by Paul G White
It was time to begin the final phase of the excavation. Palo Lopez and his four excavator drivers received their instructions from Mike Carter and everyone waited as Lopez walked unhurriedly over to his powerful vehicle. Lopez would begin the excavation and the other four operators would take their cues from him, once any unforeseen safety implications became clear. It was impossible, due to lack of experience of the shield’s technology, to determine what would happen once the bonds holding together the rock adjacent to the shield were finally weakened.
Lopez advanced on the wall of rock with the boom of his yellow excavator extended almost horizontally at a height of six metres, some twelve metres below the outer rim of the ship. The bucket on the end of the boom had been replaced by a seventy-five millimetre diameter, hardened steel rock-breaking impact drill. Holding the boom steady, Lopez inched forward the final metre or so until he felt metal touch rock; then drawing the boom back slightly, he angled the drill thirty degrees upward and eased forward until he made contact once again. He turned and gave Carter a thumbs-up sign, then started the drill and gunned the engine. The staccato hammering of the hydraulic drill echoed over the site and the surrounding forest, reminiscent of the bark of heavy machine guns a few weeks earlier.
The drill bit sank almost its full length into the soft rock face and Lopez drew it out, playing on the many hydraulic control levers like a virtuoso musician. The solid steel point sank into the rock several more times, scribing a three-metre long line of holes in the grey surface. Lopez felt a tremor run through the tip of his boom and gunned the huge excavator in reverse away from the Comora. Several people who had inched forward to get a better view of proceedings were forced to flee out of the way as a section of the cliff face around the line of holes exploded outward with a shrieking of tortured rock. Rubble of all sizes, from huge boulders to pea-sized gravel and dust, avalanched towards Lopez’ digger. But the skilled operator had sensed the collapse sufficiently early to allow him to escape its full force, and the rubble finally lost its energy as it came into contact with his caterpillar tracks.
He slid his window down and grinned at Carter. “That is one way to do it, Señor Carter.”
Carter had noticed that Lopez threw the excavator into reverse a split second before the rock face had disintegrated, suggesting that he, alone, had experienced some kind of subtle warning.
“How did you know it was going to collapse at that moment, Palo?” he called. “Jason here needs to know, because the last thing we need is for one of the excavators to be buried and the driver killed.” Jason was the driver of a second excavator equipped with a hydraulic percussion drill.
“No problem, Señor. I felt the boom tremble, but it was not like the hammering of the drill. It was much slower, a sort of grinding sensation, and I would recognise it again.”
“Ok, let’s get this rubble out of the way and try again,” Carter told him, and someone beckoned over one of the dumper trucks for the debris to be loaded into. Within a short while, the area was clear once again and the dumper truck had reversed to a safe distance. All that remained of the drilled section was a low threshold of rock and an irregular, cave-like opening with a smooth, intensely black ceiling. For a few moments Carter regarded the opening with the overhanging rim of the ship above and growled, “Right, Palo, let’s try that again – but be careful, we don’t want any accidents.”
Lopez straightened his hard hat, gave a mock salute and moved his excavator to an adjacent section of the wall of rock. Minutes later, with a row of fifteen holes stretching more than three metres, he once again gunned the engine and raced away from the rocky wall at the excavator’s maximum speed. A second avalanche of rocks followed his tracks, throwing up a billowing cloud of dust.
He slid down his window once again. “It was exactly the same this time, Señor Carter. I felt the grinding through my boom and then the face gave way.”
“Thanks, Palo.” Carter turned to Jason Wright. “Are you happy to do what Palo’s doing?”
“No problem, Mr Carter. I’ll be extra careful until I get the feel of it.”
“Thanks. I think you’d better start around the other side of the ship and work in a clockwise direction, ok? I’ll allocate an excavator and a dumper to keep your working area clear, and the others can stay here and team up with Palo.” Carter gave the young operator a hard stare. “No risks, ok?”
“Sure, Mr Carter. I got a family to take care of and I’ve no intention of taking any risks.”
Carter nodded and Wright headed for his excavator, jamming his hard hat onto his head as he went. He stepped up into his cab, started the engine and rumbled around the outer rim of the Comora, followed by a bucket excavator and a dumper truck. Meanwhile, Palo Lopez had drilled several more holes and another avalanche of dust and rock cascaded from beneath the spaceship. The debris was scooped into the dumper, and at last the heavily-laden vehicle ground in bottom gear out of the dish-shaped depression and headed away to relieve itself of its burden. And that was the pattern for the remainder of the day until finally, at a little after six o’clock, the two drills were within touching distance of each other.
Jason Wright reversed away from the huge ship and Palo Lopez positioned his drill ready to take out the final section of rock. Once that was gone, it would be necessary to repeat the procedure, but this time the drills would be working below head height all around the ship to clear the lower strata down to the pre-extinction ground level. They would also be positioned below the overhang of the edge of the immense disc-shaped craft.
Carter was curious to know what effect the shield would have on the excavators and their operators, because he could not afford to lose anyone to an avoidable accident. The manner in which the shield had thrown up rocks from its upper surface to a height of around five metres was well documented, but it had not been possible to measure the power of the shield or its operational distance from the ship. Clearly, when the burden of rock was removed from the ship, the shield had expanded from a few centimetres to several metres, but as gravity had helped to clear away loose material from the underside, there was no visible manifestation of the shield’s extent.
Before Lopez could begin drilling the final section, Carter waved him to a halt. Lopez dropped the cab window and leaned out. “Is something wrong, Señor Carter?”
“No, Palo, I’d just like to try something before you take out the last few metres. I want you to extend your boom as high as you can towards the underside of the ship to see if the shield reacts. Take it very slowly, because I don’t want a repeat of what happened to the helicopter. Are you happy to do that?”
“Sure, Señor. You want me to tickle it with my drill?” He wriggled levers and the hardened steel bit gave a passable impression of a large finger searching for something to tickle. Carter laughed and he heard the sounds of others joining in.
“Nothing extravagant, Palo,” he chortled, “and take it really slowly. Those drilling extensions are pretty damned expensive.”
With a grin, Lopez advanced until his tracks met the low wall of rock still to be excavated, and extended his boom very slowly upwards towards the black underside of the immense ship. The drill rose centimetre by centimetre, until it reached a height of ten metres, when its upward movement ceased. Lopez gunned the engine and fed power to the hydraulics, but the boom refused to advance even one millimetre. They had discovered the extent of the shield, and Carter had no reason to believe that there would be variation in other locations.
Carter gave the orders to clear the remaining section of rock and then close down the excavation for the evening. The operators had been working hard for almost twelve hours and needed rest if they were to continue the operation with the minimum of danger. In Carter’s opinion, they needed to be very sharp-witted and on top of their game.
“Good job, lads. Well done!” he called to everyone before heading towards the shower block and the prospect of a tasty Caribbean supper. It had been a good day, and Carter was justifia
bly pleased with progress.
*
The ship’s AI had observed all facets of the excavation of the Comora through her multiple visual sensors. The clearance of all the debris from the upper surface of the ship had been carried out slowly but efficiently, and the AI had approved of the way the terrain had been cleared around the vessel in the shape of a vast shallow dish to enable excavation of the underside. From the AI’s viewpoint the two-legged aliens toiling to exhume the immense ship were applying intelligence to what must be, to them, an unusually difficult problem.
Since the attack by the flying machines the AI had scanned the skies continuously, and over that period she had observed no signs of spaceflight capabilities; although, for a fleeting moment, the AI wondered if she might have glimpsed a tiny orbital station as it passed slowly overhead. But that sighting had occurred at a time when the sensors on the Comora’s upper surface were partially obscured by flying debris and the data were, consequently, unreliable. The AI reasoned, therefore, that as the beings did not appear to have the ability to reach and traverse interplanetary or interstellar space, the appearance of the Comora must have provided a strange and almost unsolvable conundrum.
The primitive excavation machinery was now below the rim of the Comora and out of range of all but a few sensors scattered around the extreme edge of the ship. But the AI was still able to formulate a reasonable theory of how the excavation would proceed, and she knew that due to the shield, any plan to excavate the mass of rock imprisoning the Comora was certain to be fraught with danger for the would-be rescuers. Because the power of the shield would combine with the force of gravity, it would undoubtedly propel debris greater distances and at higher speeds than gravity alone.
So, the AI waited, and eventually she felt the tremors of a percussion drilling machine as it began the process of loosening the bonds holding the rocks together. And then the course of action she must follow crystallised within her mind: as a section of the rock weakened under the assault of the drill, the AI adjusted the shield and transmitted a warning tremor through the drilling machine. What happened next would determine her next move. With a sense of vindication, she observed the machine withdraw at the best pace it could manage, enabling her to feed power to that local area of the shield and collapse the pre-drilled section of rock. A second machine cleared away the rubble into a carrier, and the process began again. For a few moments, the AI permitted herself to feel a sense of jubilation, and then she returned to the task in hand, which was now doubled because a second drill had begun to attack the rock holding the Comora in place at a point diametrically opposite the first. Yes, the AI reassured herself, the Comora was being excavated by intelligent beings who knew the value of cooperation, and this augured well for the survival of Captain Lessil and his remaining crew.
Finally, when the excavation had proceeded full circle around the circumference of the Comora, the AI observed an attempt to gauge the strength and extent of the ship’s shield. The attempt was cautious and necessarily crude, but in view of the way the ship had obliterated an attacking aircraft and the shield itself had vaporised high-speed missiles, it was understandable that the rescuers would be taking no chances. This simple act presented the AI with additional confirmation of the intelligence of the Sha’lee’s rescuers, and she began to experience a very real sense of anticipation; the time was quickly approaching when she would bring her charges out of cold sleep and she dedicated a portion of her consciousness to the planning and preparation for that momentous event. After the immense span of three and seven eighths times eight to the power of seven of this planet’s years, the Sha’lee were about to live again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carter sat at the supper table finishing off a tasty meal of chicken and rice, followed by a selection of freshly-chopped tropical fruit portions. Across the table sat Hal Kleineman, Jonathan Kite, Margaret Blyth and Ellie Merrill. To his left sat Lars Hendriksson, and to his right, Phil Makeman. Throughout the meal they had been discussing the progress of the excavation. Most of the infrastructure of the site was now in place: from living accommodation to sanitation; from food supplies to technical equipment and laboratories. The government of the tiny country had spared no effort to acquire everything that had been requested by the growing team of internationally renowned scientists. It would, of course have been entirely beyond the capacity of the Belizean government to provide everything, and many of the participating countries had been extremely generous, both with funds and with supplies. So far, it had been a truly international undertaking.
Kite rested his elbows on the table top and steepled his fingers. “You know,” he offered, “I reckon it would be a good idea to try to locate the landing gear of the spacecraft first thing tomorrow morning, before one of the drills encounters something that might provoke a reaction from the ship’s weapon system.” He grinned at Carter and Makeman. “Or its meteorite defences. Whichever way you look at it the result could be deadly.”
Carter returned the grin. “I have to agree. I asked Palo Lopez to test the shield late this afternoon, which he was able to do without any kind of reaction, but his drill wasn’t active at the time. I’m inclined to believe from what’s happened so far, that whatever is controlling the ship’s defensive system is aware of what we are doing, and is as eager as we are to disinter the ship.”
Kleineman was incredulous. “Are you saying you think something’s actually alive in there?”
“Not necessarily alive, but aware, nonetheless. It might be a computer – or whatever passes for one in alien technology. What seems certain to me is that the odds against both drillers being able to dodge the avalanche of rocks and debris every time must be pretty enormous. I’m not a mathematician, but I’m sure we could find someone amongst the host of scientist on-site who could work out the odds against that happening.
“Look, guys,” he continued, “someone or something reacted to the rocket attack after having previously made no move to respond to the multiple impacts of the bullets. To me, what happened in those two separate incidents indicates that whatever is controlling the ship’s armaments, whether they are defensive or offensive, made a decision to take no chances on being hit by even heavier weapons.” He glared belligerently at the others around the table. “Well, can anyone offer a better explanation to cover what’s happened so far?”
Ellie Merrill drained her fruit juice and stared into the bottom of the glass. Finally she said, “If it’s a computer controlling everything, and if, as you say, it’s ‘aware’, then it’s light years ahead of what we have achieved so far. I’m not sure I want to believe that. I know that even the simplest cell phones these days have greater computing power than we could muster for early space missions, and computer technology has leapt forward since the early days, but you’re suggesting a far greater gulf between what’s in the ship and what we have at present. That would worry me, because I’d have to wonder in what other fields we would be weighed and found wanting.”
Carter smiled at the systems expert. “We may have to swallow our pride and accept that we’re pretty much on the bottom rung as far as technology is concerned. Think about it, folks. There can’t be any doubt that this ship has crossed space from another star system an unknown distance away, and at least part of it has remained in working order despite being buried under rocks and mud for sixty-five million years. What level of technology does that suggest? I’ve personally dug up artefacts from a few hundred years ago and not even the simplest object has worked without the most extensive restoration. As our excavation lays bare the surface of this spaceship, every square metre of the hull seems to be in perfect condition beneath the shield. I can’t imagine that the interior will have rotted away, can you? If anyone can offer a different point of view, I’m happy to hear it, but the ship must have been maintained over that period and someone or something must have performed the maintenance.”
No one sitting at the table could disagree with Mike Carter’s assessment, and it was
agreed that Phil Makeman and Sven Andersson would scan beneath the ship in an attempt to locate the landing gear before drilling recommenced in the morning.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OnTheNetNews
23rd September 2028 Correspondent: Nik Szella
ALIENS MAY STILL BE ALIVE IN ANCIENT SPACESHIP
It was revealed by a source at the excavation that someone (or something) may still be alive within the spaceship. Dr Michael Carter, Assistant Director of the site, is believed to have expressed the view that someone must have performed maintenance on the ship’s systems during the period since its burial by the tsunami. Dr Carter was unavailable for questions.
PGWNewspapers
PublicGovernmentWorldNewsCorporation
23rd September 2028 Correspondent James Whay
‘SPACESHIP IS THE DEVIL’S WORK’
At a rally in Leeds, United Kingdom, attended by more than 20,000 followers, physicist turned evangelist, John Craithie denounced the ancient spaceship in Belize as ‘an abomination, the work of Satan himself’. Since the discovery of the spaceship was made known, John Craithie (who, it is believed was banished from the site for expressing anti-alien beliefs) has been leading a
growing crusade, whose aims are nothing less than the destruction of the spaceship. (See page 14 for the complete text of Mr Craithie’s sermon.)
