The Dig

by Alan Dean Foster

  For the second time in a day he found himself Outside, hovering in the shuttle's gaping bay. It blocked most of the sunlight, which fell unimpeded on the asteroid's surface.

  He could hear Robbins breathing hard again, but as they moved toward the rocky surface, it slowed. With Brink on his right, he adjusted his attitude so that they would make contact close to the crevice they had blasted in the surface.

  "How are you doing, Maggie?"

  Her voice breathed back at him. "Not so good ... at first. Better now. I can't decide if I'm ascending or falling."

  "Neither term has relevance up here. Don't worry about it. You're going away from the shuttle and toward the asteroid.

  That's all you need to think about." Even as he chatted with her, trying to be reassuring and comforting, he continued to check and recheck his own suit's status and instrumentation.

  Sooner than seemed possible, they were down. "Don't let yourself be fooled by the solid surface underfoot," he told her. "Gravity's virtually nonexistent. You can't 'walk' anywhere here. We might as well be 'standing' on a ball of gauze."

  "Such wonderful sights." Brink had oriented himself with his head facing the ground and was scraping samples into a carrying sack. The fragments were removed with difficulty. "Mostly nickel-iron with a smattering of rock," he informed his companions. "Not so very different from your usual bolide." Using his suit thrusters, he assumed a stance with his boots facing the ground. "Some olivine, and perhaps a few surprises. We will find out in the laboratory."

  Robbins recorded Brink for a while, then turned her machine on the surrounding desolation. She asked few questions, and all were pertinent and well thought out. Low was pleased.

  Time passed rapidly in space. He checked his chronometer. "Ludger? The fissure?"

  "Ya, ya, I'm coming." The scientist added something under his breath in German. Low caught a few words, but too many were of the type commonly found in scientific German—half a meter or so long.

  Low heard Robbins suck in her breath as they approached the rim of the abyss. He tried not to smile. "Easy, Maggie. Remember, you can't fall in. There's no gravity here. You're already falling constantly." He peered into the dark crevasse. Their suit lights illuminated only a portion of the upper reaches.

  The two men discussed the proposed descent. The only danger would take the form of a sharp projection or overhang that could entrap them or possibly puncture their suits. They didn't expect to encounter any. The upper regions should be smooth as a result of the residual heat from the explosion. Indeed the surface in their immediate vicinity exhibited all the classic signs of having been turned molten and then rapidly cooled. It was a landscape as designed by Gaudi.

  Brink was preparing to use a quick puff from his thrusters to drop down, when the unexpected happened. There shouldn't have been any unexpected. Everything had been worked out in advance, every possibility accounted for.

  That was Nature for you, Low thought. Just when you were getting comfortable with the view, she up and smacked you in the face with something. Or in this case, with an entire extraterrestrial body.

  Beneath them, the ground had begun to move.

  CHAPTER 6

  There was no sound, only a subtle vibration that communicated itself not to their ears so much as to their very bones. Around them the surface of the asteroid quivered visibly. Loosened chunks of surface material broke free and began to drift out into space. From within the fissure more material was jolted loose and came floating slowly toward them. Small nickel-iron boulders were easily nudged aside by gloved hands. Fortunately none of them had sharp edges.

  Borden and Miles were trying to talk simultaneously, filling his ears with a confused babble. Ever the journalist, Robbins had aimed her arm-mounted camera downward. Close by, Brink reached out to snag one drifting scrap after another. Most he would fling aside, while a select few would find their way into one of his collection sacks.

  The flurry of dislodged fragments had all but ceased when a brilliant shaft of light erupted from beneath their feet and bathed all three of them in its vivid glow.

  Borden's exclamation of surprise overrode Miles's startled oath. "What the hell...?" Low could envision him turning to shout back at the mission specialist. "Readings, dammit! Get some readings!" His voice contained not the slightest suggestion of humor.

  The copilot shouted toward the pickup. "Boston! What's going on out there?" Miles dragged herself into Low's seat, her fingers fluttering over the instruments, half of which appeared to have gone mad.

  "Something's happening," she muttered.

  "Asteroid quake." Borden snapped a switch.

  "Impossible. It's too small and too dead."

  "Not as impossible as that light." Borden was staring at the beam that had inexplicably emerged from the depths of the crevasse.

  "Whatever it is, it's not hot." She indicated a gauge.

  "Hello, hello, Atlantis. Do you read?" It was the voice of Mission Control. Whoever was on duty sounded harried and anxious, Borden decided. And maybe just a little panicked. "What's going on up there? We've got nonorbital motion readings on the target."

  "We've got more than motion, people." Borden stared in disbelief at a gauge that ought to be reading null. It was half lit. "There's a light of some kind coming from inside the object. Real bright, like a big searchlight. You ought to be able to see it from down there."

  "You're over west-central Africa. We can't scope anything until you come within range of Mombasa. What are your readings?"

  "No radiation," Miles reported. "Ken's right on when he describes it as searchlightlike. I don't think it's a residual effect from the correction."

  "Look, as soon as we know something more specific, we'll tell you," Borden declared. "It's a little weird up here just now."

  "You'd better come up with something." Mission Control sounded peeved. " 'Weird' doesn't make it as far as scientific terminology is concerned. We need specifics."

  "The asteroid's generating a bright light. Is that specific enough for you? Don't bother me. We've got three people down on the object." He looked grimly at Miles. "You got anything yet?"

  "Nothing. If there's a source, it's either well buried or not hot. Doesn't show any signs of dimming." She checked another bank of readouts. "Limited motion is resuming throughout the target's entire length."

  "Damn." Borden shifted his gaze from the instrumentation back to the object itself. "Boz? Talk to me, man."

  Low's voice echoed over the cabin speakers. The Commander sounded slightly shaken, which in itself represented something of an unnatural phenomenon.

  "We're fine. The vibration, or whatever it is, seems to be quieting down."

  Borden glanced at Miles, who nodded confirmation. He leaned toward the pickup. "We see the light. It's not hot and it doesn't appear to be lasing, so I think you're safe in looking at it."

  "A little late for that, isn't it, buddy?" Low's voice paused for a moment. "Put the spectroscope on it. The one we use for stellar analysis."

  "Look," the copilot began, "if you think I'm going to leave you down there while I run recalibrations on the computer, you'd better check yourself for oxygen deprivation."

  "No need to worry," Low responded. "The ground's stopped moving. There's just the light. Whoa, now there's not even that."

  Peering through the ports, the two crew members saw that the beam had indeed vanished.

  "Wonder what the hell that was all about?" Miles murmured aloud.

  "Maybe it needs new batteries," Low replied. "Size double Z." He had to work for a smile.

  Low was floating directly above the hole in the asteroid, staring downward. "There's still something glowing inside the crevasse. Ludger?"

  "I have no more idea than you, Commander. Certain minerals can retain and then release heat. Others can do similar tricks with electrical charges. Perhaps we have just witnessed an entirely new natural mineralogical phenomenon." In his suit, he turned to face Low. "We would be remiss not to
investigate farther."

  "Reflection from a lingering pool of molten material?" the Commander suggested. "Smooth nickel-iron would make a mighty effective mirror."

  "I do not think so. It was too bright, too coherent to be a reflection."

  "Well, then, what?" the Commander pressed him. The scientist had no ready reply.

  Something bumped into Low and he started, only to see Robbins drifting next to him. Using the tether, she had pulled herself close. "What was it, then? What happened?"

  "We don't know."

  "But we are going to find out," Brink added emphatically.

  "I don't know." Hovering above the pit, Low considered the options. "We're not really equipped to deal with the unforeseen, Ludger. I don't like pushing our luck with the unpredictable."

  "Nonsense, Commander. The phenomenon may not be repeated. We must pursue the cause while it remains fresh in experience. By the time the first formal scientific expedition arrives, the trail may have vanished." He returned his attention to the chasm beneath. "A body this small should not be capable of generating internal motion, much less ambient light. It has not flown apart, which attests to its internal stability. I do not think we have anything to fear."

  "Spoken like a man for whom the unknown holds only answers, not questions." Low remained unmoved. "Your safety and Maggie's is my responsibility, Ludger."

  "Hey, don't I have a voice in this?" Robbins tried to insinuate herself into the discussion.

  She didn't much care for the result. "No, you don't," Low told her formally. "You're here to observe, not to insinuate. Don't forget that."

  "We were going to enter anyway, Commander," Brink reminded him. At the very bottom of the crevice a faint efflorescence was still visible. "All the more reason now to proceed with our original intentions."

  "No? What if we get down there and the shaking starts again? What if this fissure decides to close up while we're in there?"

  "Come now, Commander." Brink did his best not to sound like a lecturing professor, but without much luck. "The fissure is not going to 'close up.' This is not some soft, chalky sedimentary formation we are discussing. It is fused rock and nickel-iron. It is not easily malleable." He activated his suit thrusters. "I'm going in. You may remain behind if you choose."

  "No," Low responded. "We stay together. Maggie, what's the reading on your tank?"

  She read off a number from her helmet's heads-up display. Low grunted his satisfaction. "Twenty minutes, Ludger. No more."

  "I accept your decision, Commander. Twenty minutes it is." He started down.

  Low followed, keeping a wary eye on the walls of the fissure. There was no indication of movement, no hint of vibration. All was as still and quiet as when they had first arrived, except for the persistent, absurd glow from below. Robbins had her camera on continuous run.

  "What about the structure?" he murmured aloud.

  "I see nothing out of the ordinary, Commander." Brink continued to precede his companions downward. "Everything appears consistent with what is known or generally theorized. I don't know whether to be reassured or disappointed."

  "Hey!" exclaimed a familiar voice via his headset. "How about an update, you guys?"

  "The shaking or vibration has stopped completely, Cora. We are inside the fissure and descending. Ludger says that everything looks about as expected. There's some kind of faint illumination below us, which we're going to check out. We'll take a few samples and then start back. Keep my seat warm."

  "Always." Miles's throaty laughter was greatly reassuring.

  Robbins reached out to brush one wall with a gloved hand. "What are these glassy green deposits?"

  "Olivine crystals," Brink explained. "Fused and smoothed by the heat of the detonation."

  "You sure you're all right?" That was Borden, Low knew. The copilot was uncharacteristically serious.

  "Fine, Ken. There's some loose debris, but it's easy to just push out of the way. Nothing sharp enough to threaten suit integrity. Not yet, anyway. Everything's normal."

  "No, it is not," announced Brink as if on cue. Having reached the bottom of the chasm, the scientist had used a puff from his thrusters to halt his progress. Now he floated facedown in an effortless headstand a few inches above the rock.

  "What is it, what's wrong?" Low immediately inquired.

  "It is not so much that something is wrong, Commander. It is more that something is simply not right."

  "I don't follow."

  The scientist edged backward, using his fingertips to effect the motion. "Come and see for yourself."

  Low adjusted himself, taking care to steady Robbins so that she would not go drifting past him to slam into the bottom of the crevasse. The gravity of Brink's appraisal was revealed in a single glance.

  "Son of a bitch," a voice mumbled. His own, he determined.

  "Say what, Boston? What was that again?" It was Borden, insistent and worried.

  Low found he couldn't reply. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. It was left to the ever-voluble Robbins to respond.

  "We're okay, Ken. Everything's all right." She was staring past the two men, gaping at what lay between them. "It's just that we've ... found something."

  Below them and lodged in the bedrock of the asteroid was the source of the brilliant light that had for an instant so thoroughly and electrifyingly captured their attention. It flickered pallidly, no less wondrous for its present lack of intensity. The feeble light it was generating clearly came from somewhere within.

  "Not quite the reflection you hypothesized, Commander." Brink had knelt by their discovery and was bracing himself against the nearest projecting rocks.

  "It's metal, anyway." Low bent closer. "But not nickel-iron. And there are no olivine crystals embedded in it."

  The source of their fascination and dumbfoundment was deeply scarred. That was part of the problem, for all of the "scars" were of uniform depth and breadth. Furthermore, they were arrayed in a pattern sufficiently uniform to suggest to even the most casual untrained observer that they were not the product of some natural force.

  It was a plate of some kind; round and curved on top, unmistakably the product of sophisticated machining. It had not formed or condensed or precipitated out: it had been made.

  "What's that? We didn't catch that last bit, Boston." Though less anxious, Borden was still not his usual jocular self.

  Low turned his lips toward the helmet pickup. "I said that we've got some kind of metal plate here." He glanced at Brink, who nodded solemnly. "With what appear to be markings on it."

  Robbins kept bumping up against him. "Am I hearing you two right? Are you saying that we've found some kind of artifact? An alien—"

  "Just a minute, now, hold on just a minute." Low whirled on her with such force that he found himself sliding backward and had to reach out and reposition himself. "Nobody said anything about anything like that."

  "Alien?" The catch in Miles's voice was comical. "Did somebody say alien? You've got a metal plate with alien engraving on it?"

  "Nobody said anything of the kind," Low shot back.

  "Commander Low." He turned to see Robbins eyeing him reprovingly. "You're shouting, Commander."

  "I am not shouting," Low replied with careful deliberation. "Cora, Ken; we've found an anomaly here. It's far too soon to be rendering any formal determinations."

  "Okay, Boz," Borden responded evenly. "So make a couple of informal ones. Just to keep us poor homefolks apprised."

  Low exhaled slowly. "We've uncovered what looks like a machine-made metal plate that's inscribed with markings. It could possibly be—I say this reservedly—some kind of writing. But we don't know that yet."

  "Writing." Miles's tone had changed to one normally used in church. "Then you are saying that you've found some kind of artifact, Boston."

  Brink was running his gloved fingers over the indentations. "I do not think it can be doubted, Ms. Miles. It is clearly of artificial origin, as are the
engravings or indentations that cover its surface. The source of the intermittent internal light remains a mystery. It seems to emanate from the metal itself."

  "You'll both excuse me a moment." Robbins turned in nothingness so that her arm camera was focused on her and the scene at her back. "I think I have a story here." Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

  "Notification Editing: Begin head. This is Maggie Robbins, reporting live from the now-stabilized and as-yet-unnamed asteroid." Pivoting anew, she aimed the lens at the yard-wide metal plate. "We have just found the first evidence of alien life beyond the Earth, a tablet or Stella of some kind that—"

  "Now, hold on a minute." Twisting, Low used his body to block the camera's view of their discovery. "We haven't exactly subjected this thing to detailed scrutiny, much less professional analysis. Right now everything, including possible source of origin, is pure speculation. It's not your place to go jumping to conclusions. You'll set all kinds of idiots to issuing unsupportable pronouncements."

  She didn't back down. "And it's not your place, Commander, to tell me as an on-the-scene reporter what kind of conclusions I can and cannot draw. This is one instance where my experience exceeds yours. Are you trying to tell me that somebody from Earth managed to concoct this thing, sneak it up here, and bury it where we'd find it?"

  "No, of course not," he replied impatiently, "but that doesn't mean—"

  "It's an alien artifact, Boston. A solid metal plate that emits light. Give me another explanation and I'll gladly report it with equal enthusiasm."

  He couldn't, of course. With grudging respect he allowed as how she wasn't afraid to make a case for herself. Behind them, Brink was scratching and digging at the area around the plate, using one of several special tools with which his suit was equipped.

  "I wonder if perhaps there might not be something else here."

  "There doesn't have to be." Robbins shoved the camera past an unresisting Low. "This plate alone is enough to make us famous the world over. Of course," she added with a hint of smugness, "I'm already famous the world over. So are you, Commander." She glanced meaningfully at Brink.