Thunderbird (13 page)

She turned the light back on the transport device. It looked slightly different from the ones at the Roundhouse and on Eden, but not much. She swam over to it. The light picked up the icons. They were in the wall. She found the arrow, which was all she cared about. No time to think. She pushed it, pressed hard, waited, fought the urge to inhale, and got her feet down on the grid. Would the damned thing work underwater? Yes. It
had
to. It had brought her in.

The arrow lit up. Twenty-three more seconds.

She didn't think she could hold on that long without sucking water into her lungs. Her instincts wanted her off the grid, go somewhere, find
air
. But she held on and waited for the light.

Please.

She'd heard about what people think of during their last moments. Regrets. Friends they'd never see again. Things left undone. She experienced none of that. There was only cold terror, a gathering need to breathe, a sense that nothing else mattered.

Then the luminous aura appeared and formed around her.
It was working.

She reached the end of her endurance as the lights came on, and she collapsed, coughing and choking onto the floor of the Cupola.

•   •   •

S
HE
WAS
STILL
lying in a puddle of water when George Freewater found her. “You okay, Paula?” he asked, down on one knee. “What happened? You're drenched.”

She coughed. Brought up more water.

“Take your time,” he said.

“Never realized,” she said finally, “how I took breathing for granted.”

“What did you do?” He looked up at the post and the icons. “You went somewhere?” There was an accusation in his tone.

“Don't let anybody use the one with the octagon.”

“It's underwater?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He hesitated. “What were you doing, Paula? You know they don't want anybody screwing around with that stuff.”

“I know.”

“Did you use the other one, too? The lines?”

She looked at him for a long moment. She had never been a good liar. “Yes, George. I did.”

He took a deep breath. “So you saw the city?”

“Yes.”

“Did any of them see
you
?”

“No. I don't think so. I never really knew—” She gagged. Brought up more water. When she got herself together, she tried again: “I never had any idea what it looked like. It's incredible over there, George.”

He leaned over her. “You
are
okay, Paula?”

“Yeah. I'm fine.”

He got her off the floor and settled her in a chair. “So what do we do? We're going to have to warn everybody about the water.”

“First person over will be wearing a pressure suit. So there shouldn't be a problem.”

“Paula, I'm going to have to make a report. I won't mention that you told me about going to the other place. The city. But we wouldn't want somebody else repeating what you did. I don't see a way to handle it without giving you away.”

“I know, George.” Her eyes closed. “Do what you have to.”

“Can I make a suggestion? Go to the chairman and tell him what happened. Get out in front of it. Maybe he'll let you stay on.”

“There's something else.”

“What's that?”

“They found a bridge.”

Don't monkey with the buzz-saw.

—American proverb cited by H. L. Mencken, 1921

E
VERYBODY
WANTED
TO
see the bridge. John cautioned them to make as little noise as possible and led them upstream past the waterfall and around a couple of bends, broke through some heavy shrubbery out onto a trail, and there it was. It wasn't very big, probably only fifteen feet long. John examined the ground. “Footprints,” he said. “They look a bit large for any of us. Somebody wearing shoes.”

They took pictures. Of the bridge, the stream, and the footprints. “Do we follow the trail?” asked Chris, his face suggesting he didn't think it would be a good idea.

Jeff and Abe were concentrating on the bridge. “It's pretty primitive,” said Abe. Wooden planks and struts were held together with rope. But it felt solid when they walked on it. It was about ten feet wide, and it had handrails. The handrails were shoulder high.

“So what do we do now?” asked Brad.

April was looking at the sky. “I don't think we want to be stumbling
around in the dark,” she said. “Let's go back to the campsite. We'll deal with it in the morning.”

John used his radio to call the Cupola. But no one answered. “That's not good,” he said.

“She's probably asleep,” said Jeff. “Give it a little while and try again.”

•   •   •

C
HRIS
AND
A
BE
had collected some firewood, but it seemed like a good idea not to attract attention to themselves. Jennie asked whether any of the previous teams had spent any overnights away from the Cupola?

“Yes,” said April. “We've done it several times.”

“And nothing ever noticed you were here?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Brad opened one of his food packs. Dried beef entrée and assorted vegetables. With some cheddar cheese for dessert. He began eating, and they sat almost in silence, listening to the forest.

Abe started on some chicken. “You know, there's an interesting possibility that no one's suggested.” He kept his voice almost to a whisper.

“What's that?” asked Brad.

“Maybe the tech came from our end. Maybe there was an advanced civilization in the Dakotas back in ancient times.”

“You're not serious?”

“No,” he said. “Of course not. Although it would probably make an interesting theory to expound on your radio show. But it's pretty likely it didn't originate here either.”

John tried calling Paula again. George answered. “She's gone back home,” he said.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. All right. She told you about the bridge?”

“Yes. You figure out yet who put it there?”

“Negative. We'll take a closer look in the morning.”

“Okay. Guess this is the season for surprises.” George signed off before John could ask him about the plural.

Cornelius seemed annoyed. Or maybe scared. “What do we do in the morning? Do we actually try to make contact with whoever's here?”

“This is why we came,” said Abe.

“I understand it's maybe why
you
came.” John obviously didn't think saying hello would be a good idea. “The protocol says we don't do it.”

“Look,” said Abe, “I'm not suggesting that we go barging in anywhere. But eventually somebody's going to have to face up to it. We don't really want to go home and tell everybody that we found a bridge but were too scared to find out who built it.”

“I agree,” said April. “Let's try to track it down. Get it settled. But I don't think all of us should be involved. We'll play this carefully.”

Jennie did not look happy. “So who gets to sit here while somebody else does the mission?”

April's features tightened. “Since we don't know what we're facing, Jennie, I think we should save the bravado and show a little common sense.”

“I don't think anybody would disagree with that,” said Abe. “What's the plan?”

April looked around at her team. “First, we get a good night's sleep. John, I don't want you up all night doing lookout duty. Who wants to volunteer?”

Everybody was willing.

“Okay,” April said. “Let's go back to the camp. We'll run two-hour watches. I've got the first one. Brad, you're on next. Then Jennie. Then Abe has it until dawn. Okay? Everybody got that? In the morning, six of us will go up and follow the trail. The other two will make for the Cupola. Who wants to go back?”

Nobody.

Brad thought it would be a smart move. But, of course, he wasn't going to say that.

“All right,” said April. “We'll draw straws in the morning.”

“Do it now,” said Abe. “We don't want to try to sleep with that hanging over our heads. I don't think anybody here wants to go back while the other guys go up and make history.”

“All right.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

They found eight sticks, and passed them to her. She discarded two of them. “We only need six. John and I will not be drawing.”

“That's about what I figured,” said Abe.

She ignored him and cut the tops off two. “You pick one of the small ones, you go back, all right?”

“I can understand John,” Abe continued. “But how come
you
don't get to draw?”

“Because it's my decision. No way I can send somebody else up there while I stay back. And, John, I'm assuming you don't have a problem with this?”

“No,” he said. “It's why they pay me so well.”

That broke the tension. April arranged the sticks in her hand and offered Jeff first pick.

He studied his choices with an air of uncertainty, and drew a short one. “Damn it,” he said. “Let's wait until morning.”

Chris got the other abbreviated stick.

Brad never got to draw.

•   •   •

I
T
WAS
A
pleasant, cool place to sleep. Brad lay for a while looking up at the handful of stars visible through the trees. Both moons were in the sky. He was telling himself that the bridge certainly hadn't been built by savages, that they'd be okay in the morning, when Jeff showed up beside him. He shook him gently and put a finger to his lips. “Brad,” he whispered, “I need a favor.” It wasn't hard to guess what it would be. “Would you be willing to trade places with me in the morning? Please?”

Oh, yes, Brad would have been delighted to trade places with him. To
go back to the Cupola and let someone else track down the aliens. If there was a way he could do it without looking like a coward. “Jeff,” he said, “I'd like to. But I'm going to be doing broadcasts about this. There's no way I can back off.”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

“No,” said Brad. “I have to do this. Sorry.”

Jeff closed his eyes. “Okay. Thanks anyway. I understand.”

No, you don't, thought Brad.
You don't have a clue.

•   •   •

J
OHN
AND
A
PRIL
took the lead. They went back to the bridge but found no fresh prints. They turned right on the trail, away from the bridge. It moved gradually uphill in a more or less straight direction. As they approached the summit, the trees thinned out, and they got more sunlight. More flowers appeared, and small furry creatures peered at them from behind bushes. Then the trail divided, left and right, but still rising. They went right. John informed Jeff, who'd been given April's radio.

He'd just disconnected with the biologist when April raised an arm and stopped. “Heads up!” she said. Between the trees directly ahead, Brad saw a
cabin
.

They all ducked, trying to lose themselves in the foliage.

The cabin resembled one that would not have been out of place in a national park. It was one story, made of logs, and it had windows and a chimney. No smoke came from the chimney, and no light was visible in the windows. Brad couldn't see any movement inside.

The trail split again, an offshoot leading directly to the front door, which was about thirty yards away.

“Another crazy first contact,” said Jennie. “Who'd've thought it would be like this?”

John was motioning for quiet with his right hand.

Brad looked back over his shoulder to see whether anything was coming up behind them.

“What do we do now?” It sounded like Abe, but the voice was high.

Brad heard something scurry through the overhead branches.

John took his rifle down from his shoulder. He was kneeling behind a tree, the weapon pointed at the ground while his right hand curled around the trigger guard.

“April?” Abe again. “What now?”

“Are you kidding?” said Cornelius. “Back off. Let's get out of here.”

“I know this sounds crazy,” said Jennie, “but why don't we go up and knock on the door?”

“Not a good idea,” said John. “Whatever's in there won't be expecting visitors. Especially not anything that looks like us. We'll scare the hell out of it. Or maybe worse.”

“We're getting too loud,” said April.

“I vote,” said Cornelius, “we don't touch this. Let's go back to the Roundhouse and let the experts figure out what to do.”

“We're supposed to
be
the experts,” said Jennie. Brad hadn't taken much notice of her during the hike from the Cupola. She looked reserved, not at all the sort of person who'd show up on a project like this. She'd presented a generally reclusive manner until they'd found the bridge. And suddenly she seemed to become the leader of the pack. “April,” she continued, “don't we have guidelines on how to respond to this kind of situation?”

“My instructions,” April said without taking her eyes off the cabin, “are that we should avoid chance encounters if we can. If we can't, be nice to them. And defend ourselves if necessary. To be honest, I don't see how we can walk away from this.”

“It sounds to me,” Abe said, “that James would prefer we avoid them.”

“This is not a call for us to make,” said Cornelius. “I think we've gone far enough. If that's what the chairman would want, that's the way we should go.”

“The chairman's a politician,” said Jennie. “You know what will happen if we clear out? They'll send somebody else to go knock on the door. Then they'll classify everything, and we'll go to our graves without knowing who or what is in the cabin.”

Brad finally stepped forward. “The story will get out as soon as we get home. Either we go say hello, or it'll be all over the news cycle that we ducked.” Brad couldn't believe he'd just said that. But he didn't want to go back with such a huge question hanging over his head. In any case, he'd known April a long time, and he couldn't imagine
her
walking away from this.

Jennie nodded. “I'll go up and knock on the door. Everybody else stay here.” She started to get to her feet, but John stopped her.

“I think we're overreacting,” said April. “There's not much chance that whatever's up there would seriously try to harm us. It lives in a cabin, and it builds bridges. So it's probably not a savage. This is an opportunity that most of our colleagues would kill for. And we're talking about walking away from it? That's crazy.”

Cornelius shook his head. “Things could go seriously wrong. We're eight hours from the Cupola. April, I don't think there's a serious option other than to go back. Preferably leave now. And let higher authority make the call.”

“You know,” said Jennie, “we have a chance to make history here. Get our names up there with Darwin, Galileo, and the rest of those guys. I don't know about you people, but it's the only shot I expect to have. Ever.”

“All right,” said April. “If anybody wants to clear out, go. We'll wait a half hour. That should provide a decent head start. Then we'll go say hello. John, have you informed Jeff yet?”

“I was going to do that now. Just waiting for you to make the call.”

“Okay. Who wants to start back?” She looked around. No response. “Cornelius?” she said.

“No. I'll stay if the rest of you are.”

Nobody else spoke.

“Okay,” said April, “Then there's no reason to wait. Let's do it. “

“How do we manage this?” asked Abe.

April stood. “I've got it. The rest of you wait here.” John moved up beside her and gestured for the others to stay down out of sight. “You, too,” she continued, indicating the Sioux escort. “Stay. I've got this.”

“April, no.”

“Do it, John. If we have a problem, I want you back here where you can cover me.”

“No. You're not going up there alone.”

They stared at each other. “It might be a good idea,” Brad said, “if you guys got back down out of sight until you decide how you're going to handle this.”

April stepped out onto the path that led to the door and began walking. John followed her. There was no further debate. Brad was trying to recall if he'd ever seen a movie first contact event that had gone well.

The cabin had a porch. She was tempted to look in one of the windows first. But if she got caught, it would not be a good way to start the proceedings.

April was considerably more nervous than she'd let anyone see. She would have been happy to stay back and watch while John or Brad or any of them did this. But she was in charge, so she really couldn't allow that. She resisted the impulse to look back. Straight ahead, baby.

“You all right?” John's voice. She raised her right hand, wishing he'd stay quiet.

“I'm good. Stay back. Give me some space. And don't point the rifle at anybody.”