CRADLE OF SATURN BY JAMES P. HOGAN

“There,” she announced, indicating the symbols. Keene stared at them. He knew what she was getting at but acted dumb and looked at her questioningly. “That’s where I saw them,” she said. “Robin’s science project on the Joktanians. I’m sure they’re like that script that Sariena showed us on the Osiris. I can still picture some of them. The similarities can’t be coincidental. They have to be related.”

Keene could only point out the obvious. “I’m sure you mean it, Vicki, but I don’t have to tell you it’s preposterous. How are artifacts from Arabia supposed to have gotten to Saturn? Ancient sea-going cultures making accurate maps of Antarctica before the Ice Age, I can buy. But are they supposed to have built—”

Vicki raised a hand for him to stop. “I know, Lan. I know it’s crazy. All I’m telling you is what I saw. I do ad graphics. I’ve got an eye for things like that.”

He made a conciliatory gesture, indicating that he wasn’t going to argue about it. “So, what do you want me to do?” he asked, leaning back from the desk.

“I’m not really asking you to do anything. But I saw the way you looked at me when I mentioned it in the chopper yesterday, and I just wanted you to know that I hadn’t been having hallucinations or something.”

Keene nodded obligingly. “Okay. . . . So you weren’t being daffy-headed after twenty-four hours in orbit. But I never thought that anyway.” He waited for her to nod, having made her point, pick up the folder, and leave. She didn’t.

“Although . . .” She looked at him as if something had just occurred to her, which Keene didn’t believe for a moment.

“What?”

“Well, it’s got me curious. You said you met this woman from the Smithsonian when you were in Washington, who’s involved in the excavations and so on. . . .”

“Catherine Zetl?”

“Right. Couldn’t we get those images sent through for her to have a look at? Surely that would settle it. If I’m wrong, then that’s the end of it. But if not . . .” Vicki didn’t have to complete it. It would add a whole new dimension of impossibility to something already complex enough.

Keene was not enthusiastic. “I’m not sure it’s our place to go showing that material around,” he said. “Even Sariena checked with Gallian first, remember. And I don’t really know Zetl well enough to go involving her in something like that. We exchanged a few words at a cocktail party. I can see your point, all right, but . . .” He finished with another wave.

Vicki straightened up, looked at him reluctantly for a few seconds, then sighed. “You’re right. We’re not even involved officially, I guess. It’s just . . . Well, it’s so darned bewildering!”

“Yes, I know, I know.” Keene drummed his fingers on the desk. “Tell you what I’ll do. Sariena said those images had been sent ahead, so people here will already be going over them. If there really are similarities to the Joktanian script, surely you can’t have been the only one to spot it. Let’s wait and see what’s said next week when the Kronians bring the artifacts up at the talks. Once their existence has been made public knowledge anyway, I’d feel better about bringing it to Zetl’s attention if nothing else is mentioned—because then it would seem very strange. Asking questions would be legitimate. How would that sound?”

“You mean I have to wait a whole week?”

“Think you can stand it? Come on—I fix you a visit to a spaceship from Saturn and all I get is a hard time? What is this?”

“Well, if you put it like that, I suppose—” The call tone from Keene’s desk screen interrupted.

“Excuse me,” he said, sitting forward to accept. “Hello?”

“Catch you later, Lan.” Vicki picked up the folder and left, closing the door.

The caller was Jerry Allender from Kingsville. He was red-faced and shaking his head, and had to wave a hand in the air several times before he could speak. “Lan, do you know what’s happened? They’re throwing them out . . . just tossing them out as inadmissable! It’ll be like they never happened. They won’t even be a factor to take into consideration—not even worth a can of beans.”