The Dig by Alan Dean Foster

Following Borden’s little joke, she was careful not to touch anything, not even those controls whose function she knew for certain. With only five of them aboard, there was plenty of room for a novice to explore. The compact recorder she carried hummed incessantly.

Throughout the approach Borden continued to whistle obscure classical tunes, make jokes, compose limericks, and in general act as if he were embarked on a weekend excursion in the Adirondacks. It contributed to a work environment that was relaxed and short on stress in a way no official NASA program could duplicate.

At the same time, the copilot executed his official functions smoothly and efficiently. Low knew he didn’t have to watch or otherwise check up on his colleague. If anything went wrong, he and the younger man would spot it simultaneously. Unbeknownst to either, they were fondly referred to by the rest of the mission team as the Boy Scout and the Undertaker.

At this point the shuttle was virtually flying itself. There was nothing to do now but wait until they caught up to the target when it swung back in close to Earth from the apogee of its orbit. Low leaned back in his straps, watching the heavens for the one point of light that would be moving faster than any of the others.

Even Borden went silent when it finally appeared on their screens. There had been several unmanned flybys of asteroids out in the Mars-Jupiter belt. Robotic spacecraft took excellent pictures but fared poorly when it came to expressing a sense of wonder. This was the first time in mankind’s history that such an object had been seen close-up by the unaided eye.

Miles and Brink joined Robbins in hovering behind the pilots’ seats so that they could share in the historic first sighting. When she finally broke the ensuing silence, the journalist’s words did not exactly rank with those of Armstrong or Glenn.

“Doesn’t look like much. Just another star.”

“It’s still a ways off.” Miles jostled gently for a better view. “Don’t worry. It’ll resolve itself soon enough.”

“We are blessed, my friends.” Brink could not keep a certain Teutonic solemnity from his voice. “We will be the first humans to set foot on such an object.”

“Right.” Borden deliberately mimicked the scientist’s tone. “And then we’re gonna blow a couple of big holes in it. That’s humans for you.”

“So it is. But first we will learn what we can from this little piece of interplanetary pavement.”

“Little?” Robbins twisted to eye the scientist.

“By cosmic standards our visitor is nothing more than a speck of dust, Maggie.” Eyes shining, Brink turned to stare at the approaching dot of light. “Yet from that speck we may glean clues as to how the planets were formed, why their chemistry is what it is, and so much more. You must understand that I have devoted my life to the study of such bodies, forced to work only with photographs and the occasional small piece purchased from crazy adventurers like that Arizonan Haag, never dreaming that one day I would be able not only to touch the actual object of my obsession but to stroll upon its surface.” For a while it was silent in the cabin.

“From a scientific standpoint, what we are going to do is criminal. From a social standpoint, it is inevitable. But afterward, if all goes as planned, the object will remain in place for us to study. We will transform this visitor from the outer regions from a threat to a gift. It is a bequest from the void, unsolicited and astonishing. A package of wonders yet to be opened. We should all give thanks for its coming.”

“We will,” conceded Miles, “as soon as we’ve made sure the parcel doesn’t go off in our faces. I don’t think people would’ve been as grateful if instead of going into orbit it had come straight down into, say, France.”

Brink’s enigmatic grin returned. “That would depend on whom one asked.” For just the briefest instant, Robbins wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

Their trajectories unimpeded by resistance of any kind, the distance between shuttle and visitor shrank with gratifying predictability. The dot became an oval, then a solid shape possessed of a visible outline. It acquired depth, and shadows. Low and Borden adjusted the shuttle’s attitude, slowing it down and bringing them steadily closer to the silent, dark visitor.

Miniature peaks and valleys became visible on the surface, along with evidence of multiple meteorite impacts. None of the craters were very deep, none of the twisted crags very high. A shrunken version of the moon, it was still more than big enough to dwarf the rendezvousing shuttle.

Robbins wrestled with ancient terrestrial fears as the visitor loomed over them, striving to remember that it could not fall down and crush the shuttle because it was not truly “above” the shuttle, any more than they were drifting below it. Their positions were relative to each other and little else.

Having matched velocities, Low and Borden carefully brought the ship to within a prearranged distance of the tormented, stony surface. The asteroid’s minimal gravity did not affect their maneuvers.

Low wasted no time savoring the historic moment. As soon as they’d reached the predetermined position, he began slipping out of his harness.

“Let’s get going. Ken, she’s all yours. Ludger…?”

“I am way ahead of you, Commander.” Brink was pulling himself toward the rear of the cabin.

With Miles’s assistance, the two men began slipping into their suits. Low pushed his feet down into the integral boots. “Remember, Ludger, the sooner we finish what we came for, the more time you’ll have to conduct studies. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to rush it.”

“I have no inclination to do so, Commander.” The scientist eyed Low unblinkingly. “I am perfectly willing to save the Earth before I begin my real work. Even France.”

Low slipped his right hand into the glove end, wriggled his fingers experimentally. “If you see me doing something you think is wrong, don’t hesitate to point it out.”

“I am not shy about such things, Commander. I expect the same critical treatment from you. We cannot afford any errors.” Miles was checking the readouts and connections on the back of his suit, making certain all seals were tight and that the redundant air supply system was fully operational.

“This will be very different from floating outside Mir,” Brink commented. “We will be making for a destination.”

“Not to mention a delivery,” Low added tersely.

The scientist helped Miles position the helmet over his head and draw it down toward its seals. “There is that added spice. I hope you won’t allow me to become distracted.” His eyes were shining as he and Miles fitted the helmet in place. When he spoke again, Low heard him via the suit radio.

“This is, after all, the culmination of my life’s work. Is it similar for you, Commander?”

“No. For me it’s just another job.”

“That is fine with me. I will be struck dumb with wonder, and you will be blase. It is an apportioning I find agreeable. Each of us will achieve satisfaction in their own way.”

They were ready. A final check of communicators, air and temperature settings, and then it was time to enter the compact airlock. Throughout the entire suiting-up procedure Robbins had hovered nearby, out of the way but within viewing range, her recorder humming relentlessly. Every hour she snapped it into a designated transmission port, where the contents were converted to digital signals and flashed groundward.

At least he wouldn’t have to deal with her once he and Brink were outside, Low mused. No distractions could be permitted. They were about to take one hell of a shovel to an alien sandbox.

Once inside the airlock, he studied Brink closely. There was no indication that the scientist’s excitement was affecting his actions. A better indication would come later, when it would be possible to see how much air he was using.

As soon as the lock had been cleared, they opened the outer door and moved out into the yawning payload bay. The Earth gleamed exquisitely below them, framed by the black of space.

Using the suit’s attitude jets, he turned slowly, and there it was, hanging overhead. It was as if the moon had suddenly plunged toward him. For an instant he was shaken, but it passed quickly.

Brink was already unsealing the digger, the special device designed to plant the explosives, and Low moved to help. The unit was as compact as its official name was long. Upon hearing it, Borden had instantly shortened it to “digger”, and so it was subsequently known to all involved in the project. In space there was no time to waste on protocol, whether human or mechanical.

Since Brink was more familiar with the device, he let the scientist do most of the work, helping when and where requested. It was not complicated. It couldn’t be, given the limited time allotted to the task. They had to plant the explosives, retreat to a safe distance, and fire them before the bolide careened back out into space on its wild path.

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