Rick forgot all about Con as the implications of his discovery hit him. Apparently, Green had more than one time machine already, and its existence contradicted Joe's version of their situation. Joe's calming assur-ances—that Green's scheme was impossible and he was as good as caught—were most likely fabrications to keep Rick in line while the plot proceeded. He found it hard to see it any other way. Joe lied to me! thought Rick angrily and, for a moment, he wished he had pulled the trigger when Joe had confronted him on the path. Once again, Rick felt that the world had been pulled out from under him like a rug, leaving him spinning.
Rick approached the time machine to examine it more closely. The sloping sides of the depression where it stood were covered with the same black panels found on the plane and on the other time machine. They were im-maculately clean, as was the transparent craft they sur-rounded. Everything appeared brand-new, as if they had been placed there only moments before.
The interior of the time machine was filled with exotic machinery and what appeared to be instruments. Rick recognized a large telescope and numerous instruments with lenses. These, he assumed, were cameras. One fol-lowed his every movement. It gave him the uncomfort-able feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps by the time we reach camp, Green will know I was here, he thought. If that's the case, I might as well finish inves-tigating.
As he walked down the sloping sides of the landing site, an opening formed in the machine's fuselage. Be-hind it was a tiny chamber empty of instruments. It con-tained a small control panel and a simple transparent bench that served as the only seat. Rick was leery of entering the machine, so he examined the chamber from outside. It was so small only two, or possibly three, peo-ple could fit inside. The control panel lacked the tape labels of the other machine and seemed less complex. Rick noted that the glowing yellow symbols Con found on her wall were also on the panel.
Rick had turned his attention to the more mysterious-looking mechanisms, when he heard Con call out his name. She was standing barefoot at the edge of the cliff with an exultant expression on her face. It reminded him of the look she had after they encountered the Tyranno-saurs.
"Wow!" she said. "What's that?"
"Con!" yelled Rick. He did not know whether he felt more startled, annoyed, worried, or impressed, and his voice reflected his uncertainty. "What are you doing here?"
Con walked over to the rim of the circular depression. "Never keep a woman waiting," she said by way of ex-planation. Then she turned her attention back to the ma-chine. "This is really incredible!"
"Your foot's bleeding," said Rick with as much au-thority as he could muster.
"Just a scrape. Stop being my nursemaid."
"You could have been killed!"
"But I wasn't," said Con with a note of finality. "Now . . . What do you think this is?" Rick started to say something, but stopped. After a mo-ment's silence he said, "It's a time machine. I'm sure of it. See the cylinder in the column?"
Con stepped on the black-paneled slope to walk down to the machine. She quickly pulled back her foot.
"It's cold!" she said with surprise. As she watched, her dusty footprint blurred, then flowed off the black surface like water, leaving it perfectly clean.
"The black stuff is some form of energy collector, like a solar panel," said Rick. "It won't hurt you." Con walked quickly down to the machine. "Look at my footprints," she told Rick. "This place cleans itself."
Rick watched the prints disappear. "Everything only looks new. This machine could have been here for years."
Con circled the saucer, peering inside with excited fas-cination. A lensed device swiveled as she passed. Con made a short hop backward. "It's watching me!"
"Yeah. Let's hope Joe isn't also."
"You still worrying about him?"
"How can't I?" asked Rick. "He said there was only one time machine. What else did he lie about?
Every-thing?"
Con looked concerned. "You're not planning some-thing crazy?"
"What do you mean by 'crazy'?"
"You know perfectly well," replied Con. "You were talking about killing and sabotage earlier. Don't do any-thing drastic. Promise you won't."
"What if my suspicions are true?"
"If they are, I'll help you stop them. I will. Just don't be hasty. We have time to figure things out."
"I won't do anything rash," said Rick.
Con appeared satisfied by Rick's promise, for she turned her attention back to the time machine. She walked around it slowly, minutely examining each part. After several minutes of silence, she pronounced,
"I think it's an observatory, but not just for the stars. It seems to observe everything."
"Maybe it's one of those probes Joe told me about," said Rick.
"See?" said Con triumphantly. "He wasn't lying. You were worried about nothing." She turned and began making faces at a lens, while Rick watched in amusement. In a mechanical voice he said, "This probe reports it found no intelligent life." Con stuck out her tongue at him. The time machine did not yield any further informa-tion, and Rick wandered off to explore the rest of the mesa top. Con joined him. The view from the cliff top was spectacular, but Rick scarcely noticed it. He had a more pressing concern—he hoped to find a different route down. Descending a chimney was considerably more difficult than ascending one, and he was concerned that Con would not be up to it. He said nothing about this to her. It was too late for that. Besides, he wanted her to remain confident; panicked climbers make mis-takes.
Rick's search for an easier route off the mesa proved fruitless. Con, enchanted by the scenery, did not seem to be aware of the true purpose of his inspection. As they walked about the cliff edge she was in a happy, playful mood. "We simply must picnic here. Guide," she said imperiously, "go fetch the hamper and the cooler."
"Yes, miss," answered Rick in mock subservience. "Soon as I evolve two more arms."
"Shall it take long?"
"A thousand generations or so. 1 pray you're not hun-gry"
"I'm always hungry," said Con. "If you're going to be pokey, I'll climb down myself."
"You ready to leave?" asked Rick, hoping he sounded casual.
"I guess so," replied Con reluctantly.
"I'll go first so you can watch."
"Can't we climb down together?"
"It's safer if only one person is in the crack at a time," replied Rick. He hoped that he wouldn't have to explain how a person falling from above would take out the climber below. Con didn't press him for a reason, but a shadow of fear passed over her expression. "You'll do fine," said Rick, hoping he sounded convincing. "The trick is not to rush things. Move down in small incre-ments. Lock your knees to rest whenever you need to."
That was all the instruction he could give. He walked over to the fissure and sat down on one side of the crack. Then he placed his feet on the side of the crack opposite him and, gripping the edge with his hands, pushed his torso out over the void and lowered it about sixteen inches. Pushing with his legs, he wedged his body be-tween the walls of the fissure. The rocks below were inches closer. Con studied Rick's descent. In purely mechanical terms, it was simply the reverse of ascending, but psy-chologically, it was utterly different. Ascending focuses the mind above, to the goal that gets ever closer. When the danger is the greatest, safety is closest at hand. De-scending is cousin to falling. The focus is downward, and every descent starts at the point of greatest peril.
Watching Rick's climb downward, Con became op-pressed by the emptiness below—the five-story drop. She waited for her turn as Rick gradually got smaller and smaller. It seemed to take forever for him to reach the ground. By the time he called to her to start down, Con was gripped by a fear that approached terror.