Engines Of God

George found a photo of the four moons strung out in a straight line. "Spectacular," he said.

"Maybe more than that," said Carson. "It might give us the age of this place."

Maggie found the central processing unit. It appeared to be intact. "Maybe," she said.

Sill folded his arms. "Not a chance."

Well, they would see. Stranger things had happened. She would remove it, if she could figure out how to do it, and send it back to the Academy. They might get lucky.

Three hours after their entry, they regrouped and started back to the shuttle. Maggie had her CPU, and they carried the photo of the four moons. They also had taken a couple of computers.

Hutch was preoccupied. She watched the shifting light and said little as they clicked back through the passageways.

"What's wrong?" Carson asked at last.

"Why did they kill themselves?"

"I don't know."

"Can you even imagine how it might happen?"

"Maybe they got stuck up here. Things went to hell planetside."

"But there's a shuttle on board."

"It might not have been working."

"So you'd have to have a situation in which, simultaneously, your external support broke down, and the onboard shuttle also broke down. That sound likely to you?"

"No."

"Me, neither."

Priscilla Hutchins, Journal

Tonight, I feel as if someone took an axe to the Ice Lady. The Monument-Makers seem to have vanished, to be replaced by pathetic creatures who build primitive space stations and kill themselves when things go wrong. Where are the beings who built the Great Monuments? They are not here.

I wonder if they ever were.

0115, April 12,2203

23

Beta Pacifica III. Tuesday, April 12; 0830 GMT

The shuttle glided through the still afternoon above a rolling plain. The windows were drawn halfway back, and fresh air flowed freely through the vehicle. The smell of the prairie and the nearby sea stirred memories of Earth. Strange, really: Carson had spent all those years on Quraqua, on the southern coastline, and he'd never once felt the sting of salt air in his nostrils. This was also the first time he'd ever ridden a shuttle without being sealed off from the outside environment.

First time with my face out the window.

There were occasional signs of former habitation below: crumbling walls, punctured dams, collapsed dock facilities. They were down low, close to the ground, moving at a hundred fifty klicks. The sky was filled with birds.

They came up on a river. It was broad, and mud-colored, with sandy banks, and giant shrubs pushing above the surface close to shore. Lizardlike creatures lay in the sun.

And more ruins: stone buildings in the water, worn smooth; a discolored track through forest, marking an ancient road.

"They've been gone a long time," said George.

"Want to go down and take a closer look?" asked Jake, their pilot.

"No," Carson said. Hutch could see that he wanted to do precisely that, but Truscott had given them thirty-six hours. "Mark the place so we can find it again."

The prairie rolled on. They listened to the rush of air against the shuttle, watched the golden grass ripple in the wind.

"Something ahead," said Maggie.

It was little more than a twisted pile of corroded metal. Carson thought it might once have been a vehicle, or a machine. Impossible to tell from the air.

They left the river and flew over a patch of desert, passing over walls, and occasional storage tanks sinking into the dunes like abandoned ships.

Prairie came again, the land rose and narrowed, and ocean closed in on both sides. In this area, rock walls were everywhere, like pieces of an enormous jigsaw puzzle.

They picked up another river, and followed it south into forest. Mountains framed the land, and the river disappeared occasionally underground, surfacing again to roll through picturesque valleys.

Carson had a map on his display. "Seems to me," he said, "that the towns are located in the wrong places."

"What do you mean?" asked Hutch.

"Look at this one." He tapped the screen. A set of ruins were well out on the plain, several kilometers from the ocean, and fifteen from a river junction. "It should be here, at the confluence."

"Probably was, at one time," said Maggie. "But rivers move. In fact, if we can figure out when the city was on the confluence, we might get a date for all this."

"They shared the human taste for living by water," said Hutch.

Carson nodded. "Or they relied heavily on water transportation." He shook his head. "Not very rational, for a civilization that had anti-gravity thousands of years ago. What happened? Did they have it, and then lose it?"

"Why don't we go down and look?" suggested Janet.

Ahead, the river drained into a bay. "Up there," Carson said. "Looks like a city. And a natural harbor. We'll land there."

The forest took on a jumbled, confused appearance. Mounds and towers and walls broke through the foliage. It was possible, with a little imagination, to make out the shape of streets and thoroughfares.

Was the entire continent like this? One vast wreck?

Jake touched his earphones. "Ops says the Ashley Tee has arrived. Rendezvous in about forty hours."

"Marvelous!" said Maggie. Maybe they would be able to stay now, and inspect this world of the Monument-Makers at their leisure.

Jake congratulated them, but Hutch saw that he was not pleased. When she asked, he said that he did not want to get pulled out now.

The forest overflowed a wide, sun-dappled harbor. Great broad-leafed trees crowded the shoreline. The shuttle sailed out over the open sea, and curved back. A narrow, grassy island divided the harbor mouth into twin cha

Hutch saw truncated squares in the water, massive concrete foundations (she thought), and piles of rubble.

"There used to be big buildings down there," said Janet. "Maybe something on the order of skyscrapers."

"There are more in the woods," said George.

"Anybody got a suggestion," asked Carson, "where we should set down?"

"Don't get too close to the shoreline," advised Hutch. "If there are predators, that's where they're most likely to be."

They picked out a clearing about a half-kilometer from the harbor. Jake took them down and they landed among wet leaves and bright green thickets.

Hutch heard the cockpit hatch open. "Hold it a minute," said Carson. "We need to talk a little before we go out there." Good, she thought. For all their experience on the Quraqua mission, these were not people who necessarily understood the potential for danger on a new world. The old fear of contamination by extraterrestrial disease had been discarded: microorganisms tended not to attack creatures evolved from alien biosystems. But that didn't mean they might not attract local predators. Hutch had gotten an object lesson on that subject.

Carson assumed his best military tone. "We don't really know anything about this place, so we'll stay together. Everybody take a pulser. But please make sure you've got a clear field of fire if you feel you have to use it."

They would not need energy shields here; but they would wear heavy clothing and thick boots to afford some protection against bristles, poison plants, stinging insects, and whatever other surprises the forest might have for them. "Which way do we go?" asked Maggie, zipping her jacket.

Carson looked around. "There are heavy ruins to the north. Let's try that way first." He turned to Jake. "We'll be back before sundown."

"Okay," said the pilot.

"Stay inside, okay? Let's play it safe."

"Sure," he said. "I'm not interested in going anywhere."

The air was cool and sweet and smelled of mint. They gathered at the foot of the ladder and looked around in silent appreciation. Bushes swayed in a light breeze off the sea; insects burbled and birds fluttered overhead. To Hutch, it felt like the lost Pe