Алан Дин Фостер - Relic

The techs had stopped. Or rather, their forward progress had been halted. Beneath a lip of overhanging granite and sunk within a cliff face was a single door. Perhaps three times Ruslan’s height and equally wide, it was a simple square slab of remarkably unweathered metal. Perhaps early terrestrial steel, he thought, though it was imbued with a faint golden hue he had never seen before. Leaving Cherpa to her flower gathering, he joined the techs, Bac’cul, and Kel’les in examining the barrier. Having grown adept over the decades at anticipating researchers’ questions, he answered the first before it had to be asked.

“No, I don’t know what it is or what it’s made of. I can’t imagine what lies behind it or why such a doorway happens to be located here, in such an inhospitable and inaccessible place.”

Having temporarily removed his gloves, one tech was intent on the flat pane of instrumentation he was manipulating with all three hands as he made slow passes over the door with the device. “I am having trouble obtaining a compositional analysis. Certainly there is iron present in quantity.”

“That is not surprising.” The tech’s companion resolutely kept her hands and sensitive fingers bundled in protective material. “As we were on approach, scans recorded the presence nearby of an iron mine of exceptional dimensions.” She indicated the mute barrier before them. “Perhaps this is a storage facility for pure, refined product from that mine.”

“Except that we detected no evidence of such a refinery.” Her colleague continued to study his readouts. “Which is not proof one did not exist here in earlier times. The machinery may have been removed for use elsewhere.”

“I would say it is a repository.” Everyone turned to look at Bac’cul. “Similar in design and purpose to others we have found scattered around human-settled worlds. A place intended to safeguard and conserve important relics and materials. The Vrizan boast of having found one far to the northwest of here that was filled with preserved seeds and animal parts.” He indicated the barrier. “I suspect we may find something similar when we enter here.”

“Enter how?” The still fully clothed tech used one thickly gloved hand to gesture at the barrier. “Other repositories that we have found and inventoried had physical handles built into the doors, or electronic sensors awaiting input.”

Bac’cul indicated his understanding. “The smaller ones, yes. All human entrances of this size were originally controlled by electronic recognition devices. I admit I see no such inviting panels or optics here. They would of course no longer be functional in any case. So we will have to force an entrance. It will hardly be the first time.” He glanced at Ruslan.

“No objection,” the human advisor told him. Why should he care if the scientists blew the door? He was not especially interested to see what lay on the other side. Compared to what was easily accessible on a planetary surface, the contents of similar repositories on Seraboth had been of only marginal interest. He doubted it would be much different here. And the sooner they learned what was within, the sooner they could return to the warmth and comfort of the outpost.

An optical cutter was brought from the driftec. Not wishing to damage the portal any more than was necessary to gain entrance, its operators activated it on low power and turned its beam on the lower right-hand corner of the entryway. The coherent beam lanced out and struck the barrier, layering irresistible energy onto the featureless material.

Nothing happened.

The metal, if that’s what it was, did not even grow warm. Conferring, the device’s operators gradually increased the strength of the cutting beam until it was at maximum. A small circular glow appeared as a halo where the beam was contacting the barrier. But no hole was cut and no material melted. The frustrated operators continued to pour power into the attempt until Bac’cul called a halt. He walked up to the unharmed doorway and ran a gloved hand carefully over the spot where the beam had been aimed.

“We have something new here.” Though his tone was unchanged, there was an undeniable touch of excitement in his voice. “This is the first time we have encountered an obstruction our field gear could not penetrate.” He looked back at the small group gathered behind him. “We will have to go back to base and return here with more powerful equipment. Ruslan? Any suggestions?”

The human shook his head. “I don’t have any idea what it’s made of, and I agree we should return to the outpost. I’m cold.”

“We are all suffering from the climate.” No less ready than Ruslan to leave the place, Kel’les was already starting back to where the driftec had set down. “Though I am no scientist, as far as I see, for all the promise this location holds we might as well wait for the seasons to change before we return.”

“It is true there are easier sites to study,” the female researcher said. “Though I am always curious to see that which is hidden from me.”

“We need not return with a full scientific complement,” her companion said. “It might be better to let one of the materials scientists study the obstruction before a second attempt is made at penetration.”

They continued to discuss the discovery and how best to proceed as they walked back toward the driftec. Carrying their equipment between them, the operators of the cutter led the way. No one thought to call to Cherpa to cease her flower gathering and hurry up to join them.

Preoccupied with her botanical collecting, she had not joined the others in studying the barrier. Now she lingered behind in order to conduct her own brief examination. Curious, she removed the protective warming glove from her right hand and let it slide down the face of the remarkably unpitted, uneroded barrier. Ruslan had already performed the same gesture. But his hand had remained gloved.

“Cold,” she murmured.

Something like a rising wind whispered in her ears. It was not the wind. It was far away and deep down, a sigh from the past.

Startled, she stepped back as the barrier rose almost silently in front of her.

Hearing the surprised exclamations in Myssarian, Ruslan turned in time to see the last of the barrier disappear into the roof of the overhang like a claw being retracted into a cat’s paw. Setting down the cutter, the two operators joined the human and the researchers in rushing to the unexpected opening. Clustering together just outside the now revealed entrance, humans and Myssari alike found themselves staring down a perfectly cylindrical tunnel. The walls were of bare rock that had been polished to a decorative shine, though whether as a consequence of a deliberately decorative touch or the process of digging none of them could say. The entrance was not vast, but it was impressive.

Ruslan stared at her. “What did you do?”

She spread her hands. “Nothing. I just ran my palm down it. My bare hand.” She mimed the motion. “And up it went.”

“What now?” Bac’cul asked, staring at him. So were the other researchers. As if merely by being a human confronted with an enigmatic human relic, he would instinctively know what to do next. He smiled ruefully. In such a situation his ignorance probably exceeded theirs.

Less vexed by informational deficiencies, Cherpa started down the tunnel. As she did so successive segments of the walls, ceiling, and floors flared to light. Ruslan turned to Bac’cul and shrugged. “Old human game. Follow the leader.”

“She is not a leader,” Bac’cul insisted as he joined Ruslan in entering. “She has no idea how she is doing what she is doing.”

“Are you interested in explanations or results?” Ruslan challenged him. The researcher said no more.