The Dig by Alan Dean Foster

The flurry of dislodged fragments had all but ceased when a brilliant shaft of light erupted from beneath their feet and bathed all three of them in its vivid glow.

Borden’s exclamation of surprise overrode Miles’s startled oath. “What the hell…?” Low could envision him turning to shout back at the mission specialist. “Readings, dammit! Get some readings!” His voice contained not the slightest suggestion of humor.

The copilot shouted toward the pickup. “Boston! What’s going on out there?” Miles dragged herself into Low’s seat, her fingers fluttering over the instruments, half of which appeared to have gone mad.

“Something’s happening,” she muttered.

“Asteroid quake.” Borden snapped a switch.

“Impossible. It’s too small and too dead.”

“Not as impossible as that light.” Borden was staring at the beam that had inexplicably emerged from the depths of the crevasse.

“Whatever it is, it’s not hot.” She indicated a gauge.

“Hello, hello, Atlantis. Do you read?” It was the voice of Mission Control. Whoever was on duty sounded harried and anxious, Borden decided. And maybe just a little panicked. “What’s going on up there? We’ve got nonorbital motion readings on the target.”

“We’ve got more than motion, people.” Borden stared in disbelief at a gauge that ought to be reading null. It was half lit. “There’s a light of some kind coming from inside the object. Real bright, like a big searchlight. You ought to be able to see it from down there.”

“You’re over west-central Africa. We can’t scope anything until you come within range of Mombasa. What are your readings?”

“No radiation,” Miles reported. “Ken’s right on when he describes it as searchlightlike. I don’t think it’s a residual effect from the correction.”

“Look, as soon as we know something more specific, we’ll tell you,” Borden declared. “It’s a little weird up here just now.”

“You’d better come up with something.” Mission Control sounded peeved. ” ‘Weird’ doesn’t make it as far as scientific terminology is concerned. We need specifics.”

“The asteroid’s generating a bright light. Is that specific enough for you? Don’t bother me. We’ve got three people down on the object.” He looked grimly at Miles. “You got anything yet?”

“Nothing. If there’s a source, it’s either well buried or not hot. Doesn’t show any signs of dimming.” She checked another bank of readouts. “Limited motion is resuming throughout the target’s entire length.”

“Damn.” Borden shifted his gaze from the instrumentation back to the object itself. “Boz? Talk to me, man.”

Low’s voice echoed over the cabin speakers. The Commander sounded slightly shaken, which in itself represented something of an unnatural phenomenon.

“We’re fine. The vibration, or whatever it is, seems to be quieting down.”

Borden glanced at Miles, who nodded confirmation. He leaned toward the pickup. “We see the light. It’s not hot and it doesn’t appear to be lasing, so I think you’re safe in looking at it.”

“A little late for that, isn’t it, buddy?” Low’s voice paused for a moment. “Put the spectroscope on it. The one we use for stellar analysis.”

“Look,” the copilot began, “if you think I’m going to leave you down there while I run recalibrations on the computer, you’d better check yourself for oxygen deprivation.”

“No need to worry,” Low responded. “The ground’s stopped moving. There’s just the light. Whoa, now there’s not even that.”

Peering through the ports, the two crew members saw that the beam had indeed vanished.

“Wonder what the hell that was all about?” Miles murmured aloud.

“Maybe it needs new batteries,” Low replied. “Size double Z.” He had to work for a smile.

Low was floating directly above the hole in the asteroid, staring downward. “There’s still something glowing inside the crevasse. Ludger?”

“I have no more idea than you, Commander. Certain minerals can retain and then release heat. Others can do similar tricks with electrical charges. Perhaps we have just witnessed an entirely new natural mineralogical phenomenon.” In his suit, he turned to face Low. “We would be remiss not to investigate farther.”

“Reflection from a lingering pool of molten material?” the Commander suggested. “Smooth nickel-iron would make a mighty effective mirror.”

“I do not think so. It was too bright, too coherent to be a reflection.”

“Well, then, what?” the Commander pressed him. The scientist had no ready reply.

Something bumped into Low and he started, only to see Robbins drifting next to him. Using the tether, she had pulled herself close. “What was it, then? What happened?”

“We don’t know.”

“But we are going to find out,” Brink added emphatically.

“I don’t know.” Hovering above the pit, Low considered the options. “We’re not really equipped to deal with the unforeseen, Ludger. I don’t like pushing our luck with the unpredictable.”

“Nonsense, Commander. The phenomenon may not be repeated. We must pursue the cause while it remains fresh in experience. By the time the first formal scientific expedition arrives, the trail may have vanished.” He returned his attention to the chasm beneath. “A body this small should not be capable of generating internal motion, much less ambient light. It has not flown apart, which attests to its internal stability. I do not think we have anything to fear.”

“Spoken like a man for whom the unknown holds only answers, not questions.” Low remained unmoved. “Your safety and Maggie’s is my responsibility, Ludger.”

“Hey, don’t I have a voice in this?” Robbins tried to insinuate herself into the discussion.

She didn’t much care for the result. “No, you don’t,” Low told her formally. “You’re here to observe, not to insinuate. Don’t forget that.”

“We were going to enter anyway, Commander,” Brink reminded him. At the very bottom of the crevice a faint efflorescence was still visible. “All the more reason now to proceed with our original intentions.”

“No? What if we get down there and the shaking starts again? What if this fissure decides to close up while we’re in there?”

“Come now, Commander.” Brink did his best not to sound like a lecturing professor, but without much luck. “The fissure is not going to ‘close up.’ This is not some soft, chalky sedimentary formation we are discussing. It is fused rock and nickel-iron. It is not easily malleable.” He activated his suit thrusters. “I’m going in. You may remain behind if you choose.”

“No,” Low responded. “We stay together. Maggie, what’s the reading on your tank?”

She read off a number from her helmet’s heads-up display. Low grunted his satisfaction. “Twenty minutes, Ludger. No more.”

“I accept your decision, Commander. Twenty minutes it is.” He started down.

Low followed, keeping a wary eye on the walls of the fissure. There was no indication of movement, no hint of vibration. All was as still and quiet as when they had first arrived, except for the persistent, absurd glow from below. Robbins had her camera on continuous run.

“What about the structure?” he murmured aloud.

“I see nothing out of the ordinary, Commander.” Brink continued to precede his companions downward. “Everything appears consistent with what is known or generally theorized. I don’t know whether to be reassured or disappointed.”

“Hey!” exclaimed a familiar voice via his headset. “How about an update, you guys?”

“The shaking or vibration has stopped completely, Cora. We are inside the fissure and descending. Ludger says that everything looks about as expected. There’s some kind of faint illumination below us, which we’re going to check out. We’ll take a few samples and then start back. Keep my seat warm.”

“Always.” Miles’s throaty laughter was greatly reassuring.

Robbins reached out to brush one wall with a gloved hand. “What are these glassy green deposits?”

“Olivine crystals,” Brink explained. “Fused and smoothed by the heat of the detonation.”

“You sure you’re all right?” That was Borden, Low knew. The copilot was uncharacteristically serious.

“Fine, Ken. There’s some loose debris, but it’s easy to just push out of the way. Nothing sharp enough to threaten suit integrity. Not yet, anyway. Everything’s normal.”

“No, it is not,” announced Brink as if on cue. Having reached the bottom of the chasm, the scientist had used a puff from his thrusters to halt his progress. Now he floated facedown in an effortless headstand a few inches above the rock.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Low immediately inquired.

“It is not so much that something is wrong, Commander. It is more that something is simply not right.”

“I don’t follow.”

The scientist edged backward, using his fingertips to effect the motion. “Come and see for yourself.”

Low adjusted himself, taking care to steady Robbins so that she would not go drifting past him to slam into the bottom of the crevasse. The gravity of Brink’s appraisal was revealed in a single glance.

“Son of a bitch,” a voice mumbled. His own, he determined.

“Say what, Boston? What was that again?” It was Borden, insistent and worried.

Low found he couldn’t reply. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. It was left to the ever-voluble Robbins to respond.

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