Read Online Writers of the Future, Volume 28 by L. Ron Hubbard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L. Ron Hubbard
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“If we report this, MarsCorp will turn it into a Martian Disneyland. Most of those idiots on Earth care about nothing but making money, so this will become a cash cow vacation spot.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t think—”
“There’s dignity in this place, Malcolm. It’s a serious message, aimed directly at humanity, not some damned tourist attraction.”
“A message ? You don’t know that. If these were put here by some other intelligence, it could have just been a water cache.”
“It’s a message designed for us. What better way to signal Earthlings coming to Mars ? We’d be looking for water. Even if this is several million years old, and they didn’t know what we would be like, they would still know any species coming from Earth would need water.”
I swallowed and tried to control my building frustration. “You may be right, but we have tools at the base to protect these artifacts while we study them. If there’s a message, we’ll find it. I’m going to call it in.”
He stared at me, but there was no anger in his eyes, only cold determination.
“I have to, Jack.”
He nodded inside his helmet and then grabbed both of my arms in an iron grip. “I knew I couldn’t trust you with this, so I guess we’ll do it the hard way,” he said. “Into the hole.”
“What ? ” I was confused.
He started pushing me backward toward the opening in the floor. “I don’t want to damage your suit, but, if you don’t jump down into that hole, I’ll throw you in.”
“Oh, come on! You can’t—”
“Now, Malcolm!”
I turned my torso enough so I could look down into the hole. The ice floor was easily twenty feet down, much too deep to jump out, even with Martian gravity.
“Jack, don’t be—”
He gave me a little shove and I staggered backward toward the hole. I had no choice but to jump or would have fallen in butt first. I landed on the slick surface with a bone-jarring thump, but kept my feet.
He stared down at me, still wearing that cold, blank expression. I considered the possibility that my best friend was about to kill me. It would be easy enough and hard to prove.
“Jack, what—”
“I doubt that you can contact base from down there, but I’ll call in your location. Your MarsCorp lackeys will be here to rescue you in a couple of hours. And, boy, will they be surprised at your spectacular find.”
Before I could answer, he disappeared from view.
H e was wrong. Reception was bad down in the hole, but I did make contact with the base. My call generated equal amounts of excitement and incredulity. I wished I’d thought to record video, but hadn’t planned on reporting from a hole within a hole. I could tell by their carefully phrased responses that they only half believed me, but would hold their skepticism in check until they could see it themselves.
They also gave me bad news. A large dust storm was rolling in and would prevent launching a dirigible. Courtney said they were sending the ground trucks immediately, but it would be four hours minimum, depending on the storm’s severity.
The link faded into static. I looked up and could only see pale powder spiraling into the hole. Sandstorms on Mars carried millions of tons of the talc-fine dust that could easily bury me. I pulled the climbing axe from my belt and tried to hack hand- and footholds into the hard-packed wall.
Ten minutes and three handholds later, I paused to check my oxygen usage. Five hours and twenty minutes at my current rate. I had to slow my breathing.
I looked up and saw only dust swirling in my helmet lamp, then caught a metallic glint. Jack had not taken the ladder. I fumbled the line from my utility pouch and tied on two chisels about ten inches apart. On my fifth try, the makeshift bolo did not come back. I pulled and tugged. The ladder jerked suddenly and sailed into the hole, hitting my shoulder on the way down. I cursed, then held my breath waiting for my suit alarms to tell me I had a tear, but
“Oh, come on. You don’t think—”
“There’s dignity in this place, Malcolm. It’s a serious message, aimed directly at humanity, not some damned tourist attraction.”
“A message ? You don’t know that. If these were put here by some other intelligence, it could have just been a water cache.”
“It’s a message designed for us. What better way to signal Earthlings coming to Mars ? We’d be looking for water. Even if this is several million years old, and they didn’t know what we would be like, they would still know any species coming from Earth would need water.”
I swallowed and tried to control my building frustration. “You may be right, but we have tools at the base to protect these artifacts while we study them. If there’s a message, we’ll find it. I’m going to call it in.”
He stared at me, but there was no anger in his eyes, only cold determination.
“I have to, Jack.”
He nodded inside his helmet and then grabbed both of my arms in an iron grip. “I knew I couldn’t trust you with this, so I guess we’ll do it the hard way,” he said. “Into the hole.”
“What ? ” I was confused.
He started pushing me backward toward the opening in the floor. “I don’t want to damage your suit, but, if you don’t jump down into that hole, I’ll throw you in.”
“Oh, come on! You can’t—”
“Now, Malcolm!”
I turned my torso enough so I could look down into the hole. The ice floor was easily twenty feet down, much too deep to jump out, even with Martian gravity.
“Jack, don’t be—”
He gave me a little shove and I staggered backward toward the hole. I had no choice but to jump or would have fallen in butt first. I landed on the slick surface with a bone-jarring thump, but kept my feet.
He stared down at me, still wearing that cold, blank expression. I considered the possibility that my best friend was about to kill me. It would be easy enough and hard to prove.
“Jack, what—”
“I doubt that you can contact base from down there, but I’ll call in your location. Your MarsCorp lackeys will be here to rescue you in a couple of hours. And, boy, will they be surprised at your spectacular find.”
Before I could answer, he disappeared from view.
H e was wrong. Reception was bad down in the hole, but I did make contact with the base. My call generated equal amounts of excitement and incredulity. I wished I’d thought to record video, but hadn’t planned on reporting from a hole within a hole. I could tell by their carefully phrased responses that they only half believed me, but would hold their skepticism in check until they could see it themselves.
They also gave me bad news. A large dust storm was rolling in and would prevent launching a dirigible. Courtney said they were sending the ground trucks immediately, but it would be four hours minimum, depending on the storm’s severity.
The link faded into static. I looked up and could only see pale powder spiraling into the hole. Sandstorms on Mars carried millions of tons of the talc-fine dust that could easily bury me. I pulled the climbing axe from my belt and tried to hack hand- and footholds into the hard-packed wall.
Ten minutes and three handholds later, I paused to check my oxygen usage. Five hours and twenty minutes at my current rate. I had to slow my breathing.
I looked up and saw only dust swirling in my helmet lamp, then caught a metallic glint. Jack had not taken the ladder. I fumbled the line from my utility pouch and tied on two chisels about ten inches apart. On my fifth try, the makeshift bolo did not come back. I pulled and tugged. The ladder jerked suddenly and sailed into the hole, hitting my shoulder on the way down. I cursed, then held my breath waiting for my suit alarms to tell me I had a tear, but
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