The “Empire Dauntless” offices contained what must have been working models of the mine, and they had found “history pamphlets” in it that talked about the good old wild days of a boom camp and “bad men.” Also curious little leaflets that said “Tour Schedules” and had a daily time and place scheduled for a “bank hold-up.” Paintings of prospectors and mine discoverers and “bad men” had been cleaned off and put back on the walls.
Robert the Fox and two pilots were studiously going over possible plans to hijack an ore freighter. They had no craft that could possibly fly to Scotland or Europe, for their mine equipment could only go a few hundred miles. They had been going around and around this problem ever since the night the demon had told them about “bomber drones.” They felt they had a responsibility to alert not only the Scots but other peoples they might find traces of. They dared not alert the Psychlos they were up to anything. To intercept in the air, leaving the Psychlos to believe the freighter had gone down over the sea, was the only thing they kept coming up with. But to silence the Psychlo pilot radio, to board a freighter plane to plane in midair, were some of the things they couldn't work out.
Another group– two of the leaders who were off shift, with Thor and Dunneldeen and some of the miners-were going over mining progress.
They had gotten down to the lode and were drifting along it inch by inch toward the cliff. The quartz they were taking out was pure and beautiful, but it had no gold in it. Jonnie had explained to them, from references, that it was a lode with pockets. Wire gold veins only had pockets of gold every few hundred feet. It was not continuous valuable ore. They were getting tired of mining pure white quartz with no gold to show for it. They were trying to figure out how close they were to the fissure in the cliff. It had widened a tiny amount, which worried them.
The historian, Doctor MacDermott, was off by himself, chair tilted against a wall, reading industriously from things his scout had lately brought in from a collapsed school library in a little mining town.
Jonnie, Angus, the parson, and the schoolmaster were clustered over the parson's sketch of the valley.
The positions of the live radiation points were in a line. At first Jonnie had thought it might be a vein of uranite popping to the surface at intervals. But the points were too regular.
“They are roughly one hundred feet apart,” said Jonnie. "In a straight line.”
They were staring at the map, thinking, when Doctor MacDermott came over.
“It’s something funny I’ve got here, MacTyler," said the historian, shaking his book. “The Chinko guidebook was mistaken about the Air Force Academy.”
Jonnie shrugged. “They often said things just to please the Psychlos."
“But they called the Academy a primary defense base.”
“I know,” said Jonnie. “They wanted it to sound big because it was the last battle fought on the planet.”
“But there was a 'primary defense base,' " said the historian, shaking the book he held.
Jonnie looked at it. It was “Regulations Regarding and Governing the Evacuation of School Children in Event of Atomic War, Department of Civil Defense.”
“Apparently,” said the historian, “the children were to be kept in school until the town mayor was flown out of the city...no...ah, here it is: 'and that all orders thereafter shall be issued from the primary defense base.' "
“But we don't know where that was,” said Jonnie.
The old man scuttled back to his pile of books. “Yes, we do!” He came back with a volume concerning congressional hearings into cost overruns of military budgets. MacDermott opened the volume to where he had marked it. He read, " 'Question by Senator Aldrich: The Secretary of Defense then freely admits that the overrun of one point six billion dollars in the construction of the primary defense base in the Rocky Mountains was incurred without congressional authority. Is that correct, Mr. Secretary?' " MacDermott showed Jonnie and slapped the book shut. “So the Chinkos were wrong while they were being right. There was a 'primary defense base' and it was in the Rocky Mountains.” He smiled primly and started back to his chair.
Jonnie went very still. The tomb!
The iron doors, the dead troops on the stairs.
The tomb!
“Doctor Mac,” Jonnie called. “Come back here.”
He showed him the sketch. “You told us a story once about a line of nuclear mines laid by the Queen's Own Highlanders from Dumbarton to Falkirk."
The historian nodded. He was looking at the sketch. “Did you find some wrecked remains of Psychlo tanks?” he said.
“No,” said Jonnie. “But look. This line goes exactly across the exit from the pass from the lower plains. They're exactly spaced. They're in an exact straight line.”
“But with no tanks-' said the parson.
“They never exploded!” said Jonnie. “Time has just made them fall apart.”
“How did you guess this?” said the historian.
Jonnie smiled. It was a little bit hard to speak. He indicated the sketch to cover his surge of emotion. After a moment he said, “That pass leads up from the western plain to the meadow. And behind that meadow there is a canyon that goes up into the mountains, and way up that canyon is the primary defense base of the ancient government of man!” He filled in the rest of the sketch.
Other groups had sensed something was happening. They began drifting over.
Jonnie felt like crying. He swallowed hard.
“I wondered where they sent all the uranium they'd mined. I knew it must be somewhere....”
The parson touched his arm, not wanting him to run into a future failure with a crash. “They would not have it in the base, laddie.”
“But the base records will tell us where it is!” said Jonnie. “It would have maps, wires of communication...I know we'll crack this there!”
Angus had been staring at the sketch. "Ooh!" he was saying to himself. “Land mines! And I was just going to burrow in!”
Robert the Fox was already gathering up those in charge to begin their expedition to the tomb.
The historian was diving for references that would tell them the perils of entering tombs.
“Don't fret, laddie," said the parson to Jonnie, who was just sitting there staring. “Dawning will tell us if it's true.”
Part X
Chapter 1
The doors were cracked open, just as he had left them so many years ago. Lying there, crusted with snow but just where he had dropped it, was the iron bar he had used to open the doors. The smell might or might not be there, for he was now wearing an air mask.
They had left just as soon as they could see to fly, and Jonnie had spotted them down accurately just before the door. Behind him in the canyon the Scots were unloading gear. The plane would have to leave and they would have to obliterate all tracks with snow before the recon drone came over on its daily round.
The calm voice of Robert the Fox was directing them: “Have you got the lamps? Check out the spare air bottles. Where is Daniel? Easy with those explosives....”
A Scot came up with a sledge hammer to open the door wider and Angus rushed over and pushed him aside. “No. No. No. 'Tis just wanting a bit of penetrating oil.” Angus was popping the bottle of an oilcan. His voice sounded muffled through the air mask.
They were all getting air masks on. The historian had found it was very unhealthy to enter tombs. Something called “spores” sometimes came off bone dust of the long dead and made a man cough his lungs out.