Metal Sky

by Jay Caselberg

  He reached down a hand and ruffled Billie’s hair. “I am sure Susan here would like to see the city again in more detail, eh?”

  Billie nodded at him and smiled. Jack noted her reaction wryly. If he’d tried to do that, Billie would have torn his hand off.

  Hervé glanced around, checking there was no one else in earshot. “I’ll see you at seven in the morning,” he said quietly. “Make sure you’re awake and ready, Susan.” He gave her a big wink, then clambered back into the vehicle and drove away.

  Jack stood looking at her. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked her.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I am,” he said slowly. “What do we know about this guy, Hervé?”

  “He’s fine,” she said.

  “Hmmm.”

  “Well, what do you want?” she said, staring up at him. “Do you want to find out stuff about this place or not?”

  “Yeah, you’re right, of course. And it was good thinking. I just don’t know if I’m entirely happy.”

  Later, after they’d eaten, Jack sat down at the table, wanting to talk through what he’d been thinking. He was still not comfortable about the following morning and the discomfort was niggling at him.

  “Well,” he said to Billie, “you seemed to get on pretty well with our guide.” Jack surprised himself, hearing the touch of resentment in his words.

  “So? He was nice.” She grabbed a chair and sat down facing him.

  “Looked like it was a little bit more than that.”

  She ran her finger back and forth over the glass surface. “What do you want?” she said. “You said you wanted to find out as much as we could, didn’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, that’s what I was doing.” She looked across at him defiantly, daring him to say that it was anything else.

  He shrugged. “Okay. I’ve just never seen you like that.”

  She shrugged back. He didn’t want to get into a debate about it. He was feeling tired. The whole time difference thing seemed to be getting to him. The shorter day. The even shorter night. He couldn’t be feeling possessive about Billie’s attentions, could he? Not really. And if she did come up with something in the morning, then it would all be worth it.

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking about the site. You know, I don’t think they have the whole picture about the place. The stuff I’ve seen in the dreams, the things he was saying about the coverings on the buildings. I think, somehow, there was some great disaster. Maybe a war or something. The city should have something at the top.” He tried to illustrate with his hands. “I think that’s why all the buildings seem to be broken off.”

  Billie got a faraway look as she processed what he was saying.

  “Now, if what Hervé was saying about some sort of a key to a map was right, I can see why someone would want the artifact. That’s going to make it pretty valuable. Whether it turns out to be of any use or not, somebody’s going to think it leads to something. You don’t deliver a set of directions to take you nowhere, do you?”

  Billie was running her finger across the table again.

  “What is it?” he said.

  “Aliens.” She looked up at him again. “Imagine being able to find aliens.”

  He looked at her, frowning, taking in what she was saying.

  “Hey, you’re right,” he said finally. “It’s going to be valuable for that reason even more so. It’s not just a map taking you to a particular place. It’s like a treasure map. Lost civilization. Alien culture. Who knows what could be there? That’s got to be worth a lot to someone, doesn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Shit. Things were suddenly falling into place. It was obvious why someone like Outreach Industries would be interested. Technology, new science, who could say? Even being the first to make alien contact might be enough. He could understand other parties being interested too. Where there was a hint of some major payoff, greed was going to pull them all in like scavengers. “Yeah, it’s big. Bigger than I thought. It still doesn’t explain this Talbot guy and Bridgett Farrell, does it? Okay, he deals in antiques, he comes from Utrecht where the university is located, so maybe he’s got the access. Maybe he takes one of these things and tries to sell it on the open market. Maybe he’s even got someone inside the university. All that works. But where does our Ms. Farrell come into the picture? I don’t get it. I’m starting to get the feeling that there’s more than one player involved here.”

  Billie tapped her temple with one finger, a wry grimace in place.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know,” said Jack. “Anyway, if you can find out more tomorrow morning, that’s really going to help. One thing . . . if you can manage to pick up anything, a piece of broken tablet or anything like that, it’s going to help. I need something to work off.”

  She grimaced at that, but said nothing.

  “Come on, Billie. What is it now?”

  She just shook her head and then walked out of the room. He ignored the gesture and watched her leave. Yeah, yeah. Very smart, Jack. He had to get over this habit of treating her like an idiot. A moment later, her bedroom door closed.

  He’d had enough for one day too. He headed for his own room to try and get some sleep.

  The next morning he was up early, still feeling nervous about the whole solo trip out to the site. He was sure Billie could look after herself, and he had no real reason to question Hervé’s motivations, but all the same, he didn’t feel comfortable about it. He kept flashing back to images of the type of predator who used to hang around the parts of Old back in the Locality.

  Billie emerged, dressed for the expedition, looking smug.

  “What is it?” he said.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, when you were asleep last night, I did something . . .”

  “Okay . . .”

  “I got into the hotel system.”

  Jack stopped what he was doing and turned to face her properly. “Really? What did you find?”

  “Nothing. I was looking for that woman or Carl Talbot, but there was no trace. The records were pretty tight too. It took some time to get into them. They’ve got a lot of security.”

  “Mmmm, that’s interesting,” said Jack. “Still, a place like this, they’re going to want to be discreet. Half their business is going to be from people who don’t want to announce they’re here. Particularly these days when it’s easier to get out to Mandala. The rich and famous tend to like their privacy.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Billie.

  “Well, good work, anyway. I wish I’d thought of that.” He was just about to cross and give her shoulder a congratulatory squeeze, when any further conversation was interrupted by a door announcement. Hervé had arrived. Jack quickly walked over to Billie and squeezed her shoulder anyway.

  “You be careful out there with him,” he said.

  She looked up at him, then set her lips in a tight line, moved out from under his hand, and walked out to answer the door.

  “We’re going,” she called.

  “Okay,” said Jack, not feeling particularly okay about it at all.

  Jack spent the next hour pacing. After a while, he settled a little. Billie could look after herself. He had to keep telling himself that anyway. He wasn’t achieving anything at all wearing tracks in the floor. Hopefully Billie would come back with something that he could use, but he thought he might as well take the opportunity of her absence to do a bit of checking on his own. There was no point doing any more probing on the hotel systems, though; what took Billie minutes would have taken him hours, so he finished getting dressed and wandered up to reception.

  Behind the desk stood an unfamiliar face. That was just as well. He walked over and placed his hands on the top of the desk and leaned forward slightly.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  The desk clerk smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Stinson. How can I help you?”

  Oh, these people were good. He couldn’t remember having
seen this guy before at all. “Yes,” he said. “I just had a brief query.”

  The clerk looked at him attentively. One of the other guests, a middle-aged woman, walked past carrying a towel, clearly heading for the pool. Jack cleared his throat, waiting till she was out of earshot before continuing.

  “I must say, I’m very impressed with the place,” he said.

  The smiling clerk nodded. “I’m glad, Mr. Stinson. We like to keep our guests happy.”

  “The country club was recommended to me by a couple of friends. I was just wondering when the last time they stayed here was. I couldn’t recall offhand.”

  The clerk’s eyes narrowed slightly, though the smile stayed in place. “I’d like to help you, Mr. Stinson, but you must understand, we are not permitted to release guest records. It’s one of the features of the service we provide here at the Mandala Country Club.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” said Jack. “Perhaps you might recall them, that’s all. I don’t have to know exact dates precisely, but I’d appreciate it. I couldn’t remember which one of my friends made the recommendation and I wanted to thank them without looking like an idiot for forgetting.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stinson. Of course, I understand.”

  Jack nodded. “It was either Bridgett Farrell or Carl Talbot. Perhaps you remember them.”

  There was a slight frown as the clerk processed, and then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. Neither of those names is familiar. I have a pretty good memory of our guests and I’m afraid those names don’t mean anything to me.”

  “Hmmm,” said Jack. “Bridgett Farrell. About so high . . . He illustrated with his hand. “Slightly reddish brown hair. Very petite. Carl Talbot. A few inches shorter than me, dark hair, olive complexion.”

  The clerk’s narrowed eyes were becoming narrower. He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”

  Jack shrugged. “Oh, well. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Thanks anyway.”

  He turned away from the desk and headed for the doors. He could feel the clerk’s gaze on him all the way down the path until he’d passed around the building’s corner and out of sight. Hmmm, maybe it hadn’t been that smart after all, but he’d had to try.

  He spent the rest of the morning flicking through the hotel information channels and half glancing at the newsfeeds, but it was just displacement activity and he knew it. What was really on his mind was Billie’s expedition to the site.

  About an hour later she appeared, looking flushed and slightly out of breath. He quickly stood, subjecting her to a quick assessment before asking, “Are you okay?”

  She frowned. “Of course I am.” Just as quickly, the frown disappeared. “It was great, Jack. I wish you could have seen it. There was this open area, and it had designs and patterns all over it. Hervé explained to me what they were, or what they thought they were. It was like some giant key. And anyway, this thing was round, and flat, but there were ridges leading into the center and then pointing out and these sort of stands made of rock. Each one of them was supposed to have a metal bit fixed on the top, but they’ve only found a couple of them. They don’t know what happened to the others. And then when we looked at them—”

  Jack held up a hand. “Whoa. Slow down a bit. It’s too much, Billie.”

  She blinked a couple of times, then took a deep breath. “But you should have seen it . . .”

  “Yeah, I know. I wish I could have. Come on. Come and sit down and tell me all about it . . . slowly.”

  She nodded and headed for a chair. Jack took a seat opposite and leaned forward, waiting. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

  “Like I said, there was this circle in the middle and there were designs all over it, but they were pretty faded, really old. You couldn’t see what they were in some places.”

  “Hmmm, nothing lying around?”

  The touch of a frown before she answered. “No, it was all clean. Anyway, these lines went out from the center, came back in, and then pointed out to these . . . like . . .” She gestured with her hands. “Little mounds, but flat at the sides. And they had these teeth at the top. No, that’s wrong. You could see where these pieces of metal used to go. Most of the lines pointed to one in the middle.”

  “So what did Hervé say they were?” asked Jack.

  “He thought that everything pointed to them, so they were significant things. He said they weren’t sure, but they did think they were maps. It was really interesting.”

  “Hmmm,” said Jack, leaning back and tapping on the table. “Well, we’re not getting very far, are we?”

  Jack had one more thing he wanted to do before they left. The dreams still hadn’t been back and he thought there had to be something, anything, he could get from the site, something he could use. He arranged another trip out to the City of Trees, departing mid-morning. Billie was perfectly happy with that idea. Again Hervé was there to meet them, and as he and Billie had the previous day, they drove out to the site, only this time, again, Billie sat up front, with Jack perched in the back watching them. She and Hervé chatted away, seeming to have forged quite a bond during their little excursion, leaving Jack to think.

  He was mulling over the best approach when they reached the parking area and Hervé led the way down into the site proper. He was going to take them on a different route today, just to break up the sameness of it all, but Hervé warned them both that there wouldn’t be much more to see. The point was to drink in the majesty, to take away an unforgettable experience that they would treasure for the rest of their lives. Jack decided it was far wiser to keep his theories to himself for the moment. Revealing anything about his dream images, about the ideas they’d prompted, would seem just a little strange, and he didn’t want to divert the matter at hand by getting into some sort of speculative discussion. He doubted it was something that Mr. Stinson would bother with either.

  As they trailed through between the buildings, Jack looked for his opportunity. Billie had dashed ahead, and Hervé was walking at a leisurely pace, his arms thrust out, swinging from side to side, perhaps in an attempt to counterbalance his bulk.

  When Billie was far enough ahead and conveniently out of earshot, Jack called Hervé to a stop.

  “Listen, Hervé,” he said. “You’ve worked on the sites themselves.”

  “Yes, Mr. Stinson. How can I help you?”

  “Well, I’ve heard about small things going missing. Little objects that might not be missed.”

  Hervé looked into his face, blinked a couple of times, then chewed at his bottom lip. “I am not sure what you are saying, Mr. Stinson.”

  Jack glanced in Billie’s direction. “Well, the girl, you know. I just thought it might be nice to get her something that she could keep as a souvenir. Something she can treasure, to take the memory away with her.”

  Hervé frowned. “I’m still not quite sure I understand.”

  “Oh, come on, Hervé,” said Jack. “You know. You’ve worked on the site. How hard would it be to get a little piece of something? For a price, of course.”

  Hervé physically stepped back. The frown got deeper. “I think perhaps I don’t want to understand what you are saying, Mr. Stinson. I don’t know what you think of me, but I am an archeologist. Do you not understand the importance of this site? And you are suggesting . . . . No. I am disappointed, Mr. Stinson. Very disappointed.” He shook his head. “I will forget we had this conversation.” He turned and walked away, following the direction that Billie had taken.

  “Shit,” said Jack to himself. That had not gone at all like he expected. Students were always poor, looking for a bit of extra income. He was working here to supplement what he was doing, after all. Damn.

  The rest of the morning was spent in silence. Hervé did not talk to him again, though the conversation between him and Billie flowed freely. When he drove them back, it was as if Jack did not exist. He let them off at the hotel parking area and drove the transport away, only pausing to say good-bye to Billie.

  �
��What happened?” asked Billie as they walked down to the cabin to get ready to leave.

  Jack told her about the conversation. She simply sighed and opened the door, stepping back to let him in. As he stepped inside, she muttered something behind his back.

  “What, Billie?” he said, turning to face her.

  “Nothing. Forget it,” she said, stepping past him and into the room beyond.

  Twelve

  They left Mandala on schedule, departing in much the same style as they’d arrived. All the while Jack was carrying serious doubts about what he’d spent to get them there. What he could have done with those funds . . . . And now they had to go back to Yorkstone and find something else to make up the difference. The prospects weren’t looking good.

  Sure, he’d gotten at least a sense of what he was dealing with out of the trip, the importance of the artifact, its potential—and Billie certainly had her own set of positives, but he couldn’t help wondering if it had all been worth it. Choices. It was all about choices. Whether he’d been prompted by a dream or not, he’d chosen to listen, and therefore, he was responsible. The whole thing was weighing on him so much most of the way back that he even forgot to be nervous through the jumps. Billie, on the other hand, seemed unusually happy. She spent most of the trip buried in pictures and notes on her handipad. Jack looked over her shoulder a couple of times, but it was all Mandala and the City of Trees. He still failed to understand the level of fascination she had with the place.

  They reached Yorkstone in the early hours of the morning. The travel, the time difference, everything was just making Jack feel drained and empty. And he was empty. Nothing inside was giving him the clues he needed. He didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what that might mean. Was he losing his abilities? Or maybe they were just becoming more selective about when they manifested. It was starting to become a real concern. What the hell was he going to do if they dried up completely?

  Putting the feelings down to tiredness, he decided he’d leave that for when he’d gotten some rest and worked himself back into time zone. Better to think about things with at least a partially clear head.