“Perhaps their interest lies in the cartographic discovery we made in the dead man’s pack,” Doc said. “This Heimdall Foundation sounds intriguing. Mayhap Baron Hardcoe thought so, as well.”
“In Montana?” Mildred asked. “That’s way the hell out of his usual beat, sounds like to me.”
“True,” Doc said, “but follow my mental perambulations for a few moments if you will, while I digress. We’ve established from Mr. Hoyle’s testimony that the Heimdall Foundation is without a standing army, yet has an abundance of foodstuffs and creature comforts that might sound desirable to Baron Hardcoe should he lose his bid at this Big Game a few days hence.”
“You’re saying instead of being turned back into the wastelands bordering the seven villes, mebbe Hardcoe has his eyes set on taking over the Heimdall Foundation?” J.B. asked.
“It would be,” Doc argued, “a place to go.”
“Makes sense,” Krysty agreed.
“That does,” Ryan said. “What doesn’t is why Hardcoe didn’t just capture the Heimdall Foundation scientists when they were in his ville and be done with it.”
No one had an answer to that.
“Mebbe the falling star,” Jak suggested.
“Mebbe.” Ryan looked up at Bernsen. “Get over here.”
“Me?” the man asked.
Ryan nodded.
Krysty knew part of Ryan’s willingness to question Bernsen stemmed from her lover’s own innate curiosity. Ryan Cawdor was a wanderer, a man who had to look beyond strange horizons.
Bernsen sidled over to the group, not looking happy about it at all.
“Tell me about Shostakovich’s Anvil ,” Ryan ordered.
The scientist glared at Hoyle over his shoulder. “I don’t have to answer you.”
“No,” Ryan said in a level voice. “Mebbe we’ll see how the skike like you.”
The man dragged a hand over his round face, sweating profusely from fear, exertion and the humidity trapped in the cavern. ” Shostakovich’s Anvil iswasa Soviet space station. It was put up before the nukecaust and was supposed to collect data. And aside from the knowledge collected, it’s also interesting if you remember the chaotic nature of the world at that time, nations aligning themselves with the two superpowers.”
“Yes, it was a competition out there, too, just like on the planet,” the Armorer said.
“Yes,” Bernsen responded. “However, both the Americans and the Russians knew that forewarned meant being forearmed. Not everyone believed that aliens who came back to the planet would be friendly.”
“As I recall,” Doc said, “there were plenty of numbers in either camp who believed aliens would be mankind’s greatest friend, or its most loathsome enemy.”
“Yes, all-out struggle for supremacy. And then bang! We almost encountered the endbut our ancestors survived the nukecaust,” Bernsen said, “and they started the Heimdall Foundation. Most of the electronic equipment at that time was exposed to the electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear weapons. Nothing worked. They struggled together and managed to find enough telescopes and comps to survey the night sky and to record their findings. They also added to their treasure trove with books, comp progs, vids and buried government files.”
“You’ve been tracking these falling satellites,” Ryan said.
“When we could find them.” Bernsen mopped his damp face with his shirtsleeve.
“If you were tracking them, what were you doing in the seven villes?”
“We’ve acquired conflicting data over the years,” Bernsen said, “and even with the comps we’ve put together, we’re in no way able to do the space monitoring they did in the predark times. Where the Soviet space station was going to land was open to conjecture. But we narrowed it down to two places.”
“Jakestown,” Ryan said.
The scientist nodded. “Depending on atmospheric conditions, which we’re not too exact on.”
“Where’s the other place?” Ryan asked.
Bernsen seemed hesitant, but in the end he answered. “About forty miles north and slightly east of this position, there’s a lake.”
“Pyramid Lake,” Hoyle cut in. “Should be on any maps you’ve got.”
J.B. opened his map and traced the surface with a forefinger. “Got it.”
“How did you plan on getting there?” Ryan asked.
“This river,” Hoyle said, “goes most of the way. Got mebbe a twelve-mile hike over some rough country in Smoke Creek Desert.”
“How rough?”
“Man’s got no water, he’s dead. Got no fire at night, he’s dead. You burn to death during the day, and freeze your goddamn ass off at night.”
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