Collision with Chronos

“The trip is extremely unusual in nature,” Brourne continued. “I must warn you that there is a certain degree of danger involved.”

Heshke blinked. “Physical danger?”

“Yes. Not the sort of thing an archaeologist usually has to face, I know, but …” Brourne shrugged, waving his hand casually.

“No, no, not altogether.” Heshke became excited. “As a profession we’re always prepared – unknown regions, and all that. Where will we be going? Into a dev reservation?”

“I’m sorry, the details are top secret at the moment. You’ll be briefed in good time.”

It had to be a dev reservation, Heshke thought. Where on a conquered, controlled planet could there be risk to life and limb except in one of the special regions where a few surviving deviants were allowed to survive for purposes of study? The Titans must have made an important find there – perhaps a hitherto unknown alien settlement.

“Surely you can give me some indication?” he persisted. “I’d like to have some idea of what to expect.”

Brourne hesitated, an unusual gesture for him. “One of our teams has found an alien artifact in good condition. In working order, in fact. It’s a more significant find than anything else we’ve ever turned up … I’m afraid I can’t tell you more. The truth is I’m not allowed to know much myself. But you must be prepared to be called away on short notice.”

He came to his feet again, signalling that the interview was at an end. “Well there it is, Citizen, I’m glad to see you so enthusiastic. I hope we can depend on you to do your damnedest for us … for humanity. …”

Heshke rose, made a curt bow, and left.

2

Squat conical towers.

Throughout the world these were the features of alien architecture to survive more than any other, probably by reason of being the most difficult for time or man to dismantle. The ruins Heshke and his team were studying sported plenty of them.

He arrived back at the site at sunset. The Hathar Ruins, as the site was called, was one of the most important of outworlder remains, and one of the best preserved. More typical were the expanses of fused glass where cities and settlements had been destroyed by nuclear bombardment. The Hathar Ruins had not sustained an atomic hit, but they had suffered extensive damage from less powerful weapons; nevertheless they still exuded a rich aura of a bygone race. Crumbled walls, curiously curved and rounded, wavered toward the sky. The short conical towers seemed to sprout everywhere and at all levels. It was hard to believe that the aliens had been on Earth for a comparatively short time – which had to be the case if history made any sense at all. This settlement, and even more so the larger settlements dotted around the world, were clearly built to last.

The team was just finishing its day’s work of carefully sifting earth. Heshke hurried over to the finds tent, hoping to see some new artifact, perhaps even a document in the cryptic alien script that no one, so far, had deciphered. As usual, he was disappointed. In the North Sector, in the large building popularly known as the Cathedral, someone had uncovered a glass object of which there were already scores of samples. It was believed to be a common domestic article used for squashing fruit.

That, in essence, was most of what they had. Simple articles of common use, elementary tools, some furniture. From skeletons they had a fair idea of the aliens’ physical appearance. But the advanced technology, the machines, equipment, records – virtually the whole apparatus of a tremendously advanced species – had all gone in the frenzy of annihilation in which the men of the past had torn through everything alien, burning and pulverising. A few rusted, mangled machines had been found, but not enough to reconstruct even approximately what the outworld technology had been like.

Heshke did not blame the men who had carried out this destruction – they had seen their planet despoiled, their society wrecked – but in retrospect it was an unintelligent move.

He could not wait to see the functional artifact that Brourne had promised.

He was watching a young teamster clean the fruit-squasher, when there was a movement behind him. He turned to see Blare Oblomot, his chief assistant.

“Well, Rond,” Blare said breezily, “what did the Titans want?”

Heshke coughed, looking nervously at the teamster. He took it for granted that someone on his team was a Titan “watcher”, and it made him feel uncomfortable. He jerked his head toward the exit.

“How about a drink in your place?” he said once they were outside. As they walked toward Blare’s quarters he noticed that the camp seemed abnormally quiet and even Blare seemed slightly uneasy. That was odd: the tousle-haired, raffish archaeologist usually had an unshakable confidence.

Blare lifted the flap to his tent for Heshke to enter. Seated at the small wooden table, he poured them both glasses of wine.

“The Titans have been here today,” he announced. “Asking questions. Practically interrogating everyone, in fact.”