by JC Ryan
Even Sarah, on whom he’d had a deep crush since he first laid eyes on her, paled in comparison to his Becca. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. In the course of a few months, he’d fallen head over heels for Becca, but only now would he admit it to himself. Only now did he feel he might even have a chance with her if he could keep his nose clean. He didn’t care what it took. He’d stop drinking if he had to, talk to a hundred psych counselors, and follow her around on a leash like a pet dog, as long as she was his. It only remained to show her and prove it to her. Starting today, he thought, putting down the flute of champagne he’d picked up automatically. No more drinking, at least for now. Drinking was one of the things that triggered his rages. He couldn’t risk it.
JR tore himself away from his vantage point, thinking that eavesdropping might be among the things he shouldn’t do if he wanted to win Becca. He’d endured many tearful hugs from his mother, so he shied away from the corner where she and Sarah’s mother were sitting and talking. Spying Bess, he went to visit with his beloved grandma. Her hugs were warm and sweet. He felt terrible that the news of his presumed death had sent her to the hospital with an angina attack.
“Hi, Grandma.”
“Hi, my sweet Joshie. Oh, it’s so good to have you here. Give Grandma another hug, sweetie.”
He loved it when she talked to him as if he were a baby, unless others were around to hear. He’d always had a special place in the family, and he knew it. Since Dad was an only child, he was the baby of the Rossler family, and, while that was sometimes inconvenient, it had always been the cause of special treatment. He got away with more childhood transgressions, everyone looked out for him, and grandma babied him even though he was now a grown man of twenty-six. He knelt beside his Grandma’s chair and gathered her tiny frame into his arms, holding her tenderly as if she might break.
Behind him, Grandpa’s gruff voice startled him. “Trying to make time with my girl, are you, sonny?”
He got up quickly and hugged Grandpa, too. “Of course! Doesn’t everyone.”
“Oh, you boys,” Bess said, blushing. JR knew it tickled her when Grandpa pretended people were trying to steal her away. In fact, for a grandma, she looked pretty darn good. Maybe people really were trying to steal her. He’d have to keep an eye on Sinclair. He chuckled, then had to explain the joke to Grandpa, who glowered in Sinclair’s direction, though the man in question was so close to Martha Simms that they might have been fused at the hip. After visiting for a few minutes, he wandered over to Sinclair, who was deep in conversation with Martha.
“Sinclair, has Charles had a chance to show you the script we found in the cave?” he asked, when the pair acknowledged his presence.
“No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. But to be fair, you guys have only been here a day and a half, and you’ve all been asleep for more than half of that.”
“Sorry about that. We got all messed up, first staying awake for most of thirty-six hours, and then the long trip back north. Here, let me show you a photo of it.” JR pulled out his cell phone and located the pictures of the script they’d taken on the way. He turned the screen toward Sinclair, who took it from him without thinking, intent on the picture.
“How do you zoom in?” he demanded.
“Put a couple of fingers in the center of the screen and spread them out,” explained JR.
As the script grew larger, first a frown and then an expression of delight crossed his countenance. “Is this all of the message?” he demanded.
“It took a few shots to get all of it. Why? Can you read it?”
Sinclair had been studying the 10th Cycle script for a long time and could now read it in the clear as easily as he read English. This script was only slightly different, similar to the difference between seventeenth-century copperplate script and modern handwriting. It took a trained eye to read it, but training the eye wasn’t difficult, because it was essentially the same shapes for most of the letters, the S that looked like a lower-case F being the exception. This script was that close to the 10th Cycle stuff.
“Can you bring your phone to the lab tomorrow so we can get Raj to stitch the photos together? I think I’ll be able to read the message if I can see all of it.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be in around nine.”
“Make it eight? We’ve got a meeting with Summers at nine, and I’d like to surprise him with the translation.”
“No problem, eight it is.” Smiling and nodding at Martha, JR wandered off. Martha looked at Sinclair with admiration.
“You can really read that?”
“I think so. The section in that photo was too small to tell for sure, but if Raj can link them together correctly and project the photo on a bigger screen, I think I can at least get the gist of it.”
“Promise me you won’t get all caught up in this, Sinclair. I still need your help…”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’m still going home with you to help you move out here.”
“Have you said anything yet?” she asked, as he planted a quick kiss on her temple. “Did we do the right thing, delaying our announcement?”
“Oh, yes, I think so. They’ve had enough excitement around here for a little while, with the news out of Antarctica, and then little Nicholas being born. Having JR and the others back just put the icing on the cake. I don’t think any of them could take one more shock.”
“Silly man,” Martha said fondly. “Do you really think it will be such a shock for them to learn we’re engaged? We haven’t exactly hidden our relationship.”
“No, maybe not. But you know Sarah will spring into action helping you plan the wedding, and she’s got her hands full right now,” he answered.
“You’re right. Time enough to announce it when we return with a moving van,” she laughed. “But we’d better move the date up. I have a feeling someone around here might insist on going to Antarctica with the next expedition.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked.
“Of course I would, but I know better than to try to stop my man from doing something his heart’s set on. Just promise to come back to me in one piece. Being a widow once sucks, but being one twice would just kill me.” Martha’s words and tone were light, but Sinclair knew they were heartfelt. He’d have to think twice about asking to join the next expedition. After all, six months wasn’t a long time to get used to being married. It really would suck if it were all the time they ever had together.
JR had circulated among the family until he felt his duty were fulfilled and was now approaching the sofa where Becca and Sarah still sat talking. More than anything, he wanted to know if Becca would talk with him privately. He had a burning question to ask her.
“Hey, Sarah, how’s the munchkin?” he asked, when he was close enough.
“He’s wonderful,” the new mom replied. “Your mom says he looks just like Daniel as a baby.”
“Don’t they pretty much all look alike?” he asked, earning a severe frown from Sarah and a suppressed grin from Becca.
“No, they do not! Here, you haven’t held him yet. Want to get a closer look?”
JR backed away, hands up in a warding gesture. “NO! He’s cute and all, but I’m afraid I’d drop him.”
Becca scooted closer to Sarah to make room for JR on her other side. “Sit down here and hold your nephew, you wimp,” she said, laughing. Reluctantly, JR obeyed.
Becca got up and arranged his arms, which he held stiffly where she put them. Then, she took the baby from Sarah and placed him in the cradle of JR’s arm. His big hand wrapped around the diapered bottom, almost swallowing the entire infant. A look of wonder crossed his face as the sweet, warm bundle came to rest heavily in his arm.
Becca watched JR fondly. There was nothing in this world sweeter than a sleeping infant. For some reason, the eight or so pounds of completely relaxed baby felt both like more and like less at the same time. JR’s attention focused one hundred percent on Nick’s face, everything and everyone else in the ro
om disappeared from his mind. The baby wiggled, settling himself more comfortably in his uncle’s arms, and JR was lost, completely in love with this little scrap of Rossler.
JR was unaware of it, but Becca read the peace that had invaded his body. She gave Sarah a significant look, which Sarah returned. Maybe this was the cure for PTSD. Neither Becca, who had only known him since his discharge from the Marines, nor Sarah, had ever seen him this relaxed and peaceful. JR continued to hold the baby, his mission to talk privately to Becca forgotten for the moment. Sarah and Becca took the opportunity to visit the buffet table.
“Did you see that, Sarah?” Becca asked.
“I did. If you could bottle that, you’d be a billionaire,” Sarah responded.
“Never mind that. Just seeing JR that at peace is worth more than money,” Becca said, unconsciously revealing more than she intended about her feelings for him. “I prescribe holding Nicholas for an hour a day to cure him,” she added, only half-joking.
“Any time he wants,” Sarah added. Spotting Daniel, she waved him over. “Honey, look at your brother,” she said, indicating with an outstretched finger where to find him.
“I’ll be damned!” Daniel exclaimed, once he’d figured out what they were talking about. “We’re going to have to keep him supplied with babies, so that lasts,” he teased his wife.
“He should get a few of his own,” she returned, looking at Becca as she said it. Becca blushed.
Chapter 34 – 9th Cycle Expedition
Summers had wasted no time in preparing his report, backed up by written statements from the other members of the expedition. There was definitely something to be found in Paradise Valley, and it seemed likely that the something would have broader implications than just the fact of its existence. The script in the cave, for example, as well as the clearly human-influenced cultivation within the valley, indicated that there had been inhabitants. It stood to reason that they were 9th Cycle, since that’s what the 10th Cycle material had stated. However, there hadn’t been time to explore much of the valley. The deceptively-small enclosure had still been too big to cover in detail, but they’d seen no structures. That alone bore more study. His report concluded with a pitch for a return expedition the very next fall.
On the morning following the Rossler family celebration for JR’s return, Charles Summers was prepared to offer his report to the full Board. To his surprise, he wasn’t first on the agenda, though. Sinclair was. Summers glanced at Sinclair as he took the podium, grinning. He thought Sinclair was looking directly at him, but he couldn’t figure out the broad grin. What was he up to? He didn’t have long to wait for the answer. On a large screen behind the podium but high enough that Sinclair didn’t block any of the image, a large picture was being projected. It looked familiar.
Sinclair began speaking. “I’m going to ask my esteemed colleague Charles Summers to take the lead in this meeting in just a moment,” he said. “But first, as a surprise to him and to help you make an informed decision on the request he will no doubt be making, I’d like to read to you the message left to us by the 9th Cycle.”
His voice was drowned in the sudden babble of conversation, but he held up his hand so he could explain further. “This isn’t a complete library, like the 10th Cycle message in the Giza pyramid. I haven’t spoken to Dr. Summers about it, either, so I’m sure he’s as eager to hear as you are. I’ll just say in preparation that JR Rossler brought the image behind me home from Antarctica. He said, and I’m sure Dr. Summers will back him up, that this script was found in a room of the cave that led to the hidden valley inside that frozen mountain. Here’s what it says.
“Welcome, visitor. You will find a passage to the place which you seek twenty hand-lengths to your left as you read this, between two pillars. You are free to enter. However, leave your weapons here; they are neither welcome nor needed in this valley. When you leave, we urge you to leave them behind. If you do not take them, we will dispose of them for you. We wish to spread peace and love into the world. We look forward to meeting you in a few moments.”
“Dr. Summers, you may now take the podium, and welcome.”
Charles made his way to the stage in a daze. He would never have expected Sinclair to be able to read the script so easily. That it made no explanation of who had left it or when was a disappointment, but it still told him quite a bit about the inhabitants of the valley, or at least about the people who had left the message. They were peace-loving. The fact that no weapons, or any other man-made artifact, had been found in the room with the message meant that they made good on their promise to dispose of the weapons, unless the visitors had taken them away with them when they left. Most curious of all, the script bore a strong resemblance to 10th Cycle language, which perhaps meant that the 9th Cycle catastrophe had been less complete than the subsequent one. That made him curious to trace the previous cycles as well, but first things first.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for allowing me to address you. I have prepared handouts with the highlights of what I’m about to say. I hope they will aid you in your deliberations, for I am indeed going to make a request at the end of my presentation, as Dr. O’Reilly speculated. Without further ado, my report.”
Charles took just under an hour to report every major event leading up to the discovery of the cave system that led to the valley, to which he referred as Paradise Valley after revealing the name the expedition had chosen. A few faces revealed displeasure that it had been named already, chiefly those of the representatives from the countries who claimed the area in question, Argentina, Chile and Great Britain. However, they were more interested in his conclusions and the request he’d be making than in arguing about naming rights.
When it came to describing the deaths that had occurred, Charles spoke gravely, expecting questions. The mysterious disappearance of one of the miners, and the burned body of the other, had been investigated thoroughly weeks before. It was the final mission, which claimed the lives of Bart, LeClerc and Carmen, that was in question. Unfortunately, the circumstances of LeClerc’s death were called into question by the fact that only Carmen had been a witness, and now she was dead as well, discredited as a spy. Had she killed him herself? They would likely never know.
The representative from Chile was insistent that Summers explain how JR had known Carmen was with the OS, when Summers hadn’t been able to tell him so. Charles replied heatedly that it didn’t matter, since it wasn’t JR who killed her, but the leader of the presumed OS squad, Pyotr. The Chilean representative retracted his near-accusation and sat back, muttering to himself.
The other question was Bart. He’d been in the Sno-Cat when the others went into the cave, but Roosky had told Cmdr. Andersen that he simply wasn’t there when he went back there. Roosky wasn’t available for questioning and was in fact suspected of being OS as well, begging the question of whether he had in fact killed Bart himself. So that discussion was also cut short. Summers had no other information. At last, the details of the expedition had been thoroughly explored, and it remained only for Charles to make his proposal for a new expedition.
“We have a clear duty to return to the site,” he began. “We went there in hopes of finding 9th Cycle ruins. I submit to you that they are there, within the jungle that fills the valley perhaps. The script that my colleague has so ably translated proves that someone other than 10th Cyclers were there at some time. The resemblance to 10th Cycle script suggests that it was 9th Cycle inhabitants. Furthermore, we observed an organization to the pathways through the jungle that suggests humankind had a hand in it. The paths were straight and intersected at right angles. We’ve never seen anything like that in nature, quite the opposite. Before her death, Carmen identified several species of tree that had to have been imported, mostly fruit trees. That they are still bearing fruit after so many millennia is miraculous, and very fortunate for us, as we likely would have died without the sustenance it provided.
“My proposal is to take an expedition t
hat includes those of the original crew who wish to go, as well as several archaeologists, botanists, and a linguist to translate any other messages we encounter, back to the site as soon as the weather breaks. We have six months to prepare, but the preparations won’t be as rigorous as before, since we now know our excavations won’t be carried out in normal Antarctic conditions. In your information packet, I have given an estimate of the cost, including replacing our Sno-Cats. Are there any questions before I relinquish the podium to Mr. Rossler?”
Several voices spoke at once, followed by one hand raised to identify one who wanted to ask a question. Summers asked him to go ahead with his question. It happened to be the representative from Chile.
“I’d like to propose we rename the valley in honor of our fallen scientist.” An appalled silence followed. Summers couldn’t speak to that suggestion; he didn’t feel he had the authority. Fortunately, after what seemed an eternity, several other voices shouted, “No!” The representative from Great Britain won the war for attention.
“Under the circumstances, that would be most inappropriate. I propose that if it is to be renamed at all, it be Rossler Valley, in honor of the young man who saved the expedition, Joshua Rossler.” Another babble of discussion followed, quelled by Daniel stepping forward to rescue Charles from the awkward situation.
“Mr. Thatcher, I appreciate the suggestion, and I know JR would be honored. However, it is not within our purview to name geographic features. That will be decided by the Antarctica Committee once we release the findings of this expedition. I suggest we continue to call it Paradise Valley for convenience until such time as the Committee meets. Are there any questions that Dr. Summers can answer?”
When none were presented, Summers stepped down and Daniel asked for a motion to consider the expedition. Charles slipped away when the deliberations started, too nervous to listen to the pros and cons. In his mind, there were only pros. He devoutly hoped that the Board agreed.