stepped out for the third time. As expected, there were no surprises waiting for them. The transport station was a duplicate of those at the map spire and museum spire, and the large portal on their left stood open and inviting.

  The interior of the new spire was considerably different, however. Careful inspection revealed it to be absolutely empty, a vaulted cylinder harboring smooth, bare walls and nothing else. There weren't even any of the distinctive protrusions that commonly bulged from floor and siding. Not an artifact, not a console, not a pile of sealed containers: nothing whatsoever. The spire of the third island was barren.

  Low studied the floor. Like all Cocytan paving, it was subtlely reflective. You couldn't see your face in it, only vague outlines. Most certainly it was composed of the same material he and Brink had encountered everywhere else.

  "Looks like a dry hole, as they say in Texas." A disappointed Low started forward. "Might as well make sure."

  As they entered, their booted feet made soft padding sounds on the polished surface. By what mechanism these ancient monuments remained free of dust and dirt they couldn't imagine. Low hypothesized tiny cleaning robots that emerged from concealment only when necessary, while Brink opted for some kind of inbuilt electrostatic repulsion system. They argued as they strolled bemusedly toward the center of the room.

  "I don't get it." Low didn't know what to expect, only that he'd expected to find something. Especially given the profusion of wonders they had encountered in the other two spires. "What was this place?"

  "Who can say? Possibly it was never utilized, or perhaps the Cocytans emptied it out before their unknown fate befell them. It could have been intended for use as a storeroom that was never needed. We might as well return to the central island and try the last spire."

  "In a minute. There's something wrong here." Something about the meticulously maintained emptiness continued to bother him. "It's too clean, too spotless. Maybe the Cocytans were cleanliness fanatics, but we've found debris elsewhere. Why would they devote so much energy and engineering to maintaining an unused building in immaculate condition when both of the other two spires show routine signs of neglect? Look at this floor." He scuffed the glossy surface with his boot. "Can't even raise a whiff of dust. It doesn't make sense." His gaze roved the walls and ceiling.

  "This place still has a purpose."

  Brink was unconvinced. "Yes. To mystify curious visitors, for one thing. I see nothing unnatural in a fetish for hygiene. In Hamburg and Kiel there are unused shipping warehouses that are maintained spotlessly."

  "I don't doubt it." They had almost reached the center of the spire. "But those are kept clean in expectation of eventually receiving sensitive cargo. If that's the case here, then why keep the sphere transport system running to this island? Why not shut it down until needed?"

  The scientist shrugged. "Perhaps the Cocytans were profligate with their resources. It is possible that..."

  The room vanished.

  Though he was among the handful of his kind trained and mentally equipped to deal with such a dislocation, such as when an orbiting shuttle might lose all power and light, Low still swallowed hard when the spire's primary function engaged. There had been no warning. But then, none would have been necessary for the Cocytans, who came to this island familiar with its function. They would have known what to expect, would have know that standing in the exact center of the room was all that was required to activate the concealed equipment.

  The abrupt transformation was much harder on Brink. Gasping involuntarily at the sight that now confronted them, the scientist mumbled something in German and stumbled into Low. Reaching out, the Commander got a firm grip on his companion's arms and managed to steady him.

  "Take it easy, Ludger. It's just an illusion, a projection of some kind. You can still breathe, can't you? Gravity's still at work. We're not falling. It only looks that way."

  "An illusion." Brink found in the Commander's calm expression an island of stability amid utter distortion. His gaze kept returning for reassurance to that composed visage. "I am used to witnessing illusions, not to being a part of them."

  "It's a complete experience," Low agreed. "Nothing left out." He turned a slow circle. "All-encompassing. It doesn't move with you. I know a couple of astronomers who'd give up five years of their lives for the chance to spend a week in here."

  They were floating in space. Stars, nebulae and other stellar features surrounded them. Some types were utterly unfamiliar, each representing a new astronomical discovery hitherto unknown on Earth but presented within the spire with the assurance of long familiarity.

  Close to Low's face hovered a star and four planets. The sun blazed in spectacular miniature, periodically casting off minuscule prominences, while the planets slowly rotated in their orbits. Low wondered if the star would be warm to the touch. Squinting and leaning close, he could see individual cloud formations moving within a pair of tiny atmospheres. As he stared, a typhoon the size of a pinhead slowly rotated into view.

  He reached toward the diminutive globe and saw it expand in response. Now it was the size of a tennis ball, individual land-masses and seas standing out clearly. The nearer he moved his hand, the larger it became, until the globular projection had expanded to where its diameter was twice his height. One region in the eastern ocean particularly attracted his attention.

  "See there, Ludger. There's the main island and the surrounding islets. It's Cocytus."

  Overwhelmed by the simplicity of the planetarium's design as well as by the technology that made it possible, Brink could only murmur in amazement.

  "I wonder, my friend. If we were to continue to expand magnification, continue to refine the resolution, could we focus down on this single island, enter this spire, and end up gazing at represen
tations of ourselves staring back at us?"

  "Don't know." Low drew back his hand and watched as the globe of Cocytus shrank back down to the size of a marble. "Don't need to know. If I want to look at myself, I'll use a mirror."

  Turning, he gestured in the direction of a cluster of dense red stars. Instantly they swelled and rushed toward him. He had to steady himself to avoid flinching away from the onrushing fiery spheres. Concentrating on the largest, he caused it to expand while dismissing its companions as effortlessly as one would push aside soap bubbles in a bath.

  Two planets circled the red giant, which also wore a tiara of comets and asteroids. Cursory inspection revealed both worlds to be charred and lifeless. With a gesture, he flung the stars aside, casting them back to their rightful places in the firmament with a casual wave of his hand.

  "A planetarium." Brink spoke as if in a cathedral. In a sense, it was—a place to worship astronomy. "But what a planetarium. I do not recognize a single constellation."

  "Neither do I. Look beneath your feet."

  Brink complied. There was no floor. They were standing on nothingness, contemplating depths that extended forever. Stars swirled beneath his toes. The miniature of a grand nebula, remnant of an ancient supernova, illuminated one heel with crimson and yellow highlights.

  Experimentally, Low took a step forward. The illusion lost none of its perfection. He felt but could not see the solid surface underfoot. They weren't about to fall off, to go tumbling forever through an inveighed against cosmos. The planetarium was marvelous, but no place for anyone with vertigo.

  "Nothing's changed," he assured Brink. "The floor's still there in every sense except the visual. Come on, you try it."

  "I will remain here, thank you."

  "Suit yourself." Taking several steps into the spangled void, Low amused himself by enlarging and then shrinking an assortment of stellar objects. "Pick a world, Ludger. Any world. Just use your hand."

  The scientist nodded. At his behest, the supernova nebula rose from his feet, expanding until they were both standing within it. The colors and light were mind-numbing. Embedded within the fluorescent gas were innumerable individual fragments, the detailed study of any one of which would have settled questions of a hundred years' standing among the astronomical community. Behind the nebula lay stars unknown on Earth, whole constellations unsuspected.