JAMES ROLLINS - SANDSTORM

“It may have been a matter of privacy, too,” Safia said. “A light on the inside would reveal the queen’s every move.”

They wandered the space, finding enough in this one room to occupy their attention. Safia found herself studying one sand painting, opposite the entry. It was the first bit of decoration one saw upon entering.

It was a sweep of desert, the sun setting, shadows stretching, sky a dark indigo. Silhouetted was a flat-topped towering structure, vaguely familiar. A cloaked figure approached, bearing aloft a lamp. From atop the structure, a spray of brilliant sand cascaded, rays of light. The quartz and silica of the sand glistened like diamonds.

“The discovery of Ubar,” Lu’lu said. “It is an image passed from one generation to another. The Queen of Sheba, as a girl, lost in the desert, finds shelter and the blessings of the desert.”

Omaha stepped behind Safia’s shoulder. “That structure with the rays of light shining out of it. It looks like the citadel, too.”

Safia now realized why the building looked familiar. It was a crude rendering, compared to the detail in other work. Perhaps it had been done much earlier than the others. To either side, the wall paintings depicted the Ubar above and the Ubar below. The palace and citadel were prominent. Safia crossed between them.

She stopped before the depiction of the subterranean Ubar, all done in indigo and black sands, a stunning depiction, the depth of detail amazing. She could even discern the two statues flanking the entryway. The only other detail in the courtyard was the figure of the cloaked girl again. The queen of Ubar. She touched the figure, trying to understand her ancestor.

There were so many mysteries here. Some would never be known.

“We should be getting back to base,” Kara finally said.

Safia nodded. They reluctantly departed, heading back down. A winding thoroughfare led from lake to palace. She marched beside the hodja. Kara helped the old woman, especially with the stairs. Overhead, silent crackles of blue fire lit their path. Only Omaha kept his flashlight burning. None of them cared to illuminate too clearly the horrors around them.

As they hiked, the quiet of the city weighed upon them, the press of eternity, usually reserved for churches, mausoleums, and deep caverns. The air smelled dank, with a hint of electricity. Safia had once walked past a traffic accident, cordoned off, a power line down in the rain. The wire had snapped and spit. The air now smelled like that scene. It made Safia uneasy, reminding her of sirens, blood, and sudden tragedy.

What would happen next?

OMAHA WATCHEDSafia as she strode with the hodja around a curve in the glass road. She looked a pale shade of herself. He wanted to go to her, comfort her, but he feared his attentions would not be welcome. He had seen that look in her eyes. After Tel Aviv. A desire to curl up and shut out the world. He had been unable to comfort her then, too.

Kara moved closer to him. Her entire body expressed her exhaustion. She shook her head and spoke in a hush. “She still loves you…”

Omaha stumbled, then caught himself, flashlight bobbling.

Kara continued, “All you had to do was say you’re sorry.”

Omaha opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Life is hard. Love doesn’t have to be.” She continued past him, her voice a bit harsher. “Just be a goddamn man for once in your life, Indiana.”

Omaha stopped, flashlight dropped to his side. He was too stunned to move. He had to force his legs to follow, numbly. The rest of the journey through the lower city was in silence.

At last, the lake appeared ahead, down a long ramp. Omaha was glad for the company. Barak was still missing, still searching. But most of the Rahim had returned. Few could stomach the necropolis for long. Their expressions were somber at the sight of their former home.

Danny spotted Omaha and hurried over. “Dr. Novak has discovered some intriguing findings. Come see.”

Omaha’s group followed him back to the pier. Coral had constructed a makeshift laboratory. She had a haggard look to her eyes as she glanced up. One of her pieces of equipment was a molten ruin. It still smoked a bit and smelled like burning rubber.

“What happened?” Safia asked.

Coral shook her head. “An accident.”

“What have you figured out?” Omaha asked.

Coral swiveled an LCD screen toward them. Data scrolled down one side. The main window, open on the screen, showed a few line drawings. Her first words captured their attention.

“The proof of God’s existence can be found in water. ”

Omaha raised an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate? Or is that all you’ve come up with? Fortune-cookie philosophy.”

“Not philosophy, but fact. Let’s start at the beginning.”

“Let there be light.”

“Not that far back, Dr. Dunn. Basic chemistry. Water is composed of two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen.”

“H 2O,” Kara said.

A nod. “What’s strange about water is that it is a bent molecule.” Coral pointed to the first of the line drawings on the screen.

“It is this bend that gives water its slight polarity. A negative charge at the end with the oxygen atom. A positive one at the hydrogen side. The bend also allows water to form unusual shapes. Like ice.”

“Ice is strange?” Omaha asked.

“If you keep interrupting…” Coral scowled.

“Indiana, let her finish.”

Coral nodded thanks to Kara. “When matter condenses from a gas to a liquid to a solid, it becomes more compact each time, occupying less space, denser. Not water, though. Water achieves its maximum density at four degrees Celsius. Before it freezes. As water actually freezes, that weird bent molecule forms an unusual crystalline shape with lots of extra space in it.”

“Ice,” Safia mumbled.

“Ice is less dense than water, much less. So it floats on top of water. If it were not for this fact, there would be no life on Earth. Ice forming on the surface of lakes and oceans would constantly be sinking and crushing all life beneath it, never giving early forms of life a chance to thrive. Floating ice also insulates bodies of water, protecting life rather than destroying it.”

“But what does all this have to do with antimatter?” Omaha asked.

“I’m getting to that. I needed to stress the strange properties of the water molecule and its propensity to form odd configurations. Because there is another way water will align itself. It happens all the time in regular water, but it lasts only nanoseconds. It’s too unstable on Earth. But in space, water will form and keep this unusual shape.”

Coral pointed to the next line drawing. “Here is a two-dimensional representation of twenty water molecules forming that complex configuration. It’s called a pentagonal dodecahedron.

“But it’s best visualized in three dimensions.” Coral tapped the third drawing.

“It looks like a big hollow sphere,” Omaha said.

Coral nodded. “It is. The dodecahedron goes more commonly by the name buckyball. Named after Buckminster Fuller.”

“So these buckyballs are found in space,” Safia said. “But last only briefly here.”

“It’s a stability problem.”

“So why are you telling us about them, then?” Kara asked.

Danny danced back and forth on his toes behind them. He pointed to the lake. “The water here is full of those buckyballs, stable and unchanging.”