And something else. A reflection, on the silt. Carson picked it up. It was a piece of smooth rock, a tablet, about eight centimeters across, flat on both sides. "It's got writing on it," he said. He brushed it, examined it in the lamplight. "Something on the back. An image of some kind. A spear, maybe."

He held it up for the camera, and they transmitted pictures back to Seapoint.

"Hell." Henry got excited. "Look at it. It's Linear C."

"Bingo," said George. "Jackpot." He turned it over and squinted. "What is it?"

The reverse pictured what appeared to be a long, tapered rod, spade-shaped at one end, heavy and thick at the other. "It's a sex organ," said Sandy, with an oblique laugh. "Fully distended and ready for battle."

Maggie's voice came from the ship: "Funny how some things seem to be universals."

"Damndest chapel decorations I've ever seen," said Carson. Maybe there was a brothel in the area. "Did the Quraquat have brothels?"

"Yes," said Sandy. "And the Noks as well. Seems to be a fixture of the advanced male, regardless of species."

The important consideration was that they had another sample of Linear C. And there might be more. While Richard and Sandy took over the tunneling, Carson and George began a search. George had little enthusiasm for the hunt, but Carson seemed tireless. Within an hour, they had recovered a small trove of tablets, and other, mostly undefinable, objects.

Five of the tablets, including the original, were sexually explicit. Others contained arboreal and sea images, and one depicted a sailing vessel. Several lines of text were engraved on each. They were too worn to make out, but restoration might be possible. One by one, George displayed them to the camera.

He was about halfway through when Maggie's voice came on-line. "These are superb, Henry."

"Yes," said Henry. "They are quite good."

"Can we go back to that last one?" she asked. The tablet depicted a disembodied, fully erect male member protruding through a wreath. There was also a line of symbols curved around the perimeter. "We know some of these," she said. "Marvelous." Nobody made a joke of it.

George showed them another one. "Good," breathed Maggie.

And another.

"Let's see that again," Maggie said. Another sexual theme, straightforward this time: a simple coupling. "We didn't get a very good picture of the text. Both sides, George. Give us more light."

There was a single term atop the amorous pair.

"What are these things?" asked Carson.

"Probably decorations," said Maggie. "Doesn't matter, for now." Then she started. "Henry, can you see that? The title term?"

The word at the top of the tablet was from the inscription atOz.

"Damn!" Henry was ecstatic. "Richard, are you there?"

"I'm a little tied up at the moment." He was on the beam projector.

"George, show that one to Dr. Wald."

"No question about it." Maggie bubbled with excitement. "It's not identical, though. The Oz inscription has an additional character, and the letters are differently formed. But that's purely stylistic. I'll be more certain when we can get it cleaned up. Six of the symbols match perfectly. If we don't have the same word, we should have the same root."

"You're right," said Richard. "It's lovely."

"I think," said Sandy, "this building is distinct from the chapel. Frank's probably right about the brothel. Sex may have been part of the rituals."

"Okay." Richard was speaking to Maggie, and examining the tablet. "What does the word mean?"

"Sex," said Maggie. "Or ecstasy."

"Where does that leave us?" asked Henry. "This way to a hot time? Is that what the Oz inscription says?"

Richard shook his head. "It need not have a sexual connotation," he said.

"I agree,".said Sandy. "The word could mean love. Or fulfillment. Or release."

"Or," suggested George, "ships that pass in the night."

Kosmik Station. Friday; 0030 hours.

Truscott looked up at the sound. "Come."

Sill entered. His eyes were fierce, his lips drawn into a scowl.

She pushed back from her desk, and swung round to face him. "What have you got?"

"It wasn't a snowball."

"We already know that."

"We've retrieved some of it. It was a polymer."

She nodded. "It was manufactured," she said.

"I don't see what other conclusion we can draw. And since there's no one here except the Academy people—"

Truscott laughed. Not her usual measured chuckle. Her heart was in this one. And, when he only looked on in surprise, she reproached him. "Come on, Sill," she said, "where's your sense of humor?"

He reddened. "I don't see what's funny, Melanie. They've created a lot of trouble. People could have been killed."

"Yes." Her eyes fell away from him. "They've paid us in our own coin, haven't they?"

Temple of the Winds. Friday; 0200 hours.

The tunnel resisted their best efforts. The mud was tougher to deal with than the rock. However much they sucked out, it kept coming back in. Carson, on Richard's private channel, confessed that it was useless.

Detonation was eight hours away.

Too close.

The base was quiet. Eddie was gone now, banished to Wink, ostensibly because his services were no longer needed, but really because he kept asking Henry to give it up, and to reassign Carson to help move artifacts. Hutch was off again and would rendezvous with the starship in another hour. When she returned, they were all to be waiting at the inlet, bags packed, ready to go. No matter what.

Richard sat in the operations center. The monitor was a montage of blurred light, slow-moving shadows, tunnel walls. Grunts and epithets and profanity rolled out of the commlink.

The room was damp and chilly. Technically, he was supposed to stay awake, but conditions had changed: the watch officer was no longer coordinating a wide range of operations. And you had to sleep sometime.

On impulse, he called Wink's bridge, where he woke Tommy Loughery. "Is Maggie available?" he asked.

"She's right here."

He'd expected it. They'd sent up the new tablets—there were thirteen of them—on board Alpha. And she would be waiting for their arrival.

"Good morning, Richard," she said. "When are we going to break through down there?"

"You mean to the press?"

"What else? It's getting late."

"It's what I wanted to talk to you about. We may not make it."

"That's not what Henry thinks."

"Henry is optimistic. He wants this one, Maggie."

"So do I."

"You already have a substantial number of samples. With more coming. You've seen the new set. What happens if we have to leave with nothing else? Will it be enough?"

"Maybe." She looked drained. "The analysis will take time. I just don't know." Her dark eyes reflected worry. "It would be a lot easier with the printing press."

"If that's in fact what it is."

"That's what it is."

Richard stared at her. "Can you estimate the odds?" And, when she looked puzzled, he explained. "Of being able to decipher the inscription? With no more samples."

"We are pushy tonight, aren't we?"

"I'm sorry. This may become, in the morning, life and death."

Shadows worked in the corners of her eyes and in the hollows of her temples. "Richard, get the whatever-it-is. Okay? If you really want to help, get it out of there and bring it to me."

0600 hours.

"It's imminent now. We're almost there."

Richard was exasperated. "Call it off, Henry. Let's clear out."

"She won't be back for two hours. What's the point of standing around out on that rock? We've still got time. Let's use it. Have faith."

0711 hours.

Hutch, gliding through the morning light, was not happy. The commlink echoed with the low-powered hum of particle beams, the burble and banging of vacuum pumps. Voices leaked through the clatter: