Sergei's nose woke him up. He felt stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor, but he smelled porridge, mixed with leftover stew. He was relieved she didn't have a taste for the revolting sweeteners Homans liked to rot their teeth with. He pulled out clean working clothes from his trunk and turned away to put them on.
He dished himself some food and studied her over his bowl. She wore expedition clothes like his. That included a long vest with pockets and loops for tools, covered by a heavy belt with many pouches. She wore low spats to protect her arches like he did, but hers were fine-grained leather instead of thick canvas.
The only other thing different about her clothes from his was a utilitarian breast band. He had to admit. She looked much more... feminine this morning, out of her formal priest's garb.
After he cleaned up breakfast, they went to the digs in the bright morning light. She went straight to where he'd been spending most of his time for the last few months. After digging down several meters, he was uncovering large metallic lumps that were near the original street level. The metal plate he was soaking in the shack was found near them. The upraised letters and numbers stamped on it seemed to be placed a random order.
He felt bolder out here. This was the result of a year's backbreaking work. If he was to be judged on it, he was going to defend himself. "This hole," he said, "is where I found the road surface. A tar-based sand and gravel aggregate, just like in the books. This depth, compared to the present surface, is how I made those sketches. That was the critical measurement for the depth of the burial."
"And these?" she said, gesturing at the lumps.
"Vehicles," he said. At her raised eyebrows, he moved some tarps and pointed out two round shapes low on the side of one. "Those have to be wheels. As far as I can tell, the lumps were made of metal and plas-tek."
"Plastic," she corrected, "a lost technology. The Ancients were often wasteful with their resources and knowledge."
He showed her a metal pole that slanted over the roadway. He hadn't completely uncovered it. Instead he only bared one side from its base to its end. It sprouted from an artificial stone surface near the road, and twisted on its axis as it tilted across the street. At the end of the pole a graceful arch projected to the side with a large glass bowl on the bottom. "I think this was a lamp of some kind," he said. "A bright one, considering its height above the street."
"What do you think happened at this site, Acolyte?" she said.
Sergei scratched his ears. "I'm not sure, but it was quick. The metal lumps were not exposed on the surface long. They were buried rapidly under many feet of dirt, insulating them from moisture." He pointed to a vertical wall of dirt nearby. "This is the bottom layer, just above the street. Meters thick, it was all deposited in a single catastrophic event."
He pointed at several thinner bands above it. "This is a typical glacial pattern... or a sign of the Dark Winter. That would make this site very ancient. Before the Harrowing, the Golden Age, or the Reconstruction. Before even the Winter, what era was this?" He gestured widely at the site around them.
The look on her face indicated this was a sore point with her. Tassa shrugged. "The only answer I was given to that sort of question was 'spacer' or 'belter', which is worse than no answer at all. I've never been able to make sense of them. Officially, it's 'prehistory'."
She seemed to remember he was only an Acolyte. "I disagree with your interpretations, however. The site is old, but it's not that old. The solid band was made by post-Winter mudflows, followed by seasonal runoffs afterwards. That's as good an explanation as yours, and more plausible."
He frowned, "A mud flow might have knocked the lamp over, but could it have twisted it? My theory is the lamp's arch projected over the street toward the northwest. Whatever caused this sent massive winds from the northeast, and catching the arch broadside. It twisted the arch to the southwest as it is today, before knocking the lamp over. Northeast of here is Ber'in, a known target of the death weapons that caused the Dark Winter."
She snorted, amused. "Typical Acolyte, trying to make a mundane find more important by dreaming up a romantic history for it. Stick to what you can prove." She looked over at a trench he was driving to the side of a large nearby building-mound. He'd built a lean-to over something against the wall. "What do you have there?"
He smiled and led her over. "It's the first indication of the purpose of the site, I think." The lean-to straddled a slope Sergei had dug down to the artificial stone surface that he considered to be ground level. He pulled back an oiled canvas to show her what was on the side of the building. Bolted to the wall was a diamondite coated bronze shield, a meter wide and almost two meters tall. In deep bas-relief it depicted a gauntlet-covered homan hand holding three lightning bolts and a leafy branch, in front of a clouded sky. From its height compared to the depth of the stone below it, it originally hung more than four meters off the ground. An attached brazen ribbon below the plaque proclaimed, in pre-Reconstruction Old Anglish, 'Strategic Air Command'. He smiled again, "I think it shows this was a military base."
"Whoa," she said. "Why isn't this inside the shack?"
He turned puzzled eyes to her. "Be reasonable, Ser," he said. "The bolts holding this to the wall are five centis thick at least. The thickest parts of the shield are almost a deci. I don't know how deep the bolts reach. Even if I somehow managed to chisel them out without killing myself when it fell, how was I supposed to get it there? Carry it?"
He shook his head. "No, I was taught that the big stuff we just cover up and protect as best as we can. Not that anything can hurt this." He used a chisel to demonstrate the protection of the glittering covering. It made a clear 'ting' sound with the rich undertones of a big bell. "If it's important enough, the Spirits will send their metal servants to collect it."
"Protection is important," she said. "What about all the other metal you've uncovered, that is now corroding?"
He indicated piles of wood on the lowest levels. "I'm preparing shelters for the vehicles, but the lamp is a non-corroding metal. For now I use canvas against the dew, and a heavy coating of oil and grease. The shelters should be done before even an early rainy season."
The inspector shook her head and climbed back to the surface. From up here, the taller buildings were an irregular series of rounded grassy mounds, and the alien reality below them seemed like just a dream. She took a long pull from her water, and glanced longingly at the shack. She settled on a fairly clean spot of packed dirt. He sat near her, thinking the sun must be worse for her pale hide than for his.
"The procedures for this site call for a gradual dig," she said. "You're supposed to evenly lower all the level areas, excluding the buildings. We think a better picture of the site will be gained by only going down a meter at a time, and surveying after each meter. You've completely disregarded those rules, and pushed areas several meters deeper than they were when you were entrusted with this site."
"I can explain..." he protested, but she held up a hand.
"I know," she said. "'It's boring', 'There's five meters or more of plain dirt before anything will be found', 'It takes too long to do all that digging'. I've heard it all before. The point you haven't realized yet is that you," and she firmly pointed at him, "aren't here to be the great explorer. The priesthood owns this site. It was given to us by the Spirits to teach with. You are only part of the team, and the team is only served if you do your part. You've jeopardized decades of careful data collection here. In fact, I spent my own solo year at this site."
"Doesn't it bother you that the Acolyte assigned here for the bottom layer will get all the finds?" he said bitterly.
"No. Because he wouldn't," she said. "By the time the critical areas are reached, this will become a full dig, with priests supervising teams of second year Acolytes. We can only handle so many sites like that, and this one wasn't due yet."
"Because I pushed so far ahead?" he said, feeling depressed.
"Because you're so much a glory seeker," she said, "that you ignored the procedures to get to the 'good parts'." She shook her head again. "You couldn't stand just doing your job, and probably not finding anything. Not being a good team member doesn't look good for your chances of advancement."
He bowed his head and contemplated his dusty paws and spats. He refused to give in to depression. It wasn't that much of a shame to spend a second year as an Acolyte. Only the very best were nominated after only a year. There were no third year Acolytes. Either they made it by then or they were out. He sighed. "I just felt I could find things. Important things."
"You found a street," she said sarcastically. He winced. She looked away and changed the subject. "What's for lunch?" she said. He could hear her belly rumble.
"If we're lucky, roast rabbit," he said, glad to have something else to think about. "I have snares over there." They walked to the bushes along the edge of the site. They could scent rabbit, and see the bushes thrashing. She eagerly started forward but he thrust out an arm to stop her. The bushes were moving too much, and there was too much blood-scent... The branches were parted by the snout of an animal bigger than his whole body.
"Oh, curse me," he said. "Run!" He took off for the dig site, pulling her after him.---
Go to TFH part 3.
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