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They explored the hall for more than an hour, poking into nooks and crannies. When they tired of exploring St. George’s Hall, they set out along the footpath that led upward through a series of switchbacks.

If Mark had thought the climb to St. George’s Hall difficult, the climb to the summit made him wonder if he was ever going to get there. By the time he and Lisa climbed to Rock Gun, their clothes were one large perspiration stain. From the top, it was possible to see how narrow the summit of Gibraltar truly was. It reminded Mark of the spine of a razorback hog. Here and there along that spine were the twisted and rusting remains of installations that had taken the direct blast of the Turkish shell.

“I am beat. Let’s sit down and rest,” Mark panted as they reached a small flat area on the lower of two summits.

Lisa pushed a strand of wet hair from her eyes and nodded. The two of them found a boulder and plopped down on the hard rock with a sigh. As though of one mind, they reached for their canteens and drank deeply. Crushed ice still floated in the water, kept frozen by the canteen’s near perfect insulation.

Mark could not remember when anything had tasted so good.

After a few minutes, Lisa stood and stretched while Mark continued sprawled out on the rock. He watched her limbering up exercises with an appreciative gaze. As she bent over and touched a toe with the opposite hand, she glanced back at him from somewhere near her knee. “You had better get up or else you will be so stiff that you won’t be able to move.”

He nodded, tearing his eyes from her with reluctance. He tried to emulate her movements, but found that he was too stiff to reach much lower than his knees. He noticed also that she watched him as avidly as he had watched her.

Lisa turned away to admire the view that until now had required too much energy. To the north, were the dusky brown hills of Spain across the thin isthmus that had kept invaders at bay since the days when Gibraltar was a Moorish fortress. To the northeast lay the Mediterranean coast. To the west, the Gibraltar Straits Bridge was an impossibly thin line stretched against the dark blue of the sea. The few towers that rose to support the bridge’s vast span looked like toothpicks at this distance. Several massive ships were in transit through the straits, moving like black water bugs across a blue carpet. Along the coast, an air cushion vehicle made its swift way on a pillow of white foam.

Despite the haze of the morning, the day had turned out to be cloudless. A wind from the east cooled the sweat on his brow and suddenly made him cold. Across the straits, he could see Morocco and the sprawling metropolis of Tangier. A much smaller mountain than Gibraltar stood on the African shore, softened by the blue haze of distance. This was Mons Abilia, the other half of the Pillars of Hercules that had once marked the limits of navigation for Mediterranean sailors.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Lisa breathed in awed tones as he stepped close behind her.

“It is indeed,” he replied, slipping his arms around her waist.

They stood there for nearly a minute, neither of them moving. Then Lisa slumped back into Mark, pressing her body to his. She tipped her face up and back to present her lips. He leaned forward and kissed her, at first lightly, then with fervor. Breaking away, she turned and embraced him again. Still embracing, they sank to the white limestone and for long minutes, questing hands were busy. Finally, Lisa broke away, gasping. She sat up, caught her breath, and said, “I am hungry. Let’s find a place to eat lunch.”

Mark frowned, confused by the loud throbbing of his pulse. Then, he took a deep breath, stood, and brushed the dirt of centuries from his clothes. “Sure, why not? I am famished.”

They walked hand in hand along a meandering trail that paralleled the spine of The Rock, past the ruins of the old cable car station, and eventually came to a weather beaten sign directing them to St. Michael’s Cave. Neither of them spoke through the long minutes of their stroll, afraid to break the building sense of anticipation.

The cave turned out to be a disappointment. The stalagmites and stalactites were impressive, but centuries of human activity had somehow dulled their beauty. That and the constant drizzle inside the cave as water dripped from the tiny pores of the rock made their visit a short one.

“Down or up?” Lisa asked as they stood at the entrance of the cave. Below them in the distance was Europa Point, and all around the base of The Rock, the ruins that had once been the town of Gibraltar.

“Let’s take this trail to the left,” Mark replied with studied nonchalance that he was sure fooled neither of them. There were scrubby trees in view to the left and a few flat places where one might spread a picnic lunch in privacy.

Walking arm in arm, they rounded a steep bluff to find a small rectangular area that was obviously artificial. Whatever reason someone had for grafting this platform to the side of the cliff was not clear.

Perhaps it had been a sentry post from which to watch for strange sails on the horizon, or a radar site, or even the perch for a ground defense laser. Whatever its one time use, the space was several meters on a side and absolutely flat. A tiny grove of stubby broad-leafed trees had taken root in the fill dirt around the periphery and the center was covered by wiry grass. To the eyes of the young couple, it was as beautiful as any forest glen, and as inviting.

Without a word, they dropped their pocket belts and canteens and stepped forward to embrace again.

This coming together held none of the tentativeness of the last. They kissed with the ardor of new lovers; parting only when breathing became a necessity. Both of their chests heaved with desire as they stared into one another’s eyes.

By unspoken agreement, they began to shed their clothes. The race to disrobe was halted by the discovery that their hiking boots were too large to allow the passage of either pants or shorts. Had a distant watcher had them under observation, he would have been treated to the comical sight of two half-naked people collapsing to the ground to begin frantically pawing at the seals on their footwear.

After that, things would have become confusing as the ownership of various arms and legs became tangled and indistinct. Nor were the boots the only impediment to love. Small pebbles hidden by the long grass made the ground an uncomfortable bed. Neither noticed as they came together, limbs entwined in that most human of all embraces. Indeed, it was a long time before their conscious minds registered anything but one another.

#

The sun was low in the west when they quit The Rock, strolling arm in arm in long strides down Europa Road. They reentered the town where they had left it, on the slope above Ragged Staff Wharf. The long shadows cast by the setting sun turned the scene surrealistic as they reached the turning in the old road that would take them to the wharf.

Mark glanced at Lisa beside him and noted the change in her appearance. Her immaculate hiking outfit was now dirty and rumpled and perspiration lines streaked her well-scrubbed face. Her hair was plastered flat against her skull and much of her skin was caked with grime that disappeared beneath her clothes. Two of her buttons were missing (the result of being too hurried in their private glen). Their loss caused her to show considerably more cleavage than she had this morning. Her face was set in a broad smile that was only now beginning to show signs of weariness.

Mark suspected that his own appearance was not much different and, despite the warning twinges that told him that he would be sore tomorrow, he would have been happy to have this day go on forever.

“Look, a boat at the wharf!” Lisa said, pointing over the roofless ruins that had once been people’s homes. “More tourists, do you think?”

“Good thing we didn’t run into them about noon, isn’t it?” he asked with a laugh. He held out a hand to block the sun in his eyes and scanned the water of Gibraltar Bay. So far, there was no sign of the hydrofoil. It was half an hour until sundown.

“They had better hurry. I don’t think the captain would like to navigate through those wrecks in darkness.”

They were laughing when they reached the wharf and found Maurice Farner-Smythe waiting for them.

“Did you enjoy your tour of The Rock?” he asked in a hearty booming voice. The way his eyes scanned their dilapidated condition made it obvious that he knew they had.

“Very educational,” Mark said to the accompaniment of Lisa’s swallowed giggle beside him.

“Excellent. We always like our visitors to have a good time. Your ship sent a message to my office. They will be approximately 20 minutes late. Apparently, some of the women in your party did not want to leave the shops of Cadiz. Oh, and there is someone here who is waiting for you.”

“Who?”

“Good afternoon, Mark. It has been months.”

Mark froze at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned to discover Mikhail Vasloff standing behind him.

He had approached from the small office at the end of the wharf while the constable occupied Lisa and Mark.

“Hello, Mikhail. What brings you here?”

“I think we’d best discuss that in private. If you will excuse us, Constable.”

“Of course, Mr. Vasloff.”

Vasloff gestured for them to follow him. They trudged up the wharf in the direction of the old dry docks until they were well out of hearing distance from both Farner-Smythe and Vasloff’s boat.

“Who is this, Mark?” Lisa asked, her tone perplexed.

“Lisa, I would like to present Mikhail Vasloff, founder and chief executive officer of
Terra Nostra
.

Mikhail, this is--”

“Yes, Lisabette Arden,” he said, taking Lisa’s hand and leaning forward to kiss it. If he noticed the grimy condition, he made no sign.

“How do you know me, Mr. Vasloff?”

“By reputation, dear lady. I must say that you have done some fine work in linguistics. I especially like your
Monograph on the Dispersion of Phonemes in the Farsi Dialects
.”

“What are you doing here, Mikhail?” Mark demanded.

“That is a long story,” the white haired man said. “I missed you at Cadiz, so I hired a boat and came here.”

“How did you know we were on the boat to Cadiz?”

“Safety regulations. The moment you boarded, your personal serial numbers were flashed to the cruise line’s home office in Paris. Our computer search program intercepted the data stream and notified us of your whereabouts. I rushed down.”

“Why?”

Vasloff’s eyes sparkled in triumph as months of effort came to fruition. He paused a moment, cleared his throat, and said, “I want to meet the alien.”

For long seconds, Mark’s universe consisted solely of the piercing cries of sea birds, the quiet slapping noise made by small waves as they encountered the weathered stone of the wharf, and his own heart pounding in his ears. He was able to regain control of his voice long enough to squeak, “What alien?”

His response was met by a broad grin from Vasloff. “Too late, Mark. I can see by your reaction and that of Miss Arden that I am right.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Lisa said, a little too shrilly.

“Then let me enlighten you,” Vasloff replied. “
Magellan
discovered intelligent aliens. They brought one or more back here to PoleStar Station, where you and a large group of scientists have been studying them ever since. Your team includes--” Vasloff reeled off a dozen scientists’ names and watched his two listeners’ complexions turn paler each second.

When he had finished, Lisa looked Vasloff in the eye and said, “If you think we are harboring aliens, why haven’t you gone public with your information?”

The older man’s smile, which had waned, but never truly disappeared, grew broader again. “Good, we are through the denial phase and can begin negotiations. To answer your question, I have not released the news because I do not think having this become public is in anyone’s best interest. I would much rather come to a quiet agreement with you people than have this news dominate the holoscreens for the next several months.”

“I thought your organization was opposed to all things interstellar, Mr. Vasloff?”

Vasloff noted that Lisa’s color had returned to something like normal, an indication of the speed with which she was throwing off the effects of shock. “An oversimplification, Miss Arden.”

“How so?”

“I oppose interstellar colonization for what I consider to be good and valid reasons. I believe that such activity drains us of resources we can better use here at home and promises the public something they can never have, namely a world as good as this one. It does not necessarily follow, however, that I must also oppose contact with intelligent aliens. After all, Earth is unlikely to be any more attractive to them than their world is to us. Moreover, given the basic hostility of the universe to all living things, doesn’t it make sense that we all band together? Think of the possibilities for cultural exchanges, the potential for discovering new ways of looking at things, the different philosophical viewpoint! Doesn’t that excite you?”

“We haven’t said that there
are
aliens.”

Vasloff frowned. So far, the two had been reacting like the surprised innocents they were. His mention of cultural exchanges had caused them to exchange a look that was nothing like what he expected, as though they knew something that he did not. He responded to Lisa cautiously. “Of course not. I fully understand that we are speaking hypothetically.”

“But you would support contact with aliens?”

Vasloff shrugged. “How can I possibly know that until I know the details of that contact?”

“You are looking for veto power?” Mark asked.

“Not at all. I have spent most of my life as an outsider agitating to change the existing order. Believe me, Mark, I know the limitations of the role. What I am looking for in this case is a say in whatever is to be done. I want to be listened to for a change.”

“Your offer, Mikhail?”

“I will suspend my campaign against the Stellar Survey for the time being and keep quiet about what I know. In exchange, you people will give me full access to your data and to the aliens.”