Wine of the Gods 4: Explorers (7 page)

"
We'll take the kids with us, it's a rock scramble, not much serious climbing. Just make sure you stake the horses out where they can reach water," Question glowered at them. "We all know how you two can lose track of time."

"Yes, Mother." Never retorted. Question was nearly a decade younger than she was, but lived very much in the real world.

Lefty nodded agreement. "Really, we must be insane to trust the poor critters to you. How you managed to raise two children escapes me."

Dydit blinked innocently. "Fortunately being smart and resourceful, they have survived so far."

Both kids snickered.

"Seven years down and nine to go?" Question looked a bit wistful, and turned a bit abruptly to finish stripping the horse.

"Ha! Nobody touches Rustle until she's at least twenty. Maybe thirty." Dydit said.

Never raised an eyebrow at his possessiveness. Dydit
turned away and took charge of the horses, and she cooked dinner while the tired couple washed.

He wandered back and dropped his voice.

"Sounds like Question is ready to start a family. Surprised she hasn't, already." Dydit handed over plates.

"Gisele says she's so messed up by sudden power flows from the
lightning that she probably won't ever be able to carry to term. And she's half cooked herself a couple of times. We had to do some heavy intervention just last fall. Tubal pregnancy. The second time that's happened."

"I've seen her playing with
lightning and getting burned." Dydit stared into space for a long moment. "You know, it never occurred to me that there might be things that even the old gods couldn't fix."

They
travelled west for three days and dropped Lefty and Question and the kids off at the foot of the hills, then turned to the south for half a day.

The canyon was awesome. The river
roared
through it.

"The bedrock drops at close to a thirty degree slope." Never murmured through a meditation haze. "The rock is pretty fractured, we're going to have to melt it way down there for stability."

Dydit dropped down beside her, then hesitated. "I'd better take care of the horses, or you-know-who-will kill us."

"How about I put up a perimeter fence? Sort of a ten foot high shield? I can do about, hmm, that much and just lock it into the ground
. It'll fade in a couple of days."

"Move it a bit down hill. Better grazing and a low spot in the stream, not to mention we'll be able to get to the wagon."

"Oh, right. Better move the horses. I'll load the chickens up with water and grain."

Dydit left her there while he unharnessed the horses and turned them and the riding horses loose in the center of the magical corral. He walked back to the wagon and smacked into solid air.

"Sorry." The air thickened and fogged in front of him, and then an arch opened.

He stepped through, and looked back. The four horses grazed in a loop of fog. "I hope they don't gallop into it." He sank down beside Never and looped an arm over her shoulders. Time to build a bridge.

1 April 3477

Dallas
Twelve fifty-three

"We're detecting a large infrared emission to the northeast, sir. Most likely a grass fire."

Lon Hackathorn nodded. "Let's send out a drone to check the fire, we need to map that direction anyway. We can also check if the mixed up gravity readings even out with altitude." He smiled thinly. "We'll call it a hazard survey, instead of mapping, so no one will scream about the lack of gravity maps later. We've been here almost two weeks and haven't mapped diddly yet. We may have to drop the gravity maps completely."

Ray winced, but nodded his understanding.

Dimensional Exploration Cadres were expensive to field. Quite apart from the time and money spent finding a habitable and empty world, everything
had to be passed through a three and a half meter radius gate. Men, equipment, vehicles, fuel for vehicles, food for men . . .  Holding the gate open used energy at a shocking rate. Lon had another two weeks before his first scheduled supply gate. The couriers would drive in with a small tank trailer of fuel, crates of food and letters from home. AKA, the responsible party on the other side screaming for instantly good news to boost the company stock price.

A packet of return mail would be thrown through,
or injured or sick personnel rushed through, and poof! Gone.

But despite the overwhelming expense of
gate time, it still cost to keep people in the field. He could limit his gate times, but he couldn't make people stop eating. He needed to get some mapping done, even without the gravity meters, get his people doing more and working hard, and getting ready for the more challenging worlds to come.

Nelson was back from a week long trip along the mountain front, and reported nothing of special interest. His two assistants would be analyzing all their samples in the lab. The botanists still hadn't found any trees of any size. Doctor Galina was having trouble pinning dow
n the divergence point of this world from Earth. While of mainly academic interest, it was usually easy enough to find the divergence point from DNA comparisons. All of which he'd have to put in the next report. The next response could be guaranteed to be nasty. The Dallas Dimensional Exploration Limited Partnership needed a successes to stay in business. Two exploitable worlds would make the original share holders rich, three would make them wealthy beyond all imagination.

Ray followed him to the quiet landing strip.

"All right, Naomi, you've always claimed you could fly better than the computers. Now you have an opportunity to prove it."

The woman's smile was nearly blinding, as she leapt to her feet. "Yes, sir! Did they fix the grav meters?"

"No. Still no surveying. But. We've got a possible wild fire to the northeast, distant, but enough of a potential future threat, that I can authorize a single recon flight, so make it a good one. We want 100% coverage photos at, umm, let's do two thousand feet, so we get some wide coverage. Different routes coming and going."
And what the hell am I going to do about the non-functional gravity meters? Damn things have been in storage but they checked out before we mobilized. Is the problem the meters or the techie? Doctor Farr is not living up to her reputation.

Naomi
Haskell grabbed two scouts and maneuvered a drone out to the runway. She started the engine and checked the instruments, then left the drone warming up under the eyes of the scouts, while she plotted her most likely flight plan. Ray gave her the bearing and estimated distance to the IR emission.

"Good, this'll give us some coverage to the north and perhaps I can circle due east, then take a run west. Cover areas the ballo
ons won't be blown over."

The Aerial Mapping Trailer boasted a wide screen near-real time display. A few other off duty personnel eased in, curious, and eager for any change in their stymied exploration. The display lit as the drone lifted off and curved north. It followed the west
bank of the river, showing mostly grass and rolling hills. Brush here and there, and the young willow trees on the banks.

The river turned to the east where it came crashing out of a canyon in an impressive cataract. Th
e drone circled to get a wide view of the jagged ridge, then crossed, staying over the deep cut of the canyon until the sides disappeared abruptly.

"That's a bridge!" someone yelped.

"Probably natural," Lon said. "Haskell, can you circle around for another look?"

The drone was flying over grasslands again, and banked around to get a  good picture of the bridge. As it turned the camera looked over the valley,
the glacier to the north and past the far ridge to a lake beyond with a rocky island standing in splendid isolation far out from shore. Then back to the valley, and a good side shot of the canyon from that side.

The bridge was a graceful curve, with arched support lattice below. Roads led from either side down to the valley floor. The display showed a boxy object, then the elongated form of animals in a circular enclosure.

"Take a long slow pass over that box." Lon resisted an impulse to chew his fingernails.

The drone dropped and turned. The box was a wagon. Wood, at a guess, with gaudy red and yellow paint. Four horses. Two people sitting together, arms around shoulders, oblivious to the flying observer.

A throat cleared in the back of the room. "May I request a high altitude look at the
glacier to the north and that lake?" Nelson Manrique had slipped into the room.

"Do it," Lon ordered. His voice was stiff, and he felt cold.
I'm going to have to deal with natives, like it or not.

Horse and buggy era.  Recent Dimensional split or a separate evolution of humanity? He knew too much about the history of problems with native humans. Primitive societies tended to collapse under the pressure of the more advanced. Especially when the advanced civilization wanted all their mineral wealth. It wasn't good news for the Company, either. At a minimum, they could kiss colonization good bye, and labor worlds weren't very profitable.
Maybe we'll just drop this world.
The drone climbed up as it crossed over the icy heights.

"Big g
lacier. Look at the size of it! I think this may well be the northern Ice Cap."

The drone
swung around to the south, still climbing, and flew over the lake. They had an oblique view of the curved wall . . . the central island.

"Classic astrobleme." Nelson said. "I expect this other ridge is a ripple. Damn. I wonder how long ago it hit? Lon, I
must
get out there."

Lon bit his lip. "Let's be very clear, here. By astrobleme you mean, exactly what?"

"A crater where a bolide—meteor—hit. The drone was up to almost four thousand meters, so at a guess, that lake is two hundred kilometers across. If it weren't for that pair down there, I'd have said nothing could have survived that."

"That could explain why we've found so few large animal species,"
Rae Galina was half of the biology department, a genetic specialist. "And the genetic bottle neck less than two thousand years ago."

"Not a volcanic crater? You sure?"

"Oh, there's a superficial resemblance, but astroblemes are dug down into the surface layers, with a lip thrown up, where volcanoes build up over the surface."

Ray shifted unea
sily. "Perhaps we should talk to those people?"

Natives. What am I to do about
natives?
Lon felt nauseous. "I don't like the idea, but two people all alone . . . it's tempting. I don't know how long it would take to learn their language, find out where they are from."

"Could be a post apocalypse society. Traders, perhaps, using a bridge that somehow survived the cataclysm."

"No, the bridge was definitely built post meteor strike." Nelson sounded sure.

"Two level society. A small high tech elite who built that bridge and their serfs," everyone was speculating now.

"Make a circuit of the lake, then come back in a loop to the south," Lon ordered. "Unless we see signs of more people. Let's all start thinking about what we need to find out. And how to do it."

"The bridge could be the last gasp of a technical civilization brought down by the impact."

Lon shook his head. "No point in speculating until we know more. I think, though, that we'll assume the gravity meter problem is unfixable. Let's get a mapping program together. High altitude, geographic and cultural a priority. I want to know where these people came from and where they are going, the size of their population, everything."
Before the slaughter of innocents begins.

That got people moving.

They quickly settled on following the edge of the ice to the west to determine its extent. "If we reach an ocean, we turn south and follow the coast until fuel constraints say it's time to come back. Otherwise, we'll follow the ice edge, then loop back to the south on the return leg. We'll fill in the holes depending on what we see."

Nelson took off to get his hands on the crater. Hopefully he'd remember to try for some crater floor rock samples. Hopefully the natives would either have moved on or would avoid the noise of the gyp. Wherever they were going to or from, wasn't nearby.
The Cadre's actions now all pretty much hinged on Nelson's rock samples. If they were as bland as all the rest had been, they might as well pack it up and leave. "I should have gone along, contacted the natives. Damn it all." Lon hated leaving it all in Nelson's hands. Nelson had never had to make a hard decision. Didn't understand how horrific the results could be. His stomach rebelled at the thought of lunch and he walked back to his bedroom and stretched out in the dark. It didn't help. He had seen too much.

***

Movement on untrammeled planetary surfaces was a pain. No bridges made crossing a large stream difficult, and a major river impossible. So they headed north first, knocking stream banks flat where the streams were shallow enough to cross, and camped at the base of the ridge of steep hills just north of the canyon. Crossing the ridge was going to be a slow process. Ben and Javier prepared some small charges and a backpack rock drill and headed out in the early morning. Roxy broke camp and followed more slowly.

"If the bridge is impassable, we'll still be on the wrong side of the river," Nelson groused, climbing out to take yet another rock sample.

A shaped charge brought down enough rock to fill the latest gully and lower the edge. The two men scouted ahead on foot and pronounced it passable. Roxy took them over the fill carefully, then aimed across the slope toward a low spot in the ridge ahead. She stopped at the crest to take a good look at the terrain ahead as always, and in this case, to admire the valley ahead.

"Looks like we're through the worst of it, Nelson." She climbed out and took a stroll out to where she could look to the south. "There's the road to the bridge." She looked around for the scouts. "See if we can get down to the road."

With some fancy driving, they could. They both hopped out and felt the paving.

"I don't believe this." Roxy muttered. "It's textured in a diamond pattern, for traction. I'd have expected it to be more . . . worn, eroded."

Nelson walked to the edge, where a series of half meter tall, meter long slabs formed a barrier of sorts against the drop down the nearly vertical hillside, and felt the sharp square corners, studied the rock. "It's all granitite—metamorphosed granite. And damned if I can find a join." He walked up toward the bridge. Roxy followed him part way, then went back for the gyp. The road bed met the bridge at a sliding wedge.

"They must have some way of recrystallizing the rock once they have it in pl
ace. Is this all they do about thermal expansion?"

He stomped back to the gyp and dug out his harness and line. "I'm going down for a look.

The whole entire damn bridge was one chunk of rock.

Roxy winched him back up and they drove across the bridge with no further comment. Where the road hit the valley floor, they picked up the scouts, turned due east and made for the crater wall.

There were only two problem stream crossings; they were driving up the slope of the crater rim in two hours. They stopped where the slope steepened to camp for the night. No point in killing themselves rushing, when the goal was in sight.

The natives walked into camp just before the sun sank below the far ridge.

Or more precisely, they walked up and stopped about twenty feet away. Both men's hands were open, empty and on display as such. The scouts pulled guns as they leaped to their feet. Nelson froze, he hadn't the slightest idea where he'd put his stunner. Roxy dived for the gyp and pulled out a riot gun.

"Hoytoe. Mauwe enta t'camp?"

In the evening light Nelson could see that the man who had spoken had darkish blonde hair
, pulled back in a braid, and either a really good tan or was from this world's equivalents of one of the southern races. The other man had dark hair and moderately tanned skin. Both good looking. Large, well fed, healthy. Clean. Not like a lot of natives.