The Dig by Alan Dean Foster

Taking the shard from his pocket, he moved to deposit it in the waiting opening … and hesitated. “Wait a minute. Why are we bothering with this, not to mention probably wasting a life crystal? There’s no spaceship here, no way home.”

“We’re doing it because we can,” she told him, “and because it might bring us some help. The Creator can’t do anything else for us. Maybe this machine can. Maybe it’ll let us talk to the Cocytans in the other dimension and they’ll know how we can reactivate the asteroid-ship. If not, maybe they can tell us where to find food, or how to get somewhere besides these islands.”

He took a deep breath. “As I’ve said before, I don’t have any better ideas.” Then he turned to her. “Here. This is your idea. You do it.”

“Okay.” She took the life crystal, turning it over several times in her fingers, feeling the warmth of it while admiring the uniquely cool green glow. Then she slid it into the opening and gave it a little push. It disappeared silently within.

Low quickly stepped forward and put his eye to the slot. “I can’t see the glow anymore. It’s definitely gone somewhere.”

“You could say that.” She put a hand on his shoulder and drew him back.

Lights were coming on throughout the length and breadth of the mechanism. Pulsing just beneath the waxy, translucent surface, they formed circles and streaks of intense color. Some burned steadily, others blinked sequentially, while still others raced back and forth like fiery predators seeking electronic prey. Occasionally two of the latter would collide in a shower of controlled sparks.

Low commented laconically. “I’d say that did something.”

“That’s not all it did.” Robbins had turned. “Have a look, Boston.”

Instrumentalities were coming to life throughout the chamber. It seemed as if every device in the spire had been activated by the insertion of the single crystal. Deep-throated hums and whirrings filled the air.

“There!” she shouted, pointing. “Something’s happening.”

Before their rapt gaze a vast section of wall slid slowly aside on hidden bearings. When it finally halted, they walked toward the new opening. It was no false projection. Standing in the portal, they could smell the sea and hear the slap of waves against unseen rocks below.

Behind them, more and more machinery continued to come on line, throbbing with the muted power they had come to associate with Cocytan technology.

Separated from the islet by a substantial stretch of ocean and directly in front of them lay the central island. It was easily recognizable as such from its size as well as from the familiar bulk of the asteroid-ship nestling in its rocky repository. Two of the other islets were also clearly visible, their gleaming spires stabbing at the sky. Beneath the one off to their left, Low mused, the Creator lay sleeping his final sleep, dreaming the slow dreams of the deceased and blissfully unaware of what was taking place close at hand. He had no more advice to give them, and they were once again truly on their own.

Inquisitive as ever, Robbins commented on her observations. “What’s supposed to happen next?” She looked back into the room. “Seems like an awful lot of power and paraphernalia just to open a window.”

Low considered the chamber. So many bright lights and indicators had come to life that he had to shield his eyes against the multihued glare.

“Right now we’re standing in a line between the big machine and the central island. I think it would be a good idea if we moved.” He took her hand, and together they stepped aside.

Less than a minute later a high, dominating whine filled the vaulted chamber and a beam of light ten feet in diameter erupted from the front of the combined mechanism. They dropped to the floor, overwhelmed by the unexpected radiance.

“Don’t look directly at it,” Low warned her. “Cover your eyes and move away from it.”

Robbins had her eyes closed and had turned away from the source of the luminescence. Stars pinwheeled inside her eyelids. “If I cover my face, how the hell am I supposed to tell which way to crawl?”

As soon as his outraged optics had recovered somewhat, Low opened his eyes and let them focus on the floor. When he had his vision back, he found he was able to look in the direction of the projector so long as he kept his glance averted from the beam itself.

“Take it slow and it’s not so bad.” He took her arm and led her forward. “Let your vision readjust gradually.”

When they reached the portal that separated the interior of the spire from the transport station, they finally turned to survey their handiwork. The entire room was alive with light, every single piece of machinery regardless of size having been brought back to life. The incredible beam leaped through the observatorylike opening in the far wall to soar across the ocean.

Floating high above the center of the main island was the resurrected Eye. It hung suspended in a Crosshatch of tremendous beams, one emanating from each of the five surrounding islets. Resembling an immense flat disk, it slowly rotated through a complete arc every minute or so.

“Not bad for one small crystal,” Robbins murmured.

Low squinted at the stunning sight. “Looks more like a disk than an eye. Maybe the designation’s more apocryphal then descriptive.” He stepped back into the room, shielding his face against the brightness all around. “There’s some kind of transparent film around it. Looks like a giant soap bubble. You can’t really see it, but you can see the sunlight reflecting off the surface.”

“I wonder what happens next?” she mused.

For once Low had nothing to say. Thoroughly engrossed in the sight, they stood and watched for some thirty minutes before the beam began to fade. No warning flicker preceded the diminution of intensity. The light simply dimmed until it vanished altogether. All five beams faded in concert. When they were no longer discernible, the disk ceased its methodical rotation and sank down into some hidden repository deep within the central mountains of the island.

Then all was as it had been before Robbins had slipped the life crystal into the slot. Somewhere an indigenous flying creature cried out to the lowering sun. A hidden instrument whirred one last time and died. It was hushed within the room. Only the lofty cleft in the far side of the spire wall remained to indicate that anything had taken place within.

They stood and listened to the distant harmony of the waves.

“It didn’t work,” Low commented finally. “I mean, it worked; it just didn’t do anything.”

“It just stopped.” Robbins was scrutinizing the far reaches of the chamber, her eyes traveling from one now-silent instrument to the next. “We didn’t touch anything and it stopped.”

“Probably designed to shut itself down when nothing happens,” he decided, “or…”

“Or what?” she prompted him.

“This is a lot for one crystal to operate. Maybe it needs more power to bring it fully on-line.”

Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Ludger.”

Low nodded. “Exactly. And he’s gone crystal crackers again. Or maybe we’ll be lucky and he’s come around by now. I’m hoping that deep down he’s too rational and too logical to go completely psychotic.”

“I’ll talk to him.” She exuded confidence as they headed for the transport sphere. “I’ve extracted coherent statements from men in combat and from politicians on the run. I think I can handle one addicted scientist.”

“You’ve never tried to persuade one of the living dead,” Low reminded her.

She smiled as they mounted the platform and entered the sphere. “Like I said, I’ve handled politicians on the run.”

Unseen, unfelt and unperceived, three billion anxious thought-forms accompanied them.

They found Brink easily enough. As Low suspected, he had made his way back to the small storeroom where they had originally unearthed the hoard of crystals. When they arrived, they found him tinkering with the device he had claimed could reproduce them in quantity.

“Any luck?” Low inquired as the two of them caught sight of the scientist.

Brink glanced up briefly before returning to his work. He didn’t seem surprised to see them.

“I believe that I am making some progress. The overall layout of the machinery is straightforward, but I do not have the engineering skills, or rather the machinist’s, to effect the necessary repairs.”

Gesturing for Robbins to remain behind, Low moved closer and peered into the depths of the device. Brink had achieved a small miracle in successfully opening the machine. Or perhaps, the Commander told himself, a concealed catch had simply responded to the scientist’s touch.

Exposed to the light, the appliance’s innards were a mass of unfamiliar color and components. There was nothing resembling a simple cable, chip or circuit board.

“I can’t see where a drill or screwdriver would fit into this thing.”

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