The Dig

  "Listen, if you could just stay here until I return? I'm coming back with a friend who might be able to talk to you. There are many questions we'd very much like to ask you." Frustrated, he did his best to explain with his hands.

  Cocytan eyes tracked the movements but gave no hint of understanding. Words emerged from the beaked mouth, elegant and incomprehensible.

  "Yeah, sure." Low was backing into the tunnel. "You stay right there, now." With that final admonition, he turned and hurried off up the passageway.

  Halfway through, he plucked the communicator from his belt. "You still there, Maggie?"

  "I'm on my way, Boston."

  "Same here."

  "Maybe when we find a way home"—she didn't say 'if,' he noted—"we can take some of this stuff with us. It's all beguiling, even if we don't know what most of it does. Any one tool would be priceless on Earth. Like for me to translate that into Cocytan?"

  "Save it," he instructed her. "You can practice on our host."

  "Okay. It's funny how once it's put into your head, it just stays there. Wish I could memorize news sources that well. Sometimes I—" She broke off abruptly.

  "Maggie?" He brought the communicator closer to his lips. "Sometimes you what, Maggie? Come back. You okay?"

  The creature was very large, very alien, extremely unpleasant to look upon and evinced no hint of intelligence whatsoever. What it was doing in the museum spire she didn't know. It hadn't been there when she'd arrived. Unlike Low and Brink, it was her first encounter with any local life-form larger than a lizard. Though Low hadn't supplied any details, she didn't think it was a Cocytan.

  It looked more like a crab than a spider, she decided, though in appearance it partook a little of both. It would have been perfectly at home in a cheap 1950s horror film, except that it smelled atrocious and its contorted, bent limbs were possessed of a horrid jerking motion that was beyond the reach of cheap cinematic artifice. Big and ugly, it blocked her path with ease.

  She couldn't see any eyes, though it was obviously aware of her presence and location. Hard-shelled, shiny legs twitched in her direction. As she backed away, she could hear Low yelling at her via the communicator and knew she should respond. The shock of the creature's appearance had left her momentarily dumb struck.

  It had simply materialized in front of her, without any warning. Adrift amid the peace and quiet of the spire and fascinated by the enchanting Educator, she'd let down her guard. Now it was too late to take precautions.

  She looked anxiously to right and left, but there was no real cover in either direction. Only exhibits and displays, none of which were large enough to hide behind. Besides, the creature obviously had a fix on her and would follow no matter where she ran.

  One side of the spire boasted several unexplored doorways. All lay in the direction of the transport station. If she was lucky, one of them would connect through, allowing her to bypass the creature.

  She turned and sprinted for the wall. All those hours spent in the gym were intended to keep her looking her best on the small screen while enabling her to ward off the smiling assaults of younger, up-and-coming newswomen. Now the hundreds of miles she'd spent on the treadmill were being put to more important use.

  It didn't look particularly fast, she told herself as she ran. She'd outrun it, pop down a side tunnel and find another way back to the transport sphere. There was no need to worry Low. The poor man carried around an Atlas-sized load of anxiety as it was. She'd reassure him as soon as she was sealed safely inside the sphere.

  Hard, unyielding digits closed about her waist. Only then did she look back, to find herself staring into a distorted mockery of a face. Twisted, curving jaws were within an arm's reach. All that was missing from the picture was ichorous drool. An overpowering stench more than made up for its absence. The monster reeked like prime carrion.

  She'd underestimated its speed as well as its determination.

  Although some of its movements were machinelike, it was definitely not mechanical. As it lifted her from the floor and carried her toward one of the very same dark openings toward which she'd been fleeing, she wondered why she didn't scream. Was it because she couldn't, or because the same inner drive that had taken her to the far corners of the Earth refused to concede the weakness? In any event, there was no one around to hear, and she didn't want to do anything to startle the beast. If it found the noises coming from her unpleasant, it might decide to put an end to them by, say, unscrewing her head.

  She struggled futilely in its grasp. The grip around her waist was painful and she was having trouble breathing. At any moment she expected to disappear headfirst down that alien gullet. To her great relief, her captor shifted its grasp as it stepped over a floor-mounted, cylindrical exhibit, allowing her to inhale freely once more.

  The largest of the openings in the wall loomed near. Low's voice continued to yammer at her from the communicator. The creature ignored it, and with her arms pinned at her sides she was unable to reach the send switch and respond. She could only listen helplessly to the Commander's frantic entreaties.

  "Maggie, dammit, come back!" Low tried everything he could think of to reestablish contact, but all indications were that her unit was operating properly. Then why didn't she respond?

  He broke into a run. She was in some kind of trouble, but what? Had she fallen through another weakened ceiling like Brink and left her on-line communicator behind? Was she lying unconscious somewhere, unable to respond to his entreaties?

  Unpleasant realization struck home. Had she encountered a guardian?

  He slowed as he approached the intermediate chamber, the location of his own near demise. For an instant he heard nothing. Then the blunt, dull sounds of bodies striking each other reached him, and he cautiously leaned forward to peer out.

  The two guardians were much as he'd left them, inextricably entwined and battling relentlessly. One was missing half a limb while the other bled from several deep wounds. Neither showed any sign of letting up or slowing down.

  He waited until they had rolled into the farthest corner of the chamber before slipping out of the passageway. Keeping low and moving fast, he covered the distance to the other tunnel without being noticed. Or perhaps they both detected motion and chose to ignore his presence. If either let down its guard, its opponent would not hesitate to seize the opportunity. Evisceration and dismemberment would surely follow.

  Elated at his escape, Low entered the smaller, narrower outer tunnel and resumed his flight. When he finally emerged back into the clear light of the spire, he nearly collapsed from relief.

  No time for self-congratulation, he thought sternly. Disdaining rest, he turned and raced for the transport tunnel. Whatever trouble Maggie was in, he doubted it would wait days to be resolved. She needed help now. As much help as he could muster.

  That meant involving Brink.

  If he couldn't persuade the scientist to put aside his obsession with the life crystals in order to go exploring, he could damn sure do so with Maggie's well-being at stake. And if Brink wouldn't be persuaded, he could be dragged, pushed or shoved.

  Ahead, the transport sphere gleamed on its track like a giant pearl.

  CHAPTER 16

  It bore him swiftly back to the central island and the main chamber. There was no sign of Maggie, nor had he realistically expected her to magically appear before him, safe and sound beside the ceiling collapse. A check of the pertinent tunnel confirmed what he already knew: The transport sphere for the museum island was missing. More apprehensive than ever, he returned to the main chamber.

  He didn't have to go hunting for Brink. He knew exactly where to find the scientist.

  "Ludger."

  The other man reclined in the rear of the storeroom where they'd first found the supply of life crystals, basking in their combined warmth. He'd removed them from his pockets and spread them out to form a narrow enclosure. Like a wizard on holiday, he lay in the midst of the pale-green framework, hands behind hi
s head and eyes closed.

  Low advanced. "Ludger, Maggie's in trouble. I'm not surmising, I just finished speaking to her via the communicators. She was talking to me and her voice went dead, like she'd been cut off. But her unit's still operating. Something's happened to her. She's in big trouble." He nudged a couple of crystals with his foot. "I need your help, Ludger. Maggie needs your help."

  Exerting himself, Brink opened his eyes and sat up. Relaxed and content, he struggled to return from his self-imposed sedation. As he spoke, he rubbed slowly at his eyes, like someone awakened from a deep sleep.

  "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

  "I told you." Low fought to curb his exasperation. "I don't know. We have to find out."

  "Ah, but we don't, Commander. You handle it. I'm sure you're much better at this sort of thing than I am." He waved diffidently as he sank back to a reclining position. "I am occupied with reflection and study."

  It was clear the scientist wasn't interested in helping Low, Maggie or even himself. All that mattered to him anymore was remaining close to his beloved crystals. His condition was recognizable enough: He had become addicted.

  Great, Low rumbled silently. He had two companions on this world. One was in God knew what kind of trouble, and the other had turned into the first extraterrestrial junkie.

  For all Low cared, once they had rescued Maggie, the scientist could spend the rest of his life in rapt contemplation of the crystals until both body and mind wasted away. But right now he needed him.

  At least he's coherent and responsive, the Commander thought. Was there something in the appearance of the life crystals, in the warmth they gave off or their slightly slippery feel, that drew people inexorably to them? If he could figure out their attraction, he might be able to counteract it. Of course, if the addiction was connected to the fact that Brink had absorbed one into his body, then there wasn't much Low or anyone else could do.

  Silently the Commander tried to count the number of crystals arrayed around the scientist's prone form. There seemed to be the same aggregate as before. That meant that whatever their attraction, it didn't require absorbing or consuming more of the crystals on a regular basis. The residual effect was external. In many ways that made it even more insidious.

  "Look, Ludger, you can come back when we're through. I just need you to help me help Maggie."

  "Sorry, Commander, but I have found all the help that I need," Brink responded with languorous indifference. "You know, there is a device here that I believe is designed to produce additional crystals."

  "Now, how," an impatient Low inquired, "without any knowledge of the local written language, did you manage to figure that out?"

  The scientist's eyes blinked open to stare up at him. Had they acquired a faint greenish cast, Low wondered, or was it only his own imagination working overtime?

  "It seems fairly straightforward. There are an abundance of illustrative glyphs on the machinery. The mechanism itself appears to have been designed so that even the simplest of fools can operate it. Perhaps even such as you or I."

  Low passed on the implied insult. "So how come you haven't switched it on and buried yourself up to your tuchus in crystals?"

  "I tried, Commander. Believe me, I tried. However, when I passed my hands over the appropriate grooves, following the pattern indicated in the glyphs, nothing happened. I tried this several times and am quite sure I proceeded correctly. My conclusion is that there is something mechanically wrong with the device. I believe the problem is not insuperable." A tautness had crept into his voice.

  "Think of it, Commander! Think of what it would mean to bring such a machine back to Earth. Resurrection on demand. Alleviation of all the life-threatening diseases that have forever plagued mankind. Put in a coin and receive life. A miracle machine."

  "Right: if it works on everybody, and every medical problem. Meanwhile, Doctor Faustus, I'm sure nobody will touch your precious medicinal Mephistopheles if you take a few moments to aid Maggie instead of Moloch."

  "Why, Commander! You are better read than I would have expected."

  "Thanks. I'd like to add that I also hold a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwan Do. So get your tired Teutonic butt up off the floor and lend me a hand." As he reached for the scientist's boots, Brink quickly drew back his legs.

  "It will do you no good to threaten me, Commander. Go and seek out our wayward journalist if you must, but leave me in peace."

  "She's not wayward. I told you, she's in trouble."

  "Journalists are always in trouble. They revel in it. From trouble they derive stories, the way a fish extracts oxygen from seawater."

  Low bit down on his lower lip before replying, his words carefully spaced and intense. "Listen to me, Ludger. There are creatures on this planet that aren't cute, ground-dwelling critters. I know; I had to deal with two of them in the last spire I visited."

  "Then I am certain you can deal with this crisis as well." Brink drew his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, looking for all the world like a six-year-old trying to hide in a closet. "It is more important that I remain here to look after the life crystals while I try to unearth the secret of this machine's operation."

  "I'm sorry, Ludger. I don't have time to argue anymore." So saying, he reached down and grabbed the scientist's shoulder. "You're coming with me. Now."

  "I am not." Brink rose to his feet and shook off Low's hand.

  Though the two men were about the same size, Brink was no fitness fanatic. Whereas Low, despite his years, still retained the physical stamina that was a characteristic of his profession. That plus his martial-arts training allowed him to overpower the scientist without much effort.

  Flinging Brink into a corner to keep him out of the way, Low began gathering up the glowing life crystals. Apparently the only way to induce the scientist to move was to also move the source of his intractability. Low's pockets held the crystals as readily as did his companion's.

  Dazed, Brink tried to raise himself from where he'd been thrown. "No! Don't touch them! Give them back."

  Low found their warmth pleasing but in no way addictive or mind-altering. Still, it was early yet. Having no one else to do so, he would have to continually monitor his own reactions.

  To his surprise, Brink rushed him. Low sidestepped easily, used his hands and feet and sent the scientist crashing to the ground. Only the minimal force necessary was employed. His intention was to divert, not injure. Brink wouldn't be of much use to Maggie with a couple of broken limbs.

  Breathing hard, the scientist rolled over. His expression was desperate. "Please, Commander! You don't understand. I have to—"

  Disgusted, Low whirled on him, glaring hard. "You have to what?" He held up one of the sheathed crystals. "Have one of these next to you?"

  Brink took a step forward, thought better of it, and stood there tottering with one hand extended. "Yes, that's exactly it, Commander. I have to be close to them. I can't explain it, but—"

  "Fine," exclaimed Low, interrupting. "Stick close to me and you'll be close to them, right? You help me help Maggie and you can have them all back. I'll even help you reconstruct your little green playpen. What'll it be?" Following a pause, he added, "I see you eyeing that length of pipe, or conduit, or whatever it is. Don't even think of it. If you try to hit me, Ludger, I'll have to hit back hard. You won't like the result. Use your logic." He tried to lighten the proceedings.

  "Besides, it's bad for crew morale. Conflict and camaraderie can't coexist." He turned to go. "I'm leaving now. Stay behind and I'll see to it that you never see these crystals again." His tone thawed.

  "I know you're not entirely responsible for your actions, Ludger. It's the crystals. You've become addicted to them, somehow. Maybe because one dissolved inside you. Come on, man, use your head! Bring your analytical powers to bear. God knows they're a lot more developed than my own. Try to step back mentally, take a look at what's happening to you."

  Brink hadn't moved. No
w he lowered his head along with his arm. "I know ... ich vergessen... I know I haven't been entirely myself here lately. I see now that the life crystals have become something of an ... an obsession with me."

  " 'Something,' hell," Low replied quietly. "It's all you think about. It's driving you. With luck we'll find out why and figure a way to combat it. But right now neither of us has a clue, so you're just going to have to handle it."

  "Yes. I know you are right, Commander." His head came back up, and for the moment, at least, he looked like the old Ludger Brink: confident, self-assured, good-natured and just a touch arrogant. "I will help you assist Maggie. But if she is no longer responding, how will we find her?"

  Low drew the communicator from his belt and held it up for Brink to see. "These all have built-in search-and-locate functions. It doesn't matter that Maggie isn't talking. All that matters is that her unit is active. Which it is. She may not be talking, but we can still track her. She told me she was on the museum island." He clutched the compact unit tightly in his left hand. "According to this she still is. That should narrow things down a bit. Come on."

  Brink offered no further objections as he followed Low out of the storeroom and back to the main chamber. Together they hurried toward the transport tunnel that led to the museum isle.

  They had to walk, or rather jog, the whole way, praying as they did so that Maggie wouldn't suddenly appear in the tunnel ahead, riding the glassy transport sphere toward them. While they had no way of ascertaining its chemical composition, both men knew the rolling globe was not fashioned of thin plastic. Roaring down the tunnel, it would reduce them to pulp.

  The blackness ahead remained silent. Nor did any active alien abominations come shambling out of hidden side passages to impede their progress. The lightly polished surface underfoot was perfectly smooth and seamless. Darkness might slow them, but they did not trip and fall.