“So it would appear.”
“What about the dinosaurs?”
“We don’t have any information on them yet, sir.”
“Damn, I hope they weren’t killed as well. That would look just terrible.”
“Yes sir, it would indeed.”
“And they think it was this religious student who planted the bomb?”
“That’s how it appears at present.”
“Hmmm. This might be useful. Give us something to use the next time the religious right starts beating their chests.”
“Yes sir, it might.”
“Alright, Sara, keep me posted. But unless it’s critical, let it wait until the morning.”
“Understood, sir. Good night.”
“Good night, Sara.”
The President returned the handset to its cradle, and rolled over in bed.
“What was that all about?” asked Victoria Dellinger.
“Oh, just some commotion down in Antarctica over those dinosaurs. Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s good, dear.”
“Good night, my sweet.”
“Good night, dear.”
•
Garlmek stood in the doorway of the infirmary and surveyed the situation. The Eugene creature was resting inside while Touolok puttered, tidying her instruments and equipment, and explaining various aspects of Noaud medicine to the Deirdre creature with translation assistance from the Sandy creature.
The other humans, Stephanie, Florence, Hal, Dan and Dick, were in the library, waiting for him to join them. He had agreed to proceed with his conversation with Dick on engineering during the afternoon, but had requested a few moments to collect his thoughts.
He strode from the entrance to the infirmary to the incubation chamber, and went inside. Having turned the corner, and certain that he couldn’t be heard from outside, he spoke in a low voice.
“Controller?”
The implant in the right side of his skull picked up the query and transmitted it to the central Controller for the mastaba, which replied instantly.
“Your command?”
“Controller, what is the current condition of the Offspring?”
“1,763 of the Offspring are in nominal suspension. 37 are inert, and are no longer viable.”
This was the same as the day when they had first awakened, which meant that the explosion outside the main entrance had caused no additional losses.
“Controller, what are the power reserves on the suspension systems?”
“The power reserves are at 57.2 percent, and rising at .3 percent each day.”
He felt greatly relieved. He moved to one of the incubators and placed his hand on its rounded surface. The humans had evidently not ascertained what they were, and had not yet asked. He was certain they would.
It was not part of the Noaud culture to lie outright, but oblique deception was possible in certain situations. Garlmek considered the possible explanations that might deflect the interest of the humans from the incubators, and thus preserve the secret of the Offspring waiting silently below for their births.
The use of subterfuge had not been part of their planning, but given the circumstances and recent events, he felt the need to devise some explanation that would satisfy the humans’ eventual curiosity. Yet the purpose of the incubators seemed so obvious to him, and his nature was so devoid of guile that he found it difficult to come up with something logical.
He left the incubation chamber, and crossed to the library. As he entered, the humans, who had been sitting in a rough circle talking, stopped and looked up. He crossed to them, and assumed his squatting position.
“You wished to continue our discussion.”
Hummford looked around at the others before she responded.
“Garlmek, on behalf of us all, indeed on behalf of all humans, I wish to apologize for the actions of Eugene Northrup.”
The Sapio bowed his head, but said nothing. Lightfoot turned to Hummford.
“Tell him, please.” She nodded.
“Dan wishes to offer his personal apology in particular. He suspected that Eugene might have something…” she groped for something to replace “evil,” since as far as she knew the Sapios had no equivalent, “…bad planned, and for complex reasons, he did not act. He now realizes that he should have.”
Garlmek looked at Lightfoot with an appraising eye. In the brief period of contact with the humans, he had developed the impression that the Dan creature was more than simply a communications technician, and the morning’s events and what Florence said now lent weight to his instinct.
“May I inquire as to the nature of Dan’s true function?”
Hummford turned to Lightfoot. “I think I should tell him who you are.” Lightfoot nodded.
“Dan is a representative of our government. His field of specialization is in gathering knowledge. He also has training as one who defends against attack.” She deliberately avoided the “destroyer” appellation. “That is one reason he accompanied us today — to defend against attack.”
Garlmek shifted his gaze to Dan, and then looked back at Florence. “To defend whom?” he inquired, “you, or us?”
“Both,” she responded, looking him squarely in the eye. “But mainly you.”
The Noaud thought for a moment while he framed his reply.
“Please convey to Dan our appreciation for his effort, and also for his acumen in determining that Eugene had altered his original intent, and in the end wished to save our lives.” Hummford translated, and this time it was Lightfoot who nodded.
“Now,” said Garlmek, turning to Behling, “Richard has requested a discussion of our technology. Perhaps we may proceed.”
The engineer was surprised, and then pleased, to hear his name spoken by a Sapio. It came out sounding like “Hrishaart,” but recognizable.
“I would like to begin by asking a question of my own. The mastaba is buried under many lengths of ice, and does not see the sun. Yet systems other than those powered by the life pod energy cells are functional. How is this possible?”
After Hummford translated, Behling explained.
“When we excavated the Outhouse — uh, maybe you could translate that into something more appropriate — we discovered that your buildings take their energy from light and heat striking their surfaces. We’ve been blasting the exterior of Town Hall and the Penthouse with light for months now.”
Hummford translated for the Sapio.
“Florence, when you converted Richard’s manner of speaking to ours, you left out some of what he said. Why?”
“He included instructions on how to convert our manner of speaking to yours while changing some of the phrases we use to ones that would be more appropriate.”
“I understand. It is, however, making more difficult the task of learning your manner of speaking.”
He thought for a moment.
“Florence, would you please ask your colleagues if they would be offended if you and I were to spend some time to allow me to learn your manner of speaking before we proceeded? It would simplify our communication greatly.”
“Uh. Guys, he’s asking for some time to learn our language before we go on. I’m not sure how to respond.”
“How long a time is he talking about?” asked Reynolds.
Garlmek turned to Reynolds. “Two or three measures,” he replied in half-English, half-Noaud.
With her eyes on the Sapio and a slight grin Hummford said, “That’s around four hours.”
This gave the Noaud his first clear take on the human expression of surprise. It was clear that the Hal creature had not expected him to use the human manner of speaking in his reply. Yet each time the Florence or Sandy creatures had translated between the two manners, Garlmek had listened carefully, and had already built up the beginnings of knowledge of the human manner.
Hummford turned to Behling. “Dick, would you mind a brief time out for Garlmek to learn some basic skills in English?”
Behling stared at Hummford before looking at Garlmek and then back at the linguist. “Um, no, not at all.”
“May we all observe?” asked Mitchell. “It would help us to learn Sapio.”
“Yes,” said the Noaud, “though I will be assisted by the mastaba’s controller, which will speed my progress.”
In a low voice, he said, “Guoukot… Tlempkit phauph iklit’tl swikitht taakup tin kuaaventik. Fwouph entikh telonk paarthek iluoten khall twanet encloonouk pentelma.”
“What was that?” asked Mitchell.
“He apparently was talking to someone or something else, asking them to keep track of what was being said here,” Hummford replied. She asked the Sapio in his own tongue what he had said.
“I spoke to the Controller of the mastaba, which will record what is said and augment my own abilities to learn your manner of speaking.”
“He’s apparently in contact with a central computer somewhere in Town Hall.”
“Incredible,” said Behling. “You mean he’s… Oh, never mind, I’ll ask him myself in English in a few hours.” The engineer shook his head.
They began simply, with words for concrete objects and simple phrases. Over the next few hours, Garlmek would speak in the Sapio tongue, and Hummford would translate. The Noaud would then repeat the phrase in English, with his pronunciation constantly improving. Watching, the other humans were stunned at how quickly he was able to soak up a completely new language, something Mitchell realized was all the more amazing considering the Sapio culture had no experience with foreign tongues.
•
In the tunnel on the entrance wall of the Penthouse, the first shovelful of ice was dumped into a cart by Dewey Manley. He, Eric Jeffreys and Barry Hanrahan composed the starting shovel crew. Houston Hobday, the CNN cameraman, and Dave Howard would shuttle the carts between the tunnel and the chute. Arnold Greissman was standing by with an equipment case lined with plastic to recover Fred Taylor’s body — piece by piece. There was a grad student at the bottom of the chute to move full carts to the elevator, and another at the top to dump ice and send the carts back down empty.
The work was especially draining because of the sense of urgency. After an hour, the crew rotated positions, establishing a pattern that would be maintained.
After three hours, Matthews gauged the progress so far, and estimated that if the ice went all the way to the door, it would take them two to three days to dig through. That was assuming that they could maintain their current pace, about which he wasn’t certain.
•
In the main office, Bob Fletch was startled when the satellite phone rang. It was most often used for outgoing calls.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hello, this is the White House. To whom am I speaking?”
Behling involuntarily straightened in his chair. “This is Dr. Robert Fletch from the University of Colorado.”
“I have a call from the President; will you take it?”
“Of course.”
There was a click on the line, and then after a brief pause, another click.
“Dr. Fletch, this is Carl Dellinger.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I hear you’ve had a bit of trouble down there.”
“Yes sir, that’s one way to put it.”
“I understand Agent Lightfoot was inside the pyramid at the time of the explosion.”
“Yes sir, he was.”
“Can you tell me what the current situation is?”
“We have teams digging through the ice right now. We’ll be running shifts around the clock.”
“Would additional personnel or resources speed the job any?”
“I’m not sure, sir. The space down there is limited, so I think the work is already going as fast as possible. But it might let us cut back work shifts from twelve hours to eight if we had some additional people.”
“Dr. Fletch, here’s what I’m going to do. We’re very concerned that one of our Naval officers has lost his life in what appears to be an act of terrorism. We don’t know if anyone’s still alive down there, including either Agent Lightfoot or the bomber.
“My people tell me the weather’s clear at the moment, so I’m sending in the Cavalry. Actually, to be precise, I’m sending in the Seabee team that was there previously. There’ll be six men plus an officer who’ll take Commander Taylor’s place. That’ll give you some additional manpower right away, plus security for when you get through to the pyramid. I’m told they should be there within the next twelve hours.”
“We’ll be glad to see them, Mr. President.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know personally the moment you have news of what happened and what the status of both our people and the dinosaurs is.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Good. I’ll put my secretary on, and she’ll give you the number to call.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The President transferred the call to his secretary, who provided the number, and Behling hung up. He rolled his chair over to the intercom station and called Matthews to relay the news.
Matthews was pleased, both for the extra hands and for the security. It had occurred to him that they were completely unarmed, though he expected there was a good chance they’d find Taylor’s pistol along the way. He’d feel a lot more confident opening the door with the Seabees standing by.
•
Garlmek had proven to be indefatigable as well as a surreally capable student. Once he heard something and understood what it meant, he seemed to know it as if he’d always known it. He’d worn Hummford out in just over two hours, and Ruggiero had taken her place. This actually provided an additional benefit, since it allowed the Sapio to compare the pronunciations of two different humans.
By late afternoon, he announced — in English — that it was past their mealtime, and that he felt sufficiently comfortable with what he’d learned so far to resume discussions in the human tongue after they’d eaten.
Since the humans had no food other than a few granola and candy bars, the Sapios invited them to share theirs, and the humans gratefully accepted. While the food sticks were bland-tasting, they were quite nutritious, and the humans were all hungry. The humans — including Northrup — and two Sapios gathered in the main chamber, where they held a picnic of sorts.
From the tool room, Garlmek brought a low table and a tray. From the pantry he brought several food and water containers, and tall glasses made of a semi-translucent form of their basic material for everyone. The humans sat on the edge of the raised life pod area while the Sapios squatted.
As Garlmek laid out an assortment of food sticks, Reynolds turned to Mitchell and said, “I’ll tell you, what I could really use right now is a nice, stiff Scotch.”
“Umm… Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Overhearing this, Garlmek looked at Reynolds and cocked his head to the side.
“What is… Scotch, please?”
The geologist was still a bit overwhelmed by Garlmek’s newly-acquired fluency in English, but managed to answer after missing only one or two beats.
“It’s an inebriating liquid that includes about 40% grain spirits — alcohol — plus water and grain flavorings. We use it to relax, often in the evening before or with our main meal.”
“I see. And at this time you would wish to be inebriated?”
Reynolds felt himself blushing. The way Garlmek had put the question made him feel somewhere between a libertine and a slacker.
“Well, not to excess, but with all that’s happened today, well, yeah, I wouldn’t turn down a nice Glenlivet or MacCallan single-malt if one were to magically appear. Uh, those are varieties of Scotches.”
“And is it the flavor or the inebriating qualities you prefer?”
“I’d say it was both,” answered Reynolds.
The humans weren’t able to discern it, but a slight twinkle had appeared in Garlmek’s eyes. “A moment, p
lease,” he said, and headed for the pantry.
“If he comes back with a bottle of Glenlivet…” said Reynolds nearly under his breath, not finishing the sentence.
A moment later the Sapio reappeared, carrying a cylindrical container perhaps two feet tall and eight or nine inches in diameter. He set it on the table and twisted off the top, the “whoosh” of vacuum being released testifying to the integrity of the seal. He then lifted a loop of fabric and pulled, lifting out a cylinder of what looked like gray foam, which he placed on the floor.
He then reached into the container and lifted out a bottle. It was tall, and slim, and beautifully sculpted, and it was filled with an amber liquid.
“This is Hhieoouw,” he said, the name being blown as much as spoken. “It is made from grains. It serves much the same purpose as your Scotch. May I offer you some?”
Reynolds still hadn’t picked his jaw up off the floor, but he collected his wits quickly. “I’d be honored.”
Garlmek looked around at the rest of the humans. “May I offer some to you all?” The humans — all but Northrup — nodded or said yes. Northrup started to open his mouth, intending to decline, but Reynolds caught him before he could speak.
“Eugene, you’d be honored to accept this magnanimous offering, wouldn’t you? Especially considering everything that’s happened?”
Northrup froze, and then closed his mouth. He nodded. “Yes sir, I would.”
Garlmek poured a bit more than two inches of the liquid into each of the glasses, and then, taking a step back, bowed slightly. Reynolds guessed that there was a ceremonial aspect to the gesture, and reached for the glass nearest him. He was not without trepidation; Arnie Greissman had tested the food and water, but evidently had missed the booze. There was no way to know that it wasn’t poisonous.
At the same time, the food had proven not only benign but actually healthful to humans, and there was no reason to suspect that their spirits wouldn’t be as well.
He held the glass to his nose and swirled the liquid, as one would sample the bouquet of a wine. It had a musty, grainy aroma, lacking in the tinges of oak that would be found in a fine Scotch, but not at all unpleasant. With a glance at the others, he raised the glass and took a sip.
Sapiosaurus | Out Of Time Page 29