Free Writers of the Future, Volume 28 by L. Ron Hubbard Page B

“Amazing. So you haven’t exposed anything that will melt ? ”
    He laughed, for the first time since learning he was going home. “No, basalt doesn’t melt easily . But there’s something else.”
    I waited and could see him smiling through the visor. “Well ? ”
    “There’s a pattern in the face I uncovered. Thirty-five cylindrical pockets arranged in a ring, with one in the center. According to Nellie’s analysis, the translucent material at the bottom of each hole is diamond.”
    “What could that mean ? ”
    “I have no idea. I had to stop and come rescue you.”
    It was my turn to smile. I held up a finger and called base.
    “Sorry for the scare, Courtney,” I said. “But I found Jack. Nellie is working fine, so we have plenty of air and are not in any danger now.”
    “Thank God, Malcolm. Meteorology says this storm could last another two or three days. Are you sure you have enough supplies for that long ? ”
    Jack cut in on the conversation, reassuring her we were going to be fine.
    “You’re in a heap of trouble, Jack! And I still don’t have a transponder signal for you.”
    He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Actually, Courtney, I may be losing my transponder signal too. We’re about to go into an area that seems to play hell with most of our communications gear. So don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a few days.”
    “I don’t think—”
    “We’ll meet up with the investigation team at the dig site in two or three days, or whenever this storm lets up.”
    “But—”
    “Malcolm and Jack signing off,” I said and killed the connection.
    Jack looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “If you could find that pattern, they can too. Besides, they have enough information to know what direction you were going.”
    “Yeah, but we could head north for a few hours and cut off my transponder, then enter the canyon from the north end. That should mess them up for awhile. It may only give us a few days. Probably only until the storm ends. Will that be enough time ? ”
    He shrugged, always a strange gesture in an excursion suit. “Maybe, but if you do this, there is a good chance you’ll be sent home too.”
    “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” I said and started running.
    W e dug in for the night near the canyon’s north end and awoke to a sickly yellowish-pink dawn. The weak sun struggled to break through the haze, but the storm had abated and the winds died, so the timer was running. If our luck ran out, our fellow explorers could find us within a matter of hours.
    Ninety minutes after breaking camp, we stood atop the basalt block. Using Nellie’s vacuum system, we removed the dust accumulated from the storm revealing a smooth polished surface, with the now-familiar pattern of holes in the center of the top surface.
    “How odd that they’d make this finely polished cube, yet have these weird, gnarly sprues marring its perfection,” I said.
    “It does look to be part of the formation process,” Jack said. “Maybe they just didn’t care about the sprues.”
    “Yeah, but why these holes ? Why their fascination with this particular pattern ? ”
    He knelt down and aimed his helmet light into the holes. They were the diameter of a golf ball and about a foot deep, and, as he’d earlier reported, their bottoms were glassy and clear. “I don’t know, but I’d sure as hell like to find out.”
    “Looks like we need some kind of key,” I said. “And if we had a key, I wonder what it would do ? ”
    Jack stared at the holes, occasionally poking his gloved finger in one. “Maybe we could make a key.”
    “You know,” I said, pausing, not sure if I should voice my latest thought. “The other holes are filled with water ice. Maybe . . .”
    Jack almost leapt to his feet. “It couldn’t hurt to try!”
    Of course, that comment left me feeling more than a little uneasy, but there was no stopping him once he got started. Forty minutes later I dubiously examined