The Clones of Mawcett (2 page)

The archeologists moved aside and watched as Doctor Peterson directed the setup and use of the testing equipment.

“Most unusual,” Doctor Peterson mumbled when the initial examination was complete and he'd reviewed the findings. Raising his voice, he said, “The sonar won't penetrate the door or wall, there's no measurable radiation, and the X ray radiography shows absolutely nothing.”

“Then it would seem there's little left to do except force open the door slightly and take new readings,” Doctor Huften said.

Nodding or affirmative mumbling by each of the other scientific members communicated their concurrence that it was the only sensible action. The laborers were beckoned forward to force open the door using simple pry bars. As a precaution against possible security safeguards left by the planet's former inhabitants, everyone not participating in the labor intensive effort moved well back.

Failing to make any headway, the laborers advanced to a two-meter long wrecking bar that allowed several to push or pull together. And when the simple methods proved unsuccessful, they set up a hydraulic unit that exerted up to a hundred-sixty tons of pressure on the door. To everyone's amazement, the door still refused to budge a millimeter. As the hydraulic device reached its rated capacity, it automatically shut down. The laborers stood back and looked to Doctor Peterson in confusion.

Peterson scowled and threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, use the laser torch,” he said resignedly. “But only along the edge so as to minimize damage to the door and frame,” he added quickly.

After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to cut their way through the door, the laborers surrendered to its seeming invulnerability and turned off their equipment. When the laser had proven itself inadequate for the task, a plasma torch had been brought down into the tunnel. Although guaranteed to cut through thirty centimeters of solid steel, it too failed to make the slightest progress. The archeologists, who had all moved even further back when the plasma torch was ignited, now moved in from their positions of safety to examine the door.

“Amazing,” Doctor Huften said with obvious awe in her voice as she shook her head gently and slowly moved her hand towards the door until her palm rested against it. "Not a mark on the surface, and it's barely warm to the touch from the cutting efforts. The door seems to have just soaked up the energy and heat from the laser and plasma torches like a sponge sops up water, and then— dissipated it somehow.

“In my fifty-three years, I've never heard of a metal that's totally impervious to a plasma torch,” Doctor Ramilo said. “This is absolutely unprecedented.”

“It's fairly obvious,” Doctor Peterson observed, “that we're dealing with something incredibly unique here. We know that this planet has been devoid of sentient life for almost twenty-thousand years, but all previous discoveries have indicated the former inhabitants were considerably less technologically evolved than ourselves or any of the other species with whom we've made contact. Now we encounter a door that defies opening, and which is made of an unknown material that we can't cut, or even mar, with our most powerful, commercially available, cutting implements. There must be something of immeasurable value behind this door for the former inhabitants to have zealously guarded it so. If we remember our Earth history, the wealth of a pharaoh was placed in the burial vault with him. When the tomb was sealed, it was as impregnable as they could make it, to protect it from grave robbers. I can only imagine what magnificent treasures await us behind this door.”

“Then again, it might be just an empty vault,” Doctor Vlashsku offered. He was one of only two Nordakians in the scientific party, the other being his assistant, Glawth Djetch. The two men were the only ones in the camp taller than Peterson, owing to the natural size of their species. Where Nordakian women are seldom less than six feet tall, the males normally vary between seven and eight-feet in height. “Perhaps it was merely a place being prepared for some purpose, such as storage of hazardous materials. Or maybe it was a military installation, and contains weapons of incredible power; perchance the very weapons that destroyed the former inhabitants of this planet. Or maybe it was a shelter to be used in the event of an enemy attack.”

“Perhaps, Dakshiku, perhaps,” Doctor Peterson mumbled thoughtfully. Then more clearly, “Does anyone have a suggestion for our next course of action?”

“We should notify all the other teams on the planet immediately,” Bruce Priestly offered excitedly. “With so many brilliant minds, someone will surely know of a way to open it.”

“Not just yet, Bruce,” Doctor Huften said. “Let's try to find out what we have first, and then we'll announce it to the others. I'm not as young as you, and I have no desire to fight a hundred other archeologists to get a first look at whatever's inside.”

“But we're stonewalled, Doctor. We can't get the door open with the equipment that we have. We need their help.”

“I agree with Barbara,” Doctor Ramilo said. “Let's keep this to ourselves for now. It's already past dinnertime, so let's go eat. We can discuss the problem further over our meal. Perhaps even sleeping on it will provide some new insight. We can always inform the other dig sites in a couple of days. The vault, or shelter, or whatever it is, has been here for twenty-thousand years. It certainly isn't going anywhere.”

After carefully covering the expensive analytical equipment, everyone plodded wearily back to the campsite, where workers from the other on-site excavations were already finished with their evening meal. Most of the laborers preferred to eat outside and enjoy the sunset. Electronic bug traps that kept the campsite relatively free of flying insects did a much better job overall than the sticky mucous coating on indigenous trees that was always alive with tiny, recently-trapped arthropods struggling uselessly to get free.

The rest of the labor force immediately surrounded their fellows who had been working in the tunnel with the archeologists and began to ply them with questions as the scientists entered the mess shelter to eat.

Once they had selected their food and taken their seats at their usual table inside the mess shelter, the senior archeologists again began discussing ways to open the door, but nothing really new was offered. The junior members ate quietly, respectfully listening, as always.

* * *

Doctor Peterson felt someone shaking him roughly and came partly awake. “What? What is it? Who's there?”

“Edward, wake up! It's Dakshiku. The door is open!”

“Then close it, man, and let me get back to sleep,” Dr. Peterson said grumpily. “Your shelter's auto-sprayer will kill all the insects before they have a chance to bite you.”

“Edward, wake up. The door is open!”

“What? What door?” Dr. Peterson asked, a little more awake now. “What are you talking about, man?”

“The door to the vault! It's open!”

Doctor Peterson came fully awake as the information sank in. “How? Who? When?” he rattled off in quick succession as he tried to focus on Doctor Vlashsku's face in the darkness of the tent. The Nordakian was so excited that his skin was flashing different colors faster than a nightclub strobe. During times of emotional agitation, Nordakians lose partial control of their skin coloration. In extreme situations, control deserts them completely and they appear like spinning rainbows gone amuck.

“I couldn't sleep so I went down to the tunnel,” Doctor Vlashsku said. “I reexamined every square centimeter of the door and frame, but I couldn't find a thing that offered a clue for opening it. After a couple of hours, I just started yelling at it out of frustration. Then it suddenly creaked, and opened of its own volition.”

“On its own? You just yelled at it?”

“Basically.”

“What did you yell?”

“I don't know. I was weary and lost my temper. I screamed out of anger and frustration. The important thing is that it's open!”

“Okay. Okay. You're right. Wake everybody up while I get dressed.”

“The entire camp?”

“No, just the main staff— and the laborers that worked with us in the tunnel. Let the others sleep. They have their own work to do in the morning.”

“Right, I'll tell everyone to meet outside the door in fifteen minutes.” 

Some fifteen minutes later, a stimulated group of scientists in various states of dress and undress, and armed with light torches and an assortment of recording and measuring devices, was gathered outside the doorway.

“I still want to know, before we go in,” Doctor Ramilo said, “just what Dakshiku said to open the door.”

“I've already told you several times, Anthony, I don't remember,” Vlashsku said, with a touch of irritation in his voice. “I was tired and frustrated, and I just screamed at it. It creaked for a second, then opened noiselessly. That's all I can tell you.”

“You should have had the vid cams running, Dakshiku,” Doctor Ramilo said, his voice angry and accusing. “That's what they're for.”

“I was only examining the door; I never expected to actually find the key that would open it. You're right, I should have turned them on before I started. But— I didn't. And reminding me— over and over and over— that I made a mistake, will not alter the situation, Anthony.”

“What if Dakshiku isn't responsible for opening the door at all?” Doctor Huften asked calmly."

“What are you suggesting, Barbara,” Doctor Peterson asked, “that the door was opened by some life form inside?”

“In a word, yes!” she said emphatically.

“Impossible,” Doctor Ramilo said. “The life form would have to be twenty-thousand years old. That's the most recent date that evidence of planetary habitation will support.”

“Or possibly just asleep for twenty-thousand years,” Doctor Huften countered. “Perhaps we awoke it with our earlier attempts to gain entry.”

“Asleep for twenty-thousand years? Barbara, be practical,” Doctor Ramilo said. “Our most brilliant scientists say that a person in prime physical condition can only be suspended in stasis sleep for forty-two years. Then he'd have to be awakened and made completely healthy again before being put back in stasis. That's why no expeditions to other galaxies have ever been seriously contemplated.”

“That only applies to Terrans, Anthony. As an example of my hypothesis, let's use Alyysians. Their unique physiology, similar to that of a Terran frog, has allowed them to be frozen solid, and then revived centuries later. Our first contact with them was when a pre-FTL ship containing Alyysians was discovered by Space Command as it crossed our outer border. The occupants had all been asleep for more than seven hundred years. Think of it, Anthony. They were already underway when Galileo was still working to perfect a refracting telescope for astronomical observation. All were revived successfully.”

“What if this is a cryogenic prison facility?” Doctor Vlashsku asked. “Perhaps our tampering has begun an awakening process? We might be responsible for releasing the worst criminals in the galaxy. Look how strongly the facility is constructed.”

“Now everyone calm down,” Doctor Peterson said. “The door is open, and whether it's an invitation to enter, or simply a response to something that Dakshiku said, we'll never know unless we go in. Dakshiku, can you and Glawth please stop flashing. You're giving me a severe headache.”

“I'm sorry, Edward. We'll try. But you know that we can't completely control our chromatophoric cellular distensions when we get excited like this.”

“What happens if we all go in and the door closes behind us?” Doctor Ramilo asked. “We'll be trapped inside without anyone out here being able to rescue us. One of us should remain outside.”

“Good thought, Anthony,” Doctor Peterson said. “You remain out here and guard against that eventuality.”

“Wait a minute!” Dr. Ramilo said loudly. He wasn't about to remain outside when everyone else entered the— whatever it was. “Why me? I want to see what's inside as much as everyone else.”