The Unearthing (13 page)

Seven strangers sat around a large horseshoe-shaped table. They waited, silently looking one another over, too nervous, perhaps too excited to speak. James and Peter were the only two in the room who knew each other, though they recognized a couple of other faces around the table. Finally Echohawk came into the room and all attention focused on him.

“Hello everyone,” He said, “I’m guessing none of you have really had much chance to talk to one another and so probably I’m the only person in the room everyone knows. So, let’s go around the table starting with
you
, Sonia.” The dark-skinned woman on the far end of the horseshoe swallowed hard. She tugged nervously at the side of the hijab she wore. She hated public speaking, even to so small an audience.

“My name is Sonia Aiziz,” She said, her voice wavering with nerves, “I…I am a linguist from the University of Gaza antiquities department. My specialty is ancient languages. I was on the expedition with Professor Echohawk that discovered the Quipu repository, in Columbia.”

“Don’t be so modest, Sonia,” Echohawk said. “You were essential in discovering and
deciphering
the Quipus we found.” The Palestinian woman smiled and looked away, demurely. She loathed the spotlight, preferring to work from the background. Echohawk nodded to the next person in line.

“Hello everyone,” The portly older man said, “I’m Everett Scott, late of the Bombardier Aerospace firm, in Montreal. I’m a design engineer, specializing in spacecraft design. Although I didn’t know Professor Echohawk prior to the Ship being found, I understand he’s been kept abreast of my work by one of his associates.”

“An old friend of mine was involved in the shakedown flights of the DF-104 jump plane,” Echohawk said, before gesturing to the next person sitting at the table, a young Asian man about the same age as Peter.

“I’m Doctor Mark Kodo,” he said, “And I’ll be your biologist. If there’s any sign of the beings that built or piloted the Ship, I’ll be the one investigating. I guess I’m on this expedition because of my work in the Arctic, where I helped discover the Rothschild Subterranean Oasis and an entirely new and flourishing species of trilobite.” The Rothschild Subterranean Oasis was a network of caves extending deep under the Antarctic ice sheet, heated by volcanic vents. There was little by way of plant life in the caverns; however, Kodo had discovered a species of trilobites, insect-like creatures long thought extinct, positively thriving in the caves, feeding off of mosses and lichens. The trilobites had been cut off from the world for millions of years and instead of dying off had evolved and prospered. The man sitting next to Kodo nodded appreciatively. He was in his early sixties, gaunt, his face weathered and his hair cropped short and spiky.

“I am Professor Michael Andrews,” he said, “Until recently I was Dean of Mathematics at Oxford. However…things didn’t quite work out. I’ve published some rather obscure and extensive papers on fractal equations, mathematical constants in the known universe and the laws of statistical probability. Given the likelihood that aliens attempting to communicate with lesser species would first try and build a common primer using the periodic table and mathematic sets, I will be helping linguistics decipher the alien script we can expect to find everywhere within the Ship.”

He nodded towards Professor Aiziz who smiled back.

“And I am Doctor Simone Cole,” The woman seated next to James and Peter said, “I’m a trained physician, psychiatrist and abnormal psychologist. I’ve worked with INTERPOL and the FBI, profiling and hunting down many serial killers, including Ludwig Gorsky. My skills as an abnormal psychologist will be applied to trying to understand a little more about the alien minds behind the Ship, as well as serving as heading up the Expedition’s medical staff.”

“He’s James Johnson,” Peter said.

“And He’s Peter Paulson,” James added, “And everyone here’s had a chance to meet us already. I’m the Prof’s head geek and hacker; I have a major in geology, a minor in archaeology and ended up getting involved in all this thanks my skills with a console. I sent the feed to INN about the Ship’s discovery and will be hopefully smegging around with the Ship’s computer systems.”

“I’m an archaeologist, myself,” Peter said, “With backgrounds in anthropology, geology and mineralogy. I’ll be working mainly with Engineering, looking at the metals and alloys used to build the Ship and hoping to discover Peternium, Paulsonium and any other new element or compound that I can tag with my name.” Everyone laughed or smiled politely at Peter’s joke.

“Now that we all know each other a little better,” Echohawk said, “Let’s take a look at what we’re expected to accomplish, as part of the Ship Survey Expedition.” Echohawk pulled out a handheld remote and a display screen rolled down from the ceiling. The thin flexible fabric of the screen instantly powered up and began the presentation that the World Ship Summit and the Oversight Commission had prepared. They worked through it within an hour; covering their mission statement, objectives and rules of safety and conduct expected of the members of the SSE while they were on duty. The presentation was dull, despite the efforts Echohawk made to bring life to lifeless material. Finally, it was done with; the SSE members were visibly relieved to be through the presentation, some even fidgeting in their seats.

“Well, that’s over with,” Echohawk said, “You will of course all be expected to give the same presentation to your departments, now that staffing is completed. We’ll be making our first foray to the Ship the day after tomorrow. That will give you tomorrow to break in your respective crews. Concluding our official business today, we have a special treat. If everyone would accompany me, please,”

Echohawk led them from the room, out into the air of Fort Arapaho. The military base was a hive of activity as soldiers scrambled about, preparing the last installations necessary to protect the Ship Survey Expedition and defend the Ship. From what invaders, Echohawk did not know. A barracks building was being assembled from prefabricated sections. The barracks would be six storeys high when complete and the Army Corps of Engineers were hard at work. Echohawk led the Ship Survey Expedition through the bustle to the base’s airstrip, where a large helicopter sat waiting. Green and gold, resting on large rocker arms it reminded Echohawk of an insect, especially with the large double blister windscreen in the front. Echohawk, James, Peter, Aiziz, Andrews, Scott, Kodo and Cole climbed into the back of the helicopter, which had two wide benches facing each other, sandwiched between two large observation windows.

The airstrip was located near the ridge of rock that dropped off some seven kilometres to the Ship below. From here the Ship was visible below and around them. The Shipsong was distinct, heard not over the noise of activity around them but accompanying it; it was all-pervasive and all-inclusive, turning even the most random sounds into part of its eerie alien symphony. As the helicopter dusted off, half a world away the World Ship Summit was announcing the makeup of the Ship Survey Expedition. As they flew out over the Ship, two billion people logged on to INN, in what would be the world’s largest ever recorded number of simultaneous unique hits to a single Grid spar.

♦♦♦

The Ship was spread out beneath them in all its magnificence. Even at the altitude the helicopter had climbed to, it stretched in all directions, radiating brilliance as the sun reflected from its eastern surfaces, the western end of the Ship blanketed in a crescent shadow lit only by glowing blue energy conduits that danced across its surface. While his ex-wife would forever remember an airbase in Houston, Texas as the moment the Ship changed her life, Echohawk would forever remember the image of the Pyramid as it reflected the sunlight into a brilliant spear right back into the sky. For a moment he thought he saw the outlines of massive portals just below the ring on which the secondary pyramids circumvented the Ship’s dome. But it was only an illusion created by the natural curves of the hull of the Ship. They crossed the Pyramid heading northwest, until they came upon the Zuni mountain range. The mountains ended abruptly in a razor-sharp cliff curved along the edge of the Ship’s dish, dropping straight down along a sheer and flawlessly smooth slice through the stone and soul of the mountains. The helicopter banked around from the wall of stone and dropped down nearer to the surface of the Ship. Echohawk leaned to look out the window at the topography of the Ship, as it rushed away beneath them.

“Can we get this door open? Would we decompress or something?”

“At this speed the door stays shut from inertia,” The Co-Pilot said, “We’d have to land to open it. I’m only authorized to land this bird where I picked her up, but we’ll do it on other flights. Keep the door open, I mean. Climb on the next one, if you like. One extra ride won’t make much difference; we got all manner of people flying today: members of Congress, foreign dignitaries...the press…shit; we’ll be flying all day.”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” Echohawk said.

“We’ll be coming up on the falls, soon,” Peter interjected. And they were. The helicopter had rounded away from the Zuni Mountains and followed the rising dome of the Ship back to the south. The Ship’s upper hull looked like a small mountain itself; rising gradually from the outer edge of the Ship’s disk, curving up and up again, lording over the plain of its dish and encircled by a wall of earth and stone.

To their left were the walls of Ship’s Canyon, as it had become known. Perfectly smooth, the drop ranged from ten kilometres at its highest to four at its lowest, from the surface of the Earth to the Ship below. A small rain cloud had gathered itself around the Salado Falls, as they were now called. Seven kilometres above, the Rio Salado had been cleaved apart during the Unearthing. Now the river ended abruptly in a huge cascade, spraying down over the Ship. White water and the constant rain of spray struck the Ship; a cloud of mist bathed the canyon beneath the falls, glowing eerily with the reflected light from the Ship’s systems. Authorities were concerned that the river would run itself dry and talks about the engineering necessary to divert the river before it was too late were under way.

The pilots kept the helicopter a respectful distance from the clouds and the waterfall, but they lingered; as all were transfixed by the site of a colossal waterfall that had only existed for a matter of days. Soon they were on their way back to the landing strip at Fort Arapaho, the Ship even more real to each of them than it had been before. Despite having found the Pyramid, despite having seen the Ship from the Ramp or the edge of Ship’s Canyon countless times, only now did they truly feel its presence. Only now did they understand the magnitude of the Ship’s significance. The gravity and significance of the task ahead left them sober with fear and humility.

SIX

OATHS OF OFFICE

It was a miserably cold and rainy day. A massive storm cell had stalled over the Ottawa valley and showed no signs of dissipating. Cold, hard rain came down, dampening and chilling the air to unseasonable lows. It was almost black out as the newly sworn-in Canadian Minister of Defence left his Ottawa residence for the Hill, the short trip to the waiting car left him shivering. The waters of the Rideau Canal that afternoon were choppy and black, the streets slick and the skies promising more to come. The Peace Tower seemed forbidding to the Minister as they drove toward the Hill along Sussex Drive. The American Embassy flashed into view, an eyesore: a steel and glass construct designed to be attention-getting, completely and deliberately out of place with its historic surroundings. The Minister was reminded yet again of the difference between Canadians and Americans. It didn’t surprise him in the least that their political attitude was that they should stand out even in another country’s capital. Then it was gone, the US embassy passing out of view and they were turning onto Wellington Avenue, up to Parliament. The Minister looked out at Parliament Hill as they crossed the gates onto the grounds of the Nation’s Capital. Then his car was plunging into the new underground parking garage; a misnomer because it hadn’t really been “new” since it had been built some twenty years before. His assistants were already waiting for him as he stepped from the elevator from the garage into the Parliament Buildings on his way to his offices. His
new
offices, as Minister of Defence.

“We’re still trying to get the offices organized,” Diane, his assistant said, “But we’re going to need another full 48 hours. So far, we’ve managed to flag the more important files; here’s a list of everything that needs your immediate attention, your direct attention and your constant attention.”

She handed the Minister a handheld display, its screen alive with filenames. “Secondary and tertiary concerns are going to the Deputy Minister and to the rest of the staff. You have a Cabinet meeting at seven, Cabinet meet-the-press at nine, a meeting with the heads of the Armed Forces at nine thirty, Parliament and then a meeting with the Solicitor General and the heads of the RCMP, CSIS and the NIS about the Montreal situation at three-thirty.”

“When do I get time to be brought up to speed, personally?” the Minister asked. Diane consulted her data pad.

“Sometime over the Christmas Break,” She said, “In the meantime you’ll have to play catch up. Don’t worry. I have everything under control and we’ll spoon-feed you until we can get you sat down long enough to get up to full speed. We’re even covering anticipated questions from the Opposition during Question Period.”

“I couldn’t do it without you, Diane.”

“I know.”

Later he was sitting behind his desk, the doors to his office closed and Diane on guard at her desk in the outer office. It wasn’t yet seven and the Minister had already been at work for over an hour. The rain outside was hitting the window with a cold, cruel rattle, making it impossible to see out. The windows were misted and the water ran in slick rivulets down the windowpanes. The wind whipped up, assailing the building with more rain. It was cold out and damp. His offices, lit by a desk lamp and windows with curtains thrown wide, were dismal and dark, made all the more oppressive by the Gothic architecture and the weather. The Minister contemplated how much nicer this place would look when the sun was out on a nice, crisp October afternoon. A gust whipped a screaming spray against the windows again and made him wonder how he was going to make it through such a day. He turned his attention back to the two consoles on his desk. One was blank, while the other displayed a summary that he was supposed to be studying. The Minister decided that he needed tea; it was too damn early in the day to be trying to filter through this many documents without a good, strong cup of tea. He reached for the other console, meaning to contact Diane when it chimed, apparently of its own volition. Diane appeared onscreen, her earpiece discreetly hidden under her hair.