The Depths of Time (66 page)

Koffield nodded thoughtfully.
“
The theory is—or at least used to be, two hundred years ago, when I did my studies— that advanced, or rather advancing, technology, would force change, accelerate it. The more technology improves, the faster things change, the more technology improves. A positive feedback.
”

“
But their technology isn
’
t that much more advanced than ours,
”
Norla pointed out.
“
It
’
s got refinements, it
’
s been improved, but it
’
s essentially the same as what I grew up with.
”

“
Maybe that
’
s the explanation,
”
Koffield said.
“
But even our clothing and hairstyles are similar enough that they fit right in. The local accents are not that different from the way some of the
Dom Pedro’s
crew speak.
”

Norla-shrugged.
“
You
’
re right. Now that you point it out, it is strange. I can
’
t explain it, but it is odd.
”
She turned and smiled at him.
“
At least it means they can understand us. Maybe we should just be grateful for small favors and leave it at that.
”

Koffield smiled back, but didn
’
t reply. She was probably right. But he knew himself well enough to know he couldn
’
t leave it at that. Now that he was aware of it, the mystery would nag at him until he knew, until he understood.

They walked on in silence beneath the trees of the strangely familiar forest and the utterly alien sky.

When they got back from their walk, Norla was both amused and pleased to see that Koffield had indeed been missed. A half dozen scientists pounced on him as soon as he came through the door, each with a complicated and obscure question to ask.

The questioning went on all throughout the evening meal in the refectory. How was this value derived? What further information did he have about Ulan Baskaw? Was he aware of the proposals for the latest Mars recovery project? How did he think his new mathematical models would affect that work? One working group had already applied the Baskaw-Koffield formulae to the available data for three historical ecocollapses, all of which had been explained away as freak accidents. The B-K formulae could have predicted all three of them. Did he have any comment? Several specialists were having trouble deriving useful data from sub-formula B of formula six. Would it be possible for him to look over their work and see if he could point out the difficulty?

The poor man scarcely had a chance to eat, but, if Norla had developed any skill at all in reading Anton Koffield, that very private man was extremely gratified— not because of the attention paid to him, but because that attention clearly signaled that all that he had done, all that he had sacrificed, had not been in vain. He had gotten the message through.

It was not until after dinner, when the locals started slipping away from the refectory, that things settled down. But even then Koffield was the center of attention.

Norla, sitting next to him, watched as the last of the group settled themselves at their table, and engaged him in casual conversation.

Strange, strange, and strange again how people worked. Ever since Circum Central, people had pointed at him, whispered behind his back, because he happened to be there when the mysterious Intruders had wreaked their havoc. Koffield had done nothing but his job, and yet people had blamed him, and not the Intruders, for the disaster. Now here he was surrounded by admirers, not because he had made a great discovery, but merely because he had found it in a book, and read it, understood it, found a way to use it, and brought it to their attention.

“
You come at a most fortunate time, Admiral,
”
one of the group was telling him. Norla had to think for a moment to come up with the woman
’
s name. Mandessa Orlang, that was it. The director of the Greenhouse Institute.
“
Or,
”
Orlang went on in her somewhat booming voice,
“
perhaps a most unfortunate one. You and Officer Chandray will have the chance to see something quite spectacular and rare, if you wish to see it. Something we all wish was much rarer than it is. Something that is, unfortunately, closely related to the discoveries you have brought to our attention.
”

“
What would that be?
”
Koffield asked.

“
They are going to blow a dome,
”
Vandar replied, before Orlang could speak. No doubt Orlang would have used three times as many words to relay the same information.

But Professor Orlang was not at all put out by Vandar
’
s stealing her thunder.
“
Not just any dome,
”
she said.
“
One of the oldest and most diverse domed habitats on Greenhouse.
”
She paused, and spoke again, in grand and theatrical tones.
“
It is, in fact,
Founder’s
Dome.
”

There was a moment
’
s silence around the table. The solemn looks and the downcast gazes told Norla that Founder
’
s Dome meant a lot to the locals. Of course, the name told her that much as well. Theirs was a people who set great store by their history, their heritage. Things would
have to get to a sorry state indeed before they would be willing to destroy anyplace with the word
Founder’s
in the name.

“
I
’
m sorry to hear that,
”
Koffield said, with obvious sincerity.

“
It
’
s not going to do much good for morale, that
’
s for sure,
”
said Vandar.

“
I can
’
t imagine that my showing up now, with all my warnings of doom and gloom, will make the situation any easier,
”
said Koffield.

“
No,
”
Vandar said.
“
Not your fault, of course, but it won
’
t. The ghost at the banquet, and all that. Before you showed up, we could all tell ourselves it was just bad luck that Founder
’
s had to go. Now we know the problem is systemic. Now the death of Founder
’
s will just serve to remind us that all the domes, all the habitats, all the
worlds,
are going to go.
”

“
I am not sure I agree, Dr. Vandar,
”
said Orlang.
“
Who can say? Maybe a one-two punch of hard-edged theory and grim reality will focus people
’
s attention. Perhaps Planetary Executive Kalzant can use the failure of Founder
’
s Dome to get the attention of the people, so that they can listen to the news you
’
ve brought us.
”

“
Perhaps,
”
Koffield said, plainly noncommittal.

“
Excuse me, Dr. Orlang,
”
said Wandella Ashdin.
“
Founder
’
s Dome. That is where DeSilvo
’
s Tomb is, isn
’
t it?
”

“
Yes, of course. It is one of our most important heritage sites. There is a great deal of concern that it might be damaged when the dome is blown, but there is very little that can be done to get in and protect it, now that the dome is sealed down.
”

Koffield looked up sharply at Ashdin.
“
Wait a moment,
”
he said.
“
DeSilvo
’
s Tomb? He
’
s buried
here?”

“
His ashes are here, in an urn inside the tomb. I suppose that means that
tomb
isn
’
t exactly the right word, but that
’
s what everyone calls it.
”

“
How the devil did his ashes come to be here?
”

“
It was in his will. When he died for the last time, his body was cremated, the ashes sealed in the urn and shipped to Greenhouse.
”

“
Died for the
last
time?
”
Norla asked.
“
How many times
did
he die?
”

“
‘
A coward dies a thousand times,
’
“
said Koffield, half to himself. He was only half-paying attention to the conversation. It was obvious that something had caught him by surprise, made him see something.
“
‘
A hero dies but once.
’
“

“
What in the world is
that
supposed to mean?
”
Ashdin asked suspiciously.

“
It
’
s an old quotation,
”
Koffield said absently, not aware that he had given offense.
“
It
’
s from an early near-ancient poet, I believe. One of those things that
’
s been translated over and over again across the millennia. The words change as it moves from one language to another, but the sense of the words stays the same. It means if you spend too much time worrying about the dangers, you
’
ll never dare take chances or do what needs doing.
”

Ashdin sniffed audibly, and Norla could not help but smile. Ashdin took it hard when Koffield made it clear he did not share her affection for Oskar DeSilvo.

“
Heroes and cowards to one side, how many times
did
DeSilvo die?
”
Norla asked.

“
And when did DeSilvo die
permanently?”
Koffield asked, as if the question might be of special importance.

“Dr.
DeSilvo was clinically dead at least five times, and subsequently revived,
”
Ashdin said stiffly.
“
He died
absolutely
—that is, finally and without revival—thirteen years after your departure for Solace. However, he was not active during all of those years. He spent much of them in temporal confinement, and made at least one interstellar round-trip—presumably in cryosleep—during that time. No one has ever been able to ascertain where he went on that trip, but I suppose that is beside the point. He died in his offices, at his desk, at work, in the Grand Library. His remains were cremated and transported here, in accordance with his will.
”

Koffield stared intently at Ashdin, but, somehow, did not actually seem to see her. His eye was focused on things unseen, things beyond the horizon and buried in the past. At last, he came to himself, then turned to address Orlang.
“
You said the dome was sealed. Is it no longer possible to get into the dome?
”

“
That is not precisely correct. Once a dome is sealed down, it is no longer possible to get
out
of it. It is sealed because we fear biological contaminants coming out through the airlock system and infecting other domes.
”

“
So it is at least possible to go in.
”

Orlang was obviously baffled.
“
Theoretically, yes, I suppose. But whoever went in would have to remain inside until the dome was blown. It is a fairly complex process, blowing a dome. First they place powerful heaters throughout the dome and cut off the cooling system. They run the in-dome temperature up to one hundred twenty degrees centigrade and hold it there for twelve hours. Then they use shaped charges, strategically placed all over the surface of that dome, to produce explosive compression. That, plus exposure to near vacuum, provides near-total sterilization.
”

“
But a man in a suit, an armored pressure suit, carrying spare oxygen and food and water, could go in, so long as he was willing to remain inside until the dome was blown?
”

Orlang nodded vaguely.
“
I suppose. If he knew how to protect himself against the heat and the decompression blasts.
”

“
Then I must go into that dome, now. I must see that tomb, and examine it carefully, before it suffers any damage from explosive decompression or heating.
”

“
But whatever for?
”
Orlang asked.

“
I
’
d rather not say,
”
Koffield replied.

“
But this is absurd,
”
Orlang protested.
“
I can
’
t just let you wander around a contaminated zone for a week without any explanation.
”

“
I know it sounds absurd.
”
Koffield paused for a moment.
“
I
’
m reluctant to discuss my suspicions because I could well go in there and discover nothing at all, and then I would have raised unreasonable, unfair expectations—or fears.
”
Koffield shrugged.
“
Or it might be that I find something absolutely vital.
”