"Max?"
"Yes, Hiram."
"Concentrate on deciphering the star symbols and put aside the alphabetic inscriptions for now."
"You'd like me to analyze the celestial map?"
"Do the best you can."
"Can you give me until five o'clock? I should be able to get a handle on it by then."
"The time is yours," Yeager responded.
"Max only requires a few hours for a project that should take months, even years?" Pat asked incredulously.
"Never underestimate Max," said Yaeger, swinging around in his chair and sipping from a cup of cold coffee. "I spent the better part of my prime years putting Max together. There isn't another computer system like her in the world. Not that she won't be obsolete in five years. But for the present, there is very little she can't do. She is unique, and she belongs heart and soul to me and NUMA."
"What about patents? Surely you must turn your rights over to the government."
"Admiral Sandecker is not your average bureaucrat. We have a verbal contract. I trust him, and he trusts me. Fifty percent of any revenue that we make on patent royalties or charges for the use of our accumulated data to private corporations or government agencies is turned over to NUMA. The other fifty percent comes to me."
"You certainly work for a fair-minded man. Any other employer would have given you a bonus, a gold watch, and a pat on the back, and taken your profits to the bank."
"I'm lucky to be surrounded by fair-minded men," said Yaeger solemnly. "The admiral, Rudi Gunn, Al Giordino, and Dirk Pitt, they're all men I'm proud to call my friends."
"You've known them for a long time."
"Close to fifteen years. We've had some wild times together and solved any number of ocean riddles."
"While we're waiting for Max to get back to us, why don't we begin analyzing the wall symbols. Perhaps we can find a clue to their meaning."
Yaeger nodded. "Sure thing."
"Can you reproduce the holographic image of the chamber?"
"Wishing will make it so," Yaeger said, as he typed a command at his keyboard and the image of the interior walls of the chamber materialized again.
"To decipher an unknown alphabetic writing, the first trick is to separate the consonants from the vowels. Since I see no indication that they represent ideas or objects, I'm assuming that the symbols are alphabetic and they record sounds of words."
"What is the origin of the first alphabet?" asked Yaeger.
"Hard evidence is scarce, but most epigraphists believe it was invented in ancient Canaan and Phoenicia somewhere between 1700 and 1500 B.C., and is labeled as North Semitic. Leading scholars disagree, of course. But they do tend to agree that early Mediterranean cultures developed the awakenings of an alphabet from prehistoric geometric symbols. Much later, the Greeks adapted and refined the alphabet, so the letters we write today are related to theirs. Further developments came from the Etruscans, followed by the Romans, who borrowed heavily to form the written language of Latin and whose later classic characters eventually formed the twenty-six-letter alphabet you and I use today."
"Where do we begin?"
"We'll be starting from scratch," said Pat, referring to her notes. "I'm unaware of any other ancient writing systems whose symbols match those inscribed in the chamber. There seems to be no influence either way, which is most unusual. The only remote similarity is to the Celtic Ogham alphabet, but there any resemblance ends."
"I almost forgot." Yaeger handed her a small batonlike shaft with a miniature camera at one end. "Max has already coded the symbols. If you want me to help you from my end with any calculations, just aim the camera at the symbol and its sequence in the inscriptions you wish to study, and I'll work at developing a decipher program."
"Sounds good," said Pat, happy to be back in the harness again. "First, let's list the different symbols and get a count on how many times each is represented. Then we can try working them into words."
"Like the and and."
"Most of the ancient script did not include words we take for granted today. I also want to see if we can detect the vowels before tackling the consonants."
They worked through the day without a break. At noon, Yaeger sent word down to the NUMA cafeteria to send up sandwiches and soft drinks. Pat was becoming increasingly frustrated. The symbols looked maddeningly simple to decipher, and yet by five o'clock she had had little or no success in untangling their definitions.
"Why is it the numbering system was so easy to break, but the alphabet so impossible?" she muttered irritably.
"Why don't we knock off until tomorrow," Yaeger suggested.
"I'm not tired."
"Neither am I," he concurred. "But we'll have a fresh outlook. I don't know about you, but my best solutions always come to me in the middle of the night. Besides, Max doesn't require sleep. I'll put her on the inscriptions during the night. By morning, she should have some ideas on the translation."
"I have no sensible argument."
"Before we knock off, I'll call up Max and see if she's made any progress with the stars."
Yaeger's fingers didn't have to play over the keyboard. He simply pressed a transmit button and said, "Max, are you there?"
Her scowling face came over the monitor. "What took you and Dr. O'Connell so long to get back to me? I've been waiting for nearly two hours."
"Sorry, Max," said Yaeger, without a deep sense of regret. "We were busy."
"You didn't spend but a few hours on the project," said Pat naively. "Did you strike out?"
"Strike out, hell," Max snapped. "I can tell you exactly what you want to know."
"Start with how you came to your conclusions," Yaeger commanded.
"You didn't think I was going to calculate movement of the stars myself, did you?"
"It was your project."
"Why should I strain my chips when I can get another computer to do it?"
"Please, Max, tell us what you discovered."
"Well, first of all, finding the coordinates of celestial objects in the sky takes a complicated geometric process. I won't get into boring detail on how to determine the altitude, azimuth, right ascension, and declination. My problem was to determine the sites where the coordinates engraved in the rock of the chamber were measured. I managed to calculate the original sites where the observers took their sightings within a few miles. Also the stars they used to measure deviations over many, many years. The three stars in the belt of the constellation of Orion, the hunter, all move. Sirius, the dog star, who sits near the heel of Orion, is fixed. With these numbers in hand, I tapped into the astrometry computer over at the National Science Center."
"Shame on you, Max," admonished Yaeger. "You could get me into big trouble raiding another computer network."
"I think the computer over at NSC likes me. He promised to erase my inquiry.
"I hope you can take him at his word," grunted Yaeger. It was an act. Yaeger had tapped into outside computer networks for unauthorized data hundreds of times.
"Astrometry," Max continued unperturbed, "in case you don't know, is one of the oldest branches of astronomy, and deals with determining the movements of stars." Max paused. "Follow me?"
"Go on," Pat urged.
"The guy in the computer over at NSC isn't up to my standards, of course, but since this was an elementary program for him, I sweet talked him into working out the deviation between positions of Sirius and Orion when the chamber was built with their present coordinates in the sky."
"You dated the chamber?" Pat murmured, holding her breath.
"I did."
"Is the chamber a hoax?" Yaeger asked, as if afraid of the answer.
"Not unless those old hard-rock Colorado miners you're worried about were first-class astronomers."
"Please, Max," Pat begged. "When was the chamber built and the inscriptions engraved on its walls?"