The Centauri Surprise

by Alastair Mayer

  Carson nodded. His own parents hadn’t entirely understood his desire to leave Earth either. He could only imagine what it was like growing up with grandparents who were part of the first interstellar expedition, and how protective they might have been of their children growing up on a wild planet. He was curious about Alex’s mother’s side of the family, but was too polite to ask.

  “You could always enroll in an extraterrestrial archeology class at the university,” he said. “Most of the field trips are off-world.” I sound like Dean Matthews shilling for the department, Carson realized. “Or planetology, or any of several other fields. Heck, the economics department probably has something on interstellar trade.”

  “Ha. I’ll keep that in mind.” As Alex said this, the trio reached the first corner of the structure.

  Dundee went ahead and wide of the corner, just in case something was lurking out of sight, then signaled for them to come forward. As they rounded it, Carson looked along each side, as far as he could get a clear line of sight through the vegetation. The corner, ignoring the slopes of the sides, was a perfect right angle. By now, Carson was no longer surprised.

  CHAPTER 36: RICO'S REVELATION

  Space Guard HQ, Sawyer City

  RICO WATCHED AGENT Friday scroll through something on his data pad. After he had inadvertently admitted to knowing classified information, Rico was determined not to give away anything further, but without actually lying.

  The agent looked up from his pad. “You went to Earth on the passenger ship Southern Sky.”

  Rico thought for a moment. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What?” Friday looked at his data pad. “Okay, you went to Earth’s moon on Southern Sky, then took a shuttle to Earth.”

  “That’s right.” This was all public records stuff, there was no point in denying it.

  “You landed at the Denver Spaceport, then checked in at the Weston Hotel downtown.”

  “Correct.”

  “Did you meet anyone there?”

  “There were lots of people there. The doorman, the clerk at the registration desk, the—”

  Friday raised his hand to cut Rico off. “Enough. Why did you go to St. Louis?”

  Why-questions were a can of worms, Rico knew. It was best to side-step them if he could. “I can neither confirm nor deny that I went to St. Louis.”

  Friday took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rico saw the muscles in his jaw working, and tried to hide a grin.

  The agent started again. “You took the St. Louis-bound maglev from Denver.”

  “I did.”

  “You disembarked in Kansas City and let a rental car drive you the rest of the way. Why? Were you being followed?”

  “I don’t know.” That was the literal truth. He didn’t know he was being followed, he merely suspected it.

  “Did you think you were being followed?”

  Well, it had been worth a try. “Yes.”

  “Thank you. Was that so hard?” Friday glanced at his data pad again. “Did you go to St. Louis to meet with someone?”

  “Yes.” There was no point in denying that.

  “A Velkaryan?”

  That hadn’t been Rico’s original intent. The man he went to meet was an old associate of Hopkins from the artifact trade days. But the man who actually met him had turned out to be the Velkaryan, Reid.

  “Not exactly,” Rico said.

  “Well, what, exactly?”

  “The person who met me wasn’t the person I was supposed to meet. He turned out to be a Velkaryan, although I didn’t know it at the time.”

  “Were you delivering something?”

  “No.”

  “No?” The answer seemed to surprise Friday.

  “No. I was not delivering anything,” Rico said. “Why, what did you think I was delivering?”

  The agent scowled. “Never mind. Were you there to pick something up?”

  “Not as such.” That would have come later.

  Friday studied Rico for a few moments, then shrugged and swiped the page on his data pad.

  “Did you visit the Steel Mesa underground storage facility in Pennsylvania?”

  So, they knew that much. “Uh, yes I did.”

  “More than once?”

  “Yes. It’s an interesting place.”

  “I’ll bet. Did you remove anything from there?”

  “Only what I walked in with.”

  Again, Friday studied Rico, and glanced at his data pad. Rico wondered if there was some kind of lie detection equipment built into the conference room, but again he had answered with the literal truth.

  “Were you aware that a Steel Mesa delivery van en route from the facility to Denver went missing a few days after you visited?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” So that’s how they did it. “What was in it?”

  “Records. They later found the van sunken in a reservoir. The records were missing.”

  Rico hadn’t known the details of how the Velkaryans had planned to hijack the shipment, he’d just been pretty sure that they would. Which is why he’d arranged another way to get the specific files that Brown had asked for.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “They also found the driver. Dead. His neural implant had shorted out from an electromagnetic pulse, probably when someone stopped the truck the same way.”

  “Ouch, shit. I’m sorry for the guy, but what does that have to do with me?” And why did the dumb-ass have a neural implant anyway? Rico never would.

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  Rico just shook his head and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “There was another delivery to Denver from the storage facility. Just a single box.”

  “People get things from storage all the time. Only one?”

  “Only one which arrived just before your shootout at the Denver Spaceport, and the hasty departure of the ship Dragonfly right off the ramp behind the charter agency where you and the Velkaryans were trading fire.”

  Rico remembered that. The ship, with Brown and the files aboard, had been climbing out as he went down. He looked at Agent Friday blandly. “Was that a question?”

  Friday shook his head. “Never mind.” He rose to leave, then sat back down. “One more question. What do you know about Zeta Reticuli?”

  Rico didn’t know much, but did know that Brown had been particularly interested in something about that star, although Rico had no idea what. Not that he was about to tell Friday even that. Time to try a bluff.

  “Zeta Reticuli?” he asked. “Is that some kind of pasta dish, like macaroni or rigatoni?”

  Friday shook his head again, as if in resignation. He stood up. “Wait here, I’ll be back.” He walked to the door, rapped on it, then opened it. Rico could see the big guard still standing outside, then Friday left and the door closed.

  Rico stood up and, impeded by his shackles, shuffled over to the blinds and peered through the gap between the slats. It still looked like a government office. He didn’t see where Friday had gone. He wondered how far he’d get if he tried to make another break for it. Probably not even to the elevator, between his leg chains, the guard at the door, and the number of capable-looking individuals in the office outside. He shuffled back and sat down again.

  A minute or two later the door opened again. Rico looked up, and gasped in surprise. Entering the room, with Friday behind him, was someone Rico hadn’t expected to see again for a long time, if at all. His UDT boss, Quentin Ducayne.

  “Hello, Rico,” Ducayne said. “I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.”

  CHAPTER 37: AT THE PYRAMID

  Pete’s Peak

  THE TRIO ROUNDED the third corner of what Carson was now convinced was a pyramid, even if it was covered with dirt and vegetation. So far, they had seen nothing to distinguish any area along the side from any other. No unusual depressions in the ground, no bare areas where the soil covering had worn away, nothing.

  Dundee was leading, still looking
out for animals. Carson followed at a distance of about ten meters, and just behind him was Finley.

  “Well, I think this was a waste of time,” Finley said over Carson’s shoulder. “We should have just started digging where we first found it.”

  “We could have,” agreed Carson, “but wouldn’t you feel silly if we’d done that and then later found a doorway on the opposite side?”

  “And if it does turn out to be just a volcanic plug?”

  “Seriously? I think we’d have to reexamine all our assumptions about geology. I’ve never heard of a square volcano.”

  “Well, it’s the neck, not the whole volcano,” Finley said, “but you have a point. On the other hand, these terraformed planets have caused us to rethink a few things about geology anyway.”

  “Somehow I don’t think the Terraformers would have gone out of their way to make a square-necked volcano. Even if they had, I doubt there’d be any sign of it after sixty-five million years.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough. How much further to the last corner?”

  Carson checked his omni. “About forty meters.”

  “Where was the doorway on your other pyramid?”

  “In the center of one side. I figure that gives us a one-in-four chance of finding it first try, if we start digging at the center of a side.”

  “What side was it on? North, south, or what?”

  Carson stopped so abruptly that Finley almost bumped into him.

  “What?” Finley said.

  “That’s a damned good question. I don’t know that there was any significance to it, but maybe there was.”

  “So? Which side?”

  “I don’t remember. Give me a minute.” He couldn’t believe he’d overlooked something as obvious as that. He was an archeologist; it was his job to notice such details. He thought back to when they’d first come across the St. Jacobs pyramid. They’d been coming up a mountain, and around a ridge to the plateau where it sat. The sun, the star Chara, was behind and to their left. It was afternoon, so it was south-west. That would put the door on the east side. Was that also true of the Verdigris pyramid? Carson thought back.

  On Verdigris, they’d made their way through the jungle from where the Sophie had landed, and come across the excavation leading to the side of the pyramid. They had turned one corner after coming at it from the south side.

  “The east side,” he said, remembering. He looked at his omni again, confirming that they were on the east side of this pyramid, and the center was. . . “Let’s backtrack about twenty meters.”

  Dundee had stopped when they did, still ten meters ahead. Carson called to him. “Steve, come back this way. I have a hunch, something Alex said.”

  They backtracked the twenty meters to the center of the south side. It didn’t look any different from what they’d seen on every other side, but as far as Carson was concerned, that just meant there was no reason not to try digging here. He shucked off his backpack and unstrapped the field shovel attached to it.

  “Okay, I’m going to go a short way up to where the slope becomes distinct. The soil will be thinner there. I might as well see what there is to see.”

  “All right. What do you want me to do?”

  “Take a few pictures for context. If I find anything, we’ll break out the measuring gear and make it more formal. Other than that,” Carson paused and grinned, “catch me if I fall.”

  “I’ll let Steve do that. I’ll be taking pictures.” Finley said and grinned back.

  “Right.”

  Carson ventured up the slope, grabbing at bushes and digging in with the shovel to help him make progress. Within a few meters, the steepening talus at the base of the wall gave way to the flat sloping side that extended to the top. Carson looked around for a good spot. He wanted a bush or tree to help prop him up, but on the other hand he didn’t want to have to try digging through roots. Finally, he shrugged and rested his downhill foot against the base of a small bush, extended the pick part of his folding shovel, and began whacking at the dirt to loosen it up.

  It was surprisingly well packed, but then it would have to be to hold on this slope. He loosened up the top half-meter or so, then shoveled it out to see his progress and give himself more room to work.

  “Anything yet?” came Finley’s call from below.

  “Nope. Half a meter down and it’s still just soil. It does look a bit grayer than the surface. I think your grandfather mentioned that in his report.”

  “Okay.”

  Curious about the grayer soil, Carson knelt down to examine it. It looked a bit like volcanic ash. He undid the canteen from his belt and poured a little water onto it, then stirred it with his fingers. It was thick and goopy, a bit like oatmeal, not quite what he had expected. He held up a handful of the goop and tilted his hand. It clung until his palm was almost vertical, before oozing off and falling to the ground. Interesting.

  “Are you digging or playing with mud pies?” Finley called again.

  “Yes,” Carson called back. “I think I’ve figured out how the soil stays on these steep sides. This lower layer is very sticky when wet. The question is how it got here in the first place.”

  “Keep digging, maybe you’ll find out.”

  Carson smiled at Finley’s impatience. He’d been like that himself once. It was something that had to be unlearned to become a good archeologist, but right now he felt exactly the same way.

  He stood up and shook as much of the sticky mud off his hand as he could, then picked up his shovel again.

  A few minutes later, the shovel blade struck something hard and made a distinct scraping sound as it slid along something under the dirt.

  “I’ve hit something!” he called to the others below. Carefully, he began to excavate a hole about two-thirds of a meter square and nearly as deep, exposing a layer of stone beneath it. He brushed aside as much of the loose dirt as he could, then poured water to wash off a hand-sized area of the stone. It was smooth, but not polished, and a dark pink, almost grey. Bingo.

  “There’s definitely a smooth stone layer underneath. It doesn’t look like anything magmatic. No markings on it though. I’m going to extend my trench downward.”

  “Need a hand?” Finley called up.

  “No. How high above the forest floor would you say I am?”

  “About seven meters. Why?”

  The pyramid on Chara III had had carvings only up to about five meters. “I’m coming back down. Let’s just dig from there. There’s more dirt but we’ll be closer to anything interesting.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  There was indeed more dirt around the base of the pyramid. Also more tree roots. Carson outlined a trench starting about two meters above the forest floor and extending down the side of the slope. It was as narrow as he could make it. He didn’t want them to have to dig any more than necessary, but it needed to be wide enough for them to work. The resulting excavation was almost disturbingly grave-like.

  “This would be a lot easier with a backhoe,” Finley said, standing in the trench and heaving out another shovelful of dirt.

  “You’d hate some of the digs I’ve been on,” Carson said. “Imagine digging this out a centimeter at a time with just brushes and hand-trowels. We’d be doing that here if I thought there was anything small to find.”

  “And taking months to do it. No thanks.”

  “Anyway,” Dundee said, “we don’t have permission to use power equipment, nor an easy way to get it in here without tearing up some of the forest.” He was sitting on the slope above where they were digging, keeping an eye out for predators. At least, that had been his excuse for not taking a turn with the shovel. Carson suspected that with the noise they were making, there were no large animals anywhere within half a kilometer.

  “We may ultimately have to do that,” he said. “We’re not going to hand-excavate a doorway, if we do find one, in any reasonable time. Worst case we could helicopter in a small backhoe. It would probably have less
environmental impact than supporting a work crew here for several weeks.”

  “Then what’s the point of this?” Finley said, tossing up another shovelful of dirt. “And isn’t it your turn?”

  “The point is to see if there’s anything worth a proper excavation. I think it’s pretty clear this isn’t a natural volcanic remnant, but there’s no definitive proof yet.”

  Finley bent down, digging the shovel in again. “Proof? Just what kind of proof do you want?” As he said that, they heard a muffled thunk. Finley, still leaning on the shovel, looked up. “I think I’ve hit rock.”

  Carson was already lying down on the edge to look into the trench; there wasn’t room for two of them down there. “Okay, lift the last shovelfuls of dirt away from the rock, then brush it clear with your hands.” He scrabbled around in his pack and pulled out a flashlight. The shadows in the pit made it hard to see detail. By now Finley had set the shovel aside and was sweeping dirt away with the edge of his hand.

  “Wow,” Finley muttered.

  “What? What do you see?” Despite the flashlight, Finley was blocking Carson’s view.

  “Hand me the light.” Finley was still on his knees, brushing at the stone now with his fingertips. Carson handed the light down and Finley reached up for it, then, moving back from where he’d uncovered the stone surface, shone the beam on it at an angle.

  “Is this,” Finley said, gesturing with the light, “what you meant by proof?”

  Where he pointed, a complicated pattern of shadows threw the engravings on the stone into high relief.

  CHAPTER 38: RICO'S REASSIGNMENT

  Space Guard HQ, Sawyer City

  “BOSS? WHAT THE hell is going on?” Rico asked Ducayne when he got over his surprise at seeing him.

  “Not what you might think, Rico. We only heard you were here a couple of days ago. Most of what Bannon here—” he gestured at the man Rico had known only as Friday “—may have told you is true. You had us worried. When your body disappeared we thought maybe the Velkaryans had you. Bannon didn’t know you were working for us, so he didn’t tell us he had you.”