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"I'm here. What've you got?"
"We think it's a skyhook."
"You're kidding."
"You think I could make this up?"
"Hold on. I'm going to put you on the allcom, and I want you to tell
everybody." She switched him over.
He repeated the news, and Nightingale announced himself stunned.
"What does Gunther think?" asked Kellie.
"It's Gunther's conclusion. Hell, what do I know about this stuff? But I'll
give him this: I can't imagine what else it could be."
"That means," said Hutch, "this place isn't representative at all. We've
wandered into a remote site that didn't keep up with the rest of the world."
"Looks like it. But there's no evidence of technological civilization anywhere
on the surface."
"They had an ice age," said Hutch. "It got covered."
"We don't think even an ice age would completely erase all signs of an
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advanced culture. There'd be towers. Real towers, not that debacle you have.
Maybe they'd get knocked over, but we'd still be able to see they'd been
there. There'd be dams, harbor construction, all sorts of things. Concrete
doesn't go away."
"What's going to happen to it?" asked Kellie. "The skyhook?"
"In about a week it'll go down with Deepsix."
"So where does that leave us?" asked Hutch. "Are we wasting our time here?"
She heard Marcel sigh. "I don't know anything about archeology," he said.
"We've forwarded everything we have to the Academy, and to the archeologists
at Nok. They're considerably closer, and maybe we'll get some suggestions back
from them."
"There's something else here," said Kellie. She'd uncovered a metal bar.
"Hold on, Marcel." Hutch moved into position to give Wendy a good look.
Kellie tried to brush the dirt away. "Careful," Hutch said. "It looks sharp."
Nightingale dug a dart out of the frozen clay. Feather stalks remained at its
base.
The bar was attached to a crosspiece. And the crosspiece became a rack. The
rack was stocked with tubes.
They were narrow and about two-thirds of a meter long. Hutch picked one up and
examined it by torchlight. It was hollow, made of light wood. Brittle now, of
course. One end was narrowed and had a fitting that might have been a
mouthpiece.
"You thinking what I am?" asked Kellie.
"Yep. It's a blowgun."
They found a second dart.
And a couple of javelins.
"Stone heads," Hutch said.
And small. A half meter long.
They also found some shields. These were made of iron and had been covered
with animal skins, which fell apart when they touched them.
"Blowguns and skyhooks," said Marcel. "An interesting world."
"About the skyhook " said Nightingale.
"Yes?"
"If they actually had one at one time, part of it would still be here
somewhere, right? I mean, that would have to be a big structure. And it has to
be on the equator, so it's not under the ice somewhere."
"We're way ahead of you, Randy. We think the base might have been in a
mountain chain along the coast a few hundred kilometers southwest of where you
are. We're waiting for satellites to get into position to do a scan."
"The west coast," she said.
"Right. Some of the peaks in that area seem to have permanent clouds over
them. If we find something, you'll want to take a run over there yourself. We
might be looking at the ultimate dig site."
They carried the blowguns, the javelins, and several darts up to ground level.
Outside, the wind had blown up again, and snow had begun to fall. They had no
bags of sufficient size for the rack, so they cut the plastic in strips and
wrapped it as best they could. But when they tried to move it to the lander,
the wind caught the plastic and almost ripped it out of their hands. "Bendo
and Klopp," said Nightingale, referring to a currently popular comedy team
that specialized in pratfalls.
Hutch nodded. "I guess. Let's leave it here until things calm down."
They took a break. Kellie and Nightingale went back to the lander for a few
minutes, and Hutch hoisted herself onto the table to rest. Spending all day
bent over in tunnels, endlessly scraping, sweeping, and digging, was not her
game.
Toni broke in on the allcom: "Hutch, we've got company."
"Company?" She signaled to Chiang, who was standing in the doorway, and drew
her cutter. It was, she assumed, the cat.
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"Lander coming in," said Toni.
Hutch opened her channel to Marcel. "Who else is out here?"
"A cruise ship," he said. "Just arrived this morning."
"Well, it looks as if they're sending down tourists."
"What?"
"You got it. They must be crazy."
"Don't know anything about it. I'll contact their captain."
She was getting another signal. "I'll get back to you, Marcel." She punched in
the new caller. "Go ahead."
"Ground party, this is the pilot of the Evening Star lander. We would like to
set down in the area."
"Not a good idea," said Hutch. "It's dangerous here. There are wild animals."
There was no response for almost half a minute. Then: "We accept
responsibility for everyone who is on board."
"What's going on?" she asked. "Why are you here?"
"I'm carrying two journalists who would like to visit the tower."
"I don't believe this," she said. "The tower is dangerous, too. It could fall
down at any time."
There was a new voice, a baritone with perfect diction: "We've been warned.
It's on record. So you need not concern yourself further."
"May I ask who's speaking?"
"Gregory MacAllister," he said. "I'm a passenger on the Evening Star." He
implied a merely at the beginning of the sentence, which in turn suggested
modesty by someone who was in fact a great deal more than merely a passenger.
Hutch wondered if this would turn out to be the Gregory MacAllister. "I don't
think you understand,"
she said. "We are formally designated an archeological site. You're in
violation of the law if you land."
"What section of the code would that be, ma'am?"
Damned if she knew. There was such a law. But she had no idea where to find
it.
"Then I think we'll have to continue as is."
She switched to another channel. "Bill, tie me in to the Evening Star. Get me
a command channel if you have one."
Bill replied with an electronic murmur and then told her none was available.
"There's only one main link,"he said.
"Put me through."
She listened to a series of clicks and a chime. Then: "The Evening Star
welcomes you to first-class accommodations on voyages throughout the known
universe." The voice was female. "We feature luxurious cabins, a wide range of
international cuisines, leading entertainers, three casinos, and special
accommodations for parties. How may we serve you?"
"My name's Hutchins," she said. "I'm with the landing party at the dig. I'd
like to speak with someone in command, please."
"I'm fully authorized to respond to all requests and complaints. Ms. Hutchins.
I'd be pleased to help you."
"I want to talk to the captain."
"Perhaps if you explained your purpose in making this request "
"Your captain has put some of his passengers in danger. Would you please put
me through to him?"
There was a pause, then barely audible voices. Finally: "This is the duty
officer. Who are you again?" A
human being this time. A male.
"I'm Priscilla Hutchins. The archeological project director on Deepsix. We
have a team on the ground.
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