Free Resurrection by Arwen Elys Dayton Page A

transmission frequency and target location. She had rehearsed this a dozen times in the last six months, and already knew that she would be targeting an area on the Nile River, but she went through the motions of confirmation nonetheless.
    She opened the third book, the book of background materials, and flipped to the page marked “Final Transmission from Survey Crew.” On this page was a copy of that final ancient transmission. Written in the script of a long-dead language was the information she needed: the frequency and code words she must use—“Rescue has arrived.” In addition, there were several entry combinations she would need later.
    She sank her hand in the putty control pad and entered the frequency and code words into the ship’s computer.
    “Central, I’m ready to send transmission.”
    “Acknowledged, Pruit.”
    She moved her hand and executed the transmission. She was sending her message in a single, compressed nanosecond to avoid detection by anyone on Earth. If the beacon set up by those long-dead members of the Kinley survey team was still there, was still operable, her message should provoke a reply.
    The chances were slim, but she had her contingencies. If this did not work, she would move to the next plan on her list and begin a search for the beacon on the ground. She wondered how long they had lasted, those survey crew members who had entered stasis. Had they slept fifty years? A hundred? Two hundred? Did they die quickly in the first few years, or did they live a long time and eventually give up hope and rejoin the world around them? Could a beacon survive so long? Doubtful.
    An hour passed, ample time for the signal to reach Earth and a reply to be sent. None came.
    “Central, resend every hour and continue monitoring all traffic.”
    “I will,” the computer responded in Niks’s voice. But the response was far more patient than Niks ever would have been.
    Pruit looked again at the final transmission from the survey crew. It was a last desperate plea from six people who wanted to return home:
…in stasis we await your return. Do not forget us…
     
    There was no way they could have known how little of their home was left when they sent that message. They had planned to go to sleep for a few years, but Herrod itself had almost gone to sleep forever.

CHAPTER 8
     
    2606 BC
Year 1 of Kinley Earth Survey
     
Then the earth shook and quaked; and the foundations of the mountains were trembling and were shaken, because He was angry.
     
    —Psalms 18:7
     
    “Mother’s Love, it’s murderously hot today,” the Captain breathed as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
    He sat on a litter, which swayed rhythmically as the litter bearers beneath it jogged across the low, rolling hills of sand and dirt that separated the survey team camp from the cities along the great Nile River. There was a canopy stretched over the litter, so he was sitting in shade, but the heat of the air itself was stifling.
    The litter bearers were all lean young men, their bodies perfectly muscled. They wore only a small strip of material around their waists, which was tied in front. The two ends of the material hung down over their genitals, providing only the slightest amount of covering. They did not mind. Nudity was not something the natives here found embarrassing. In such a warm climate, clothes were often a hindrance to work, and many in the worker class did without them entirely.
    The litter bearers were sweating profusely, but they were used to their task and kept up their steady pace.
    The Captain’s wife, the Archaeologist, sat in a litter to his left. She too was mopping her brow. He glanced at her profile—fine features with long blond hair tied up behind her head. He had always thought she was beautiful, but now, as he looked at her, he thought, perhaps, stately was a better word.
    On the other side of the Captain, the Mechanic sat in his own litter. The Captain could tell that the man secretly