The Stone Builders

A fine drizzle steeped the rescuers as they clawed their way deeper through the dense vegetation that lay siege to Harmony, one of the joint Terran/Wassaran cities that attempted to tame Ranklin, third planet from the star its inhabitants had taken to calling Diablo due to of its reddish glow. Four hours earlier, the three Hammerfield children had failed to show up for supper, a meal they never missed. Within the first hour, their mother, LaMara Hammerfield, had roused several of the family’s friends—along with the Harmony Peace Force—to the search. Though Ranklin had been an expanding community for the past ten years, most of it was still unconquered wilderness.

The rescuers had made a search of the children’s usual haunts within the city. Just over one hour ago, three sets of juvenile footprints were found heading away from the Harmony Flora Observation Station and into the jungle. Now, as the dozens of search teams moved out of their protected city and into the surrounding rain forest, they prayed that young LaPeter, LaSara, and LaRonny weren’t out here.

Bill Hammerfield had called his brother-in-law, Michael Harrod, at the city’s fitness center to enlist his help. Not having time to change, Michael now plowed through the jungle still wearing his gray cotton sweat clothes. They’d absorbed every drop of moisture the broad jungle leaves were shedding, a fact that Michael failed to notice.

LaPete, he yelled loudly. He swept aside yet another of the low, palm-like branches that grew voraciously in this area, then held it for Martin Carpenter, the other half of his search party. As he turned back in his original direction, he almost tripped over a large black, five-by-one-meter worm. It was too big to just step over the damn thing, so he vented his frustration with a kick to its midsection and walked around.

Fifty available searchers had been broken into two-person teams, fanning out from the observation station. Nobody went into the woods alone anymore. Five people had died in this forest since the colony was established ten years ago. All of them killed by something in these woods, something an autopsy couldn’t reveal. It couldn’t have been a predator, the bodies were never mutilated. The only non-insect animal lifeform they’d found on Ranklin had been the worms, and those only worked at disposing of bodies after they’d been dead awhile.

LaSara! Michael called, hoping one of his nephews or his niece would call back.

Martin reached out and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. Hold it a second, he said quietly, bringing his friend to a halt. Martin brushed aside a large dripping leaf so he could stand up a little straighter. He looked like he was scanning the millions of individual green and yellow leaves that dangled in their path, yet all the time he was just listening.

Uncle Mike, drifted in with the dying rays of their primary star, Diablo.

There! Michael pointed off to the left.

We’re over here, Uncle Michael, a slightly deeper voice rolled in through the densely packed foliage.

Michael didn’t respond, the voices seemed to echo from a great distance. He took off in a hard run, crashing through the brush, snapping the branches and stems. He no longer cared if they broke a few of Dr. Fuller’s precious plants.

Martin followed.

Minutes later, Michael broke into a small clearing just before the ground disappeared from under his feet.

Martin would have fallen right after him, but seeing Michael drop away, he’d grabbed one of the thicker vines twining down from a nearby tree trunk and pulled himself up short. He crawled over to the edge of the hole and found his co-searcher dangling from the sole vine that hung down into the obsidian blackness.

Uncle Mike, LaPeter’s voice emanated from down below, Watch out for that hole.

Despite clinging for his life, Michael felt relieved. After being out here for hours and trapped in some kind of pit, his nephew still had his warped sense of humor.

Martin helped Michael back out of the pit. Then Michael unbelted his flashlight and aimed it down into the depths. Just as the light was disbursing beyond usefulness, he thought he could see someone waving at him. It was most likely LaPeter, since he was the tallest. With their Wassaran senses, they would be able to see him.

Are you kids okay? Michael hollered down.

LaSara hurt her ankle, but otherwise, we’re in the green.

He almost sounds like his old man, Michael commented to Martin.

Dr. Martin Carpenter, alien-archeologist and coworker of the children’s aunt, had been looking around the pit rather than down it. Michael, you know it’s odd, but the plants haven’t taken this area over, like everywhere else.

The shallowness of the native vegetation’s root system in this area had led to Harmony being the second city founded on Ranklin. It had been easy to clear away the indigenous flora, leaving behind a strong substrata of rock, a mere twenty centimeters below the surface, to provide the foundation for the community’s buildings. Sonic-miners were brought in to pulverize the stone in places where they would need deeper soil to plant farms. Everything had gone smoothly until early into the first growing season, then jungle vegetation began to creep its way back over the farmlands, displacing the planted crops. After that, the native plants started moving into the city, interfering with new construction projects and tearing apart those already completed. Eventually, the newly established Harmony Research Center developed a chemical defoliant that adhered permanently to stone, allowing the construction of a barrier between the jungle and the colonists.

Let’s worry about that later. Right now, we’ve got three kids who need our help. Give me your sat phone so I can call Bill; I don’t have mine with me. His hands squished against his non-existent pockets

Martin pulled out a satellite telephone and handed it to Michael. Despite the ten years they’d been on Ranklin, the colonists hadn’t built any relay towers, they still relied on the satellite network Earth had established and now monitored from the United Terran Space Platform. Michael’s voice would have to travel thousands of kilometers just to reach the other searchers, who were only a couple of kilometers away.

It rang twice before a voice came from the other end. WHHT news, Hammerfield speaking, Bill answered as he always did.

Bill, it’s Michael. We’ve found them! They’re okay.

He thought he heard Bill sniffle and swallow before answering, That’s great, Michael! Where are you?

I’m sending you the geo-positioning coordinates now. Is Lunkin still with you?

Yeah, he’s right here, I’ll tell him.

Bill, they fell down some kind of hole. Have the Chief bring some rescue equipment when you come.

Sure. Oh, and Michael, Bill paused for just a second, Thanks.

Don’t worry, everything’s okay! They’re talking to us. We’ll try and have them up when you get here, but bring that equipment, just in case. He clapped the phone shut.

It looks like they’re about eighty meters down, Martin estimated.

Toss them your flashlight, Michael said, handing the phone back to Martin.

What?

Toss the kids your flashlight, he repeated a little louder. It’ll give them some light down there, and we can see if your estimate is right.

How? Martin asked, putting his hand over the flashlight clipped to his belt.

By counting the seconds it takes to get down there. Ranklin’s gravity is only slightly less than Earth’s; eighty meters should take about three seconds.

If you say so. Martin unclipped the flashlight, turned it on, and then hollered down, Stand back, I’m tossing you a light.

They both counted two seconds before they heard the hard plastic case hit bottom. They could just barely make out its light when it stopped moving. Then it disappeared.

Hey, bring that back, Michael hollered down, as he realized one of the kids must have picked it up and moved away from the opening. We need to see you guys.

Sorry, called up LaRonny. It looked to Michael like the boy was hugging the light.

Diablo had almost completely set for the day, and they were rapidly losing what little light the dense forest growth would allow in. Michael kept his light on the kids, while Martin began to look for a vine long enough to climb down. Nobody had envisioned this scenario, so none of the teams came equipped with rope.

Now, a machete was another matter. Nobody ever went into the forest without one. Finding some long thick vines, Martin hacked off about fifty meters’ worth. The two men tied it to another vine still attached to a nearby tree. There were several vines trying to get into the pit, but none went down very far.

Stand back, kids, hollered Martin. I’m dropping a vine down. He waited a second, then hefted the coiled vegetation into the pit. They waited several seconds for it to hit the bottom.

When they heard a dull thunk, and some returning echoes, they knew they had made the vine long enough. Just for confirmation, LaPeter called up, Dr. Carpenter, sir. It made it.

Can you climb out?

LaRon and I could, but LaSara can’t stand on her ankle, LaPeter called up.

Okay, stay put. We’ll come down and have a look at her before we pull you out. Without a coin to flip, they resorted to ‘rock, paper, scissors’ to see who would go down. Michael won.

After handing his flashlight over to Martin, he quickly climbed down. He found LaPeter standing next to his sister, who was sitting on a small squared-off stone that kept her out of the water that coursed over the floor. She had her left foot propped up on another stone and her arms wrapped around her five-year-old brother, LaRonny, who was sitting on her lap. He was still hugging the flashlight Martin had dropped.

Michael reached for the flashlight, but LaRonny pulled it tighter to his chest. Michael squatted down next to his nephew and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. I know how you feel, big guy, but I need that light to see how your sister is doing. Your Dad’s on the way. We’ll have you guys back home in no time. Taking his hand from the boy’s shoulder, he reached out for the light.

What would Dad want you to do? said his older brother.

Please, LaRonny, added LaSara.

Slowly the young hybrid child handed over the light. Please, Uncle Mike, make LaSara okay.

I’ll do what I can, Michael said, rubbing the brown hair atop the child’s head.

Using the flashlight, Michael examined LaSara’s ankle. She yelped when he touched the swollen area, but the bone didn’t feel broken. It was probably just a bad strain.

I felt it twist when I landed, she said.

After finishing with her, he gave the boys a quick once over to verify they didn’t have any injuries. How the devil did you guys get down here? That drop should have killed you, he finally said.

LaPeter pointed to a length of three-centimeter vine laying further down the corridor. We found this hole, threw down that vine and climbed down to see what it was. LaSara must be putting on weight, since it broke when she was almost down.

No way, she responded, It was you guys’ fault. You must have rubbed that vine against the stones on your way down.

Michael picked up the end of their vine. He was no biologist, but it looked as fresh as the vine they had cut to climb down with, except that one of the ends had a centimeter of black putrid material before becoming a fairly fresh growth.

With the children secure and in relatively good shape, he turned his attention to getting them out.

They had come down a meter-wide stone hole which opened at the bottom into a two-meter tall square corridor. A faint layer of water flowed over an almost seamless floor of stone. In fact, it was hard to find any seams in either the walls or two-meter high ceiling. It seemed to be formed from a single piece of granite. But by running his fingernails over the stone, he found them; very fine, water-tight seams.

Whatever they were in extended as far as his flashlight would reach, both to the east and the west. The water looked like it was flowing in the direction of Adventure River, which bordered Harmony. He pointed his light back up the hole in the ceiling, and sure enough, the stonework extended into it, also.

Martin, he hollered back up, Get down here. Get down here now. He had to force himself to stop thinking about it. Martin Carpenter was the trained archeologist; if he came to the same conclusion, then maybe Michael wasn’t imagining things. And if he wasn’t, the whole community was about to be plunged into interesting times.

Where Michael had to climb, Martin simply rappelled down. What’s the matter? he asked as he touched down.

Michael had the light shining at his feet and Martin stared down at the flat, level stone surrounding them. Michael moved his light to follow the layer of water running down passage. Martin unclipped the light from his belt and examined a short length of the corridor in both directions.

A short time later, he returned to the party. This looks like some kind of storm drain. A man-made storm drain. Functional enough to still be carrying rainwater away from whatever it was designed to protect, he said to everyone and no one.

But Dr. Carpenter, Michael said in mock formality. Man just discovered this planet and we introduced it to the Wassarans. I don’t think either of our species built this.

Chapter One

Silhouetted in red against Diablo’s predawn glow, Dr. Carpenter lowered an aluminum rope ladder into the pit that he had pulled the Hammerfield children out of just two days earlier. Two vines hung down into the hole, both exactly the same length, one with a knot just above where it had rotted away. They both reached the point where the soil gave way to the smooth stonework that kept the meter-wide circle open.

This time, he’d brought a couple of the other researchers from the Harmony Research Center with him: Wizen CeSonta Cowloom, a Wassaran geologist, and Dr. Aaron Fuller, a Terran biologist. He also decided to bring a member of the press to record any discoveries they made. Fortuitously, the children’s father, Bill Hammerfield, was a reporter at WHHT News, one of the two news sources in Harmony. Martin looked up and into the lens of the hovering camera just before it dove into the hole, following the ladder to the bottom. As soon as the damned thing was away, Martin dropped the pose he hadn’t realized he was taking, glad he had gotten an agreement from the newsman to allow each of the participating scientists to review the final edit before broadcast. He didn’t want any more trouble like what had gotten him kicked off Wassara.

Two days ago, they had burned away enough of the local flora to allow the rescue flyers to get the kids to the hospital. Now you’d be hard pressed to find the burn. They got their flyer down, but had to assign their lab technicians to keeping the area clear of new growth. It grew so fast that the vehicle’s intake ports would be choked off within a few hours.

Martin climbed down first, and held the ladder for the others. Bill followed, with the hover-cam recording his descent. CeSonta put a little strain on the aluminum ladder as he came down, being the heaviest. Then the three men on the bottom and the two topside techs had to steady the ladder for the oldest scientist from the facility, Dr. Fuller.

Once they were safely down, Martin charged their Hand Sun, a Wassaran product that sported something Wassarans never had before their contact with Earth, a trademark. That one ten-centimeter square box would direct more light wherever he pointed it than a dozen Terran-built flashlights. He pointed it up stream, motioning for everyone to move out.

Are these the vines you used the other night? Aaron asked as he squatted over two vines lying on the stone floor spotlighted by the sunlight coming from above.

Martin turned back to look. That looks like them. Shall we get moving?

Hold on a second, said the older man. Were these living when you climbed down?

No, I’d hacked it off so I could attach it to one of the trees. Can we go now?

But when you cut it off, it had been alive?

Yes. Aaron, it was alive. What’s so damned important about that vine?

Everywhere except one end is still fresh, I can even find traces of sap when I cut into it. He held up his machete that had a shimmer of sap on its tip. Yet on each vine, one end has rotted through. Normally, that would require weeks of natural decay, or the work of a chemical agent to do this, and then the process would tend to be uniform throughout the vine. Did you notice that any flora growing into this pit is uniformly trimmed off just as it crosses into the stone area?

So?

Hang on a minute, Martin, I think I see where he’s going with this. If this, CeSonta said as he patted the grayish stone walls, was created by some intelligent being, as it appears to be, then that being would have had to do something to keep the jungle back. Look at all the trouble we have with the native plant life. Every year, we have to treat the defoliant barrier with a new batch of chemicals.

Whatever is holding back the vegetation is still active after all these years of neglect. I think we ought to try and figure out how they did it, Aaron finished. The small light from the floating camera focused on the end of the vine the older scientist was holding.

Okay, but first we have to figure out exactly who they were! Martin waved his Hand Sun up the corridor. Can we get moving now?

Aaron nodded, while he cut off the ends of both vines and packed them in a preserving sample bag before stepping forward. Have you looked at this wall? Now CeSonta, still patting the stonework, delayed Martin’s expedition. When you told me about this find, I had assumed it would have been carved out of the surrounding rock substrata. But this looks nothing like the compacted aggregate that makes it up. After a quick sniff, the Wassaran wetted his index finger the stroked the grayish wall. It doesn’t smell or feel the same either. This has absolutely no odor and instead of a slightly pebbly feel, I’d swear this wall had been polished smooth.

Just sample it, like Aaron did, so we can get moving, Martin pointed the Hand Sun in the direction he wanted everyone to go. I want to find out who these people were.

CeSonta looked around for a broken piece but found none. Maybe later, he said and caught up with the retreating archeologist.

They moved down the tunnel with Martin in the lead and the WHHT camera recording over his left shoulder. It was a long walk and, except for the occasional vent to the surface letting in sunlight, a very monotonous one. The group switched marching order quite often and took a break only when Dr. Fuller demanded one.

Bill, if you don’t mind my asking, Martin began after Dr. Fuller forced a second stop. I thought chimera children were impossible?

LaMara and I assumed the same thing when we got married. In fact, she’d left Wassara because her Kortonate physician pronounced her infertile.

They take a pretty hard-line approach to people’s worth, added the only Wassaran member of the expedition. CeSonta squatted down until he was eye level with the two shorter humans. Even in Winpaka, my Wassaran conclave, by far the most tolerant, we felt their priest’s influence.

She was pretty broken up when her ex-husband had their marriage severed and her cast out for barrenicity, the newsman continued.

Ractaloo, CeSonta spat out. At least that’s how it’s pronounced in the Kortonate tongue. With that label, she’d have been a pariah in any of our three continental conclaves. Nobody would have accepted her.

Bill jumped back in, That’s why she and her sister, your boss, emigrated to Ranklin. I met her while covering the dedication of the Harmony Science Center. About a year later, LaRena started experimenting with teas made from local herbs. Within two months LaMara was pregnant. LaRena kept tabs on her sister’s pregnancy, working closely with the Ranklin City physician we were seeing. I don’t understand the science, but it worked.

I even ran DNA analysis on them after they were born, added Dr. Fuller, as he caught his breath. Something had managed to take the divergent strands of Human and Wassaran DNA, eliminated those strands detrimental to the viability of the children and merged those which were complimentary. Bill’s children are neither wholly Wassaran nor wholly Human. They are a new species entirely.

But that was years ago, Martin said. Hasn’t anyone found out why?

It’s LaRena’s project, Dr. Fuller explained. And she had to put it on hold when she assumed Administrator duties three years ago. There’ll be time to work on it after she passes on the Chair. Besides, she’s already published the tea’s recipe on the planetary internet. Several other Wassaran women have already used it to conceive children, though I haven’t heard of any Human women doing it yet. Ranklin is giving us all lots of things to investigate, Martin. The older man patted Martin on the shoulder, stood back up, and motioned forward. Like this.

They walked for a couple more hours before coming to the end of the tunnel. As they approached, their light began to reflect back off droplets of water falling from the ceiling about a meter away from the back wall. Closer inspection revealed a series of deep cuts into the back wall, flanked by two five-centimeter stone poles nearly three centimeters out. Martin wrapped his hand around one. There was barely enough room for him to get his fingers between the pole and the wall.

He pointed the light up. The ceiling gave way to another opening, as large as the tunnel itself, going up another three meters before ending in another ceiling.

Handing the Hand Sun to CeSonta, Martin started to climb the ancient ladder. Initially, he tried using the handrails, but it threw off his center of balance. He ended up resorting to the traditional hand-and-foot-in-the-rung method.

It ends just like we saw, he called down. But I think there’s some kind of door here. He’d found a thin line that sketched out a large square at the top of the ladder. He pushed against each of its edges; each gave way just a bit. Shifting his tactics to a center push, he lifted the stone covering off the opening it had been sealing. Water splashed him in the face as it shortened its run from the further hole.

He climbed up a couple more steps and stuck his head and shoulders into the darkness. Unclipping his flashlight, he tried to illuminate his surroundings.

From where he was, the floor gradually sloped up in a large circle, water dribbling towards the center. The walls were only a few meters away. On the wall directly in front of him, he thought he could see an indentation.

After finally climbing the rest of the way in, the hover-cam drifted up behind him. Its tiny light reminded Martin that better illumination was available. CeSonta, pass me the Hand Sun. Then get up here. I think we’re in.

Martin examined the door as the rest of the scientists climbed up. He set the Hand Sun on the floor so it could illuminate the handle. A horizontal stone bar was inset in a pocket cut into the door. Martin had to reach lower than he would have liked to manipulate it. First, he tried twisting it, nothing; pressing down failed, also. It moved a bit when he pulled it up, so he lifted it to the top of the pocket. With a grinding noise, the stone door swung inward with only a slight push by Martin. The taint of ancient decay announced the obsidian compartment beyond.

Hammersfield was the last to emerge from the drain. Seeing what Martin had done brought his circling hover-cam over to the opening. Shall we have a look? He flipped down his video-visor and sent the unit in.

Its tiny light illuminated a two-meter-wide corridor that circled the room they occupied. With its close-cropped ceiling there was going to be barely enough head clearage for CeSonta, who, at two meters, was the tallest of the group. Every few meters, a door-sized opening appeared in the corridors’ far wall; even rarer were smaller openings mounted about halfway up.

Looks safe, Martin said as he pointed the Hand Sun forward and stepped into the corridor.

CeSonta followed a few steps, then grabbed his co-scientist. Wait. He took the light from Dr. Carpenter and pointed it directly at the corridor wall. This stone is different from the tunnel’s. Look at the sparkling, the way the light glints off its surface. Same texture, he added as he ran his hand over its surface. He shined the light on the floor. Their footprints had been impressed into a fine layer of silt covering it. I would very much like to get a sample of this rock before we leave here.

It may be a different shade of gray, but I don’t see any sparkle, Aaron commented.

It’s their eyes, Bill offered. "Wassaran sensitivity to light and color is greater than Human. I know LaMara passed that trait on to the kids. Sometimes I