“On the assumption that there just may be an unusual artifact or two at the locale, I am requested by Sat’shan to ask that both you and the female specimen join the expedition. Once a preliminary survey of the site has been compiled, it is likely that your presence will not be requested on future visits, assuming any are forthcoming.”
This was normal procedure, Ruslan knew. Have one or both of the adult humans along on a first visit to any particularly interesting new archeological location. Set them free to identify and explain any relics new to Myssari science. Then return them to their principal task of supervising the progress of the younger specimens. The routine was familiar. But this business of a flickering electronic emission was something different.
“Of course I’ll go. I’m sure Cherpa will, too.” As Jih’hune pivoted to leave, Ruslan put out a hand to forestall him. “One more thing. If this is a new development, maybe the last remnant of an old broadcasting system or some such, I’d still expect that the Vrizan would have been all over and through it by now.”
“One would, considering how much longer they have been here.” Jih’hune did not dispute the human’s observation. “However, they are so intent on developing and expanding their settlements that it is likely they have diverted resources which otherwise would have been employed in the service of pure science. If orbiters are occupied hunting for ore deposits or exceptional agricultural sites or the ruins of the most impressive ancient cities, something like a few intermittent electronic indications might well be overlooked, or filed away for future examination, or relegated to the realm of the not immediately cost-effective. That is not to say they are unaware of the frail transmission: only that if so, our scan from orbit shows no sign of there having been a Vrizan visitation.” He pondered. “There is probably nothing to it. A relay point of some kind, perhaps, or a portion of an early meteorological prediction system. You have no notion of what such an emission might signify?”
Ruslan shook his head, a human gesture with which any Myssari researcher was by now fully familiar. “Not a clue. But I suppose it might be worth a quick visit.”
“If nothing else,” Jih’hune continued, “the locus lies in an area we have not yet explored. The ruins of many major human conurbations lie comparatively close by, which further suggests that this may have something to do with an early human form of communication. No human city of size lies farther north than this site. The climatological zone from which the emission arises is not one favored by your kind.”
“Makes it all the more interesting, then,” Ruslan agreed by way of parting. “I’ll tell Cherpa. She’s ready for another break from dealing with the children, I think. When is this outing scheduled?”
“Not for several days next.” Ambling easily on all three legs, Jih’hune headed back toward the recently finished administration building. “There is nothing in the finding to suggest that haste is indicated.”
Their destination lay a considerable distance from the outpost, but not so far that suborbital transport was required. A boosted driftec was sufficient. Staying within atmosphere also allowed Ruslan and Cherpa to drink in the planetary panorama that unfolded beneath them. Seas and mountains, once fertile plain now completely overgrown by native vegetation, and the shredded geometric patterns of empty cities blended into a sumptuous visual whole that was as much a feast for the eyes as it was sorrow for the soul. All lost, all wasted, all slowly sinking back into the folds of the planet from whence humankind had drawn the original sculptures, he thought, with only himself and Cherpa left to try to uphold the memories of a once great civilization. And the children, he reminded himself. Not to forget the children.
The terrain where they finally descended was beautiful but not welcoming. Cold and tectonically warped, it had been diced by glaciers whose retreating footprints took the form of permanent slaps of ice and snow. Temperature-wise it was a radical departure from where the outpost was located. That they were properly dressed and prepared was thanks to the information that had been sent back by the Myssari probes in orbit.
Appropriate attire notwithstanding, the humans found themselves shivering slightly as they emerged from the driftec. Myssari did not shiver, but with their especially sensitive extremities overbundled, they were awkward and graceless. With the representatives of neither species willing to risk frostbite, it was evident from the start than any in-depth work would have to be done by weather-immune machines.
Hard country, Ruslan thought as he and Cherpa followed the pair of techs toward the nexus of the orbiters’ discovery. Not the place one would expect to find something of survivable significance. The terrain was striking, but it was not nearly as convivial as the outpost. Certainly Pe’leoek on Myssar was more amenably sited. He hoped the Myssari researchers would not want to stay too long.
There was nothing encouraging to see. No crumbling city towers, no expansive urban development, no suggestions of vast, mysterious industrial enterprises. Only rock and snow and a sky that was, admittedly, bluer than any he had yet viewed from the planetary surface. Blueness wasn’t enough to keep him interested. At least Cherpa had flowers to fawn over. Petite and brightly colored, they poked their colorful heads up everywhere a roothold could be found in the rocky soil.
“There.” Having come up behind his friend, Kel’les was pointing with two hands. Ruslan noted that the flesh of his mentor’s face and neck was tightening like drying leather, a sure sign of aging among the Myssari. With a start he realized that he had never seriously contemplated what his life would be like without Kel’les around to counsel him at every turn. He had just assumed the Myssari would outlive him. That was clearly not necessarily the case and he would have to find a way to deal with it. For now he preferred to think that the epidermal contractions he was seeing on his friend were due to the midday cold and not the vagaries of advancing age.
The techs had stopped. Or rather, their forward progress had been halted. Beneath a lip of overhanging granite and sunk within a cliff face was a single door. Perhaps three times Ruslan’s height and equally wide, it was a simple square slab of remarkably unweathered metal. Perhaps early terrestrial steel, he thought, though it was imbued with a faint golden hue he had never seen before. Leaving Cherpa to her flower gathering, he joined the techs, Bac’cul, and Kel’les in examining the barrier. Having grown adept over the decades at anticipating researchers’ questions, he answered the first before it had to be asked.
“No, I don’t know what it is or what it’s made of. I can’t imagine what lies behind it or why such a doorway happens to be located here, in such an inhospitable and inaccessible place.”
Having temporarily removed his gloves, one tech was intent on the flat pane of instrumentation he was manipulating with all three hands as he made slow passes over the door with the device. “I am having trouble obtaining a compositional analysis. Certainly there is iron present in quantity.”
“That is not surprising.” The tech’s companion resolutely kept her hands and sensitive fingers bundled in protective material. “As we were on approach, scans recorded the presence nearby of an iron mine of exceptional dimensions.” She indicated the mute barrier before them. “Perhaps this is a storage facility for pure, refined product from that mine.”
“Except that we detected no evidence of such a refinery.” Her colleague continued to study his readouts. “Which is not proof one did not exist here in earlier times. The machinery may have been removed for use elsewhere.”