Analog SFF, July-August 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Are there any religious sensitivities of which I should be aware?” asked the archeologist.

  "I believe in whatever the fellow holding the gun on me believes."

  Taleghani's eyebrows arched. “Rather cynical of you, isn't it?"

  "Doctor, in a world where worshiping the same god by the same name but wearing the wrong hat gets people killed every hour, it's simply a matter of survival."

  "And if no one has a gun on you?” pressed Taleghani.

  "Then that's my business. It requires no special icons, equipment, times, foods, clothing, prohibitions, or holidays."

  Taleghani pursed his lips and looked expectantly at Gordon. “Very well. What would you need from me?"

  "The biggest mistake, Doctor, is keeping me in the dark. Make sure I know what's going on with as much detail and warning as possible. Don't play tricks on me. Fooling me is no great accomplishment and it can get you killed. If you want to leave your protection behind, just tell me and I'll leave you a body bag and start sending around my résumé. Don't give me any stupid orders, and don't do anything stupid yourself. If you can manage that, I might be able to keep your party alive."

  "God willing,” gently admonished the archeologist with a smile.

  Gordon smiled back. “Doctor, if you find Allah is working for your enemies, this is something you need to warn me about in advance.” He held his head back. “Isn't it time you told me about the expedition?"

  "Frankly, Mr. Redcliff, I'm still making up my mind if I can trust you."

  "I can help. If you're looking for a buddy, a cheering section, or a fellow believer in the sanctity or greater glory of whatever, I will be a big disappointment. If you want to walk through Hell and have a good chance of coming out the other side with nothing worse than a singed mustache, you may find me useful."

  The archeologist glanced down at his papers and said, “I once took an oath to kill every American in the world."

  "By yourself?"

  "No.” The archeologist laughed and shook his head. “No, of course not. It was as part of an imaginary pan-Islamic effort to cure the world of its sins. I was fourteen."

  Gordon grinned. “Then we're even, Doctor. When his father was arrested for drunk driving in Santa Fe, Bobby Two Crows and I swore to kill every white man in the world."

  "I'm hardly white."

  "You're white as snow to two ten-year-olds in the pueblo who used the blame, fear, and hate they lived in every day to define the universe.” For a moment Gordon remembered when they came to take Bobby away to El Rito for torching a liquor store in Bernalillo. By the time Bobby got out of El Rito, Gordon was in the Army. By the time Gordon got out of the Army, Bobby Two Crows had been dead seven years from a drug overdose.

  Gordon raised his gaze and looked at Dr. Taleghani. The archeologist returned Gordon's gaze for a moment, then nodded. Gordon raised an eyebrow, cocked his head toward the T-span, and the archeologist nodded a second time and commanded those at the work tables, “Get back to work. And let this be a lesson to all of you.” Dr. Taleghani weathered the confused looks as he led the way from the tent. As they left, Gordon could hear someone tuning in a Tel-Aviv station playing Shantel golden oldies.

  * * * *

  III

  They sat alone on the sand in the shadow cast by the timespanner gantry eating box lunches provided by the cook tent. Gordon's meal appeared to be couscous flavored with raisins, nuts, and dates stuffed into pita bread along with shaved lettuce, olives, and a side of green horseradish. This was accompanied by a can of cold tea. From their places they watched the excavation workers haul baskets of dirt and debris up from the base of the escarpment to the fine sorting screens, the immediately visible artifacts having already been recorded and recovered in place. Dr. Taleghani swallowed a mouthful of his sandwich, chewed impatiently, and washed it down with tea.

  "The old Landsat Thematic Mapper images gave us the original hints regarding paleorivers under the sand sea in Western Egypt. Have you heard of the Accelerated High Definition Imager satellite? AHDI?” He pronounced it “oddie."

  "Yes. The Army uses it for military geology."

  "Well, AHDI shows that red escarpment over there is the top of a four hundred meter cliff. At its base, far below this cursed sand, was a navigable river that flowed through grassy savannahs and forests of oak, birch, and cedar. It joined another river that went across all of North Africa and eventually drained into the Atlantic. In those times the higher elevations southwest of here had hundreds of active glaciers. There was a short growing season in the lowlands and in winter the rivers would freeze."

  Although no one was near them, Dr. Taleghani lowered his voice to a confidential level. “The AHDI satellite imager showed, along the banks of this river, at the foot of that cliff, evidence of a human settlement—an actual village!" The archeologist's eyes seemed to light up. “Carbon dating from deep drilling samples shows they were cooking fish and yams in this village approximately one hundred and forty thousand years ago.” He smiled and glanced down. “I'm rather excited by this."

  "I guessed."

  "We've never found evidence of settled community life dating this far back. A few bones and stone tools, cave paintings, nothing going back more than sixty thousand years, and those only rather wild suppositions based on dubious evidence. Nothing at all in the Western Desert save the rock art in the Gilf Kebir caves. The provable settlements we have found—barely qualifying as being Paleolithic—show small groupings of fifty or fewer persons, the settlements being little more than shelters of convenience like caves or nomadic hunting camps.” He pointed toward the escarpment. “At the base of that cliff, along the river, and in the near hills we've found more than three hundred stone foundations for dwellings.” He stared at Gordon, his eyebrows arched. "Three hundred."

  "Yes,” said Gordon.

  "That doesn't even consider shelters without foundations. Nomadic tribes probably used such a place during summers as a trading center. That would easily treble the fixed population numbers. In Paleolithic terms, my boy, this is bloody London!” He sighed and shrugged, his head moving from side to side in a show of reluctant tolerance. “Of course, there are skeptics who say that the house foundations, ditches, paths and such we've detected are simply natural geological formations and flood debris that took shapes familiar enough to modern eyes to be mistakenly interpreted."

  "Another ancient face on Mars,” offered Gordon.

  "Exactly. The rock circles I've interpreted as foundations are very regular, and I must admit one large circle with three concentric rock circles within it has me a bit puzzled. Very large. Perhaps it was a theater. Regardless, because this little corner of the past was completely wiped out in a catastrophic meteor impact and subsequent mudflow, we can now pin down with a fair degree of accuracy—"

  "The second Kebira meteor impact,” interrupted Gordon. “The one that ate the mountain."

  The archeologist nodded. “The first impact was probably thirty million years or more ago. It must have been a devastatingly spectacular occurrence. Dr. Hussein theorizes that it was a close airburst of an asteroid large enough and hot enough to create all that desert glass that's so common south of here. It also opened a fissure through to the mantle, allowing the formation of a relatively short-lived volcano of perhaps as much as three thousand meters in elevation above the Gilf Kebir plateau and as much as thirty kilometers across at its base."

  "With the second impact, Doctor, what size of a disaster are you talking about?"

  "Think of perhaps two hundred Mount Saint Helenses going off at once. It may even have been responsible for ending that period of glaciation."

  "It's the second impact you think you have pinned down as to when."

  "Within a few hundred years. We'll be able to narrow that down to minutes."

  Gordon cocked his head toward the timespanner. “With that."

  "Yes. I've gotten permission to take a timespanner back for a look at the village at an as yet u
ndetermined point before the impact takes place. On the way there we'll fix the time of the impact. Dr. Hussein's computer model shows the village and the entire river valley hit by intense radiant energy immediately after the meteor impact. The shockwave within minutes. If it's in winter, the local snow pack would already be melting by the time the mudflow and debris from the uplands arrived at the village. The streams and rivers would already be full."

  "Instant devastating flood."

  "Yes.” Dr. Taleghani waved a hand in a gentle arc of dismissal. “The important thing for us is to get in before the impact, have enough time to observe, and then get out again with our data."

  "That's how you got permission,” said Gordon. “The flood."

  "Yes. The theory is that any possible influence such an intrusion might risk will be canceled out by the devastation before it can introduce any effective changes that would be projected to the present. That is, if we can find insertion windows within the desirable time frame. In other words, we don't have to worry if the wrong grain of sand gets turned if we know it's going to get buried beneath hundreds of meters of muck until the present.” He glanced at Gordon. “So I am authorized to go back and have a look."

  "Have a look,” Gordon repeated, a slight mocking tone to his voice. He studied the archeologist's face until the man looked down at his lunch box. Glancing from Taleghani to the escarpment, from the escarpment to the gantry, and from the gantry back to the archeologist, Gordon nodded, picked up a handful of sand, and let it trickle out between his fingers. “I believe I warned you about keeping me in the dark, Doctor. But perhaps you haven't done that. A bodyguard who is good with languages. Perhaps I am to use your crossword puzzle book to swat camel ticks that manage to sneak into the capsule—"

  "Yes, yes, of course I want to leave the capsule, Mr. Redcliff,” the archeologist interrupted with an angry whisper. “If there is an inhabited village on that river bank, I must visit it. I must see the individuals who live there, record them, speak with them, hear what they can tell me."

  "And that is what you don't have permission for,” pressed Gordon.

  The archeologist looked down. “Yes."

  "Does Dr. Hussein know about this?"

  Taleghani nodded once. “I've been talking about this ever since we got the AHDI images and realized how close this site is to the Kebir Crater. Numair attempted to discourage me, but he is also my friend."

  "He did seem awfully young to retire,” said Gordon. “Getting out of the desert fast to protect his pension?"

  "He has a family to support."

  "And you?"

  Taleghani shook his head. “No. I have no family."

  "What about the T-span operator?” asked Gordon.

  "His name is Mehmet Abdel Hashim—a former student of mine. He's been in it with me from the beginning. Mehmet wants to touch the past and fortunately he does have family. His father is on the board of the International Temporal Span Authority."

  "Does Mehmet's father know about the trip you're planning?"

  "Not all the details.” Dr. Taleghani studied Gordon's face for a moment and asked, “Do you have family?"

  Gordon paused, wrestling with an answer that revealed more about himself than he wanted. “No one,” he said at last, his gaze on the tip of the escarpment. There had been an insane mother, a father who stuck around only long enough to make a joke, the wise man who taught him as much as Gordon had been willing to learn, and the spotter during the war who he learned to love as a brother. All dead now. There had been the Dinéback in the pueblo, but he and his mother had never really been welcomed as a part of that.

  The archeologist dismissed the subject with a quick wave of his hand. “The departure window all our planning depends on opens here late this evening,” he said. “It was cutting it very close waiting for Dr. Hussein's findings, and now Harith and his back ... We cannot keep the timespanner waiting for Harith's back to mend. We must leave tonight."

  "Weapons?"

  "Harith has arranged for protection, including some weapons. The matter of defending us is ultimately up to you, though."

  "How big is the expedition?"

  "You, me, and the T-span operator, although Mehmet goes back with the unit."

  "Goes back?” Gordon inquired with an arched eyebrow.

  "Yes. He drops us off on top of a hill outside the village—right beneath where we are sitting, in fact. Then he returns here to the present and returns for us at the next window."

  "This tale gets better with each telling, Doctor.” Gordon fixed his gaze on the archeologist's eyes. “How long?"

  "That depends on exactly when the meteor hits and what local departure windows are connectable to present time arrival windows. There are several sets of theoretical windows we've tentatively incorporated into our planning ranging in time from twenty-one to twenty-five days. We won't be able to set our times and locations exactly until we get there. No one before has ever timespanned this far back.” He examined Gordon's face. “Three weeks in prehistory, Mr. Redcliff. Aren't you excited?"

  "Positively giddy.” Gordon frowned as he turned a few considerations over in his mind. “In Iran, Doctor, what did you do in the war?"

  Taleghani held out his hands at the seemingly irrelevant question. “Why?"

  Gordon smiled. “Indulge me, sir. I'm lashing up a small but carefree band of brothers in preparation for a possible upcoming fracas. If you'll pardon the expression, I need to pick chiefs and Indians."

  "I was an intelligence officer attached to Egypt's Third Field Army Headquarters. My principle duties involved interpretation of satellite surveillance imagery."

  "In officer's training, did they teach you any hand-to-hand combat? Basic infantry skills?"

  "No. I didn't go to officer's school. I received my commission directly when I was called."

  Gordon's eyebrows went up.

  "Unless they had already gone to officers’ school, few of us called up for staff support positions had time to train. Bloody shock and awe. It was pretty much get my uniform issue, one boot on, one arm in a sleeve, and report for duty. There wasn't time for any niceties such as combat training. There was a pistol range qualification,” said Dr. Taleghani. He looked away from Gordon's face. “Are you thinking this expedition itself is one of those stupid things you warned me against doing?"

  Gordon held up a finger. “Risky, perhaps. Going without any weapons and with flowers in our hair, that would be stupid. Your pistol qualification, Doctor: how did you do?"

  "I was afraid you were going to ask.” Taleghani looked down at his lap. “My pistol instructor told me to keep an electric shaver in my holster and not to charge the batteries except under expert supervision."

  "You're not joking."

  The archeologist looked up at Gordon. “I was an officer—a major. No matter how abominable I was with a pistol, that was quite disrespectful for a sergeant, I thought.” He shook his head apologetically. “He was quite justified in his assessment, however. I am afraid I'm a scientist, not a warrior, Mr. Redcliff. Do you still want to be my bodyguard?"

  "I've already taken on the job, Doctor, although you do seem to stack the challenges rather precariously. Can you run?"

  "Run?"

  "Are your legs in good shape? You look healthy. Running may be our best defense."

  "Well, sir, I run two miles every morning,” the archeologist said proudly. “Even in the sand. When I was nineteen I earned a position on my country's team in the Orlando Olympics."

  "When you were nineteen."

  Dr. Taleghani frowned. “I received a bronze in the eight-hundred-meter event. How did you do?"

  "When the Olympics were held in Orlando, I got suspended from summer school for punching Tommy Wilson in the nose.” Gordon smiled wryly. “I was nine years old. Tell me, what changed from when you were fourteen and swearing to kill Americans and when you were nineteen and running in Orlando?"

  "I discovered Egyptology.” Dr. Taleghani grinned. “E
gyptian universities have the best field trips and museums in the world, but no one goes after Egyptology like American academics—and I will never admit I ever said this,” he added. “While I was studying in the US, I also tried out for Egypt's track-and-field team. Wonderful years."

  "Doctor, have you given any thought to what you're going to face once we return to Site Safar?"

  "When we return?"

  Gordon nodded. “I don't care what kind of song and dance your operator Mehmet has memorized to lay on the media and the powers that be, and I don't care who his father is. As soon as Mehmet comes back with that T-span can empty, everybody from the T-span czar and the secretary general of the UN to those antiquities caliphs in Cairo, not to mention a few governments around the world, and every priest, monk, rabbi, mullah, shaman, and witch doctor are going into vapor lock. I expect us to be met by something resembling a firing squad."

  "Do you want out?” asked the archeologist.

  "I can always plead I was following orders, Doctor. But if they come at you with the police or the army, I can't do anything about that. Can you have the arrival take place somewhere else? Somewhere unannounced?"

  "A slight problem with that.” The archeologist gave Gordon a wan smile. “The nearest alternate window is just outside Tripoli nine days ago."

  Gordon smiled. “I doubt you could move that quickly even when you were nineteen, Doctor. When's the next window here?"

  "Four hours after we leave there's a return window within meters of where we are right now. That's one of the advantages to doing this on site. Mehmet will bring the vehicle back through that window while we're investigating the village. The next window here is thirty-one days later, local time."

  "After that?” asked Gordon.

  "Here at the site a window will open approximately eight months from now, but I'm fairly certain the departure window for it won't open until after it's probably a hundred meters beneath that debris flood. Other locations are inaccessible for one reason or another."