Wine of the Gods 4: Explorers

by Pam Uphoff

  Florian gritted his teeth and kept quiet. He'd been ordered to bring the natives to heel, only fools like Hackathorn thought it could be done bloodlessly. No, strike that. Fools like Lon would have walked away from billions of creds of gold and silver in those mines.

  After a moment, conversations rose about other matters, other facets of the problem. The affronted officer turned to a computer and started tapping. Florian spotted an opportunity and slipped out, still unremarked.

  In another room the DONA people were making nuisances of themselves, arguing with the military about Native's rights, and the conditions under which invasions were allowed as pre-emptive defense.

  The only good news was that the Army was already mobilizing, sending a scouting unit through the gate. Florian spotted them escorting Lon back that direction. Well. Blowing up the Oners would no doubt be even more satisfying than releasing a plague. Pity he wasn't going to get to watch, but one couldn't have everything.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  17 July 3477

  Dallas Prospects Seventeen and Fifty-three

  All that and he still made the gate time for Twelve-seventeen.

  Lon stood by, not interfering with the professionals while the gate anchor was folded down and packed, loaded on to the purpose-built trailer, and then very carefully maneuvered over his bulldozed path and successfully installed on a flat topped hill overlooking the site of the gold laced drill core. He and Ray had been right behind them with the boxes. Mark and Fred were allowed to drive the truck-and-heavily-loaded-trailer combos on the few fairly flat, fairly level stretches. They'd move two, catch up with the anchor's cautious progress, and walk back to get two more. As the distance lengthened, he let the youngsters ferry them back and forth in gyps. He grew to seriously dislike mosquitoes, gnats, no-see-ums, ticks, leeches and a dozen other insects he didn't bother to attempt to identify before squashing. But they managed to get the last boxes out of the mountains just a week after the Anchor made it to the hill site. The movers unloaded it carefully, unfolded the whole and dug it in properly, tested it thoroughly . . . Lon appreciated their attention to details while gritting his teeth on his own impatience. Fortunately Ray kept him busy, using the corer to drill a water well, running pipe and optical cables. And lining up the nineteen trucks and trailers for the return trip. At the end of three weeks, right on time, the anchor alarm blared and the gate opened to lovely dry and insect free Nowhereistan. The two gyps first through were loaded with drivers, who leapt for the trucks (in line with engines running and doors open) and got them into motion in time to follow the anchor transporter and the four trucks Lon and his crew drove, back through the gate.

  He turned the truck over to a professional as soon as possible and headed for his tiny apartment. He used enough hot water and soap to make up for missed hygiene following the leech incident, then headed for the office.

  A note from Roxy informed him that she was fed up with being questioned and would drive a supply truck to Seventeen and stay there. A second note said Dee and Rae were loading up their equipment and would also be making the first gate to Seventeen.

  The rest of the cadre had sensibly stretched out their home leave as long as possible. Lon set the call up for the next gate in two weeks. He was amused by Nelson Manrique's nonchalant attitude. Obviously Meese had been extremely tight with the information about the gold.

  In the mean time, he ordered all the supplies anyone could possibly need for a month, hired a new cook, this time with an assistant, as he expected to be staffing up fast. He followed the gossip about the increased military activity. No one knew exactly where the Army was headed. Some place code named "Comet Fall." Lon winced, but was thankful that the location was tightly held information. Apparently an entire brigade was scheduled to pass through in three days. Soldiers, weapons and transport, for the serious work. And the Colonel was "requesting" assistance. Unfortunately he had plenty of time available. He hopped a ride with the next Army Unit through and found the Colonel.

  "Hackathorn, let's go." Colonel Elton, now in charge of everything on the world, waved him over to the helicopter. It was sized to fit through the gate, with minimal reassembly needed on the far side. Loaded to capacity with soldiers. Armed and armored. It made him feel naked and vulnerable. He squeezed in and took the headset he was handed.

  "Welcome aboard, Dr. Hackathorn. Directions?" At least the pilot was polite.

  "Follow the river north," he said, and gulped as his stomach tried to remain behind as the copter leapt upwards. They were at the canyon in minutes, and hovered briefly to view the bridge.

  "Northeast from here, to where the river turns north and comes out of a canyon in the cliffs and glacier."

  He pointed out the abandoned wagon, and they circled a muddy hilltop with the top of two gyp roll cages sticking out of it. Four horses ran from the noisy machine as it passed over them.

  The Colonel and his aides were chatting non-stop, on a channel Lon wasn't privy to.

  The Colonel finally took pity on him, and ordered him into their network. "The run-down team is two thousand miles into the canyon, they are certain they have overshot the natives, who were apparently on foot. More likely, they doubled back, because of a lack of food and supplies

  The road was as obvious as it had been the first time he'd seen it, a ten mile ramp that climbed nearly half a mile before it squeezed through the canyon mouth above the waterfall.

  They climbed high over the canyon for their first look, but it was filled with fog within a few miles.

  "Very odd weather phenomenon," the pilot said. "I wouldn't expect fog unless it was warm down there."

  "There were geysers along the whole fifty kilometers we drove." Lon put in.

  The soldier in the door fooled with his goggles. "Strong infra red signature, sir. All along the line of the fog, but stronger in some places. There's a hot spot just inside the start of the fog."

  "Let's take a look."

  They landed on instruments, a wide flat area the radar found. The soldiers jumped out, and half of them rushed off into the dimness under the fog. Lon got down more slowly, taking in the whole familiar scene. The slow trickle of condensation had cleaned the rock. No blood stains. Colonel Elton walked over to the nearest bridge and studied it.

  "Geyser, sir. Or a hot spring at any rate. Temp is 70 degrees. It's steaming pretty good." One of the soldiers called back, half hidden in the gloom and low fog.

  "Damn. I'll definitely get your geologist's opinion about all of this. Return." Elton raised his voice at the end.

  Aloft again they followed the fog swath as it cut through the ice cap until fuel considerations had them turning for home.

  Lon dozed off and on, waking as they hovered over the Native's horses, running loose, then they swung to see a team of soldiers digging the gyps out of the hill and engineering crews blasting a better road through the ripple ridge. Back at the gate camp, he saw lines of parked tanks. Small ones, to fit through the gate, ready to roll all over his world. The Colonel thanked him for his time as they landed and dismissed him.

  Lon found his box, office, meeting rooms and quarters, amidst the maze of army equipment, and headed for the kitchenette. Then he'd head for bed, then . . . The outer door slammed open and the few remaining Company people stormed in. He finished assembling his sandwich while they babbled, grabbed a drink and forced his way through them and into the meeting room.

  "Quiet! One at a time, please. Sit. Complaints last. New data first. Anyone?"

  He didn't even recognize the man who jumped up. He must have looked blank. "I'm Milt Howser, one of the astronomers. Hygiea is gone."

  He must have looked even blanker.

  "It’s the fourth largest asteroid. It isn't there. At the same time I was discovering that, Jack found a ton of neos, Near Earth Objects, asteroids and comets that come close to Earth at some part of their orbits? He found eighteen big ones that could impact the Earth, well, this world, in the next thousand years. He's tr
ying for resolution on that number. Anyhow, back tracking on all their orbits, we found that they coincide with Hygiea on May twelfth, ABB thirteen seven triple ought, twenty-two one thirty-four."

  Lon sighed. "Was that supposed to be a date? Put it in Merican for us, will you?"

  "Uh, Hygiea broke up, probably because of a collision, about thirteen thousand years ago, into at least eighteen chunks, any and all of which could hit the world."

  "Ah. I see. It probably broke into at least twenty pieces, two of which have already hit this world. And . . . if Hygiea is an asteroid, why all the comets?"

  "The surface of Hygiea has no exposed ices, water, ammonia, methane, you know? But it may have a lot inside. Which was exposed when it broke up. And every time the chunks break up, more fresh ice is exposed, and sublimates and forms the coma and the tail."

  "I see. So, another one can hit anytime?"

  Howser looked indignant. "Not anytime. December through January, mostly. Their perihelion and Earth’s aphelion are quiet close. The comets’ and asteroids’ periods are just over four years, and the worst of the collision debris is clustered in one section of the orbit, so there’s only serious danger every fourth winter. We're refining the orbits of the largest comets, but the first pass that looks close enough to worry about is about seven and a half years out. Mind you, we're still looking for more, but I think we've located the big ones."

  "And by big you mean?"

  "Kilometer or larger. The one that's coming in seven years is barely a kilometer. We don't actually know if it'll hit, either, just that it will be close."

  "All right. Any more new information? Have you all shared information? You all know that Dydit and Lefty are one of two things. They may be the descendants of genetically engineered humans from about thirteen hundred years ago, right about the start of the bio age, and that they are part of the reason there are so many restrictions on human experiments? Or, they are probably not from this world, but rather from an Advanced World, the One World we call it, because they worship 'The One'. It is one of the high tech worlds we avoid, the only one we know of that has dimensional capabilities. There were spies on Earth, who have so far escaped. The Gate Authority thinks the Oners are infiltrating Earth from at least one other world, and possibly from here."

  "Spies on Earth?" Johnny, the field geologist asked. "I thought the gate was way out in Nowhereistan for control purposes?"

  "Yes, they probably never left the area. According to rumor they've either escaped through the gate, or the Authority has no idea where they've got to." He smiled wryly. "So don't wish yourselves home, the witch hunt back there is probably just getting geared up to be really nasty. It may be easing, now that they know their so-called spies came here." Lon bit his lip. "Which, of course means the Army will be here for some time. Howser? Keep looking for asteroids and refining those orbits. The Colonel may want more detailed info, do you have it? Send it to me and I'll pass it on. Yes, Julianne? Why are you guys back here, anyway?"

  "The Company subcontracted us to the Army. I guess all of you aren't on the need-to-read the DONA report list. The one that we contributed to. Never and Question, Dydit and Lefty's wives, admitted to sneaking through the gate to study us. They rode through the gate invisibly, on your gyp, dropped off and just walked into a group of new labor recruits and got sent off to school with them. Then they came back and reported to their King. I really don't think they are One Worlders, but I suspect they are the 'evil spies' these idiots are chasing."

  "Invisible? Umm. And for poking around a school Greeson was after them with murderous intent? I'd like you to all take some time to write out additional reports for me. While you're here with the Army, you can still use the Company's boxes. Yes, George?"

  "I'd like to move all of our modules away, group us where we can keep an eye on each other."

  "Certainly. I'll speak to the Colonel about it." He snorted. "I genuinely don't know if I want them to kick us out or not." He nodded suddenly at Howser, "Thirteen thousand years ago was when this dimension split from ours, judging from the animals. So the precipitating event was probably Hygiea exploding or whatever."

  They all started talking, so he ate his sandwich and waited until they'd all wound down. Then he sent them away, and slept for twelve hours.

  When he rolled out in the morning, he learned that the Army's Run Down Team had failed to find the natives or Oners, whichever they were. George had been up early and 'accidentally' heard the report.

  "That canyon does go all the way across to North America. They hit a snow storm, on the way back. In July! They said that if they were going to invade, they'd better do it soon."

  Lon nodded reluctantly. "Geothermal canyon or no, the Arctic winter isn't a good time to move troops. They've only got a couple of months to move all the equipment they need. Maybe less. Then they'll be isolated over there." Maybe the natives will luck out, and the situation will cool down, with a winter to think it over. "But then, where were the DONA pair and our lot, for six weeks? Did they miss a side canyon? A pass closed by snow?"

  George could only shrug. "They said something about bridges? Like the one over the river?"

  "Made that way, but smaller. Pretty little arches. It was like a Japanese Tea Garden crossed with a Gothic Horror vid. Are you doing all right here? I need to check on Seventeen, and I might as well take advantage of these daily gates the Army's got."

  "We're good." George snorted. "I expect we'll see you again soon. Don't loose track of which world you're on."

  Lon sighed and thumbed a ride back to Nowhereistan with an Army vehicle.

  He had enough time to order a few items for Twelve-seventeen, and make the supply run.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  24 August 3477

  Dallas Twelve-seventeen

  Lon found even the frantic pace of Twelve-seventeen preferable to the situation in Nowhereistan and Twelve fifty-three. He had found a dawn to dusk schedule, all concentrated on geological matters, being orchestrated by the hyperactive Nelson, with Ray trying to provide reality checks. Lon put on the brakes, and made everyone finish up reports before starting new projects and moving to new areas. They were just as busy, but perhaps a bit less frantic.

  Ray had everyone housed, and the camp fully set up.

  This time in a defensive circle.

  The ultrasonic insect deflectors kept most of the inner circle of the compound clear of the swarming menaces that lay in wait for everyone who crossed the invisible perimeter.

  As, of course, they had to do for every gate opening, for collecting samples, for launching the drone mappers and damn near everything else as well.

  Taking no chances on an unpleasant surprise this time, Lon had hired a mobile launcher and crew. They shot off two low altitude mapping satellites first thing. No cities, towns or roads. Lots of astroblemes, and a much different effect on the climate. The Mediterranean Sea was a broad straight, open to the Red Sea and Indian Ocean on the east, and in the west a wider straights of Gibraltar hosted a maelstrom as the equatorial current was channeled through its narrowest gap. The current circumnavigated the globe, the Isthmus of Panama having suffered considerably from nearby meteor strikes. The over all sea level was high; there were no ice caps at all.

  Twelve-seventeen, already being called Mosquito Mountain, was a lot wetter than the equivalent location on Earth. A lot wetter.

  The gate was in the equivalent of the Kopet Dag Range, of northern Iran, but these mountains had risen higher and trapped damp winds from the north, off the enlarged Aral and Caspian Seas. The rainfall had resulted in a forested northern slope and the Turan depression was a salt marsh rather than a desiccated salt pan. Large fault zones chopped up the surface in unexpected places, the Himalaya subduction and uplift was more of a strike slip fault.

  ". . . and the recent hydrothermal phase filled the fault zones with quartz with frequent occurrence of gold with silver and copper the major impurities. Some of the minor impurities, Rhodium and Ruth
entium, notably, are extremely valuable, and worth the mining even without the gold."

  Trust Nelson to take five minutes to say that.

  "Reserve estimates for the gold, from the aerial survey, is in the range of thousands of tons. This puts this region into the same class as South Africa on Earth. I've just started sampling the marshes for alluvial gold, and it's clear that we'll be dredging. I haven't worked up reserve estimates yet, the last samples are still waiting for the lab. I'll have those for you by Wednesday so you can present them to the Board." Even the mosquito bites couldn't make Nelson look any less smug. "The field team may reach the first astrobleme in time for a field analysis. Nickel and so forth are less exciting than gold, but still quite valuable."

  "Indeed. Dr. Galina?"

  "Yes, sir. As we'd expected, the DNA comparisons of both plants and animals show the split to have occurred roughly thirteen thousand years ago. There is no evidence of a secondary genetic event thirteen hundred years ago. The species count is low, no doubt still recovering from the extinction event."

  "Indeed. Thank you doctor. Any one else? All right, get your equipment requests to me by ten hundred hours Wednesday." Lon dismissed the meeting and stretched long and carefully. Pity I ever saw Twelve fifty-three. I wish I didn't know, wish I could be sitting here as smugly delighted as any Exploration Team Leader could be. Because hoping everyone will see the meteors and decide to leave is just naïve. Neither Earth or the One wants to be seen as the one that backed down. If the comets miss—which they probably will—the people will get ground up in between the two superpowers. If a comet hit—will either polity actually try to save them, move them? Yeah—maybe some will be moved to Mining Worlds where they'll be property-less refugees, little better than slave labor.