The Depths of Time (72 page)

“
Admiral Koffield?
”
Norla reached out and put her pressure-suited hand on the arm of his suit.
“
Anton? Anton? What is it?
”

“
It
’
s too much,
”
he said.
“
Too much.
”

“
Too much
what?”

“
It
’
s the answer,
”
he said.
“
It
’
s the answer, ail right. But the answer to a very different question.
”

“
What are you talking about?
”
Dr. Ashdin demanded.

Koffield pointed at the string of digits, his arm straight out, his forefinger stabbing at the numbers.
“
That is
not
random,
”
he said.
“
It is the thirty-digit combination to my personal pack compartment on my cryosleep canister aboard the
Dom Pedro IV.”

“What?”
Norla shouted.
“
It
’
s
what?”

“
I don
’
t understand,
”
said Ashdin.
“
How could that be?
”

Koffield ignored both of them.
“Damn
the man
’
s ego. His arrogance.
”
He spun around and studied the string of letters and numbers there.
“
It
’
s got to be,
”
he muttered to himself.
“
Backup. He would have needed a backup.
”
Koffield punched commands into the comm panel set into the arm of his suit.
“
I
’
m switching over to the main comm channel. You two do the same. I—we—may need witnesses on this. Koffield to Research Dome comm central. Do you read me?
”

“
Research Dome comm central,
”
a bored-sounding voice replied.

“
Comm central, this is an emergency. More than a life-and-death emergency. Can you receive the signal from my suit
’
s helmet camera and relay it?
”

“
Ah, yeah, I guess.
”

“
Then get ready to do it. And locate Captain Felipe Henrique Marquez. He is most likely aboard his ship, the Dow
Pedro IV,
docked at Shadow-Spine Station. Find him, get him to a comm station, and patch voice comm back and forth from him to me, and patch my helmet camera signal through to him. Make it happen
fast.
Did you get all that?
”

“
Yes, sir.
”
Whoever was on the other end of that comm channel heard the urgency in Koffield
’
s voice, heard the tone of command, and had the sense to take both seriously.

“
Then do it, and fast. There
’
s not a great deal of time.
”

Koffield turned to Ashdin.
“
Lights,
”
he said.
“
SunSpot is setting. There are portable lights in the equipment cart. Get them. Fast.
”

“
But what is it?
”
she demanded.
“
What do the numbers
mean?”

Koffield shook his head.
“
Either I
’
ve gone around the bend just now, or else DeSilvo went mad before you were
born. Maybe he and I are both mad.
”
He gestured with outstretched arms to indicate the tomb.
“
Unless I
’
m insane, this entire place is—is a message in a bottle. And DeSilvo addressed it directly, specifically, to
me.
Damn the man! Go! Lights!
”

Ashdin went.

Koffield checked his chronometer, then looked at Norla.
“
They
’
re going to blow the dome in twenty hours. We have to be done and ready long before then. The heat might get bad enough to damage something.
”

“
Done with
what?”

“
Taking this place apart and getting whatever we find into shielded, insulated containers. The urn, of course. That
’
s obvious. We
’
ll take it, but leave it sealed until we can get it examined.
”

“
Sir—Anton—if I
’
m understanding you right, you
’
re saying that up there is the combination you used to lock up your travel case? The one with your evidence in it?
”

“
That
’
s right.
”

“
Then DeSilvo is the one who—
”

“
Exactly. And that string of numbers on the wall has been there for a hundred years, waiting for me to get to this system and play tourist.
”

Ashdin came back in with the lights.
“
Did I hear that right?
”
she said.
“
You honestly believe this whole tomb was built for your benefit? To send
you
a message?
”

“
Yes, yes,
”
Koffield said.
“
I know what it sounds like. Do you think it sounds any saner to me? But there it is, on the wall.
”

“
According to you,
”
Ashdin said.
“
Your memory could be playing tricks. Or maybe you
’
re playing tricks.
”

Koffield nodded.
“
Maybe I am,
”
he agreed.
“
I wish I were. But that
’
s what the call to Marquez is about. Let
’
s get these lights up and running.
”

The SunSpot was about to set, but they worked fast, and just about had the lights rigged when Marquez
’
s voice came over their helmet radios.
“
Admiral? What
’
s going on? We got some damned-fool call that there was an emergency.
”

Koffield nodded, though of course Marquez couldn
’
t see it.
“
And there is. But once again, my friend, I cannot explain what it is, for fear of prejudicing you.
”

“
Prejudicing me? About what?
”
Marquez chuckled.
“
But it occurs to me you will choose not to answer that question.
”

“
Let
’
s see if you can answer for yourself. Are you getting the feed from my helmet camera?
”

“
They are just patching it through now—there we are. You
’
re inside some sort of stone building, it looks like.
”

“
Yes, we are. I am going to give you a look at some letters and numbers that are carved into the wall here. I want you to tell me if they mean anything, anything at all to you.
”

“
Very well.
”

Koffield turned carefully, and pointed his helmet, and the camera, straight at the right-side wall.
“
Can you see clearly?
”

“
Yes, I can—I can—
meu dens.
Koffield. That
’
s—that
’
s— devils in chaos, we
’
ll have to rebuild the whole security system. But how did it—
”

“
What
is
it?
”
Ashdin demanded.

“
No sense worrying about security,
”
Koffield told Marquez.
“
This cat is very much out of the bag. It
’
s been on public display for about a century or so.
”

“
A
century?
But then—then. Good God. Stars in the sky. So
that
is how it was done.
”

“
Answer me!
”
Ashdin half shouted.
“
What is it?
”

“
It is my command access code alphanumeric for the
Dom Pedro IV.
With that access clearance, you could command or reprogram virtually every system on this ship. Admiral. Where are you? What place has this on the wall?
”

“
The same place that has my cryocan
’
s personal storage combination on the opposite wall. The tomb of one Dr. Oskar DeSilvo. And it means that
he
was the one. He did it.
He
used one code to sabotage your ship. He marooned us all in the future. But that was just collateral damage that happened because
he
decided to make sure my warning got here a hundred and twenty-seven years too late to save anyone. Then he used the code on the other wall to steal my data, my evidence, and replace it with a wad of
melted plastic and scrap, to try and make my warning not
only too late, but too flimsy to be believed.
”

Koffield turned his head from the wall and looked
toward the urn that might or might not hold the ashes of a megalomaniac.
“
Oskar DeSilvo.
He
did it. And for what
ever bizarre reason, he left a coded confession that only
you and I could read, on the walls of what is supposed to
be his tomb.
”

“
But
why?”
Marquez asked.

No one spoke. Not even such an expert in interpreting
symbols as Dr. Wandella Ashdin could answer that one.

“
Damnation!
”
Koffield swore as he yanked again at the urn.
“
How in the hell is this thing attached?
”

“
Wait a second,
”
Norla said from the other side of the marble sphere.
“
Pull it again, the same way.
”
That time she had definitely seen a crack between the urn and the top of the globe of Solace. Koffield pulled again, harder, and the crack reappeared. She forced her improvised crowbar—which had started the day as the equipment cart
’
s tow handle—into the narrow gap.
“
Okay, I
’
ve got the tip of the bar in under it. Keep up a steady pressure, and I
’
ll rock the bar up and down, try and force it in farther.
”

“
Okay.
”

Norla checked her outside temp gauge. It was showing fifty-five degrees Celsius, more than halfway from freezing to boiling, not quite halfway to the target temperature of one hundred twenty. But Norla was pretty sure fifty-five was already hotter than it ever got on the surface of Earth.

Didn
’
t matter. Nothing mattered. Just get the damned urn off the top of the globe and into one of their cooling bags. Protect it so whatever the hell was in it wouldn
’
t be destroyed by the max temps.

And what
was
in it? There was not a damn way in the world to know. Maybe it actually held nothing but DeSilvo
’
s ashes, and if so, that would be good enough for Norla. The damned old ghoul had risen from the dead one time too many for her tastes. He had been there, in the background, in the shadow, everywhere, from the moment she had boarded the
Dom Pedro IV,
DeSilvo
’
s sabotage programs already preprogrammed into the ship
’
s control systems. There in the sinfully self-absorbed Gondola, there pushing the refugees, the gluefeet, up off the planet he had built so shoddily, there humiliating Koffield in front of Raenau.

No, ashes were too good for him. Norla would prefer to see Oskar DeSilvo with a stake through his heart.

But if not ashes, then what? There was no way in the world to know. She leaned in harder to force the tip of the handle in deep. There. Yes.
“
It
’
s definitely starting to give.
”

“
Good,
”
said Koffield.

“
Why isn
’
t Wandella back yet?
”
Norla asked.
“
Dr. Ashdin, you back in radio range yet?
”

She got an answer back this time, if a bit broken up.
“
—hear you,—ore or—ess.—idn
’
t have much luck.
”

Ashdin had been scavenging the area for tools, or anything else that might come in handy.
“
Well, we
’
re making progress as it is. I think. You might as well come back.
”