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diff --git a/19445.txt b/19445.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ed53d5e --- /dev/null +++ b/19445.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2303 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Omnilingual, by H. Beam Piper + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Omnilingual + +Author: H. Beam Piper + +Illustrator: Freas + +Release Date: October 2, 2006 [EBook #19445] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OMNILINGUAL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + +This etext was produced from "Astounding Science Fiction," February, +1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +OMNILINGUAL + + + _To translate writings, you need a key to the code--and + if the last writer of Martian died forty thousand years + before the first writer of Earth was born ... how could + the Martian be translated...?_ + +BY H. BEAM PIPER + +Illustrated by Freas + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + + +Martha Dane paused, looking up at the purple-tinged copper sky. The wind +had shifted since noon, while she had been inside, and the dust storm +that was sweeping the high deserts to the east was now blowing out over +Syrtis. The sun, magnified by the haze, was a gorgeous magenta ball, as +large as the sun of Terra, at which she could look directly. Tonight, +some of that dust would come sifting down from the upper atmosphere to +add another film to what had been burying the city for the last fifty +thousand years. + +The red loess lay over everything, covering the streets and the open +spaces of park and plaza, hiding the small houses that had been crushed +and pressed flat under it and the rubble that had come down from the +tall buildings when roofs had caved in and walls had toppled outward. +Here, where she stood, the ancient streets were a hundred to a hundred +and fifty feet below the surface; the breach they had made in the wall +of the building behind her had opened into the sixth story. She could +look down on the cluster of prefabricated huts and sheds, on the +brush-grown flat that had been the waterfront when this place had been a +seaport on the ocean that was now Syrtis Depression; already, the bright +metal was thinly coated with red dust. She thought, again, of what +clearing this city would mean, in terms of time and labor, of people and +supplies and equipment brought across fifty million miles of space. +They'd have to use machinery; there was no other way it could be done. +Bulldozers and power shovels and draglines; they were fast, but they +were rough and indiscriminate. She remembered the digs around Harappa +and Mohenjo-Daro, in the Indus Valley, and the careful, patient native +laborers--the painstaking foremen, the pickmen and spademen, the long +files of basketmen carrying away the earth. Slow and primitive as the +civilization whose ruins they were uncovering, yes, but she could count +on the fingers of one hand the times one of her pickmen had damaged a +valuable object in the ground. If it hadn't been for the underpaid and +uncomplaining native laborer, archaeology would still be back where +Wincklemann had found it. But on Mars there was no native labor; the +last Martian had died five hundred centuries ago. + +Something started banging like a machine gun, four or five hundred yards +to her left. A solenoid jack-hammer; Tony Lattimer must have decided +which building he wanted to break into next. She became conscious, then, +of the awkward weight of her equipment, and began redistributing it, +shifting the straps of her oxy-tank pack, slinging the camera from one +shoulder and the board and drafting tools from the other, gathering the +notebooks and sketchbooks under her left arm. She started walking down +the road, over hillocks of buried rubble, around snags of wall jutting +up out of the loess, past buildings still standing, some of them already +breached and explored, and across the brush-grown flat to the huts. + + * * * * * + +There were ten people in the main office room of Hut One when she +entered. As soon as she had disposed of her oxygen equipment, she lit a +cigarette, her first since noon, then looked from one to another of +them. Old Selim von Ohlmhorst, the Turco-German, one of her two fellow +archaeologists, sitting at the end of the long table against the farther +wall, smoking his big curved pipe and going through a looseleaf +notebook. The girl ordnance officer, Sachiko Koremitsu, between two +droplights at the other end of the table, her head bent over her work. +Colonel Hubert Penrose, the Space Force CO, and Captain Field, the +intelligence officer, listening to the report of one of the airdyne +pilots, returned from his afternoon survey flight. A couple of girl +lieutenants from Signals, going over the script of the evening telecast, +to be transmitted to the _Cyrano_, on orbit five thousand miles off +planet and relayed from thence to Terra via Lunar. Sid Chamberlain, the +Trans-Space News Service man, was with them. Like Selim and herself, he +was a civilian; he was advertising the fact with a white shirt and a +sleeveless blue sweater. And Major Lindemann, the engineer officer, and +one of his assistants, arguing over some plans on a drafting board. She +hoped, drawing a pint of hot water to wash her hands and sponge off her +face, that they were doing something about the pipeline. + +She started to carry the notebooks and sketchbooks over to where Selim +von Ohlmhorst was sitting, and then, as she always did, she turned aside +and stopped to watch Sachiko. The Japanese girl was restoring what had +been a book, fifty thousand years ago; her eyes were masked by a +binocular loup, the black headband invisible against her glossy black +hair, and she was picking delicately at the crumbled page with a +hair-fine wire set in a handle of copper tubing. Finally, loosening a +particle as tiny as a snowflake, she grasped it with tweezers, placed it +on the sheet of transparent plastic on which she was reconstructing the +page, and set it with a mist of fixative from a little spraygun. It was +a sheer joy to watch her; every movement was as graceful and precise as +though done to music after being rehearsed a hundred times. + +"Hello, Martha. It isn't cocktail-time yet, is it?" The girl at the +table spoke without raising her head, almost without moving her lips, as +though she were afraid that the slightest breath would disturb the flaky +stuff in front of her. + +"No, it's only fifteen-thirty. I finished my work, over there. I didn't +find any more books, if that's good news for you." + +Sachiko took off the loup and leaned back in her chair, her palms cupped +over her eyes. + +"No, I like doing this. I call it micro-jigsaw puzzles. This book, here, +really is a mess. Selim found it lying open, with some heavy stuff on +top of it; the pages were simply crushed." She hesitated briefly. "If +only it would mean something, after I did it." + +There could be a faintly critical overtone to that. As she replied, +Martha realized that she was being defensive. + +"It will, some day. Look how long it took to read Egyptian +hieroglyphics, even after they had the Rosetta Stone." + +Sachiko smiled. "Yes. I know. But they did have the Rosetta Stone." + +"And we don't. There is no Rosetta Stone, not anywhere on Mars. A whole +race, a whole species, died while the first Cro-Magnon cave-artist was +daubing pictures of reindeer and bison, and across fifty thousand years +and fifty million miles there was no bridge of understanding. + +"We'll find one. There must be something, somewhere, that will give us +the meaning of a few words, and we'll use them to pry meaning out of +more words, and so on. We may not live to learn this language, but we'll +make a start, and some day somebody will." + +Sachiko took her hands from her eyes, being careful not to look toward +the unshaded light, and smiled again. This time Martha was sure that it +was not the Japanese smile of politeness, but the universally human +smile of friendship. + +"I hope so, Martha: really I do. It would be wonderful for you to be the +first to do it, and it would be wonderful for all of us to be able to +read what these people wrote. It would really bring this dead city to +life again." The smile faded slowly. "But it seems so hopeless." + +"You haven't found any more pictures?" + +Sachiko shook her head. Not that it would have meant much if she had. +They had found hundreds of pictures with captions; they had never been +able to establish a positive relationship between any pictured object +and any printed word. Neither of them said anything more, and after a +moment Sachiko replaced the loup and bent her head forward over the +book. + + * * * * * + +Selim von Ohlmhorst looked up from his notebook, taking his pipe out of +his mouth. + +"Everything finished, over there?" he asked, releasing a puff of smoke. + +"Such as it was." She laid the notebooks and sketches on the table. +"Captain Gicquel's started airsealing the building from the fifth floor +down, with an entrance on the sixth; he'll start putting in oxygen +generators as soon as that's done. I have everything cleared up where +he'll be working." + +Colonel Penrose looked up quickly, as though making a mental note to +attend to something later. Then he returned his attention to the pilot, +who was pointing something out on a map. + +Von Ohlmhorst nodded. "There wasn't much to it, at that," he agreed. "Do +you know which building Tony has decided to enter next?" + +"The tall one with the conical thing like a candle extinguisher on top, +I think. I heard him drilling for the blasting shots over that way." + +"Well, I hope it turns out to be one that was occupied up to the end." + +The last one hadn't. It had been stripped of its contents and fittings, +a piece of this and a bit of that, haphazardly, apparently over a long +period of time, until it had been almost gutted. For centuries, as it +had died, this city had been consuming itself by a process of +auto-cannibalism. She said something to that effect. + +"Yes. We always find that--except, of course, at places like Pompeii. +Have you seen any of the other Roman cities in Italy?" he asked. +"Minturnae, for instance? First the inhabitants tore down this to repair +that, and then, after they had vacated the city, other people came along +and tore down what was left, and burned the stones for lime, or crushed +them to mend roads, till there was nothing left but the foundation +traces. That's where we are fortunate; this is one of the places where +the Martian race perished, and there were no barbarians to come later +and destroy what they had left." He puffed slowly at his pipe. "Some of +these days, Martha, we are going to break into one of these buildings +and find that it was one in which the last of these people died. Then we +will learn the story of the end of this civilization." + +And if we learn to read their language, we'll learn the whole story, not +just the obituary. She hesitated, not putting the thought into words. +"We'll find that, sometime, Selim," she said, then looked at her watch. +"I'm going to get some more work done on my lists, before dinner." + +For an instant, the old man's face stiffened in disapproval; he started +to say something, thought better of it, and put his pipe back into his +mouth. The brief wrinkling around his mouth and the twitch of his white +mustache had been enough, however; she knew what he was thinking. She +was wasting time and effort, he believed; time and effort belonging not +to herself but to the expedition. He could be right, too, she realized. +But he had to be wrong; there had to be a way to do it. She turned from +him silently and went to her own packing-case seat, at the middle of the +table. + + * * * * * + +Photographs, and photostats of restored pages of books, and transcripts +of inscriptions, were piled in front of her, and the notebooks in which +she was compiling her lists. She sat down, lighting a fresh cigarette, +and reached over to a stack of unexamined material, taking off the top +sheet. It was a photostat of what looked like the title page and +contents of some sort of a periodical. She remembered it; she had found +it herself, two days before, in a closet in the basement of the building +she had just finished examining. + +She sat for a moment, looking at it. It was readable, in the sense that +she had set up a purely arbitrary but consistently pronounceable system +of phonetic values for the letters. The long vertical symbols were +vowels. There were only ten of them; not too many, allowing separate +characters for long and short sounds. There were twenty of the short +horizontal letters, which meant that sounds like -ng or -ch or -sh were +single letters. The odds were millions to one against her system being +anything like the original sound of the language, but she had listed +several thousand Martian words, and she could pronounce all of them. + +And that was as far as it went. She could pronounce between three and +four thousand Martian words, and she couldn't assign a meaning to one of +them. Selim von Ohlmhorst believed that she never would. So did Tony +Lattimer, and he was a great deal less reticent about saying so. So, she +was sure, did Sachiko Koremitsu. There were times, now and then, when +she began to be afraid that they were right. + +The letters on the page in front of her began squirming and dancing, +slender vowels with fat little consonants. They did that, now, every +night in her dreams. And there were other dreams, in which she read them +as easily as English; waking, she would try desperately and vainly to +remember. She blinked, and looked away from the photostatted page; when +she looked back, the letters were behaving themselves again. There were +three words at the top of the page, over-and-underlined, which seemed to +be the Martian method of capitalization. _Mastharnorvod Tadavas +Sornhulva_. She pronounced them mentally, leafing through her notebooks +to see if she had encountered them before, and in what contexts. All +three were listed. In addition, _masthar_ was a fairly common word, and +so was _norvod_, and so was _nor_, but _-vod_ was a suffix and nothing +but a suffix. _Davas_, was a word, too, and _ta-_ was a common prefix; +_sorn_ and _hulva_ were both common words. This language, she had long +ago decided, must be something like German; when the Martians had needed +a new word, they had just pasted a couple of existing words together. It +would probably turn out to be a grammatical horror. Well, they had +published magazines, and one of them had been called _Mastharnorvod +Tadavas Sornhulva_. She wondered if it had been something like the +_Quarterly Archaeological Review_, or something more on the order of +_Sexy Stories_. + +A smaller line, under the title, was plainly the issue number and date; +enough things had been found numbered in series to enable her to +identify the numerals and determine that a decimal system of numeration +had been used. This was the one thousand and seven hundred and +fifty-fourth issue, for Doma, 14837; then Doma must be the name of one +of the Martian months. The word had turned up several times before. She +found herself puffing furiously on her cigarette as she leafed through +notebooks and piles of already examined material. + + * * * * * + +Sachiko was speaking to somebody, and a chair scraped at the end of the +table. She raised her head, to see a big man with red hair and a red +face, in Space Force green, with the single star of a major on his +shoulder, sitting down. Ivan Fitzgerald, the medic. He was lifting +weights from a book similar to the one the girl ordnance officer was +restoring. + +"Haven't had time, lately," he was saying, in reply to Sachiko's +question. "The Finchley girl's still down with whatever it is she has, +and it's something I haven't been able to diagnose yet. And I've been +checking on bacteria cultures, and in what spare time I have, I've been +dissecting specimens for Bill Chandler. Bill's finally found a mammal. +Looks like a lizard, and it's only four inches long, but it's a real +warm-blooded, gamogenetic, placental, viviparous mammal. Burrows, and +seems to live on what pass for insects here." + +"Is there enough oxygen for anything like that?" Sachiko was asking. + +"Seems to be, close to the ground." Fitzgerald got the headband of his +loup adjusted, and pulled it down over his eyes. "He found this thing in +a ravine down on the sea bottom--Ha, this page seems to be intact; now, +if I can get it out all in one piece--" + +He went on talking inaudibly to himself, lifting the page a little at a +time and sliding one of the transparent plastic sheets under it, working +with minute delicacy. Not the delicacy of the Japanese girl's small +hands, moving like the paws of a cat washing her face, but like a +steam-hammer cracking a peanut. Field archaeology requires a certain +delicacy of touch, too, but Martha watched the pair of them with envious +admiration. Then she turned back to her own work, finishing the table of +contents. + +The next page was the beginning of the first article listed; many of the +words were unfamiliar. She had the impression that this must be some +kind of scientific or technical journal; that could be because such +publications made up the bulk of her own periodical reading. She doubted +if it were fiction; the paragraphs had a solid, factual look. + +At length, Ivan Fitzgerald gave a short, explosive grunt. + +"Ha! Got it!" + +She looked up. He had detached the page and was cementing another +plastic sheet onto it. + +"Any pictures?" she asked. + +"None on this side. Wait a moment." He turned the sheet. "None on this +side, either." He sprayed another sheet of plastic to sandwich the page, +then picked up his pipe and relighted it. + +"I get fun out of this, and it's good practice for my hands, so don't +think I'm complaining," he said, "but, Martha, do you honestly think +anybody's ever going to get anything out of this?" + +Sachiko held up a scrap of the silicone plastic the Martians had used +for paper with her tweezers. It was almost an inch square. + +"Look; three whole words on this piece," she crowed. "Ivan, you took the +easy book." + +Fitzgerald wasn't being sidetracked. "This stuff's absolutely +meaningless," he continued. "It had a meaning fifty thousand years ago, +when it was written, but it has none at all now." + +She shook her head. "Meaning isn't something that evaporates with time," +she argued. "It has just as much meaning now as it ever had. We just +haven't learned how to decipher it." + +"That seems like a pretty pointless distinction," Selim von Ohlmhorst +joined the conversation. "There no longer exists a means of deciphering +it." + +"We'll find one." She was speaking, she realized, more in +self-encouragement than in controversy. + +"How? From pictures and captions? We've found captioned pictures, and +what have they given us? A caption is intended to explain the picture, +not the picture to explain the caption. Suppose some alien to our +culture found a picture of a man with a white beard and mustache sawing +a billet from a log. He would think the caption meant, 'Man Sawing +Wood.' How would he know that it was really 'Wilhelm II in Exile at +Doorn?'" + +Sachiko had taken off her loup and was lighting a cigarette. + +"I can think of pictures intended to explain their captions," she said. +"These picture language-books, the sort we use in the Service--little +line drawings, with a word or phrase under them." + +"Well, of course, if we found something like that," von Ohlmhorst began. + + * * * * * + +"Michael Ventris found something like that, back in the Fifties," Hubert +Penrose's voice broke in from directly behind her. + +She turned her head. The colonel was standing by the archaeologists' +table; Captain Field and the airdyne pilot had gone out. + +"He found a lot of Greek inventories of military stores," Penrose +continued. "They were in Cretan Linear B script, and at the head of each +list was a little picture, a sword or a helmet or a cooking tripod or a +chariot wheel. That's what gave him the key to the script." + +"Colonel's getting to be quite an archaeologist," Fitzgerald commented. +"We're all learning each others' specialties, on this expedition." + +"I heard about that long before this expedition was even contemplated." +Penrose was tapping a cigarette on his gold case. "I heard about that +back before the Thirty Days' War, at Intelligence School, when I was a +lieutenant. As a feat of cryptanalysis, not an archaeological +discovery." + +"Yes, cryptanalysis," von Ohlmhorst pounced. "The reading of a known +language in an unknown form of writing. Ventris' lists were in the known +language, Greek. Neither he nor anybody else ever read a word of the +Cretan language until the finding of the Greek-Cretan bilingual in 1963, +because only with a bilingual text, one language already known, can an +unknown ancient language be learned. And what hope, I ask you, have we +of finding anything like that here? Martha, you've been working on these +Martian texts ever since we landed here--for the last six months. Tell +me, have you found a single word to which you can positively assign a +meaning?" + +"Yes, I think I have one." She was trying hard not to sound too +exultant. "_Doma._ It's the name of one of the months of the Martian +calendar." + +"Where did you find that?" von Ohlmhorst asked. "And how did you +establish--?" + +"Here." She picked up the photostat and handed it along the table to +him. "I'd call this the title page of a magazine." + +He was silent for a moment, looking at it. "Yes. I would say so, too. +Have you any of the rest of it?" + +"I'm working on the first page of the first article, listed there. Wait +till I see; yes, here's all I found, together, here." She told him where +she had gotten it. "I just gathered it up, at the time, and gave it to +Geoffrey and Rosita to photostat; this is the first I've really examined +it." + +The old man got to his feet, brushing tobacco ashes from the front of +his jacket, and came to where she was sitting, laying the title page on +the table and leafing quickly through the stack of photostats. + +[Illustration] + +"Yes, and here is the second article, on page eight, and here's the next +one." He finished the pile of photostats. "A couple of pages missing at +the end of the last article. This is remarkable; surprising that a thing +like a magazine would have survived so long." + +"Well, this silicone stuff the Martians used for paper is pretty +durable," Hubert Penrose said. "There doesn't seem to have been any +water or any other fluid in it originally, so it wouldn't dry out with +time." + +"Oh, it's not remarkable that the material would have survived. We've +found a good many books and papers in excellent condition. But only a +really vital culture, an organized culture, will publish magazines, and +this civilization had been dying for hundreds of years before the end. +It might have been a thousand years before the time they died out +completely that such activities as publishing ended." + +"Well, look where I found it; in a closet in a cellar. Tossed in there +and forgotten, and then ignored when they were stripping the building. +Things like that happen." + +Penrose had picked up the title page and was looking at it. + +"I don't think there's any doubt about this being a magazine, at all." +He looked again at the title, his lips moving silently. "_Mastharnorvod +Tadavas Sornhulva_. Wonder what it means. But you're right about the +date--_Doma_ seems to be the name of a month. Yes, you have a word, Dr. +Dane." + +Sid Chamberlain, seeing that something unusual was going on, had come +over from the table at which he was working. After examining the title +page and some of the inside pages, he began whispering into the +stenophone he had taken from his belt. + +"Don't try to blow this up to anything big, Sid," she cautioned. "All we +have is the name of a month, and Lord only knows how long it'll be till +we even find out which month it was." + +"Well, it's a start, isn't it?" Penrose argued. "Grotefend only had the +word for 'king' when he started reading Persian cuneiform." + +"But I don't have the word for month; just the name of a month. +Everybody knew the names of the Persian kings, long before Grotefend." + +"That's not the story," Chamberlain said. "What the public back on Terra +will be interested in is finding out that the Martians published +magazines, just like we do. Something familiar; make the Martians seem +more real. More human." + + * * * * * + +Three men had come in, and were removing their masks and helmets and +oxy-tanks, and peeling out of their quilted coveralls. Two were Space +Force lieutenants; the third was a youngish civilian with close-cropped +blond hair, in a checked woolen shirt. Tony Lattimer and his helpers. + +"Don't tell me Martha finally got something out of that stuff?" he +asked, approaching the table. He might have been commenting on the +antics of the village half-wit, from his tone. + +"Yes; the name of one of the Martian months." Hubert Penrose went on to +explain, showing the photostat. + +Tony Lattimer took it, glanced at it, and dropped it on the table. + +"Sounds plausible, of course, but just an assumption. That word may not +be the name of a month, at all--could mean 'published' or 'authorized' +or 'copyrighted' or anything like that. Fact is, I don't think it's more +than a wild guess that that thing's anything like a periodical." He +dismissed the subject and turned to Penrose. "I picked out the next +building to enter; that tall one with the conical thing on top. It ought +to be in pretty good shape inside; the conical top wouldn't allow dust +to accumulate, and from the outside nothing seems to be caved in or +crushed. Ground level's higher than the other one, about the seventh +floor. I found a good place and drilled for the shots; tomorrow I'll +blast a hole in it, and if you can spare some people to help, we can +start exploring it right away." + +"Yes, of course, Dr. Lattimer. I can spare about a dozen, and I suppose +you can find a few civilian volunteers," Penrose told him. "What will +you need in the way of equipment?" + +"Oh, about six demolition-packets; they can all be shot together. And +the usual thing in the way of lights, and breaking and digging tools, +and climbing equipment in case we run into broken or doubtful stairways. +We'll divide into two parties. Nothing ought to be entered for the first +time without a qualified archaeologist along. Three parties, if Martha +can tear herself away from this catalogue of systematized +incomprehensibilities she's making long enough to do some real work." + +She felt her chest tighten and her face become stiff. She was pressing +her lips together to lock in a furious retort when Hubert Penrose +answered for her. + +"Dr. Dane's been doing as much work, and as important work, as you +have," he said brusquely. "More important work, I'd be inclined to say." + +Von Ohlmhorst was visibly distressed; he glanced once toward Sid +Chamberlain, then looked hastily away from him. Afraid of a story of +dissension among archaeologists getting out. + +"Working out a system of pronunciation by which the Martian language +could be transliterated was a most important contribution," he said. +"And Martha did that almost unassisted." + +"Unassisted by Dr. Lattimer, anyway," Penrose added. "Captain Field and +Lieutenant Koremitsu did some work, and I helped out a little, but +nine-tenths of it she did herself." + +"Purely arbitrary," Lattimer disdained. "Why, we don't even know that +the Martians could make the same kind of vocal sounds we do." + +"Oh, yes, we do," Ivan Fitzgerald contradicted, safe on his own ground. +"I haven't seen any actual Martian skulls--these people seem to have +been very tidy about disposing of their dead--but from statues and busts +and pictures I've seen. I'd say that their vocal organs were identical +with our own." + +"Well, grant that. And grant that it's going to be impressive to rattle +off the names of Martian notables whose statues we find, and that if +we're ever able to attribute any placenames, they'll sound a lot better +than this horse-doctors' Latin the old astronomers splashed all over the +map of Mars," Lattimer said. "What I object to is her wasting time on +this stuff, of which nobody will ever be able to read a word if she +fiddles around with those lists till there's another hundred feet of +loess on this city, when there's so much real work to be done and we're +as shorthanded as we are." + +That was the first time that had come out in just so many words. She was +glad Lattimer had said it and not Selim von Ohlmhorst. + +"What you mean," she retorted, "is that it doesn't have the publicity +value that digging up statues has." + +For an instant, she could see that the shot had scored. Then Lattimer, +with a side glance at Chamberlain, answered: + +"What I mean is that you're trying to find something that any +archaeologist, yourself included, should know doesn't exist. I don't +object to your gambling your professional reputation and making a +laughing stock of yourself; what I object to is that the blunders of one +archaeologist discredit the whole subject in the eyes of the public." + +That seemed to be what worried Lattimer most. She was framing a reply +when the communication-outlet whistled shrilly, and then squawked: +"Cocktail time! One hour to dinner; cocktails in the library, Hut Four!" + + * * * * * + +The library, which was also lounge, recreation room, and general +gathering-place, was already crowded; most of the crowd was at the long +table topped with sheets of glasslike plastic that had been wall panels +out of one of the ruined buildings. She poured herself what passed, +here, for a martini, and carried it over to where Selim von Ohlmhorst +was sitting alone. + +For a while, they talked about the building they had just finished +exploring, then drifted into reminiscences of their work on Terra--von +Ohlmhorst's in Asia Minor, with the Hittite Empire, and hers in +Pakistan, excavating the cities of the Harappa Civilization. They +finished their drinks--the ingredients were plentiful; alcohol and +flavoring extracts synthesized from Martian vegetation--and von +Ohlmhorst took the two glasses to the table for refills. + +"You know, Martha," he said, when he returned, "Tony was right about one +thing. You are gambling your professional standing and reputation. It's +against all archaeological experience that a language so completely dead +as this one could be deciphered. There was a continuity between all the +other ancient languages--by knowing Greek, Champollion learned to read +Egyptian; by knowing Egyptian, Hittite was learned. That's why you and +your colleagues have never been able to translate the Harappa +hieroglyphics; no such continuity exists there. If you insist that this +utterly dead language can be read, your reputation will suffer for it." + +"I heard Colonel Penrose say, once, that an officer who's afraid to risk +his military reputation seldom makes much of a reputation. It's the same +with us. If we really want to find things out, we have to risk making +mistakes. And I'm a lot more interested in finding things out than I am +in my reputation." + +She glanced across the room, to where Tony Lattimer was sitting with +Gloria Standish, talking earnestly, while Gloria sipped one of the +counterfeit martinis and listened. Gloria was the leading contender for +the title of Miss Mars, 1996, if you liked big bosomy blondes, but Tony +would have been just as attentive to her if she'd looked like the Wicked +Witch in "The Wizard of Oz." because Gloria was the Pan-Federation +Telecast System commentator with the expedition. + +"I know you are," the old Turco-German was saying. "That's why, when +they asked me to name another archaeologist for this expedition, I named +you." + +He hadn't named Tony Lattimer; Lattimer had been pushed onto the +expedition by his university. There'd been a lot of high-level +string-pulling to that; she wished she knew the whole story. She'd +managed to keep clear of universities and university politics; all her +digs had been sponsored by non-academic foundations or art museums. + +"You have an excellent standing: much better than my own, at your age. +That's why it disturbs me to see you jeopardizing it by this insistence +that the Martian language can be translated. I can't, really, see how +you can hope to succeed." + +She shrugged and drank some more of her cocktail, then lit another +cigarette. It was getting tiresome to try to verbalize something she +only felt. + +"Neither do I, now, but I will. Maybe I'll find something like the +picture-books Sachiko was talking about. A child's primer, maybe; surely +they had things like that. And if I don't. I'll find something else. +We've only been here six months. I can wait the rest of my life, if I +have to, but I'll do it sometime." + +"I can't wait so long," von Ohlmhorst said. "The rest of my life will +only be a few years, and when the _Schiaparelli_ orbits in, I'll be +going back to Terra on the _Cyrano_." + +"I wish you wouldn't. This is a whole new world of archaeology. +Literally." + +"Yes." He finished the cocktail and looked at his pipe as though +wondering whether to re-light it so soon before dinner, then put it in +his pocket. "A whole new world--but I've grown old, and it isn't for me. +I've spent my life studying the Hittites. I can speak the Hittite +language, though maybe King Muwatallis wouldn't be able to understand my +modern Turkish accent. But the things I'd have to learn here--chemistry, +physics, engineering, how to run analytic tests on steel girders and +beryllo-silver alloys and plastics and silicones. I'm more at home with +a civilization that rode in chariots and fought with swords and was just +learning how to work iron. Mars is for young people. This expedition is +a cadre of leadership--not only the Space Force people, who'll be the +commanders of the main expedition, but us scientists, too. And I'm just +an old cavalry general who can't learn to command tanks and aircraft. +You'll have time to learn about Mars. I won't." + +His reputation as the dean of Hittitologists was solid and secure, too, +she added mentally. Then she felt ashamed of the thought. He wasn't to +be classed with Tony Lattimer. + +"All I came for was to get the work started," he was continuing. "The +Federation Government felt that an old hand should do that. Well, it's +started, now; you and Tony and whoever come out on the _Schiaparelli_ +must carry it on. You said it, yourself; you have a whole new world. +This is only one city, of the last Martian civilization. Behind this, +you have the Late Upland Culture, and the Canal Builders, and all the +civilizations and races and empires before them, clear back to the +Martian Stone Age." He hesitated for a moment. "You have no idea what +all you have to learn, Martha. This isn't the time to start specializing +too narrowly." + + * * * * * + +They all got out of the truck and stretched their legs and looked up the +road to the tall building with the queer conical cap askew on its top. +The four little figures that had been busy against its wall climbed into +the jeep and started back slowly, the smallest of them, Sachiko +Koremitsu, paying out an electric cable behind. When it pulled up beside +the truck, they climbed out; Sachiko attached the free end of the cable +to a nuclear-electric battery. At once, dirty gray smoke and orange dust +puffed out from the wall of the building, and, a second later, the +multiple explosion banged. + +She and Tony Lattimer and Major Lindemann climbed onto the truck, +leaving the jeep stand by the road. When they reached the building, a +satisfyingly wide breach had been blown in the wall. Lattimer had placed +his shots between two of the windows; they were both blown out along +with the wall between, and lay unbroken on the ground. Martha remembered +the first building they had entered. A Space Force officer had picked up +a stone and thrown it at one of the windows, thinking that would be all +they'd need to do. It had bounced back. He had drawn his pistol--they'd +all carried guns, then, on the principle that what they didn't know +about Mars might easily hurt them--and fired four shots. The bullets had +ricocheted, screaming thinly; there were four coppery smears of +jacket-metal on the window, and a little surface spalling. Somebody +tried a rifle; the 4000-f.s. bullet had cracked the glasslike pane +without penetrating. An oxyacetylene torch had taken an hour to cut the +window out; the lab crew, aboard the ship, were still trying to find out +just what the stuff was. + +Tony Lattimer had gone forward and was sweeping his flashlight back and +forth, swearing petulantly, his voice harshened and amplified by his +helmet-speaker. + +"I thought I was blasting into a hallway; this lets us into a room. +Careful; there's about a two-foot drop to the floor, and a lot of rubble +from the blast just inside." + +He stepped down through the breach; the others began dragging equipment +out of the trucks--shovels and picks and crowbars and sledges, portable +floodlights, cameras, sketching materials, an extension ladder, even +Alpinists' ropes and crampons and pickaxes. Hubert Penrose was +shouldering something that looked like a surrealist machine gun but +which was really a nuclear-electric jack-hammer. Martha selected one of +the spike-shod mountaineer's ice axes, with which she could dig or chop +or poke or pry or help herself over rough footing. + +The windows, grimed and crusted with fifty millennia of dust, filtered +in a dim twilight; even the breach in the wall, in the morning shade, +lighted only a small patch of floor. Somebody snapped on a floodlight, +aiming it at the ceiling. The big room was empty and bare; dust lay +thick on the floor and reddened the once-white walls. It could have been +a large office, but there was nothing left in it to indicate its use. + +"This one's been stripped up to the seventh floor!" Lattimer exclaimed. +"Street level'll be cleaned out, completely." + +"Do for living quarters and shops, then," Lindemann said. "Added to the +others, this'll take care of everybody on the _Schiaparelli_." + +"Seem to have been a lot of electric or electronic apparatus over along +this wall," one of the Space Force officers commented. "Ten or twelve +electric outlets." He brushed the dusty wall with his glove, then +scraped on the floor with his foot. "I can see where things were pried +loose." + + * * * * * + +The door, one of the double sliding things the Martians had used, was +closed. Selim von Ohlmhorst tried it, but it was stuck fast. The metal +latch-parts had frozen together, molecule bonding itself to molecule, +since the door had last been closed. Hubert Penrose came over with the +jack-hammer, fitting a spear-point chisel into place. He set the chisel +in the joint between the doors, braced the hammer against his hip, and +squeezed the trigger-switch. The hammer banged briefly like the weapon +it resembled, and the doors popped a few inches apart, then stuck. +Enough dust had worked into the recesses into which it was supposed to +slide to block it on both sides. + +That was old stuff; they ran into that every time they had to force a +door, and they were prepared for it. Somebody went outside and brought +in a power-jack and finally one of the doors inched back to the door +jamb. That was enough to get the lights and equipment through: they all +passed from the room to the hallway beyond. About half the other doors +were open; each had a number and a single word, _Darfhulva_, over it. + +[Illustration] + +One of the civilian volunteers, a woman professor of natural ecology +from Penn State University, was looking up and down the hall. + +"You know," she said, "I feel at home here. I think this was a college +of some sort, and these were classrooms. That word, up there; that was +the subject taught, or the department. And those electronic devices, all +where the class would face them; audio-visual teaching aids." + +"A twenty-five-story university?" Lattimer scoffed. "Why, a building +like this would handle thirty thousand students." + +"Maybe there were that many. This was a big city, in its prime," Martha +said, moved chiefly by a desire to oppose Lattimer. + +"Yes, but think of the snafu in the halls, every time they changed +classes. It'd take half an hour to get everybody back and forth from one +floor to another." He turned to von Ohlmhorst. "I'm going up above this +floor. This place has been looted clean up to here, but there's a chance +there may be something above," he said. + +"I'll stay on this floor, at present," the Turco-German replied. "There +will be much coming and going, and dragging things in and out. We should +get this completely examined and recorded first. Then Major Lindemann's +people can do their worst, here." + +"Well, if nobody else wants it, I'll take the downstairs," Martha said. + +"I'll go along with you," Hubert Penrose told her. "If the lower floors +have no archaeological value, we'll turn them into living quarters. I +like this building: it'll give everybody room to keep out from under +everybody else's feet." He looked down the hall. "We ought to find +escalators at the middle." + + * * * * * + +The hallway, too, was thick underfoot with dust. Most of the open rooms +were empty, but a few contained furniture, including small seat-desks. +The original proponent of the university theory pointed these out as +just what might be found in classrooms. There were escalators, up and +down, on either side of the hall, and more on the intersecting passage +to the right. + +"That's how they handled the students, between classes," Martha +commented. "And I'll bet there are more ahead, there." + +They came to a stop where the hallway ended at a great square central +hall. There were elevators, there, on two of the sides, and four +escalators, still usable as stairways. But it was the walls, and the +paintings on them, that brought them up short and staring. + +They were clouded with dirt--she was trying to imagine what they must +have looked like originally, and at the same time estimating the labor +that would be involved in cleaning them--but they were still +distinguishable, as was the word, _Darfhulva_, in golden letters above +each of the four sides. It was a moment before she realized, from the +murals, that she had at last found a meaningful Martian word. They were +a vast historical panorama, clockwise around the room. A group of +skin-clad savages squatting around a fire. Hunters with bows and spears, +carrying a carcass of an animal slightly like a pig. Nomads riding +long-legged, graceful mounts like hornless deer. Peasants sowing and +reaping; mud-walled hut villages, and cities; processions of priests and +warriors; battles with swords and bows, and with cannon and muskets; +galleys, and ships with sails, and ships without visible means of +propulsion, and aircraft. Changing costumes and weapons and machines +and styles of architecture. A richly fertile landscape, gradually +merging into barren deserts and bushlands--the time of the great +planet-wide drought. The Canal Builders--men with machines recognizable +as steam-shovels and derricks, digging and quarrying and driving across +the empty plains with aqueducts. More cities--seaports on the shrinking +oceans; dwindling, half-deserted cities; an abandoned city, with four +tiny humanoid figures and a thing like a combat-car in the middle of a +brush-grown plaza, they and their vehicle dwarfed by the huge lifeless +buildings around them. She had not the least doubt; _Darfhulva_ was +History. + +"Wonderful!" von Ohlmhorst was saying. "The entire history of this race. +Why, if the painter depicted appropriate costumes and weapons and +machines for each period, and got the architecture right, we can break +the history of this planet into eras and periods and civilizations." + +"You can assume they're authentic. The faculty of this university would +insist on authenticity in the _Darfhulva_--History--Department," she +said. + +"Yes! _Darfhulva_--History! And your magazine was a journal of +_Sornhulva_!" Penrose exclaimed. "You have a word, Martha!" It took her +an instant to realize that he had called her by her first name, and not +Dr. Dane. She wasn't sure if that weren't a bigger triumph than learning +a word of the Martian language. Or a more auspicious start. "Alone, I +suppose that _hulva_ means something like science or knowledge, or +study; combined, it would be equivalent to our 'ology. And _darf_ would +mean something like past, or old times, or human events, or chronicles." + +"That gives you three words, Martha!" Sachiko jubilated. "You did it." + +"Let's don't go too fast," Lattimer said, for once not derisively. "I'll +admit that _darfhulva_ is the Martian word for history as a subject of +study; I'll admit that _hulva_ is the general word and _darf_ modifies +it and tells us which subject is meant. But as for assigning specific +meanings, we can't do that because we don't know just how the Martians +thought, scientifically or otherwise." + +He stopped short, startled by the blue-white light that blazed as Sid +Chamberlain's Kliegettes went on. When the whirring of the camera +stopped, it was Chamberlain who was speaking: + +"This is the biggest thing yet; the whole history of Mars, stone age to +the end, all on four walls. I'm taking this with the fast shutter, but +we'll telecast it in slow motion, from the beginning to the end. Tony, I +want you to do the voice for it--running commentary, interpretation of +each scene as it's shown. Would you do that?" + +Would he do that! Martha thought. If he had a tail, he'd be wagging it +at the very thought. + +"Well, there ought to be more murals on the other floors," she said. +"Who wants to come downstairs with us?" + +Sachiko did; immediately. Ivan Fitzgerald volunteered. Sid decided to go +upstairs with Tony Lattimer, and Gloria Standish decided to go upstairs, +too. Most of the party would remain on the seventh floor, to help Selim +von Ohlmhorst get it finished. After poking tentatively at the escalator +with the spike of her ice axe, Martha led the way downward. + + * * * * * + +The sixth floor was _Darfhulva_, too; military and technological +history, from the character of the murals. They looked around the +central hall, and went down to the fifth; it was like the floors above +except that the big quadrangle was stacked with dusty furniture and +boxes. Ivan Fitzgerald, who was carrying the floodlight, swung it slowly +around. Here the murals were of heroic-sized Martians, so human in +appearance as to seem members of her own race, each holding some +object--a book, or a test tube, or some bit of scientific apparatus, and +behind them were scenes of laboratories and factories, flame and smoke, +lightning-flashes. The word at the top of each of the four walls was one +with which she was already familiar--_Sornhulva_. + +"Hey, Martha; there's that word," Ivan Fitzgerald exclaimed. "The one in +the title of your magazine." He looked at the paintings. "Chemistry, or +physics." + +"Both." Hubert Penrose considered. "I don't think the Martians made any +sharp distinction between them. See, the old fellow with the scraggly +whiskers must be the inventor of the spectroscope; he has one in his +hands, and he has a rainbow behind him. And the woman in the blue smock, +beside him, worked in organic chemistry; see the diagrams of long-chain +molecules behind her. What word would convey the idea of chemistry and +physics taken as one subject?" + +"_Sornhulva_," Sachiko suggested. "If _hulva's_ something like science, +"_sorn_" must mean matter, or substance, or physical object. You were +right, all along, Martha. A civilization like this would certainly leave +something like this, that would be self-explanatory." + +"This'll wipe a little more of that superior grin off Tony Lattimer's +face," Fitzgerald was saying, as they went down the motionless escalator +to the floor below. "Tony wants to be a big shot. When you want to be a +big shot, you can't bear the possibility of anybody else being a bigger +big shot, and whoever makes a start on reading this language will be the +biggest big shot archaeology ever saw." + +That was true. She hadn't thought of it, in that way, before, and now +she tried not to think about it. She didn't want to be a big shot. She +wanted to be able to read the Martian language, and find things out +about the Martians. + +Two escalators down, they came out on a mezzanine around a wide central +hall on the street level, the floor forty feet below them and the +ceiling thirty feet above. Their lights picked out object after object +below--a huge group of sculptured figures in the middle; some kind of a +motor vehicle jacked up on trestles for repairs; things that looked like +machine-guns and auto-cannon; long tables, tops littered with a +dust-covered miscellany; machinery; boxes and crates and containers. + + * * * * * + +They made their way down and walked among the clutter, missing a hundred +things for every one they saw, until they found an escalator to the +basement. There were three basements, one under another, until at last +they stood at the bottom of the last escalator, on a bare concrete +floor, swinging the portable floodlight over stacks of boxes and barrels +and drums, and heaps of powdery dust. The boxes were plastic--nobody had +ever found anything made of wood in the city--and the barrels and drums +were of metal or glass or some glasslike substance. They were outwardly +intact. The powdery heaps might have been anything organic, or anything +containing fluid. Down here, where wind and dust could not reach, +evaporation had been the only force of destruction after the minute life +that caused putrefaction had vanished. + +They found refrigeration rooms, too, and using Martha's ice axe and the +pistollike vibratool Sachiko carried on her belt, they pounded and pried +one open, to find dessicated piles of what had been vegetables, and +leathery chunks of meat. Samples of that stuff, rocketed up to the ship, +would give a reliable estimate, by radio-carbon dating, of how long ago +this building had been occupied. The refrigeration unit, radically +different from anything their own culture had produced, had been +electrically powered. Sachiko and Penrose, poking into it, found the +switches still on; the machine had only ceased to function when the +power-source, whatever that had been, had failed. + +The middle basement had also been used, at least toward the end, for +storage; it was cut in half by a partition pierced by but one door. They +took half an hour to force this, and were on the point of sending above +for heavy equipment when it yielded enough for them to squeeze through. +Fitzgerald, in the lead with the light, stopped short, looked around, +and then gave a groan that came through his helmet-speaker like a +foghorn. + +"Oh, no! _No!_" + +"What's the matter, Ivan?" Sachiko, entering behind him, asked +anxiously. + +He stepped aside. "Look at it, Sachi! Are we going to have to do all +that?" + +Martha crowded through behind her friend and looked around, then stood +motionless, dizzy with excitement. Books. Case on case of books, half an +acre of cases, fifteen feet to the ceiling. Fitzgerald, and Penrose, who +had pushed in behind her, were talking in rapid excitement; she only +heard the sound of their voices, not their words. This must be the main +stacks of the university library--the entire literature of the vanished +race of Mars. In the center, down an aisle between the cases, she could +see the hollow square of the librarians' desk, and stairs and a +dumb-waiter to the floor above. + +She realized that she was walking forward, with the others, toward this. +Sachiko was saying: "I'm the lightest; let me go first." She must be +talking about the spidery metal stairs. + +"I'd say they were safe," Penrose answered. "The trouble we've had with +doors around here shows that the metal hasn't deteriorated." + +In the end, the Japanese girl led the way, more catlike than ever in her +caution. The stairs were quite sound, in spite of their fragile +appearance, and they all followed her. The floor above was a duplicate +of the room they had entered, and seemed to contain about as many books. +Rather than waste time forcing the door here, they returned to the +middle basement and came up by the escalator down which they had +originally descended. + +The upper basement contained kitchens--electric stoves, some with pots +and pans still on them--and a big room that must have been, originally, +the students' dining room, though when last used it had been a workshop. +As they expected, the library reading room was on the street-level +floor, directly above the stacks. It seemed to have been converted into +a sort of common living room for the building's last occupants. An +adjoining auditorium had been made into a chemical works; there were +vats and distillation apparatus, and a metal fractionating tower that +extended through a hole knocked in the ceiling seventy feet above. A +good deal of plastic furniture of the sort they had been finding +everywhere in the city was stacked about, some of it broken up, +apparently for reprocessing. The other rooms on the street floor seemed +also to have been devoted to manufacturing and repair work; a +considerable industry, along a number of lines, must have been carried +on here for a long time after the university had ceased to function as +such. + +On the second floor, they found a museum; many of the exhibits remained, +tantalizingly half-visible in grimed glass cases. There had been +administrative offices there, too. The doors of most of them were +closed, and they did not waste time trying to force them, but those that +were open had been turned into living quarters. They made notes, and +rough floor plans, to guide them in future more thorough examination; it +was almost noon before they had worked their way back to the seventh +floor. + +Selim von Ohlmhorst was in a room on the north side of the building, +sketching the position of things before examining them and collecting +them for removal. He had the floor checkerboarded with a grid of chalked +lines, each numbered. + +"We have everything on this floor photographed," he said. "I have three +gangs--all the floodlights I have--sketching and making measurements. At +the rate we're going, with time out for lunch, we'll be finished by the +middle of the afternoon." + +"You've been working fast. Evidently you aren't being high-church about +a 'qualified archaeologist' entering rooms first," Penrose commented. + +"Ach, childishness!" the old man exclaimed impatiently. "These officers +of yours aren't fools. All of them have been to Intelligence School and +Criminal Investigation School. Some of the most careful amateur +archaeologists I ever knew were retired soldiers or policemen. But there +isn't much work to be done. Most of the rooms are either empty or like +this one--a few bits of furniture and broken trash and scraps of paper. +Did you find anything down on the lower floors?" + +"Well, yes," Penrose said, a hint of mirth in his voice. "What would you +say, Martha?" + +She started to tell Selim. The others, unable to restrain their +excitement, broke in with interruptions. Von Ohlmhorst was staring in +incredulous amazement. + +"But this floor was looted almost clean, and the buildings we've entered +before were all looted from the street level up," he said, at length. + +"The people who looted this one lived here," Penrose replied. "They had +electric power to the last; we found refrigerators full of food, and +stoves with the dinner still on them. They must have used the elevators +to haul things down from the upper floor. The whole first floor was +converted into workshops and laboratories. I think that this place must +have been something like a monastery in the Dark Ages in Europe, or what +such a monastery would have been like if the Dark Ages had followed the +fall of a highly developed scientific civilization. For one thing, we +found a lot of machine guns and light auto-cannon on the street level, +and all the doors were barricaded. The people here were trying to keep a +civilization running after the rest of the planet had gone back to +barbarism; I suppose they'd have to fight off raids by the barbarians +now and then." + +"You're not going to insist on making this building into expedition +quarters, I hope, colonel?" von Ohlmhorst asked anxiously. + +"Oh, no! This place is an archaeological treasure-house. More than that; +from what I saw, our technicians can learn a lot, here. But you'd better +get this floor cleaned up as soon as you can, though. I'll have the +subsurface part, from the sixth floor down, airsealed. Then we'll put +in oxygen generators and power units, and get a couple of elevators into +service. For the floors above, we can use temporary airsealing floor by +floor, and portable equipment; when we have things atmosphered and +lighted and heated, you and Martha and Tony Lattimer can go to work +systematically and in comfort, and I'll give you all the help I can +spare from the other work. This is one of the biggest things we've found +yet." + +Tony Lattimer and his companions came down to the seventh floor a little +later. + +"I don't get this, at all," he began, as soon as he joined them. "This +building wasn't stripped the way the others were. Always, the procedure +seems to have been to strip from the bottom up, but they seem to have +stripped the top floors first, here. All but the very top. I found out +what that conical thing is, by the way. It's a wind-rotor, and under it +there's an electric generator. This building generated its own power." + +"What sort of condition are the generators in?" Penrose asked. + +"Well, everything's full of dust that blew in under the rotor, of +course, but it looks to be in pretty good shape. Hey, I'll bet that's +it! They had power, so they used the elevators to haul stuff down. +That's just what they did. Some of the floors above here don't seem to +have been touched, though." He paused momentarily; back of his oxy-mask, +he seemed to be grinning. "I don't know that I ought to mention this in +front of Martha, but two floors above--we hit a room--it must have been +the reference library for one of the departments--that had close to five +hundred books in it." + +The noise that interrupted him, like the squawking of a Brobdingnagian +parrot, was only Ivan Fitzgerald laughing through his helmet-speaker. + + * * * * * + +Lunch at the huts was a hasty meal, with a gabble of full-mouthed and +excited talking. Hubert Penrose and his chief subordinates snatched +their food in a huddled consultation at one end of the table; in the +afternoon, work was suspended on everything else and the fifty-odd men +and women of the expedition concentrated their efforts on the +University. By the middle of the afternoon, the seventh floor had been +completely examined, photographed and sketched, and the murals in the +square central hall covered with protective tarpaulins, and Laurent +Gicquel and his airsealing crew had moved in and were at work. It had +been decided to seal the central hall at the entrances. It took the +French-Canadian engineer most of the afternoon to find all the +ventilation-ducts and plug them. An elevator-shaft on the north side was +found reaching clear to the twenty-fifth floor; this would give access +to the top of the building; another shaft, from the center, would take +care of the floors below. Nobody seemed willing to trust the ancient +elevators, themselves; it was the next evening before a couple of cars +and the necessary machinery could be fabricated in the machine shops +aboard the ship and sent down by landing-rocket. By that time, the +airsealing was finished, the nuclear-electric energy-converters were in +place, and the oxygen generators set up. + +[Illustration] + +Martha was in the lower basement, an hour or so before lunch the day +after, when a couple of Space Force officers came out of the elevator, +bringing extra lights with them. She was still using oxygen-equipment; +it was a moment before she realized that the newcomers had no masks, and +that one of them was smoking. She took off her own helmet-speaker, +throat-mike and mask and unslung her tank-pack, breathing cautiously. +The air was chilly, and musty-acrid with the odor of antiquity--the +first Martian odor she had smelled--but when she lit a cigarette, the +lighter flamed clear and steady and the tobacco caught and burned +evenly. + +The archaeologists, many of the other civilian scientists, a few of the +Space Force officers and the two news-correspondents, Sid Chamberlain +and Gloria Standish, moved in that evening, setting up cots in vacant +rooms. They installed electric stoves and a refrigerator in the old +Library Reading Room, and put in a bar and lunch counter. For a few +days, the place was full of noise and activity, then, gradually, the +Space Force people and all but a few of the civilians returned to their +own work. There was still the business of airsealing the more habitable +of the buildings already explored, and fitting them up in readiness for +the arrival, in a year and a half, of the five hundred members of the +main expedition. There was work to be done enlarging the landing field +for the ship's rocket craft, and building new chemical-fuel tanks. + +There was the work of getting the city's ancient reservoirs cleared of +silt before the next spring thaw brought more water down the underground +aqueducts everybody called canals in mistranslation of Schiaparelli's +Italian word, though this was proving considerably easier than +anticipated. The ancient Canal-Builders must have anticipated a time +when their descendants would no longer be capable of maintenance work, +and had prepared against it. By the day after the University had been +made completely habitable, the actual work there was being done by +Selim, Tony Lattimer and herself, with half a dozen Space Force +officers, mostly girls, and four or five civilians, helping. + + * * * * * + +They worked up from the bottom, dividing the floor-surfaces into +numbered squares, measuring and listing and sketching and photographing. +They packaged samples of organic matter and sent them up to the ship for +Carbon-14 dating and analysis; they opened cans and jars and bottles, +and found that everything fluid in them had evaporated, through the +porosity of glass and metal and plastic if there were no other way. +Wherever they looked, they found evidence of activity suddenly suspended +and never resumed. A vise with a bar of metal in it, half cut through +and the hacksaw beside it. Pots and pans with hardened remains of food +in them; a leathery cut of meat on a table, with the knife ready at +hand. Toilet articles on washstands; unmade beds, the bedding ready to +crumble at a touch but still retaining the impress of the sleeper's +body; papers and writing materials on desks, as though the writer had +gotten up, meaning to return and finish in a fifty-thousand-year-ago +moment. + +It worried her. Irrationally, she began to feel that the Martians had +never left this place; that they were still around her, watching +disapprovingly every time she picked up something they had laid down. +They haunted her dreams, now, instead of their enigmatic writing. At +first, everybody who had moved into the University had taken a separate +room, happy to escape the crowding and lack of privacy of the huts. +After a few nights, she was glad when Gloria Standish moved in with her, +and accepted the newswoman's excuse that she felt lonely without +somebody to talk to before falling asleep. Sachiko Koremitsu joined them +the next evening, and before going to bed, the girl officer cleaned and +oiled her pistol, remarking that she was afraid some rust may have +gotten into it. + +The others felt it, too. Selim von Ohlmhorst developed the habit of +turning quickly and looking behind him, as though trying to surprise +somebody or something that was stalking him. Tony Lattimer, having a +drink at the bar that had been improvised from the librarian's desk in +the Reading Room, set down his glass and swore. + +"You know what this place is? It's an archaeological _Marie Celeste_!" +he declared. "It was occupied right up to the end--we've all seen the +shifts these people used to keep a civilization going here--but what was +the end? What happened to them? Where did they go?" + +"You didn't expect them to be waiting out front, with a red carpet and a +big banner, _Welcome Terrans_, did you, Tony?" Gloria Standish asked. + +"No, of course not; they've all been dead for fifty thousand years. But +if they were the last of the Martians, why haven't we found their bones, +at least? Who buried them, after they were dead?" He looked at the +glass, a bubble-thin goblet, found, with hundreds of others like it, in +a closet above, as though debating with himself whether to have another +drink. Then he voted in the affirmative and reached for the cocktail +pitcher. "And every door on the old ground level is either barred or +barricaded from the inside. How did they get out? And why did they +leave?" + + * * * * * + +The next day, at lunch, Sachiko Koremitsu had the answer to the second +question. Four or five electrical engineers had come down by rocket from +the ship, and she had been spending the morning with them, in oxy-masks, +at the top of the building. + +"Tony, I thought you said those generators were in good shape," she +began, catching sight of Lattimer. "They aren't. They're in the most +unholy mess I ever saw. What happened, up there, was that the supports +of the wind-rotor gave way, and weight snapped the main shaft, and +smashed everything under it." + +"Well, after fifty thousand years, you can expect something like that," +Lattimer retorted. "When an archaeologist says something's in good +shape, he doesn't necessarily mean it'll start as soon as you shove a +switch in." + +"You didn't notice that it happened when the power was on, did you," one +of the engineers asked, nettled at Lattimer's tone. "Well, it was. +Everything's burned out or shorted or fused together; I saw one busbar +eight inches across melted clean in two. It's a pity we didn't find +things in good shape, even archaeologically speaking. I saw a lot of +interesting things, things in advance of what we're using now. But it'll +take a couple of years to get everything sorted out and figure what it +looked like originally." + +"Did it look as though anybody'd made any attempt to fix it?" Martha +asked. + +Sachiko shook her head. "They must have taken one look at it and given +up. I don't believe there would have been any possible way to repair +anything." + +"Well, that explains why they left. They needed electricity for +lighting, and heating, and all their industrial equipment was +electrical. They had a good life, here, with power; without it, this +place wouldn't have been habitable." + +"Then why did they barricade everything from the inside, and how did +they get out?" Lattimer wanted to know. + +"To keep other people from breaking in and looting. Last man out +probably barred the last door and slid down a rope from upstairs," von +Ohlmhorst suggested. "This Houdini-trick doesn't worry me too much. +We'll find out eventually." + +"Yes, about the time Martha starts reading Martian," Lattimer scoffed. + +"That may be just when we'll find out," von Ohlmhorst replied seriously. +"It wouldn't surprise me if they left something in writing when they +evacuated this place." + +"Are you really beginning to treat this pipe dream of hers as a serious +possibility, Selim?" Lattimer demanded. "I know, it would be a wonderful +thing, but wonderful things don't happen just because they're wonderful. +Only because they're possible, and this isn't. Let me quote that +distinguished Hittitologist, Johannes Friedrich: 'Nothing can be +translated out of nothing.' Or that later but not less distinguished +Hittitologist, Selim von Ohlmhorst: 'Where are you going to get your +bilingual?'" + +"Friedrich lived to see the Hittite language deciphered and read," von +Ohlmhorst reminded him. + +"Yes, when they found Hittite-Assyrian bilinguals." Lattimer measured a +spoonful of coffee-powder into his cup and added hot water. "Martha, you +ought to know, better than anybody, how little chance you have. You've +been working for years in the Indus Valley; how many words of Harappa +have you or anybody else ever been able to read?" + +"We never found a university, with a half-million-volume library, at +Harappa or Mohenjo-Daro." + +"And, the first day we entered this building, we established meanings +for several words," Selim von Ohlmhorst added. + +"And you've never found another meaningful word since," Lattimer added. +"And you're only sure of general meaning, not specific meaning of +word-elements, and you have a dozen different interpretations for each +word." + +"We made a start," von Ohlmhorst maintained. "We have Grotefend's word +for 'king.' But I'm going to be able to read some of those books, over +there, if it takes me the rest of my life here. It probably will, +anyhow." + +"You mean you've changed your mind about going home on the _Cyrano_?" +Martha asked. "You'll stay on here?" + +The old man nodded. "I can't leave this. There's too much to discover. +The old dog will have to learn a lot of new tricks, but this is where my +work will be, from now on." + +Lattimer was shocked. "You're nuts!" he cried. "You mean you're going +to throw away everything you've accomplished in Hittitology and start +all over again here on Mars? Martha, if you've talked him into this +crazy decision, you're a criminal!" + +"Nobody talked me into anything," von Ohlmhorst said roughly. "And as +for throwing away what I've accomplished in Hittitology, I don't know +what the devil you're talking about. Everything I know about the Hittite +Empire is published and available to anybody. Hittitology's like +Egyptology; it's stopped being research and archaeology and become +scholarship and history. And I'm not a scholar or a historian; I'm a +pick-and-shovel field archaeologist--a highly skilled and specialized +grave-robber and junk-picker--and there's more pick-and-shovel work on +this planet than I could do in a hundred lifetimes. This is something +new; I was a fool to think I could turn my back on it and go back to +scribbling footnotes about Hittite kings." + +"You could have anything you wanted, in Hittitology. There are a dozen +universities that'd sooner have you than a winning football team. But +no! You have to be the top man in Martiology, too. You can't leave that +for anybody else--" Lattimer shoved his chair back and got to his feet, +leaving the table with an oath that was almost a sob of exasperation. + +Maybe his feelings were too much for him. Maybe he realized, as Martha +did, what he had betrayed. She sat, avoiding the eyes of the others, +looking at the ceiling, as embarrassed as though Lattimer had flung +something dirty on the table in front of them. Tony Lattimer had, +desperately, wanted Selim to go home on the _Cyrano_. Martiology was a +new field; if Selim entered it, he would bring with him the reputation +he had already built in Hittitology, automatically stepping into the +leading role that Lattimer had coveted for himself. Ivan Fitzgerald's +words echoed back to her--when you want to be a big shot, you can't bear +the possibility of anybody else being a bigger big shot. His derision of +her own efforts became comprehensible, too. It wasn't that he was +convinced that she would never learn to read the Martian language. He +had been afraid that she would. + + * * * * * + +Ivan Fitzgerald finally isolated the germ that had caused the Finchley +girl's undiagnosed illness. Shortly afterward, the malady turned into a +mild fever, from which she recovered. Nobody else seemed to have caught +it. Fitzgerald was still trying to find out how the germ had been +transmitted. + +They found a globe of Mars, made when the city had been a seaport. They +located the city, and learned that its name had been Kukan--or something +with a similar vowel-consonant ratio. Immediately, Sid Chamberlain and +Gloria Standish began giving their telecasts a Kukan dateline, and +Hubert Penrose used the name in his official reports. They also found a +Martian calendar; the year had been divided into ten more or less equal +months, and one of them had been Doma. Another month was Nor, and that +was a part of the name of the scientific journal Martha had found. + +Bill Chandler, the zoologist, had been going deeper and deeper into the +old sea bottom of Syrtis. Four hundred miles from Kukan, and at fifteen +thousand feet lower altitude, he shot a bird. At least, it was a +something with wings and what were almost but not quite feathers, though +it was more reptilian than avian in general characteristics. He and Ivan +Fitzgerald skinned and mounted it, and then dissected the carcass almost +tissue by tissue. About seven-eighths of its body capacity was lungs; it +certainly breathed air containing at least half enough oxygen to support +human life, or five times as much as the air around Kukan. + +That took the center of interest away from archaeology, and started a +new burst of activity. All the expedition's aircraft--four jetticopters +and three wingless airdyne reconnaissance fighters--were thrown into +intensified exploration of the lower sea bottoms, and the bio-science +boys and girls were wild with excitement and making new discoveries on +each flight. + +The University was left to Selim and Martha and Tony Lattimer, the +latter keeping to himself while she and the old Turco-German worked +together. The civilian specialists in other fields, and the Space Force +people who had been holding tape lines and making sketches and snapping +cameras, were all flying to lower Syrtis to find out how much oxygen +there was and what kind of life it supported. + +Sometimes Sachiko dropped in; most of the time she was busy helping Ivan +Fitzgerald dissect specimens. They had four or five species of what +might loosely be called birds, and something that could easily be +classed as a reptile, and a carnivorous mammal the size of a cat with +birdlike claws, and a herbivore almost identical with the piglike thing +in the big _Darfhulva_ mural, and another like a gazelle with a single +horn in the middle of its forehead. + +The high point came when one party, at thirty thousand feet below the +level of Kukan, found breathable air. One of them had a mild attack of +_sorroche_ and had to be flown back for treatment in a hurry, but the +others showed no ill effects. + +The daily newscasts from Terra showed a corresponding shift in interest +at home. The discovery of the University had focused attention on the +dead past of Mars; now the public was interested in Mars as a possible +home for humanity. It was Tony Lattimer who brought archaeology back +into the activities of the expedition and the news at home. + +Martha and Selim were working in the museum on the second floor, +scrubbing the grime from the glass cases, noting contents, and +grease-penciling numbers; Lattimer and a couple of Space Force officers +were going through what had been the administrative offices on the other +side. It was one of these, a young second lieutenant, who came hurrying +in from the mezzanine, almost bursting with excitement. + +"Hey, Martha! Dr. von Ohlmhorst!" he was shouting. "Where are you? +Tony's found the Martians!" + +Selim dropped his rag back in the bucket; she laid her clipboard on top +of the case beside her. + +"Where?" they asked together. + +"Over on the north side." The lieutenant took hold of himself and spoke +more deliberately. "Little room, back of one of the old faculty +offices--conference room. It was locked from the inside, and we had to +burn it down with a torch. That's where they are. Eighteen of them, +around a long table--" + +Gloria Standish, who had dropped in for lunch, was on the mezzanine, +fairly screaming into a radiophone extension: + +" ... Dozen and a half of them! Well, of course they're dead. What a +question! They look like skeletons covered with leather. No, I do not +know what they died of. Well, forget it; I don't care if Bill Chandler's +found a three-headed hippopotamus. Sid, don't you get it? We've found +the _Martians_!" + +She slammed the phone back on its hook, rushing away ahead of them. + + * * * * * + +Martha remembered the closed door; on the first survey, they hadn't +attempted opening it. Now it was burned away at both sides and lay, +still hot along the edges, on the floor of the big office room in front. +A floodlight was on in the room inside, and Lattimer was going around +looking at things while a Space Force officer stood by the door. The +center of the room was filled by a long table; in armchairs around it +sat the eighteen men and women who had occupied the room for the last +fifty millennia. There were bottles and glasses on the table in front of +them, and, had she seen them in a dimmer light, she would have thought +that they were merely dozing over their drinks. One had a knee hooked +over his chair-arm and was curled in foetuslike sleep. Another had +fallen forward onto the table, arms extended, the emerald set of a ring +twinkling dully on one finger. Skeletons covered with leather, Gloria +Standish had called them, and so they were--faces like skulls, arms and +legs like sticks, the flesh shrunken onto the bones under it. + +"Isn't this something!" Lattimer was exulting. "Mass suicide, that's +what it was. Notice what's in the corners?" + +Braziers, made of perforated two-gallon-odd metal cans, the white walls +smudged with smoke above them. Von Ohlmhorst had noticed them at once, +and was poking into one of them with his flashlight. + +"Yes; charcoal. I noticed a quantity of it around a couple of +hand-forges in the shop on the first floor. That's why you had so much +trouble breaking in; they'd sealed the room on the inside." He +straightened and went around the room, until he found a ventilator, and +peered into it. "Stuffed with rags. They must have been all that were +left, here. Their power was gone, and they were old and tired, and all +around them their world was dying. So they just came in here and lit the +charcoal, and sat drinking together till they all fell asleep. Well, we +know what became of them, now, anyhow." + +Sid and Gloria made the most of it. The Terran public wanted to hear +about Martians, and if live Martians couldn't be found, a room full of +dead ones was the next best thing. Maybe an even better thing; it had +been only sixty-odd years since the Orson Welles invasion-scare. Tony +Lattimer, the discoverer, was beginning to cash in on his attentions to +Gloria and his ingratiation with Sid; he was always either making +voice-and-image talks for telecast or listening to the news from the +home planet. Without question, he had become, overnight, the most widely +known archaeologist in history. + +"Not that I'm interested in all this, for myself," he disclaimed, after +listening to the telecast from Terra two days after his discovery. "But +this is going to be a big thing for Martian archaeology. Bring it to the +public attention; dramatize it. Selim, can you remember when Lord +Carnarvon and Howard Carter found the tomb of Tutankhamen?" + +"In 1923? I was two years old, then," von Ohlmhorst chuckled. "I really +don't know how much that publicity ever did for Egyptology. Oh, the +museums did devote more space to Egyptian exhibits, and after a museum +department head gets a few extra showcases, you know how hard it is to +make him give them up. And, for a while, it was easier to get financial +support for new excavations. But I don't know how much good all this +public excitement really does, in the long run." + +"Well, I think one of us should go back on the _Cyrano_, when the +_Schiaparelli_ orbits in," Lattimer said. "I'd hoped it would be you; +your voice would carry the most weight. But I think it's important that +one of us go back, to present the story of our work, and what we have +accomplished and what we hope to accomplish, to the public and to the +universities and the learned societies, and to the Federation +Government. There will be a great deal of work that will have to be +done. We must not allow the other scientific fields and the so-called +practical interests to monopolize public and academic support. So, I +believe I shall go back at least for a while, and see what I can do--" + +Lectures. The organization of a Society of Martian Archaeology, with +Anthony Lattimer, Ph.D., the logical candidate for the chair. Degrees, +honors; the deference of the learned, and the adulation of the lay +public. Positions, with impressive titles and salaries. Sweet are the +uses of publicity. + +She crushed out her cigarette and got to her feet. "Well, I still have +the final lists of what we found in _Halvhulva_--Biology--department to +check over. I'm starting on Sornhulva tomorrow, and I want that stuff in +shape for expert evaluation." + +That was the sort of thing Tony Lattimer wanted to get away from, the +detail-work and the drudgery. Let the infantry do the slogging through +the mud; the brass-hats got the medals. + + * * * * * + +She was halfway through the fifth floor, a week later, and was having +midday lunch in the reading room on the first floor when Hubert Penrose +came over and sat down beside her, asking her what she was doing. She +told him. + +"I wonder if you could find me a couple of men, for an hour or so," she +added. "I'm stopped by a couple of jammed doors at the central hall. +Lecture room and library, if the layout of that floor's anything like +the ones below it." + +"Yes. I'm a pretty fair door-buster, myself." He looked around the room. +"There's Jeff Miles; he isn't doing much of anything. And we'll put Sid +Chamberlain to work, for a change, too. The four of us ought to get your +doors open." He called to Chamberlain, who was carrying his tray over to +the dish washer. "Oh, Sid; you doing anything for the next hour or so?" + +"I was going up to the fourth floor, to see what Tony's doing." + +"Forget it. Tony's bagged his season limit of Martians. I'm going to +help Martha bust in a couple of doors; we'll probably find a whole +cemetery full of Martians." + +Chamberlain shrugged. "Why not. A jammed door can have anything back of +it, and I know what Tony's doing--just routine stuff." + +Jeff Miles, the Space Force captain, came over, accompanied by one of +the lab-crew from the ship who had come down on the rocket the day +before. + +"This ought to be up your alley, Mort," he was saying to his companion. +"Chemistry and physics department. Want to come along?" + +The lab man, Mort Tranter, was willing. Seeing the sights was what he'd +come down from the ship for. She finished her coffee and cigarette, and +they went out into the hall together, gathered equipment and rode the +elevator to the fifth floor. + +The lecture hall door was the nearest; they attacked it first. With +proper equipment and help, it was no problem and in ten minutes they had +it open wide enough to squeeze through with the floodlights. The room +inside was quite empty, and, like most of the rooms behind closed doors, +comparatively free from dust. The students, it appeared, had sat with +their backs to the door, facing a low platform, but their seats and the +lecturer's table and equipment had been removed. The two side walls bore +inscriptions: on the right, a pattern of concentric circles which she +recognized as a diagram of atomic structure, and on the left a +complicated table of numbers and words, in two columns. Tranter was +pointing at the diagram on the right. + +[Illustration] + +"They got as far as the Bohr atom, anyhow," he said. "Well, not quite. +They knew about electron shells, but they have the nucleus pictured as a +solid mass. No indication of proton-and-neutron structure. I'll bet, +when you come to translate their scientific books, you'll find that they +taught that the atom was the ultimate and indivisible particle. That +explains why you people never found any evidence that the Martians used +nuclear energy." + +"That's a uranium atom," Captain Miles mentioned. + +"It is?" Sid Chamberlain asked, excitedly. "Then they did know about +atomic energy. Just because we haven't found any pictures of A-bomb +mushrooms doesn't mean--" + +She turned to look at the other wall. Sid's signal reactions were +getting away from him again; uranium meant nuclear power to him, and the +two words were interchangeable. As she studied the arrangement of the +numbers and words, she could hear Tranter saying: + +"Nuts, Sid. We knew about uranium a long time before anybody found out +what could be done with it. Uranium was discovered on Terra in 1789, by +Klaproth." + +There was something familiar about the table on the left wall. She tried +to remember what she had been taught in school about physics, and what +she had picked up by accident afterward. The second column was a +continuation of the first: there were forty-six items in each, each item +numbered consecutively-- + +"Probably used uranium because it's the largest of the natural atoms," +Penrose was saying. "The fact that there's nothing beyond it there shows +that they hadn't created any of the transuranics. A student could go to +that thing and point out the outer electron of any of the ninety-two +elements." + + * * * * * + +Ninety-two! That was it; there were ninety-two items in the table on the +left wall! Hydrogen was Number One, she knew; One, _Sarfaldsorn_. Helium +was Two; that was _Tirfaldsorn_. She couldn't remember which element +came next, but in Martian it was _Sarfalddavas_. _Sorn_ must mean +matter, or substance, then. And _davas_; she was trying to think of what +it could be. She turned quickly to the others, catching hold of Hubert +Penrose's arm with one hand and waving her clipboard with the other. + +"Look at this thing, over here," she was clamoring excitedly. "Tell me +what you think it is. Could it be a table of the elements?" + +They all turned to look. Mort Tranter stared at it for a moment. + +"Could be. If I only knew what those squiggles meant--" + +That was right; he'd spent his time aboard the ship. + +"If you could read the numbers, would that help?" she asked, beginning +to set down the Arabic digits and their Martian equivalents. "It's +decimal system, the same as we use." + +"Sure. If that's a table of elements, all I'd need would be the numbers. +Thanks," he added as she tore off the sheet and gave it to him. + +Penrose knew the numbers, and was ahead of him. "Ninety-two items, +numbered consecutively. The first number would be the atomic number. +Then a single word, the name of the element. Then the atomic weight--" + +She began reading off the names of the elements. "I know hydrogen and +helium; what's _tirfalddavas_, the third one?" + +"Lithium," Tranter said. "The atomic weights aren't run out past the +decimal point. Hydrogen's one plus, if that double-hook dingus is a plus +sign; Helium's four-plus, that's right. And lithium's given as seven, +that isn't right. It's six-point nine-four-oh. Or is that thing a +Martian minus sign?" + +"Of course! Look! A plus sign is a hook, to hang things together; a +minus sign is a knife, to cut something off from something--see, the +little loop is the handle and the long pointed loop is the blade. +Stylized, of course, but that's what it is. And the fourth element, +kiradavas; what's that?" + +"Beryllium. Atomic weight given as nine-and-a-hook; actually it's +nine-point-oh-two." + +Sid Chamberlain had been disgruntled because he couldn't get a story +about the Martians having developed atomic energy. It took him a few +minutes to understand the newest development, but finally it dawned on +him. + +"Hey! You're reading that!" he cried. "You're reading Martian!" + +"That's right," Penrose told him. "Just reading it right off. I don't +get the two items after the atomic weight, though. They look like months +of the Martian calendar. What ought they to be, Mort?" + + * * * * * + +Tranter hesitated. "Well, the next information after the atomic weight +ought to be the period and group numbers. But those are words." + +"What would the numbers be for the first one, hydrogen?" + +"Period One, Group One. One electron shell, one electron in the outer +shell," Tranter told her. "Helium's period one, too, but it has the +outer--only--electron shell full, so it's in the group of inert +elements." + +"_Trav, Trav._ _Trav's_ the first month of the year. And helium's _Trav, +Yenth_; _Yenth_ is the eighth month." + +"The inert elements could be called Group Eight, yes. And the third +element, lithium, is Period Two, Group One. That check?" + +"It certainly does. _Sanv, Trav_; _Sanv's_ the second month. What's the +first element in Period Three?" + +"Sodium. Number Eleven." + +That's right; it's _Krav, Trav_. Why, the names of the months are simply +numbers, one to ten, spelled out. + +"_Doma_'s the fifth month. That was your first Martian word, Martha," +Penrose told her. "The word for five. And if _davas_ is the word for +metal, and _sornhulva_ is chemistry and / or physics, I'll bet Tadavas +Sornhulva is literally translated as: Of-Metal Matter-Knowledge. +Metallurgy, in other words. I wonder what Mastharnorvod means." It +surprised her that, after so long and with so much happening in the +meantime, he could remember that. "Something like 'Journal,' or +'Review,' or maybe 'Quarterly.'" + +"We'll work that out, too," she said confidently. After this, nothing +seemed impossible. "Maybe we can find--" Then she stopped short. "You +said 'Quarterly.' I think it was 'Monthly,' instead. It was dated for a +specific month, the fifth one. And if _nor_ is ten, Mastharnorvod could +be 'Year-Tenth.' And I'll bet we'll find that _masthar_ is the word for +year." She looked at the table on the wall again. "Well, let's get all +these words down, with translations for as many as we can." + +"Let's take a break for a minute," Penrose suggested, getting out his +cigarettes. "And then, let's do this in comfort. Jeff, suppose you and +Sid go across the hall and see what you find in the other room in the +way of a desk or something like that, and a few chairs. There'll be a +lot of work to do on this." + +Sid Chamberlain had been squirming as though he were afflicted with +ants, trying to contain himself. Now he let go with an excited jabber. + +"This is really it! _The_ it, not just it-of-the-week, like finding the +reservoirs or those statues or this building, or even the animals and +the dead Martians! Wait till Selim and Tony see this! Wait till Tony +sees it; I want to see his face! And when I get this on telecast, all +Terra's going to go nuts about it!" He turned to Captain Miles. "Jeff, +suppose you take a look at that other door, while I find somebody to +send to tell Selim and Tony. And Gloria; wait till she sees this--" + +"Take it easy, Sid," Martha cautioned. "You'd better let me have a look +at your script, before you go too far overboard on the telecast. This is +just a beginning; it'll take years and years before we're able to read +any of those books downstairs." + +"It'll go faster than you think, Martha," Hubert Penrose told her. +"We'll all work on it, and we'll teleprint material to Terra, and people +there will work on it. We'll send them everything we can ... everything +we work out, and copies of books, and copies of your word-lists--" + +And there would be other tables--astronomical tables, tables in physics +and mechanics, for instance--in which words and numbers were equivalent. +The library stacks, below, would be full of them. Transliterate them +into Roman alphabet spellings and Arabic numerals, and somewhere, +somebody would spot each numerical significance, as Hubert Penrose and +Mort Tranter and she had done with the table of elements. And pick out +all the chemistry textbooks in the Library; new words would take on +meaning from contexts in which the names of elements appeared. She'd +have to start studying chemistry and physics, herself-- + + * * * * * + +Sachiko Koremitsu peeped in through the door, then stepped inside. + +"Is there anything I can do--?" she began. "What's happened? Something +important?" + +"Important?" Sid Chamberlain exploded. "Look at that, Sachi! We're +reading it! Martha's found out how to read Martian!" He grabbed Captain +Miles by the arm. "Come on, Jeff; let's go. I want to call the others--" +He was still babbling as he hurried from the room. + +Sachi looked at the inscription. "Is it true?" she asked, and then, +before Martha could more than begin to explain, flung her arms around +her. "Oh, it really is! You are reading it! I'm so happy!" + +She had to start explaining again when Selim von Ohlmhorst entered. This +time, she was able to finish. + +"But, Martha, can you be really sure? You know, by now, that learning to +read this language is as important to me as it is to you, but how can +you be so sure that those words really mean things like hydrogen and +helium and boron and oxygen? How do you know that their table of +elements was anything like ours?" + +Tranter and Penrose and Sachiko all looked at him in amazement. + +"That isn't just the Martian table of elements; that's _the_ table of +elements. It's the only one there is." Mort Tranter almost exploded. +"Look, hydrogen has one proton and one electron. If it had more of +either, it wouldn't be hydrogen, it'd be something else. And the same +with all the rest of the elements. And hydrogen on Mars is the same as +hydrogen on Terra, or on Alpha Centauri, or in the next galaxy--" + +"You just set up those numbers, in that order, and any first-year +chemistry student could tell you what elements they represented." +Penrose said. "Could if he expected to make a passing grade, that is." + +The old man shook his head slowly, smiling. "I'm afraid I wouldn't make +a passing grade. I didn't know, or at least didn't realize, that. One of +the things I'm going to place an order for, to be brought on the +_Schiaparelli_, will be a set of primers in chemistry and physics, of +the sort intended for a bright child of ten or twelve. It seems that a +Martiologist has to learn a lot of things the Hittites and the Assyrians +never heard about." + +Tony Lattimer, coming in, caught the last part of the explanation. He +looked quickly at the walls and, having found out just what had +happened, advanced and caught Martha by the hand. + +"You really did it, Martha! You found your bilingual! I never believed +that it would be possible; let me congratulate you!" + +He probably expected that to erase all the jibes and sneers of the past. +If he did, he could have it that way. His friendship would mean as +little to her as his derision--except that his friends had to watch +their backs and his knife. But he was going home on the _Cyrano_, to be +a big shot. Or had this changed his mind for him again? + +"This is something we can show the world, to justify any expenditure of +time and money on Martian archaeological work. When I get back to Terra, +I'll see that you're given full credit for this achievement--" + +On Terra, her back and his knife would be out of her watchfulness. + +"We won't need to wait that long," Hubert Penrose told him dryly. "I'm +sending off an official report, tomorrow; you can be sure Dr. Dane will +be given full credit, not only for this but for her previous work, +which made it possible to exploit this discovery." + +"And you might add, work done in spite of the doubts and discouragements +of her colleagues," Selim von Ohlmhorst said. "To which I am ashamed to +have to confess my own share." + +"You said we had to find a bilingual," she said. "You were right, too." + +"This is better than a bilingual, Martha," Hubert Penrose said. +"Physical science expresses universal facts; necessarily it is a +universal language. Heretofore archaeologists have dealt only with +pre-scientific cultures." + + +THE END + + +[Transcriber's Note: The following errors in the original have been +corrected in this version. + +Page 11: fixitive to fixative +crushed. to crushed." + +Page 13: photostated to photostatted + +Page 21: jeapordizing to jeopardizing + +Page 22: ricochetted to ricocheted + +Page 26: aquaducts to aqueducts + +Page 27: testtube to test tube + +Page 28: evaportation to evaporation + +Page 33: aquaducts to aqueducts + +Page 35: And you've never to "And you've never + +Page 36: Finchly to Finchley + +Page 37: eights to eighths + +Page 39: Egyptiology to Egyptology + +Page 42: There's an uncorrected error here: the third element is +"Sarfalddavas" above but "tirfalddavas" below. This wasn't changed in +later versions of the text, so it's not clear which is correct. The +capitalized one would be consistent with the other names, and the "Sar-" +implies a relationship with the first element, which _is_ in the same +group. Or maybe the character misspoke, in her excitement? + +Page 45: big-shot to big shot + +Page 46: archeologists to archaeologists + +] + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Omnilingual, by H. 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