“Hang on,” Tuni interrupted. “What time is it in New York?”
“Um…” Pete closed his eyes tight for a few seconds, then said, “Almost midnight.”
“Do you think we could have a chat with Jon?” she asked, blowing over her coffee. “He was expecting an update last night, but in all the excitement I forgot.”
“Yeah, that’s no problem,” replied Pete. “The sat phone should have a good charge.”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt piped up, “and don’t you have to call for the helicopter to come pick me up before it gets dark?”
Pete and Tuni exchanged a look.
“Yeah,” Pete sighed. “I’ll do that before we call Dr. Meier. We’ll make sure they’re dispatched with enough time to return to the airport before sunset.
“Thanks, Pete.”
“You going with him, Tuni?”
She nodded guiltily.
“Very well, let’s go call it in.”
The phone on Dr. Jon Meier’s nightstand startled him awake. As he fumbled for it, he realized he had fallen asleep with his glasses on and his book lying on his chest.
“Who is it, Jon?” his wife, Marisol, asked groggily beside him.
“At this hour? Must be the expedition… hello?”
“Dr. Meier, this is Peter Sharma.”
“Oh… Peter.” Meier cleared his throat. “Do you know what time it is here?”
“Sorry, Doctor, I’m in Kenya. I’ve got Matt and Tuni here with me!”
Meier sat up, instantly awake, and asked that they hold so he could switch to his cordless phone and let his wife sleep. “I didn’t know you were going there, Peter—but who cares? Tell me everything!”
Peter activated the speakerphone, and Matt proceeded to relay all he had experienced thus far. Dr. Meier plied him with questions afterward.
“Let’s try not to get lost in the details, Doctor,” Peter interrupted. “We only have Matt until this afternoon.”
“Is that right? So you’ve already determined the age of this civilization, Matthew?”
“No, Doctor. We’re hoping I’ll be able to get something today.”
“But am I to understand that you are leaving regardless of what you discover today?”
Matt sighed.
Tuni leaned toward the phone on the table and answered for him. “That is the plan, Jon.”
“Okay, and you understand that your end of our agreement will not have been met—right, Mr. Turner?”
Matt shook his head in disbelief. “If you say so, Doc. If you find the work I’ve done so far to be worthless, I guess I shouldn’t waste my time with any more readings.”
Peter saw where the conversation could easily lead, and he well knew that Meier’s pigheadedness might actually doom their chances of discovering any more about the Pwin-T people.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Peter interrupted, “I’m sure we can continue with the existing arrangement. There’s also something else I’d like to ask you, Doctor.”
Peter switched off the speakerphone and stepped away with the sat phone to his ear.
“I’m having a bit of a problem tracking down some resources.”
“Just tell me what you need, Peter,” Meier replied.
“We don’t have any astrogeologists on staff, and I had my assistant back at the center contact some different research centers. I think you know Gerhardt in Berlin—well, he said he knew of only three that we might be able to work with. One is in Antarctica for the next six months, another is on some other prolonged assignment in Africa, and the third… well—”
“You want Felch,” Meier interrupted.
“Tell me he’s still over there.”
Meier considered it for a moment and intentionally let the line fall silent.
“Doctor, are you still there?”
“I’ll think about it,” he finally replied. “You know he hasn’t done any fieldwork in a decade, right?”
“Heck, it’s been a few years for me, too, but here I am!”
“I don’t know if we can spare him, though, Peter. He’s the only one who gets anything done around here.”
“Just a few days—I mean it.”
“Would he get a private jet, too?”
“I think we’ve tapped the budget after that first one, but he could certainly ride back with Matt and Tuni. That would work…”
“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”
Pete plugged the phone back into its charger and returned to the table. He could see that Matt looked angry and tense.
“Now, Matt,” Pete said, “something to consider: the greatest interest in our success is not at the NYMM but at my organization in London. I appreciate Dr. Meier’s assistance in getting you out here, but in reality, I’m sure I can arrange a similar form of compensation. Okay? Let’s not let that be any deciding factor in what goes on out here. You’ve more than earned your keep in the past two days. Got it?”
Matt nodded and took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to hear on this call was Meier trying to pressure him to stay and threaten not to loan him the promised silver coin.
“Okay,” Matt replied, “how much time do we have? The helicopter’s going to be here around four to five?”
Peter glanced at his watch and said, “The charter company said four thirty on the spot.”
“So we have about nine hours, minus breaks?” asked Tuni.
Matt winced. “Even just four hours in a day is pretty brutal… but I’ll do what I can.”
17
IRIN SLID THE HOLDSTRIP THROUGH THE loops of his middle and wrapped it around the single loop in his bottom. Turning his head side to side to be sure that the top was properly secured to the middle, he lifted his lightstick from the ground and pulled the two sections apart to access the firestick inside. He turned the bottom portion of the lightstick over until the small pouch fell out into his hand. Then, sprinkling the firedust onto the top of the firestick, he struck the stick against the inner wall of his house, and it burst alight. Tiny bits of the glowing dust flew in all directions before quickly dimming to nothingness on the floor. He then slid the top section back down over the firestick and twisted it securely into place. The bluewater began to glow, and Irin set it down, leaning it against the wall, next to the house light.
“It is getting late,” Orin said as she checked over his k’yot. “How long will you be gone?”
“You’re coming with me,” Irin replied. “I invited everyone: men of all ages, women, new. All need to know what is going to happen.”
Surprised, Orin began dressing as she said, “Is that a good idea? I suspect the oldest will not approve. You’re ignoring rules, involving women…”
“I no longer care what they think. I tried to speak with Twill earlier and he brushed me off like a pest. He’ll be there, I’m certain, but I will have my say. I don’t expect much, but we are leaving and the more that come with us, the better our chances of survival outside the valley. What we have to do… everyone must help.”
Orin did not respond, but her face sufficiently expressed her dread. Irin grabbed his lightstick, poked his head into the tunnel to his father’s house, and said, “We are heading to the Gathering Rocks.”
His mother’s voice responded, “We’re leaving, too, in a moment, Irin.”
Irin worried that few would attend, but as he stepped outside, he saw lines of his people walking the paths toward the Gathering Rocks. He breathed a sigh of relief and he and Orin fell in with the masses. Rumblings of curiosity and confusion buzzed through the crowd. He heard questions followed by hypothesized answers stated as fact. It seemed most thought the gathering, as usual, centered on discussion of rules about screamers and making safe.
As he eavesdropped on these conversations, something occurred to Irin. In their minds, his people were off to find out what new rules were being set for them, not to participate in a discussion. Besides the oldest men, he could not think of anyone that would not blindly follow the lead of someone who
spoke with authority. It was the nature of their society: polite obedience. The oldest clearly knew this, encouraged it, exploited it. Sure, close friends and families would gripe in hushed tones amongst themselves, but nothing would ever be publicly challenged. If you longed for change, you just had to wait for seniority and hope that by the time you had a voice, you weren’t outnumbered by fierce traditionalists.
Twill was the oldest man with the most power. He had a suave technique for making the other oldest conform to his whims. Irin had seen this in practice with his own father, Tillyt. Tillyt had offered a logical, seemingly innocuous suggestion to place a second gate at the top of the valley entrance, the one from where screamers always came. This proposed gate would be tall enough to delay the screamers, and would be draped with strips of solid to ring out an alarm, providing an earlier warning to those in the valley to take shelter. Twill’s subdued response offered praise for the idea, a longing for more men with helpful suggestions like Irin’s father, and an indefinite hold on such a project until we better understand the nature of screamers. “But do not hesitate to return with more inspired proposals like this one,” Twill had said encouragingly.
As Irin rounded the central path that encircled the Center House, he spotted the tall stone wall that marked the entrance to the Gathering Rocks. A dancing blue glow illuminated the cliff face beyond, and Irin wondered just how many people had shown up. The din of a massive crowd grew louder as they walked through the tunnel.
Orin leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You brought… everyone!”
Emerging inside the Gathering Rocks, Irin peered up and around at the tiered walls, nearly filled top to bottom with blue-lit eyes and cheeks. Bombarded by thousands of lightsticks all around, he was relieved to see that many were being extinguished. Orin took a seat on the ground level as Wil stepped tentatively from the tunnel’s darkness. He paused and leaned out, examining the crowd with a stricken expression. Irin gestured for him to come in and join him in the center, but Wil refused. Irin turned to Orin for help, and she went to Wil’s side.
“Come, sit with me,” as she took him gently by the arm.
Irin felt his sweat trickling beneath his k’yot. It streamed down his neck, chest, and back. He was the only person wearing one, and this was clearly apparent to the masses currently staring at him. A preponderance of curiosity spotted with reproachful glaring.
It appeared that all who were coming had arrived, so Irin took a deep breath and prepared to greet them. Speak with authority, he reminded himself. He stepped to the center of the circle and several people took notice, hushing those near them.
“I am Irin,” he announced. His name echoed off the cliff and through the mouths of his audience.
The clamor of the spectators lowered to near silence.
“Most of you do not know me—”
A familiar throaty voice interrupted from the lowest tier, behind Irin, “Yes, yes, my old friend, Irin…” Helped by his youngest son and his polished walking stick, Twill rose and shuffled his way toward the center. He spoke loud enough for all to hear, “I can help you to convey this very important message—perhaps a bit faster than you intended, but in light of the time, we must speak with haste and release everyone home for make-safe.”
Irin glared at the oldest man; he wished he had prepared for such a predictable coup attempt. “I thank the oldest man for his generous offer, but will continue, unaided.”
Twill and his son, Ilter, positioned themselves in front of Irin. Ilter had always been large and intimidating, surely encouraged by his father to establish himself in a leadership role since a young age. Ilter leaned close to Irin and whispered, “You should go sit down.”
Irin gave him nothing but a quick glance before turning around to face the people seated on the cliff side.
“I am no one of consequence, I know,” Irin began, and ignored the hiss from behind his back. “I simply pour houses with my friend, Wil. You all surely know Wil’s father, Pret.”
A high-pitched cackle burst from Irin’s left and he spotted Pret, slapping his knees and doing his little leg dance on the second tier. Hushed murmurs spread around the circle. With the audience distracted, Ilter placed a hand on Irin’s side and dug in his meaty fingers. Irin winced and stepped a pace away.
“My friends,” Twill resumed. “There are a very tiny few who believe that—”
Irin interrupted, speaking in a booming voice that drowned out Twill’s, “Again, thank you, Twill, but if you would, please wait until I am finished before sharing your thoughts.”
Irin would not allow another second of silence for Twill to fill, so he continued immediately as an anonymous voice called to, “Let Irin speak!”
“Pret and Wil sometimes have dreams,” Irin said as Twill and Ilter moved a short distance toward the tunnel. Twill feigned amusement to save face. “These dreams in the past have foretold events that have touched many of us currently present. The recent blood attack that took fourteen people… we were warned of this event several nights before it occurred, but we did not listen. My own brother, Tilliten, for those that remember, was lost in a cave collapse. At that time, Wil was new… a very small new, in fact. I do not speak of this event. I have not spoken of it since it happened. But I will tell you, my father and mother can tell you, as well as a few others that were there—that Wil came to us and warned my brother that he would die, surrounded by solid.”
He let this last bit settled in as quiet chatter resumed around the Gathering Rocks. He walked in a circle, nodding. “Yes, I think of him every day. I think if only we had really listened to Wil, Tilliten would still be here this night, probably speaking to you instead of me. As I said, I am no one of consequence. But Wil…” Irin waved to Wil. Orin tried to nudge Wil up, but he resisted.
“… is afraid to stand!” Twill said, and many chuckled.
Irin scowled at Wil and waved more insistently. Wil finally stood and reluctantly walked forward.
“Wil wished to share with all of you what he and Pret have recently dreamt. Wil?”
Wil said to Irin’s ear “You say it, I can’t say it.”
“You will say it. It can’t just be me.”
“There are too many…”
The spectators began talking amongst themselves and Irin noticed Twill preparing to take over again. Wil clearly wasn’t going to speak.
“My friend is afraid he will not be believed yet again,” Irin said just as the thought came to him. “He believes it pointless, just as the previous tragedies went on despite his warnings. Well, I can understand this,” Irin put his hand on Wil’s head. “So I will speak on his behalf. There is a yPretl coming to Pwin-T. These beautiful stripes we see above are in fact rocks—some big, some small. And there is a large one, the size of a mountain, flying toward us right now.”
Eyes moved to the starry sky above as murmurs grew to an uproar.
“You cannot see it,” Irin shouted over the commotion. “It is still too far away. But believe him when he says it is coming.”
Pret howled from the audience and jovially said “Oh, it most certainly is!”
The noise level continued to grow as people shouted questions “where will it strike?” and “what will happen?” and “when?”
“Everything will be destroyed,” Irin boomed and the people were finally silent. “Everything in the valley will burn. But we do not have to stay. That is why we have called you here, because we have so little time to prepare and go. We have more than two moon cycles before it comes…” but a clamor had arisen the moment Irin mentioned not having to stay.
Dominating the frantic dialogue, “Leave the valley?” and “Screamers…” stood out above the other rumblings. But Irin was satisfied by this discord. It meant they had taken the warning seriously, and that his anticipation of majority skepticism had been wrong. He let them go on, but noticed immediately as Twill dragged himself back to the center with Ilter in tow. The surrounding noise kept anyone but Irin and the oldest man
’s lumbering son from hearing Twill’s next words.
“I hope you are satisfied,” Twill spat. “Now step aside so I may repair the damage you have wrought.”
Irin nodded and presented the floor to Twill. Ilter raised his lightstick to regain the crowd’s attention. Quiet slowly returned.
“My friends, these are frightening times,” Twill said. “And we must heed the words of Irin, a most skilled pourer! The oldest men and I have been conferring on this very quandary for days now, and fortunately, have had more time to consider the best course of action than my brawny friend here, Irin.”
Irin seethed. He saw what Twill was doing. “He’s not much of a thinker, but he sure is strong!” he may as well have said.
Twill continued, “And while we oldest would probably have opted against a citywide announcement, we now see it was the right thing to do, so we thank Irin for bringing us all here this night.”
Where is this going? Irin thought.
“Now, since make-safe time draws near, I will speak quickly, and then we must all hurry home. First, we know that our houses—the very houses that this stout man pours for us—have withstood screamers, floods, and avalanches. A rock from the sky would not penetrate them. This is a fact. Despite this, we will increase the extraction and production of solid so that our able pourers can place another layer atop every house in Pwin-T!” Approving mumbles from the audience. “Second, we will need look-outs at all waking hours to keep watch at the sky and to alert the city when and if this rock is coming. This way, everyone will have time to make-safe.”
“Twill, this is ludicrous—” Irin began, but Ilter stood in front of him and held his ready hands out before him. Irin could see Ilter wanted to fight him in front of the spectators. He would probably let Irin win, too. It would make him look like a simple-minded brute. Irin put his own hands up in a sign of peace.
“Third—and this was already planned—our biggest threat is the same we have always had. We will immediately begin construction of a second gate, all the way up the path to the canyon, to slow the screamers whenever they come. We will craft noisemakers and hang them from this new gate to provide us all with ample warning of an imminent attack. Now, with all these new projects, every hand in Pwin-T will be busy for some time, but I believe that we can not only accomplish these tasks, but complete them faster than we ever thought possible!”
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