3. A level lip of rock, as precisely flat as though honed, from which
the arches seemed to grow.
"Is this all?" Mr. Tucker asked.
"Yes, sir," Captain Meford said.
Mr. Ryan came to the viewing section. "It looks," he said, "as though
the cliff were split down to here and then hewn away to leave the
structures there and the apron."
"We found no tools, sir. There were no tools here, nor with them."
"Nothing else at all?"
"They left behind some four hundred chips of stone, apparently numbered.
We have them in the dome. And there's a two-line inscription on one of
the arches. There's nothing else."
High above the men and the ship, the new wind sang in one of the
inverted bowls and fluttered lightly over the inscription. It, like the
face of the cliff, was oxidizing. Dust filtered down before the recess,
alien symbols falling. Life is the recording angel of time. Without
life, all ceases.
"Dust," Mr. Tucker said. "Dust ... dust ... more dust. Soon the dust
will be over everything. When the wind is gone, it will be there to hold
our footprints."
Inside the air-conditioned scout, the men shivered.
"How did you come to find them?" Mr. Ryan asked.
"I saw the constructions from the photos, sir. This had been missed by
the mapping party. It's easy enough to see why when you see the
pictures."
"This the only one?"
"Yes, sir."
"How can you be sure of that, Captain Meford? It's a large planet."
"I had one of the machines scan the remaining maps for geometrical
patterns, sir."
"Isn't that done routinely?" Mr. Tucker asked rather sharply.
"Yes, sir. But you see, we've always expected that if we were ever going
to encounter intelligent life on a planet, it would be rather
widespread. Accordingly--and this is the routine procedure, sir, used,
as far as I know, by all contact parties--we ran through a statistically
significant sample of the terrain. There was nothing on Miracastle out
of the ordinary. There was the typical, low-order vegetable matter,
about what we always find. It was a very typical planet, sir."
The third man from the Earth Committee, Mr. Wallace, seldom spoke. When
he did, his voice was mild, and there was a sense of child-like wonder
in his tone. "The natives?" he asked.
"They ... had fled when we discovered the city."
"Where did they flee to?" Mr. Wallace asked.
* * * * *
Captain Meford glanced upward. Other eyes followed to end just below the
edge of the view screen. Above stood the sheer face of the cliff. Clouds
roiled below the summit, obscuring it from view.
"There is a long sloping plateau up there, and a series of natural caves
back in the next cliff face," Captain Meford said. This did not seem
adequate. He continued: "Most of the air-changing activity starts in the
low-lying areas, at first around the dome positions. It advances along
an elevation front, gradually drifting up. Little tongues are carried up
in advance by the heated currents. The aliens retreated before it. On
the plateau you can see the sentries. I guess they posted themselves
there, at intervals, between the edge and the new caves, to define the
limits of safety. They died there. Six of them. The rest, several
hundred, reached the caves. They are dead, too."
"I see," Mr. Wallace said.
"When you first discovered them--?" Mr. Ryan asked after a moment.
Captain Meford hesitated.
Mr. Tucker said: "I believe one of your men killed himself last
night--wasn't it? A technician? I was told he felt you could reverse the
air-changing equipment in time to save the aliens. I understand that was
very much on his mind for the last week or so."
"I'm not too familiar with the man, sir. He was on Captain Arnold's
shift, I believe."
"Captain Meford," Mr. Ryan insisted, "when did you say you first
discovered the aliens?"
Captain Meford hesitated. The others waited.
"They were then scaling the cliff, sir."
"And General Shorter, was he told of this immediately?" Mr. Ryan asked.
"I don't know when the general was told."
"You discovered them?"
"Yes, sir. I ... you see, at the time the winds completely prohibited
air traffic. As you know, the air scouts are not stable enough until ...
later. Later, I ... Yes, sir. I discovered them."
"Did you then inform the general?"
"No, sir. I informed the duty officer."
"Did he inform the general?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you tell the general?" Mr. Tucker asked.
"I was then in communication with Captain Geiger, and I felt he...." The
sentence trailed away.
"Would tell the general?" Mr. Tucker prompted. "Well, did he?"
"I believe he did, sir," Captain Meford said. He let out a long breath.
"May we see the aliens?" Mr. Ryan asked.
"I wouldn't advise it, sir," Captain Meford said. "High flights are
still very risky because of the wind velocities."
* * * * *
After the evening meal, General Shorter called Captain Arnold aside.
"Mind if I go over to Nine with you?" he asked. "The air around here
is--well, the fact of the matter is, I'd like to get away from them for
awhile."
"Of course not, sir," Captain Arnold said.
"We'll call it an inspection. Which might be a good idea at that. With
these people running around trying to interfere with my schedule. Poking
around. Asking questions. Taking men away from their work, basically."
He tapped his teeth with his right thumb in reflection. "I'd better
check up on all the domes tonight, just to be sure."
"Yes, sir."
"I wouldn't want anything to go wrong because they're here."
In the dressing quarters, they donned surface suits and exited through
the locks to Miracastle. In the area immediately beyond the Dome, the
solidly positioned connection rails radiated away. The general gestured
for the captain to lead.
The wind buffeted them. Inside the surface suits it was quiet.
"David?" the general asked.
"Yes, sir?" Captain Arnold said. He was fastening his safety line in the
keyed slot. He fumbled with it for a moment before the wind.
"You on suit communications?"
"Yes, sir." Captain Arnold straightened and moved forward. The general
replaced him and dropped his safety line in place with practiced
efficiency.
Captain Arnold, surrounded by dust devils, became a distant, indistinct
bulk. His motions were ponderous. The general could no longer see his
face or his expression.
"I do not entirely understand this, David," the general said
conversationally. "The investigation. I thought I had powerful friends
in the Corps. Though a man makes enemies." The general lurched awkwardly
over the broken surface of Miracastle, drawing the safety line taut. He
moved toward the connection rail again. "A general is separated from
much of his command. Some of the technical refinements are too
involved--and, of course, men hide their feelings." Once again he
struggled with the wind, turning slowly at the end of the safety line:
held from the devouring anger of the planet only by the slender
umbilical cord from the stars. "General Grisley, now. I think he's
sixteen star, in headquarters. He was a politician. He came up fast. In
fact, he was my adjutant a few years ago. He was always a man to hold a
grudge."
Captain Arnold made no reply.
"You know how politics is in the Corps."
Dome Nine rose from the swirling mist before them. The wind seemed to
increase in fury. And still, inside the suits, there was the sound only
of labored breathing and the general's voice.
"These natives," the general said. "They were very primitive, David."
Neither could see the other's face. "I can't think of them as
intelligent at all. I feel they were very low on the evolutionary
ladder. I wouldn't call it a city, as I've heard it called. Natural
formation, more likely. Nature plays strange tricks."
* * * * *
They were at the lock of Dome Nine.
Inside, the general removed his helmet. "David," he said, "I've been
meaning to talk to you for some time now. You've got a good career in
front of you in the Corps. You're going to move up. With a few breaks,
right to the top. I'm just now writing up my evaluation for your files.
I plan to give you a very fine recommendation, Captain. Normally, I
don't talk about this sort of thing, but I thought you might like to
know."
"Thank you, sir," Captain Arnold said uneasily, opening his surface
suit.
"Well, let's inspect the area, Captain."
The inspection was perfunctory. As he always did, the general paused at
the pile monitor and watched, in the Dante screen, the virtually
indescribable reactions being sustained far beneath the surface: molten
rock flowing and smoking. Orange, blue and white flames danced as though
in agony in the great, expanding cavern, danced and merged and vanished
and reappeared in an ever-changing pattern.
Back at the locks, the general bid Captain Arnold good-by and turned to
leave. Then, as if an afterthought came forward, he turned back.
"David, oh, David!"
"Yes, sir."
"Perhaps you remember a conversation we had a few weeks ago? I called on
you for some technical advice." He held his helmet in his hands.
"When was that, sir?"
"Oh, it was about the technical feasibility of reversing the
air-changing equipment, I believe. As you know, I can't be up on all the
technical, purely detailed procedure, for all phases of the operation.
That's what we have experts for." The last statement was unusually
jovial. "I believe you told me, David, that the process was too far
along at that time. Perhaps you remember?"
"General Shorter, when was that?"
"I thought you would remember, David. I'm sure it was you. Yes, I'm
almost positive it was. But if you say.... Well, David, it wasn't quite
so much as exactly a statement like that. But that was the general
meaning of it, you know, stripped of all the technical language. You
have to take it in the over-all context. That was the meaning I got." He
laughed tactfully. "You're like lawyers, all you technicians. You answer
everything yes and no at the same time. I hoped you'd remember the
conversation. I got that idea from it." The general waited. "Well,
David--don't look like that--it's not at all important. Just trying to
refresh my own memory. It's not important, really.... Good night,
David." He placed the helmet over his head.
"Good night, General."
Methodically the general completed his rounds. He laughed often and
joked with the men and seemed in exceptionally good spirits.
Back in his own quarters, he brought out his diary. With a weary sigh,
he sat down to it. He glanced at his timepiece. The day extended
backward almost beyond memory but it was not yet late.
After thumbing the diary listlessly for several minutes--pausing now and
then at a paragraph--he began to write. He put the events of the day
down precisely in their logical sequence.