Matt went through a large open doorway. The adjoining space, which might have been the area inside the front doors, was half-filled with snow. A set of windows had given way.
At the edge of the snow, and partially engulfed in it, was a cluster of carved wooden chairs arranged around a central table. Two of the chairs had collapsed. The furniture showed decent workmanship and had padding that still looked soft but was, of course, rock hard. Two rectangular blocks lay on the tabletop. And a pitcher.
He gazed at the blocks. Saw symbols on them.
Books.
They were books.
Both were bound in black, and both were frozen to the surface.
He wiped the dust from them and saw more symbols on the spines. He called Rudy over.
“Beautiful,” Rudy said. “We have to take these back with us.” When Matt demonstrated that they were frozen in place, he frowned. “Careful. Don’t damage them.”
Matt used the laser to remove the legs from the table, then to cut around each book, reducing the tabletop to two manageable pieces. He handed one to Rudy and took the other himself.
“How advanced you think these people were?” asked Antonio.
“They had the printing press,” said Rudy.
“Ah, yes.” Matt looked down at his own ghostly hand. “The printing press again.”
Rudy pointed at some wiring hanging down from the ceiling. “Looks as if they had electricity, too.”
Antonio touched one of the books. Reverently. “You were right, Rudy. This was a resort hotel. The tower was a ski lift.”
Matt backed out of the room. Despite the e-suit, he was beginning to feel cold. “If we scan under the snow,” he said, “we’ll probably find a couple more towers upslope.”
“I don’t believe it.” Antonio was shaking his head. “What kind of alien uses a ski resort?”
“The Noks like skiing,” said Rudy. “And on Quraqua—”
Matt heard another noise. Above them.
They all heard it. A whisper. A sound like a wet sack being dragged across a floor.
Antonio raised both hands, palms wide, behind his ears. “Something’s up there.”
They pointed the lamps back the way they’d come and played the beams against the foot of the staircase. “The building’s old,” Matt said. “It probably creaks a bit from the weight of the snow.”
Antonio removed his laser from his harness. “It’s probably vermin.”
And they heard it again. Louder this time.
“That sounds like a big rat,” said Rudy.
A chill slithered up Matt’s spine. “I think we better clear out.” He discovered he’d already slipped a shell into the rhino gun and was holding it straight out. At home, weapons simply short-circuited the nervous system. They rendered people, or animals, incapable of response. The rhino was designed for use elsewhere, on different kinds of life. It was simple and, one might say, old-fashioned. The metal projectiles it used had explosive tips.
Matt had never fired one beyond the range. At the moment, it provided a marvelous sense of security, except that it might bring the house down. He started back toward the staircase. “Let’s go,” he whispered. Sound had no trouble penetrating the Flickinger field, so they could be overheard. “Stay behind me.”
Antonio took the remaining book from him. “I’ll carry it,” he said. “If you have to use that thing, you might want to have both hands free.” They moved quietly across the ground floor until they stood at the foot of the staircase. There was nothing on the stairs, and nothing at the top.
“Stay put for a minute.” Matt started up. He felt exposed because he had to keep looking at the stairs themselves to be sure he didn’t trip. So he took a step and looked up. Took another and looked up again. Finally, he reached the top. Looked to his right, down the corridor. Checked the flight to the third floor. “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”
Antonio missed a step and delivered a low expletive. But Rudy caught him, kept him from falling.
“Damned things were built for basketball players,” Antonio grumbled.
“Shush!” hissed Rudy.
They got to the second floor and crowded in behind Matt.
“Everybody okay?” he asked.
“Let’s keep going,” said Rudy.
Matt started up the second flight. Antonio and Rudy followed. But Matt waved them back. “Best if you wait till I take a look,” he said.
Antonio didn’t like the idea. “The noise might have come from down there.” Behind them.
“Okay.” Matt conceded the point. “Let’s go.”
Had they asked his help, Jon would not have hesitated to have gone down with them. But he was glad to have escaped a task he considered dull and onerous. He could have gone over to the Preston and spent the day with Hutch, but he was not much for trying to keep up one end of a conversation. So he’d stayed on the McAdams, knowing that, when the operation ended, they’d all gather on one ship or the other, and he could do his socializing then.
He was half-asleep in the common room. He had no interest in old buildings, nor for that matter in cultures that had gone away. He was glad to be alone for a few hours, to have Matt out of the ship. He was okay, but he was a bit too driven for Jon’s tastes. The guy was so caught up in the mission that he had lost all sense of proportion. He couldn’t relax. Couldn’t talk about anything else.
A flight that goes on for the better part of a year needs to be thought out more carefully than this one. For one thing, it should have had more people. Hutch had asked him repeatedly, had asked both him and Matt, whether they’d be all right locked up together. So it was his own fault. And they were okay, really. Matt wasn’t a problem. It could have been worse. He could have been on the same ship as Antonio, who talked too much and was cheerful enough to drive anyone around the bend.
Rudy would have been good. At least they had some common interests. From here on, he thought they should scramble things a bit. Maybe he’d suggest he exchange places with Antonio. He sensed Matt would like a change, too. Antonio could sit up on the bridge with Matt for weeks at a time, chattering away. And Jon would get access to Rudy. And Hutch. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party either, but at least she’d be someone different. And it’d be nice to have somebody good-looking on board.
When he got home, he would form a corporation to license the drive. That had been Matt’s idea. It would allow him to keep control of the system. Rudy had been concerned that he would sell it outright to Campella or one of the other major corporations, which would proceed to deny its use to all but those in a position to pay substantial sums. That would effectively eliminate blue sky exploration. Ships would go on missions, but only those fueled by a profit motive.
He thought he’d name his company for Henry, maybe call it Barber Enterprises. Although DeepSpace, Inc. appealed to him. He was getting sleepy and the world was beginning to fade when Jim brought him back. “Jon, we have a relay from the lander. It looks urgent.”
What the hell was a relay from the lander? “You mean Matt wants to talk to me?”
“No. It’s literally from the lander. The onboard AI. I’m running it now.”
The main screen came on and he was looking at a snowfield. The countryside was barren, cold, desolate. In the distance, he could see a few misshapen growths. Trees, possibly. It was hard to tell. “What am I looking for, Jim?”